The Forgotten Field - Chapter 190

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 190
His eyes narrowed into slits. Each word that fell from her lips felt like claws raking through his insides.
“Why do you desire a child so desperately?”
The question caught her off guard—confusion flickered across her face for a moment. She averted her gaze, her lashes lowering as she fumbled for words.
“…Must there always be a reason? It’s only natural for a married woman to want children.”
Barcas seized her chin and forced her to meet his darkened gaze directly.
“Have you forgotten all the suffering you endured during that pregnancy? The pain that left you unable to sit or lie down properly, tormented for months on end?”
“…It wasn’t that severe. I could bear it.”
She insisted stubbornly.
He felt his insides twist violently as he drew a cool breath deep into his lungs.
The image of her writhing in agony was seared into his mind. The memory of her bleeding and weeping, her body going limp like a corpse, felt as vivid as yesterday.
And what came after? She had been consumed entirely by grief at losing the child. Now, having barely recovered her body and spirit, she wanted to repeat that ordeal?
He spoke with the finality of someone who would not reconsider.
“Nothing you say will change anything. My resolve will not waver.”
Her radiant face turned eerily cold at his unwavering declaration. With shadows pooling in her eyes, she stared at him and released words that sounded like they came from beyond the grave.
“Even if I beg you desperately?”
His jaw clenched taut. The sensation of something sharp tearing through him intensified. He pushed it aside and spoke with measured calm.
“Even then.”
Her face froze further. Barcas reached instinctively toward her ashen cheek, then stopped himself, his hand curling into a fist.
He understood with instinctive certainty: she would no longer permit his touch.
As expected, Talia turned her head away from his hand, her gaze cutting toward him like a blade.
“Then there’s no reason for us to be like this. If you won’t give me what I want, leave this chamber at once.”
Her voice, sharp as a whip, lashed across his face. He lingered for a moment on her trembling lips before slowly rising to his feet.
Talia watched him coldly, then lay back on the bed and pulled the blanket over her head entirely.
Barcas swallowed a heavy sigh, then turned away. With measured steps, he quietly left the chamber.
* * *
The rain showed no sign of stopping for days now.
The citizens of Kalmor naturally avoided venturing out to escape the occasional violent downpours, and the marketplace and Plaza, which would normally have bustled with activity, stood empty.
For the Grand Ducal House’s cavalry, wary of information leaking to the Zrami, the situation was fortuitous. The unseasonable monsoon served as a perfect veil, allowing them to concentrate their forces near Armund Forest without drawing attention.
If this deluge persisted for a few more days, they could launch a surprise assault on the raiders’ stronghold without the enemy learning of the Grand Ducal House’s mobilization.
“The Lord of Dorcaen is waiting in Brinack and will join the main force on the appointed day.”
“What of the movements among the lords of the southeastern territories?”
“Count Daren said he would conduct a thorough investigation, but we’ve heard nothing since.”
Beirov, reporting with composure, added his thoughts with a contemplative expression.
“A hasty search could provoke resistance from the lords, so Count Daren appears to be proceeding with great caution.”
Barcas, gazing down at the map spread across the table, leaned back in his chair and pressed his fingers between his brows.
“Tell him not to drag this out—the traitors’ accomplices may destroy all evidence. Send word immediately.”
“I’ll dispatch a messenger at once.”
Beirov replied calmly and gestured to the Chamberlain waiting at the door. The young man, understanding the silent command, immediately left the Conference Hall.
Barcas pushed the map aside and carefully reviewed the newly compiled reports from his informants.
Preparations for the subjugation campaign were proceeding smoothly. The lords, who had suffered greatly from the Zramin Raiders over the years, readily pledged their participation, and several devout followers of the Imperial Orthodox Church contributed supplies from their own coffers. Thanks to their support, I could secure sufficient forces without mobilizing the main army.
“By dawn tomorrow, I’ll finally be able to excise this festering wound.”
“Will you be arresting the heretics all at once as well?”
Lucas, who had been sitting quietly at the end of the conference table, spoke up. Barcas nodded with an indifferent expression.
“Once we’ve eliminated the raiders, there’s no reason to tolerate these heretics any longer. The moment I depart for the campaign, every name on the heretic list will be taken into custody. Not a single exception.”
“…There’s something urgent I must report regarding that matter.”
Lucas spoke carefully, choosing his words with care.
“The Religious Order has demanded that they personally secure custody of the apostates.”
Barcas narrowed the space between his brows.
“I appreciate the proposal, but the Eastern Sect doesn’t have the manpower to handle that many prisoners. Tell them we’ll conduct the arrests in the Grand Duchy, and the High Priest will preside over their trial.”
“That’s…the Central Church Authority has dispatched Holy Knights.”
Barcas, who had been reaching for the next report, froze and turned to face him. Lucas continued, running a hand through his hair.
“This morning, Knights bearing letters sealed with the Central Church Authority’s insignia entered Kalmor in large numbers. It seems word leaked from the Eastern Sect.”
Barcas’s face hardened into a rigid mask. The contents of the report submitted by the Heresy Investigators flashed through my mind.
I had secured a promise from the High Priest to suppress the rumors surrounding Talia, but I couldn’t fully trust him. If that priest broke his word and spoke of the heresy suspicions surrounding Talia, it would become difficult to protect her.
Hadn’t the Central Church Authority always viewed the illegitimate Princess as a thorn in their side? They would stop at nothing to place Talia on the heresy trial stand, if only to tarnish Senevir.
Barcas threw down the report he’d been holding and rose from his seat.
“I’ll meet with them directly and discuss this matter.”
He immediately left the conference hall.
Rain continued to pour from the sky. Barcas, donning the black raincoat his attendant provided, led Torque out from the Stables.
The horse grew anxious from the violent downpour. After calming Torque, Barcas rode out beyond Laedgo Castle, quickly crossed the moat, and cut across the Plaza.
It took only about ten minutes to reach the Grand Cathedral. Under normal circumstances, it would have taken twice that long, but with the streets empty, I crossed half the city in an instant.
“Grand Duke! On such foul weather, without notice, how did you…!”
As Barcas entered the Inner Courtyard of the Grand Cathedral, a priest who recognized him rushed out from the Cloister. Barcas dismounted from the saddle and surveyed the makeshift stables situated at the far end of the Garden.
The cramped stable was packed with massive war horses—at least a dozen of them.
He asked in a flat tone.
“I’ve come to meet the High Priest.”
“The High Priest is currently in the Prayer Chamber. If you would wait in the Reception Room and dry yourself for a moment, I’ll inform him at once….”
“Never mind. I’ll wait inside the Chapel.”
He strode past the priest into the massive stone building. Beyond the grand arched entrance, the sight of a spacious Cloister with flickering light unfolded before me.
I drew in the cool, heavy air peculiar to the Grand Cathedral and crossed the empty Hall. Then I stopped, catching sight of a large shadow standing before the Chapel’s Altar.
A tall man in a deep gray robe stood with his head tilted back, gazing up at the sculptures carved into the Chapel’s walls.
Sensing formidable power from that unwavering silhouette, Barcas deliberately made his footsteps audible.
The broad-shouldered man then turned to look at him over his shoulder.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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