The Forgotten Field - Chapter 210

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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 210
“Give Khan back to me! Return my child!”
Skeletal fists rained down upon his jaw, chest, and shoulders in wild succession.
Barcas looked down at the woman wailing in anguish, his expression twisted, and seized her wrist with a predatory grip.
“Come to your senses! That is not our child. It is nothing but a beast!”
“No! No! Khan is my child. You killed my child! You took him from me twice!”
The woman thrashed with desperate ferocity, her body convulsing against his hold.
Her complete loss of reason sent blood surging backward through my veins.
Barcas cradled her face firmly between both hands and leaned his head close to her tear-ravaged features.
“Our child is dead. He has been buried in the cemetery for a long time.”
“Shut up! Shut up! I said shut up!”
The woman clawed at the back of his hand with savage fury, her nails drawing deep, blood-beaded scratches across his skin.
As she convulsed with near-seizure intensity, I pressed down harder, forcing her maddened eyes to meet mine directly.
“Now stop and face reality. That wolf is merely a tamed creature—a monster trained by human hands.”
Behind her tear-stained blue eyes, a dagger-sharp hatred flashed. That gaze scraped mercilessly at the depths of his being.
Barcas did not relent, continuing with ruthless precision.
“Or perhaps it was never truly tamed at all. You knew all along that the creature was dangerous. You are paying the price for turning a blind eye to that knowledge.”
Blood trickled down the back of his hand where her crimson nails had embedded themselves.
The woman, her lips trembling and crusted with dried blood, uttered a curse.
“Die.”
Between gasping breaths like those of a drowning person, her voice emerged hoarse and metallic.
“I wish you had died instead.”
In that moment, the savage passion that had filled my body drained away like sand through an hourglass.
Denying that sudden emptiness, I responded in a flat, emotionless tone.
“Then next time, procure a more potent poison. I will swallow it willingly.”
Those words seemed to strip away all her remaining will to fight.
Her shoulders, drawn taut as a bowstring pulled to its breaking point, sagged downward. The eyes that had been streaming with tears dried up in an instant.
The woman, gaunt as a specter, looked up at him with a voice barely above a whisper.
“Khan is not a monster. You are the monster.”
“….”
“You are a terrible monster without feeling. I never agreed to marry you.”
Barcas, who had remained motionless for a long moment, allowed a thin, self-deprecating smile to cross his lips.
“Regret is always too late, no matter how quickly it comes.”
The woman, who had been staring at him as though he were something abhorrent, finally closed her eyes in exhaustion. She appeared on the verge of fainting again if he pressed any further.
He abandoned his attempt to force her to eat and walked toward the fireplace. As I stirred the weakened embers with a poker, my tattered hand came into view.
I retrieved a towel from the shelf and wiped away the blood. Then, suddenly overwhelmed by unbearable fatigue, I collapsed into a chair. My vision blurred as though frost had settled over it.
Cradling my throbbing temples, I turned my gaze back to the bed. The disheveled bed, ravaged by their violent struggle, and the woman sprawled upon it like a broken doll filled my sight.
Somehow, breathing became difficult.
I dragged my hand roughly across my face and sank deep into the chair’s back.
* * *
Days of warfare stretched endlessly before him.
To get her to consume even half a bowl of rice gruel, he had to engage in fierce struggles lasting several hours.
Even when he managed to force the food down her throat, she would vomit up more than half of it, and the meager nutrients she did manage to digest seemed to be entirely consumed in their physical confrontations.
Watching her grow thinner with each passing day, Barcas felt acutely what it meant to have one’s blood run dry.
She had tormented him before by refusing meals, but he had never encountered resistance this violent.
She seemed truly determined to starve herself to death. After wrestling with her for two hours to make her swallow the oatmeal porridge, Barcas held her firmly in both arms as she clawed at her own throat trying to expel it, and he cried out to the Handmaidens standing at a distance, his face pale with alarm.
“Light the sedative incense at once!”
The women standing at the doorway rushed over and placed dried medicinal herbs into the brazier, igniting them.
Throughout this, she continued to writhe convulsively in his arms, desperate to break free.
“Let go! Release me, I’m telling you!”
He wrapped her tightly in sheets and leaned his body against the head of the bed.
Before long, her body went limp like seaweed. Her weakened frame could not withstand even the faintest medicinal vapors.
He brushed away the tangled hair from her nape as she hung limply in his arms, her head resting against his chest.
Her face, streaked with sweat and tears, looked up at him with resentment.
“Please… stop now. Just leave me alone.”
Letting her pleading words go in one ear and out the other, he wiped her face with a warm, damp cloth.
