The Forgotten Field - Chapter 20

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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 20
Unable to contain the fury rising within me, I raised my hand once more. The sharp crack of the blow echoed through the carriage, and a stinging pain spread across my palm.
I had fully expected to be stopped, and flinched in surprise when I wasn’t. Yet the man who had just been slapped bore the blow with complete composure.
“Consider the price of laying hands upon His Majesty paid in full.”
He tapped his smooth cheek—unmarked by even a handprint—with the gauntleted tips of his fingers as he spoke.
“However, I have no intention of indulging your tantrums any further. Remember this: I am no longer your guard knight.”
With that, he withdrew from the carriage and locked the door behind him.
I remained pressed against the back of my seat for a long moment before peering out through the window.
Barcas had already vanished from sight. All I could see were servants unloading trunks from the supply wagons and a dim-witted guard knight hurrying them along.
I wanted nothing more than to burst out and teach these insolent fools a lesson for ignoring my orders, but Barcas would never allow it. He absolutely refused to tolerate cruelty toward those beneath us.
The memory of his glacial gaze the day I had torn out my handmaiden’s hair—the one who had been burying her face in the coat he’d discarded—made my fingers instinctively curl inward.
I irritably drew the curtains shut and hugged my throbbing palm to myself, curling up on the seat.
After some time had passed, a trumpet fanfare announced the beginning of our journey, and the carriage slowly lurched into motion. So this nightmare of a pilgrimage was truly beginning.
I watched a thin shaft of light seeping through the curtain gap for a moment, then drew the drapes even more carefully closed. Buried in the dim darkness, I found myself hoping that this procession would lead straight to hell.
If we could all simply enter our graves together, if everything could just end, there would be nothing more to wish for….
* * *
The imperial family’s pilgrimage procession was to follow the footsteps of Darian, the founding Emperor of the Roem Empire, tracing the winding path of the Silviska River as it flowed north to west, then west back to north.
In the days when this continent was divided into ten kingdoms—Wedon, Dristan, Balto, Gwen, Osyria, Libadon, Arex, Balis, Dumnos, and Sierkan—Darian Roem Guerta, a prince of Gwen, fled the invasion of the Balto Kingdom and migrated to the central regions, becoming the adopted son of Duke Valender, the chieftain of the Osyrian people and his great-uncle.
Thereafter, Darian unified the various tribes of Osyria and gathered powerful supporters from each nation to launch a unification movement. After twenty years and countless wars spanning decades, he achieved the great feat of consolidating all ten kingdoms into a single, vast empire.
The grand procession beginning from the Imperial Palace was a sacred ritual retracing his footsteps, and an important ceremony to demonstrate the majesty of the Imperial Family to the empire’s people by showcasing the descendants of the great Emperor. Thus, the scale of the procession was breathtakingly magnificent and imposing.
Led by the Crown Prince mounted upon a great golden horse, over a hundred members of the Imperial Guard carried flags embroidered with the imperial crest and marched powerfully through the city streets. Following them came the carriage bearing the First Princess, Aila Roem Guerta, and her guard contingent.
Citizens gathered in the streets to catch a glimpse of Darian’s descendants, their cheers erupting with fervent enthusiasm.
The Roem Knights, inheritors of centuries of history and tradition, wore pristine white battle garments embroidered with the imperial crest over armor of orichalcum—the divine metal—and led the procession with solemn expressions. To their right, infantry bearing silver shields marked with the guard insignia advanced in steady rhythm.
The disciplined march of the soldiers only intensified the crowd’s excitement. Women lining the streets scattered colorful flower petals toward the knights, while wandering bards sang songs blessing Darian’s descendants.
As if answering the citizens’ cheers, the First Princess opened her carriage window and revealed herself. The crowd gasped in unison.
Could there exist in this world another person more suited to the title of princess than Aila Roem Guerta?
Elegant and upright as a lily, with skin that held a rosy luminescence, lustrous deep chestnut hair, and large emerald eyes….
People craned their necks like cranes to catch even the slightest glimpse of her lovely form. Some were so entranced they followed after her carriage. Had the guard knights not surrounded her, the First Princess’s carriage would have been completely engulfed by the enthusiastic throng.
Seized by passionate fervor, the people showered the beloved princess with endless blessings.
But when a garishly ornate carriage appeared next, the festive atmosphere froze as if doused with cold water. The knights’ eyes grew tense as they scanned their surroundings.
Those who moments before had been shouting themselves hoarse now fell silent, whispering urgently to one another. They had clearly recognized that the carriage contained the notorious Second Princess.
The crowds lining the avenue slowly retreated, their gazes mingling curiosity with hostility. Some made the sign of the cross or spat upon the ground. The knights exhaled weary sighs. Such reactions were hardly surprising. Not a single citizen dwelling in the capital had failed to hear of Talia Roem Guerta’s vicious nature.
The Emperor’s illegitimate daughter, who had scandalized the entire empire from birth, continued to stir up dark incidents even after becoming an official princess, keeping the capital in constant turmoil.
The servants who had fled her Separate Palace bearing terrible injuries were countless, and some had even met violent deaths. Naturally, the empire’s people could regard the Second Princess only with coldness.
“Would it not be wise to draw back the curtains and offer the people a greeting, Your Highness?”
Unable to bear it any longer, the guard knight Edrick Lubon approached the carriage and made the suggestion carefully. But no response came from within.
He regarded the thick curtains drawn across the window with displeasure.
Since the procession began, the Second Princess had remained locked within her carriage, not showing even the tip of her nose. She appeared to be thoroughly sulking over her quarrel with Sierkan.
He swallowed the sigh rising in his throat.
‘If she would just show her face—it’s not entirely unpleasant—the people’s reaction might change….’
In some respects, I found her to be a woman remarkably lacking in tact.
If she would only soften her approach even slightly, there would be no shortage of men willing to hand over their hearts and souls without hesitation. Yet Talia Roem Guerta conducted herself as though she had made it her life’s mission to be despised. Her sharp, cutting demeanor toward those around her was so relentless that even her striking beauty—inherited unmistakably from her mother—seemed to lose its luster.
How many Imperial Guard knights had abandoned their posts, unable to endure her insufferable temperament? The fact that Duke Sierkan had remained at her side for seven years made him seem almost saintly.
‘Though it doesn’t appear she’s simply suffered passively all this time….’
Recalling the image of his superior throwing the Second Princess into the carriage like a piece of luggage, Edrick turned his gaze forward. Among the orderly marching knights, the faint silhouette of Barcas appeared, his black hood pulled deep over his head.
That man, too, seemed thoroughly fed up with Talia Roem Guerta.
In some ways, it was astonishing. What outrages had she committed to drive that rigid, loyalist into such extreme action? A man bound so tightly by devotion to the Imperial Family?
Had I not witnessed it with my own eyes, I would never have believed it. Perhaps the Second Princess possessed an innate talent for inciting hostility in others.

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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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