The Forgotten Field - Chapter 202

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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 202
Barcas halted abruptly at the threshold and turned to look back.
Lucas, his face flushed with agitation, approached him and continued speaking with forceful conviction.
“If you cannot bring yourself to forgive the Duchess Sierkan for her betrayal of you, then by all means proceed with the divorce as the vassals have requested. There is no point in maintaining a hollow marriage if you intend to leave her abandoned like this.”
When Barcas offered no response, Lucas stepped closer and raised his voice.
“Even if you cover up all the accusations against her, distrust toward the Duchess Sierkan has already taken deep root in the hearts of the Eastern Faction. They will not openly display their hostility out of deference to you, but the vassals will never acknowledge her as Grand Duchess. It would be far better for her to return to the Imperial Palace….”
A dull groan escaped between the younger brother’s lips as he spoke so smugly.
Barcas seized his brother’s jaw roughly and spoke with the calm tone of casual conversation.
“What do you know about what is best for her? How dare you speak so carelessly?”
A suppressed groan escaped Lucas’s mouth as the iron grip tightened around his jaw.
Barcas looked down at him with cold eyes and continued in an even tone.
“Do not presume to meddle. My wife’s fate is my concern. This is not a matter for you to comment on.”
“…Then, do you intend to continue isolating the Duchess Sierkan as you are now?”
Lucas wrenched his hand away roughly and shot back.
Barcas twisted his lips.
“Why do you concern yourself with her circumstances?”
“I merely…!”
Lucas suddenly fell silent, unable to find words to respond. As Barcas looked down at his younger brother, who bit his lip without a retort, he issued a warning in a desolate tone.
“I will overlook this once and consider it well-intentioned advice. But there will be no next time. It would be wise not to test my patience further.”
With that, he turned and left the Conference Hall.
A harsh east wind swept over the castle walls and scraped across his face.
As if drawn by something, he turned his gaze, and his eyes caught the fortress rising starkly above the Inner Castle Wall.
He stared with frozen eyes at the window of the bedroom where she dwelt. Beyond the deeply shadowed glass, a faint silhouette of her seemed to flicker.
In that moment, the word “isolation” that his brother had thrown at him left an unpleasant resonance in his mind. He turned his head as if to shake it off.
Even if life here were to be unhappy, he could not send her back to the Imperial Palace.
It was painfully obvious what treatment an illegitimate Princess, cast out from the position of Grand Duchess amid scandal, would receive.
The pack of jackals eager to curry favor with the Crown Prince would not leave her alone, and Gareth, poisoned with resentment, would seize the opportunity to corner her. And the Emperor, as always, would merely stand by and watch.
The Empress would not care what became of her own daughter’s life. No—that woman would surely only scheme to exploit her daughter.
Recalling the image of her lying motionless beneath fallen rocks as if dead, he clenched his fists tightly.
The Empress had pushed her into that pilgrimage journey without so much as blinking an eye, despite knowing her daughter could be in danger.
He could never again allow her to remain under the influence of that viper-like woman.
In the end, there was only one conclusion he could reach.
Remaining here was her best option. On the Robiden Continent, Kalmor was the only place beyond the reach of the Empress and Crown Prince’s influence.
Barcas, having shed even a moment’s hesitation, soon turned his steps toward the Training Grounds.
At that moment, a familiar voice reached him from behind.
“Your Grace.”
Barcas turned and spotted Rogen, his direct subordinate, approaching with quick strides, and moved toward him.
“The investigation regarding your orders has been completed. This way….”
The man, beginning with a cautious tone, led the way along the Inner Castle Wall.
Barcas followed his subordinate in silence. Only after passing through the Back Gate and entering the Backyard did the man speak.
“As you instructed, a secret passage has been discovered in the Underground Storage beneath the Main Castle. According to our detection with a tracking artifact, it appears to extend all the way to the entrance of Armund Forest.”
Barcas listened intently to the report and stepped into the storage building connected to the Main Castle.
As I descended the stone staircase, the dark expanse of the Underground Storage came into view, its interior lined with various stored goods behind an iron gate.
Stepping deeper inside, I discovered a broad passageway among the chambers displaying precious items and examined its interior carefully.
A tunnel stretched in a straight line, wide enough for a massive dire wolf to pass through comfortably.
“An intricate mechanism was hidden within the stone wall. The entrance opens only when this ornament is pulled in a specific direction.”
Rogen pointed to a metal torch bracket installed near the entrance.
Barcas pulled it to the side. With a metallic click, the bricks shifted of their own accord, and the passage entrance vanished without a trace.
I rotated the handle back to its original position. With a faint whirring sound like turning gears, the secret passage revealed itself once more in an instant.