The woman, looking at him with horror, soon lost consciousness from the medicinal fumes.
He laid her diagonally across the bed where he had stacked multiple pillows, then rose from his seat. As he removed his ruined shirt and retrieved fresh clothing, he felt a hesitant gaze upon him.
He turned to look at the Handmaidens who were shifting nervously.
“What is it?”
“Well, that is… shouldn’t Your Excellency also have your wounds treated?”
The Handmaiden answered in a small, embarrassed voice, her face flushed.
He lowered his gaze to the red nail marks on his forearms. The nails that had inflicted quite deep wounds in the first few days now barely left thin scratches.
Even the strength in her grip seemed to diminish with each passing day. Barcas looked down at the marks with a vacant expression and answered indifferently as he buttoned his shirt.
“There is no need to concern yourself.”
“But still…”
“More importantly, where is the Grand Duchess’s Nursemaid currently stationed?”
Startled by the sudden question, the Handmaiden stiffened her shoulders and looked up at him.
“Brenda is currently at the Textile Workshop in the Outer Fortress. She was completely removed from her position as an attendant years ago after committing a grave offense against His Highness…”
The Handmaiden stammered her response, clearly worried he might reinstate the woman as the Grand Duchess’s attendant.
He threw a black tunic carelessly over his thin shirt, then gestured toward the doorway.
“Bring that woman to the lower level of the Separate Building.”
The woman hesitated briefly before departing.
He summoned another Handmaiden to monitor her condition and left the darkened Bedroom.
As he descended the Staircase, the wide Hall where the Handmaidens resided came into view, along with the modest Kitchen and the neatly arranged Reception Room entrance.
He entered the room where a fire had been lit and collapsed into a velvet chair.
A Handmaiden attending to him filled a wine glass and set it on a small table.
As he picked it up and moistened his parched throat, a dark-skinned dwarf-blooded woman was led into the Separate Building by a Soldier.
He studied the face of this woman he had grown weary of seeing since childhood. She did not appear to have suffered greatly; she had gained weight since he last saw her.
“G-Grand Duke Sierkan, I am honored to meet you.”
The woman dragged before him muttered with an anxious expression.
Barcas remained silent for a while. The woman, rolling her pebble-like eyes nervously as she gauged his mood, carefully opened her mouth.
“I wonder what you summoned me for….”
“She has been refusing food for over a fortnight.”
He finally spoke.
The woman’s eyes widened as if she hadn’t expected such words, but her shoulders soon sagged.
“Ah, so that wretched habit has surfaced again.”
The woman heaved a heavy sigh as though there was nothing surprising about it, shaking her head slowly.
“Ever since she was young, whenever her mood turns foul, she refuses all food and drink, tormenting everyone around her… I wonder when she will ever mature….”
Then she clicked her tongue. The woman who had raised her from infancy showed no great concern even at the news that she had refused all sustenance for a fortnight.
He fixed the woman with a glacial stare.
“Mind your tongue. Do you still see her as a child nestled in your skirts?”
The woman flinched, her round shoulders shrinking inward.
He pressed his throbbing temples—sleepless for days now—and broached the matter.
“Prepare food that she will eat and bring it to me.”
“B-but Your Excellency, surely you know as well as I do. Once the young lady—no, the Grand Duchess herself—closes her mouth, no amount of pleading from those around her will help. No matter what I prepare….”
“Yet she has often eaten what you make. If you need any ingredients, I will procure whatever is necessary. Prepare the dishes she used to favor and bring them to me.”
The woman remained silent, her lips firmly sealed. Barcas fixed her with a murderous glare, daring her to defy his command.
“Did you not hear me?”
“I-I did hear you. I heard perfectly well.”
The woman stammered her response with a terrified expression. Yet her face still plainly showed her reluctance.
The woman, her tense face rolling her eyes uncertainly, hesitantly blurted out her words.
“I-I will obey your command, but… please grant me one request.”
He let out an incredulous laugh.
“Do you truly believe you are in a position to negotiate with me?”
“I am not a person of the Grand Ducal House. I am here only by the command of the Empress to care for the Grand Duchess.”
He leaned forward from where he had been resting against the back of his chair. Then he gave a light nod as if to say, go ahead.
The woman flinched as though intimidated, taking a step backward before squeezing her eyes shut and pouring out her words in a rush.
“But after the Grand Duchess cast me aside saying she had no need of me, I was left to do menial labor among the lowly servants. I can no longer endure such treatment. Once the Grand Duchess recovers, I wish for you to send me back to the Empress’s Household.”

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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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