The Forgotten Field - Chapter 214

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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 214
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The Balto Citizen Militia swelled with each passing day.
Young men whose hatred for the Imperial Family had reached a fever pitch flocked to join the rebellion, and within mere months, a massive force rivaling the Northern Noble Alliance had been organized.
It was the inevitable consequence of years of indiscriminate plundering and brutal military suppression carried out by the Imperial Army.
“Filthy traitors!”
The Crown Prince, forced into a humiliating retreat by the Amasek Citizen Militia’s relentless wave attacks, hurled his helmet to the ground and raged like a madman.
Barcas lifted his gaze from the map he had been studying on the table.
The Crown Prince, haggard from days of grueling combat, kicked over a table in the corner of the tent while cursing vehemently.
“By the gods, I swear I’ll flay the skin from those vermin and hang them like flags throughout the capital! I’ll gouge out their eyes while they still draw breath, tear out their tongues, and scatter their severed pieces across this wretched land as fertilizer! Just you wait, you dogs!”
Barcas reclined against the back of his chair, calmly waiting for his younger cousin’s fit of rage to subside.
Once the frenzy had finally ebbed, the man who had been destroying everything in the tent slumped into a chair.
Seeing this, Barcas issued an instruction to the Elderly Attendant hovering uncertainly at the entrance.
“Don’t just stand there—bring His Highness a glass of cold wine.”
“I don’t need anything! Everyone get out!”
The Crown Prince rushed forward, roughly shoving aside the Elderly Attendant who was reaching for a wine bottle, and fixed him with a blazing glare.
“Why do you look so composed? Does my humiliation amuse you?”
Barcas said nothing in response, simply reaching for the goblet on the table.
As he moistened his lips with the wine, Gareth suddenly rose from his seat, snatched the cup away, hurled it into a corner of the tent, and leaned toward him menacingly.
“Why won’t you answer me? I’m asking if my predicament entertains you.”
“You’ve chosen the wrong target for your frustration.”
Barcas looked up at him with an expressionless face and spoke.
“Is this how you repay someone who has ridden far to help resolve this chaos?”
Gareth stiffened slightly, as if he had caught the warning in Barcas’s tone.
Barcas gestured with his chin toward the chair across from him.
“Sit. We have matters to discuss regarding what comes next.”
“How impressive. Now that you’ve become commander-in-chief, even the Crown Prince must seem beneath you?”
Gareth twisted his face in resentment at his brief moment of intimidation and spoke with a sneer.
Barcas’s voice turned glacial.
“I said sit.”
The Crown Prince, who had been glaring at him with his neck flushed, finally pulled up a chair and sat.
Barcas unfolded a map before him and began his explanation in a measured tone.
“Your Highness’s direct forces will be positioned in the rear. Establish your camp in the southwestern region of Amasek and focus on severing their supply lines.”
“Are you telling me to cower and retreat like a coward, avoiding common rabble?”
“This uprising is the result of the merciless suppression Your Highness has conducted. His Majesty is concerned that the Northern people’s hostility toward the Imperial Family not escalate further.”
Gareth’s face flushed crimson at the criticism. He struck the table with his fist and spat out his words.
“Are you saying this crisis is my fault?”
Barcas neither confirmed nor denied this, continuing his explanation calmly.
“If the Crown Prince, who will one day rule the Empire, were to massacre the Balto Citizen Militia, the resentment would become irreversible. To reintegrate Balto into the Empire, His Majesty has determined that he needs someone willing to dirty their hands in the Crown Prince’s stead.”
“So you’re the cleanup man chosen for that task?”
Gareth let out a derisive snort.
“And you humbly accepted the proposal to become Commander-in-Chief out of loyalty to me, is that it?”
“That is correct.”
Barcas replied gently.
“Yet my cousin seems intent on fracturing my loyalty to the Empire.”
“….”
“If I am no longer needed, please say so directly. Should Your Highness command it, I will gladly lead the reinforcements back to the Eastern Territories.”
Gareth clenched his teeth as though ready to explode with rage at any moment.
After a tense silence stretched between them, the Crown Prince ground out his words as if spitting them forth.
“Fine. For now, your forces will follow your orders. But since I’ve withdrawn my troops to the rear, the results had better be decisive.”
With that, he rose abruptly and strode out of the tent.
The next day, Barcas immediately reorganized his formations and began pressuring Amasek. He had no intention of forcing a direct engagement.
After thoroughly isolating the city and cutting off the expansion of rebel forces spreading like poisonous mushrooms across the region, Barcas quickly established fortifications to the north and severed the flow of the Ruden River that fed into Amasek.
Diverting the massive river’s course required an enormous expenditure of magical artifacts and explosives, but the effect was undeniable.
According to the spies he had infiltrated into the city, signs of division were already beginning to appear among the citizens.
According to records compiled by the Imperial Army after capturing the city, Amasek’s walls contained vast stores of provisions sufficient to sustain the population for at least half a year. Water, however, was another matter.
Without water, they could not endure even a month before raising the white flag. Now all he had to do was wait for the moment when the rat trapped in the poison would make its final desperate gambit.
Barcas soon positioned cavalry in successive layers around the castle gates in preparation for the fierce battle to come.