“The dwarf who designed the castle was playing tricks.”
Rogen readily agreed.
“Since even the previous Grand Duke was unaware of this tunnel’s existence… it appears certain that enslaved peoples brought here during the Age of Warring States constructed it in secret.”
“Were there any other concealed facilities besides this?”
“I conducted a thorough investigation with the detection artifact, but nothing additional was discovered.”
The man, delivering his report in his characteristically taciturn tone, carefully probed my intentions while gauging my expression.
“What shall we do?”
Barcas, instead of answering, swept his gaze through the tunnel’s darkness with deeply contemplative eyes.
The existence of such a secret passage in a vault whose key only the mistress of the castle possessed would instantly render the alibi I had so carefully constructed for her utterly worthless.
Barcas turned to face him with a cold gaze.
“How many people know of this secret passage’s existence?”
“Only Rabomir and myself.”
“You’ve handled this well.”
Barcas commended him in a flat tone, then added coldly.
“Ensure the information doesn’t leak outside, and seal this passage immediately.”
As though he had anticipated such an order, Rogen bowed his head with a composed expression.
Barcas left his subordinate behind and promptly exited the underground chamber. As I emerged from the building, a stronger wind than before tousled my hair.
Running my fingers roughly through my hair, I habitually glanced toward her quarters before turning away.
* * *
At dawn the next day, Barcas mounted his horse in preparation for departure.
Hundreds of retainers gathered before the Castle Gate to bid him farewell.
As I carefully surveyed the orderly ranks of mounted knights, my gaze fell upon the household members.
At the head of the formation stood Lucas, who had engaged in a heated debate the previous day, and Raina, who had been confined to the Separate Building for some time.
As I approached with my horse, my younger sister lowered her eyes uncomfortably. In contrast, Lucas offered a respectful greeting with a composed expression as though nothing had transpired.
“I wish you safe travels, brother. Please return unharmed.”
Barcas acknowledged him with a nod and slowly surveyed the Training Grounds.
She was nowhere to be found. Feeling my mouth turn bitter, I slowly turned my horse’s head.
Soon the gatekeeper sounded the trumpet loudly.
The Knights began their orderly march through the widely opened Castle Gate.
Standing at the head of the column and crossing the Field, Barcas suddenly turned to look back when I reached the midpoint of the Hill.
A bluish dawn light poured down over the towering Castle Fortress.
Merely one season.
The brief months that had filled him with hope and the bitter disappointment awaiting at their end flickered before his eyes like embers.
As though erasing it from his mind, he spurred his horse forward with renewed vigor. And with a bitter smile toward himself for daring to hope that something else might exist in this hollow existence, he severed the last thread of attachment that remained.
“I’ve already sent advance dispatches to the lords of the Northeastern Region. Should the rebels attempt an uprising, we can mobilize available forces for immediate suppression.”
As they passed through the plains and reached the edge of the Birch Forest, its white bones laid bare, Beirov drew alongside and spoke carefully.
Barcas, who had been moistening his lips from his water flask, wiped his mouth and exhaled a quiet sigh.
“Military suppression is a last resort. We must prevent civil war from erupting in the Eastern Territories at all costs.”
“Are you considering negotiating with the rebels?”
“We cannot waste our strength when we must remain vigilant against the north.”
Barcas closed the flask and tucked it into his saddlebag, responding in a flat tone.
“If we offer to pardon them in exchange for the return of their lands and titles, they’ll withdraw willingly. Unless they’re fools.”
“These are men who betrayed their lord for mere coin. Common sense may not apply.”
“Then blood will have to be spilled.”
Barcas replied matter-of-factly and spurred his horse forward once more.
The journey proved uneventful. Thanks to the security measures implemented throughout the previous summer, they encountered neither marauding bands nor a single beast-type monster or Wyvern—the dragon-kin creatures that typically prowled in autumn—making for a tedious march.
As a result, less than ten days after their departure, they emerged from the vast forests and arrived at the open Highland Plateau.
“We’ll rest here for a while.”
Barcas halted his horse near the Pastureland and issued the order, whereupon the Chamberlain sounded his horn to signal the troops.
Immediately, the Knights following in orderly formation dismounted in unison. Barcas likewise descended from Torque and promptly unfurled his map to reconfirm the terrain.
Then, from beyond the gentle ridge below, the sound of a horn blast echoed across the plateau.
Barcas turned his head and, through the swirling mist, spotted thousands of cavalry approaching. His eyes narrowed.
Even from that considerable distance, the banners of the Roem Knights were unmistakable.
“Why is the Imperial Army in the Eastern Territories…?”
Beirov murmured, his voice tinged with bewilderment.

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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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