The Forgotten Field - Chapter 207

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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 207
It did not take long for the massive shadow to vanish completely from sight.
Barcas pulled back on the reins, slowing his horse’s pace. There was no need to rush. The creature was already like a rat trapped in a cage.
Mounted warriors were positioned on all sides, and the beast had suffered a critical wound. No matter how it struggled, it would not escape far.
He withdrew a torch from his saddlebag and ignited it.
As the flickering flames illuminated the ground, scattered bloodstains became visible.
Broken branches bent beneath its massive bulk and claw marks gouged deep into the earth caught his eye. The creature lacked the strength to conceal its trail.
He urged his horse forward slowly, following the Wolf Beast’s tracks.
The deeper into the forest he ventured, the more vivid and profuse the blood became. The violent thrashing had torn the wound open further.
The barbed arrowhead, its tip curved like a hook, was designed to burrow deeper into flesh with each convulsion of its prey.
‘…An artery must have been severed.’
Following the irregular footprints, Barcas discovered a pool of blood pooled thickly on the ground and brought his horse to a halt. With this volume of hemorrhage, the creature must have collapsed somewhere nearby.
He dismounted and swept his keen gaze across the surroundings.
Between the Birch Grove trees standing straight as prison bars, a biting wind howled.
Feeling something cold brush against his cheek, Barcas lifted his gaze to the darkened sky above.
The firelight from the torch illuminated the downy ice crystals in a pale glow. It was an unseasonably early snow.
As he gazed up at it for some time, he noticed an unfamiliar scent mingling with the wind that cut like a blade.
As if drawn by something, he turned his head. Between the pale-gleaming Birch Grove trees, a dark form became visible.
As he stepped toward it, the figure of a collapsed Wolf Beast came into view.
He examined its massive heaving chest with careful attention.
The wound where the arrow was embedded was drenched in blood. It was astonishing that the creature still drew breath after such hemorrhaging.
He immediately gripped the hilt of his sword. Though it seemed it would not survive long if left alone, he needed to ensure its death was certain.
Drawing his blade, he approached slowly toward the Wolf Beast’s head. Only then did the eyelids of the creature, which had been heavily closed, lift upward.
Meeting the pale, luminous blue eyes, Barcas found himself involuntarily ceasing his movement. Despair and sorrow, pain and resentment swirled turbulently across the beast’s wet pupils.
In that moment, her anguished plea struck his ears.
“If you look into Khan’s eyes, you’ll understand. Khan is our son. Our son who never drew a single breath—he has been brought back to life!”
He consciously exerted pressure on his rigid fingers.
It was all nonsense. Merely the ravings of a woman consumed by superstition.
Repeating this to himself, he raised his sword.
The Wolf Beast gazed up at the blade suspended above with eyes full of resignation. A white snowflake descended onto those pale irises.
The ice crystal melted instantly, its moisture trickling down and dampening the creature’s eyes like tears.
Barcas gazed down at that sight without the slightest movement, and then slowly lowered his sword.
* * *
The subjugation force returned to Laedgo Castle as the blue light of dawn began to tint the earth.
Mounted warriors, exhausted from searching the forest all night, trudged wearily through the Castle Gate.
Soldiers and Servants who had been standing watch rushed out to the Courtyard to greet them. Among them were several retainers.
Squad Captain Edgar, crossing the Training Grounds with hurried steps, approached the Grand Duke and carefully opened his mouth.
“Are you injured anywhere, sir?”
Barcas, dismounting from his horse, replied in a flat tone.
“Nothing is amiss.”
“What became of that Wolf Beast….”
At the anxious question, Barcas’s lips stiffened imperceptibly.
When he offered no response, the Steward and the mounted warriors who had rushed out to confirm the subjugation results all went rigid.
Then Beirov stepped forward.
“The subjugation has concluded successfully. Grand Duke Sierkan has handled that Wolf Beast well, so please set your minds at ease.”
“Did you bring the head?”
At the sudden voice, all eyes turned in one direction.
Modrian, dressed in plain clothes, was crossing the Courtyard with his subordinates. He spoke with naked suspicion.
“Surely you haven’t returned empty-handed?”
The man seemed to suspect that the Grand Duke, who was unusually lenient toward his wife, might have released the monster and was now lying about it.
Barcas released a quiet sigh and gestured with his chin. Beirov then pulled a large leather sack from the saddle and dropped it before him.
“Verify it yourself.”
The old Knight immediately grasped the leather cord cinching the sack’s opening and pulled it taut.
Soon, the head of a beast, drenched in dark crimson blood, was revealed. The man, examining it intently with a furrowed brow, cried out with satisfaction.
“Have it burned in the center of the Inner Castle Courtyard where everyone can see!”
The warriors gathered in the Courtyard let out a roar filled with vindication.
Barcas, standing quietly observing the scene, slowly turned his body. Then, moving legs heavy as lead, he departed the Courtyard, when Beirov hurried after him and asked.
“What punishment will you impose on the Grand Duchess?”
He stopped in his tracks and turned to face the Young Aide. The man, whose shoulders had trembled, added in a resolute tone.
“If you let this pass again, all your vassals will rise in revolt. To appease their anger, you must impose appropriate punishment on the Grand Duchess.”
Barcas made no reply and resumed walking.
By now, the morning sun was brightly illuminating the surroundings.
Barcas crossed the Garden, frozen white with early frost, and entered the Great Hall.
In that moment, his vision suddenly blurred.
He pressed his forehead. He had barely slept properly for nearly two weeks. During that time, he had ridden without rest for over five days, and on top of that, he had spent the night in the Forest. It was hardly surprising that his body had reached its limit.
He forced focus into his hazy vision and slowly climbed the Staircase. Upon reaching the second floor, he could see Lucas’s Bedroom door beyond the railing of the Cloister.
After gazing briefly at the light spilling from the doorway, Barcas ascended to the third floor.
As he passed through the Corridor and reached her Chamber door, the Soldiers lined up in a row all bowed their heads in unison.
He dismissed the Soldiers and grasped the door handle. With the subtle creaking of hinges, the desolate interior of the Bedroom, bathed in blue light, came into view.
As he stepped inside, he saw Talia sitting on the windowsill.
Her long hair hung loose and disheveled as she leaned against the window in the thin dress he had seen the previous evening.
Barcas, fixing his gaze on her small silhouette as if it were nailed in place, deliberately crossed the Chamber with heavy footsteps.
The woman seemed as if she had been taxidermied where she sat.
Toward the back of her head, pressed against the glass, he cast his voice in a monotone.
“I will strip you of all authority as Grand Duchess. Furthermore, you will reside in the Separate Building until Lucas regains consciousness.”
She showed no reaction. With a face from which all emotion had vanished, she merely gazed blankly outward.
Following her gaze without thinking, Barcas turned his head and felt his spine stiffen. Hundreds of Soldiers had gathered in the center of the Courtyard, building a fire.
They hurled something into the blazing crimson flames. Soon, black smoke rose into the air.
A single tear streamed down the woman’s face as she watched the scene. Barcas regarded her with a rigid expression, weeping silently as if she had forgotten how to sob, and then turned away.
Just as he was about to leave the Chamber, a desolate voice echoed from behind him.
“I won’t forgive you, even in death.”
Barcas turned back once more. An expressionless face, stripped of all emotion, stared toward him.
She let her abyssal blue eyes gleam with an unsettling intensity as she continued.
“I won’t forgive you until the day I die.”
Transparent tears traced relentlessly across her cheeks.
Barcas, who had been silently watching her, turned away and left the chamber.

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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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