Several weeks passed in this manner. An unexpected visitor arrived at the barracks.
“It has been a long time, Grand Duke Sierkan.”
Barcas, who had been standing atop the watchtower gazing down at the isolated city, turned his head toward the voice.
He saw hundreds of knights bearing lances with green flags climbing up the hillside.
The massive man leading them called out in a cheerful tone.
“Though I suppose I should address you as Grand Duke now.”
A moment later, Barcas recognized the man’s face and furrowed his brow. He was the second son of the Bleston Ducal House, one of the most prominent noble families representing the Northern Region.
He descended the stairs slowly and approached the man.
The man dismounted from his horse and extended one hand respectfully toward him.
“We met once before at an Imperial Palace event long ago. I trust you have been well?”
“It has been a while.”
Barcas grasped his hand and scrutinized the man with a cautious gaze.
The Bleston Ducal House currently held the position of leader of the Northern Noble Alliance in place of Duke Heimdal’s house.
What was this man doing here when he should have been at the peace talks in Dolakan Castle?
As Barcas’s eyes reflected suspicion, the man broached his business in a measured tone.
“I have come on behalf of the Bleston Ducal House to present a proposal to you, Your Grace. Might you spare me a moment?”
Barcas studied the man’s eyes as though trying to discern his true intentions, then gestured toward the barracks entrance with a glance.
“You may enter. However, only you and one guard.”
The man’s expression hardened slightly, and he nodded with a resigned sigh.
Barcas immediately passed through the checkpoint and headed toward his tent.
Inside the large tent allocated only to commanders, minimal furnishings for daily life were arranged. Barcas strode in and settled into a chair before a somewhat crude conference table, gesturing for the man to sit.
The man, who had been standing at the entrance glancing about, silently pulled out a chair and sat before him.
“What sort of proposal are you suggesting?”
My blunt question caused a flicker of displeasure to cross the man’s face. He clearly hadn’t anticipated such a direct approach.
The man cleared his throat with a small complaint.
“Your hospitality seems rather stingy. Surely you could offer a guest something to drink?”
“Whether I regard you as a guest or an uninvited intruder depends entirely on what business you bring. I’ll decide after hearing it.”
At my curt response, a heavy sigh escaped the man’s lips.
“Very well. Allow me to state my business directly. This is….”
The man withdrew a small envelope from his breast pocket and extended it toward me.
I raised one eyebrow.
“What is it?”
“A personal letter from my elder brother, Duke Rowin Bleston.”
After confirming the Bleston family seal impressed upon the envelope, I accepted the letter and broke the wax seal.
Upon the yellowed parchment was written an extraordinary request—that I recommend Anastair, the legitimate daughter of the Bleston family, as the Crown Prince’s bride.
A wry smile played at my lips.
“This is absurd. Though the Northern Noble Alliance has supposedly returned to the Imperial side, the fact that you conspired with Heimdal’s rebellion remains indelible. And now you ask me to elevate the daughter of a house that harbored treasonous intent to become Crown Princess?”
“Currently, there is no other viable option.”
The man, his expression tense and lips parched, continued carefully.
“Your Grace is well aware that the sentiments of Balto’s citizens are unstable. To quell this unrest, the Empire must present an image of magnanimously embracing Balto. What could be more convincing than a pure-blooded Northerner ascending to the position of Crown Princess?”
He paused, as if seeking my agreement.
I made no response, merely offering a light nod to encourage him to continue.
Provoked by my arrogant demeanor, the man leaned forward, gripping the table.
“At this rate, the war will never end, even after years pass. The reason peace negotiations have stalled for half a year is that the Northern Noble Alliance lacks confidence that their position will be guaranteed. But if Anastair becomes Crown Princess, that distrust will vanish instantly.”
I drummed my fingertips against the table, gazing thoughtfully at the letter from Duke Rowin Bleston.
It was an exceedingly tempting proposal—and currently, the most pragmatic solution available.
The question was whether Gareth would accept this compromise.
I felt a dull throb beginning behind my eyes and pressed my temples. Persuading that reckless fool wouldn’t be easy. Yet if I could manage to manipulate him properly, I could end this tedious war in one fell swoop.
If matters progressed favorably, I could return to Laedgo Castle by spring.
I clenched the parchment tightly in my fist.
“Very well. I’ll proceed with this. However, there is one condition.”
“Please state it.”
“The moment the marriage is concluded, the Northern Noble Alliance must take the forefront in suppressing the rebels.”
“That is….”
The man’s face hardened visibly.
I pressed forward uncompromisingly.
“We cannot allow an image to form of the Imperial Army oppressing Northerners. You must personally execute the traitors. This is also the means by which the Northern Noble Alliance proves its loyalty.”
“….”
“If you cannot agree to this, I cannot present the proposal to His Majesty the Emperor.”
After a long hesitation, the man finally answered in a heavy, resigned tone.
“Understood. I will convey Your Grace’s intentions to my brother.”
He then rose from his seat and extended his hand once more.
I was just about to take that hand when a piercing horn blast erupted from outside the tent.
Barcas immediately seized his sword and bolted outside. In the same instant, the soldiers’ thunderous shouts rang out.
“The enemy attack has begun!”

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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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