The Forgotten Field - Chapter 218

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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 218
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Inside the Banquet Hall of Dolakan Castle, voices rose with unprecedented harshness. The confrontation between the Balto Nobility Alliance and the Imperial Delegation had grown increasingly volatile.
The negotiations, which many had believed would reach a conclusion within months, had dragged on for half a year with nothing but repetitive, exhausting exchanges. Finally, the Delegation—having reached the limits of patience—adopted a hardline stance, and the atmosphere in the hall grew so tense that bloodshed seemed imminent.
“I must ask whether the Northern Noble Alliance even possesses the will to conclude a peace treaty. At this point, I find myself doubting their sincerity altogether.”
Theodosios Leon, the Emperor’s Chief Attendant and head of the Delegation, spoke with cutting sarcasm.
“Are you dragging out these talks simply to observe the situation, waiting for the moment you might return to the side of the rebels?”
“Such unfounded accusations are unwarranted!”
An immediate rebuttal erupted from the Balto Nobility Alliance.
“We seek only minimal safeguards. As we have repeatedly stated, if the Northern Noble Alliance’s existing autonomy is merely guaranteed, we stand ready to affix our seals to the treaty without hesitation.”
“The Imperial Family’s response to that demand has already been communicated sufficiently, I believe.”
Theodosios pressed his temples wearily, exhaling a long, exasperated sigh.
“The Balto Nobility Alliance has already turned its back on the Empire once. His Majesty has shown clemency and chosen not to pursue the matter, but he has made it abundantly clear that Balto’s principal cities shall remain under the supervision of Imperial Administrators for the time being.”
“And precisely how long does ‘the time being’ entail?”
A young Northern nobleman who had been sitting quietly at the end of the table spoke up, crossing his arms over his chest.
The Emperor’s Chief Attendant shrugged with casual indifference.
“That depends entirely upon how swiftly you restore the Imperial Family’s trust.”
The Chief Attendant’s arrogant tone caused the faces of the Balto nobles to darken. Yet the man continued without the slightest hint of intimidation, his bearing thoroughly commanding.
“This negotiation represents His Majesty’s final mercy. The Northern Noble Alliance has but two paths from which to choose: humbly accept His Majesty’s proposal, or bear the consequences of disloyalty.”
“Spare us this pretense of benevolent dispensation.”
The elderly Earl of Balto, who had maintained silence throughout, finally spoke with grave weight.
“His Majesty is equally eager to end this war swiftly, is he not? Do you truly believe we are unaware that the lords of other regions harbor considerable grievances?”
“I must remind you that those grievances are directed at Balto as well.”
The man countered sharply.
“The rebellion sparked in Balto has brought suffering across the entire Robiden Continent. Should the other lords discover that you concern yourselves only with preserving your own positions while shirking responsibility for this calamity, where do you suppose their wrath will be directed?”
The elderly Earl’s mouth clamped shut at the man’s observation.
The Chief Attendant pressed forward without pause, his momentum unrelenting.
“If this war is not brought to a swift conclusion, Balto shall be branded as the enemy of the entire Robiden Continent.”
At this thinly veiled threat, one of the Northern Forces slammed the table with a resounding crash.
“It was His Majesty the Emperor who proposed these peace talks! Is this the ‘clemency’ you speak of—threatening those of us who came here in good faith, trusting in His Majesty?”
“The Northern Noble Alliance drew swords against the Empire! Yet His Majesty extended the hand of reconciliation and forgiveness first. And how do you repay such grace? By making outrageous demands! How much longer must His Majesty endure your shameless audacity!”
Unable to contain themselves further, the Delegation erupted in heated shouts, and the hall descended into chaos in an instant.
From a distance, observing the spectacle, Erikh—the Second Son of Bleston House—exhaled a heavy sigh. The negotiations appeared poised to collapse at any moment.
“Do you truly believe this situation can be salvaged?”
Cedric, his nephew, whispered anxiously beside him, shifting restlessly in his seat.
Erikh’s gaze swept across the faces of the nobles gathered around the long table, his expression contemplative.
Due to Bjorn Blodar Heimdal’s exploits, the Northern nobles had grown even more skeptical of the peace treaty.
At this juncture, when the animosity of Balto’s citizens toward the Empire had reached its zenith, they feared that openly siding with the Imperial Family would brand them as “traitors to their people.”
Yet even amid this turmoil, the Imperial Delegation showed no sign of yielding an inch. They seemed to guard the Empire’s dignity and prestige above all else.
“Indeed… broaching the subject of a betrothal in such circumstances might only prove counterproductive.”
He reluctantly acknowledged the truth.
Though the Eastern Territories’ ruler enjoyed close ties with the Imperial Family, persuading the stubborn Emperor and his blindly devoted retainers would prove far from simple.
‘Perhaps I need to revise my strategy.’
Erikh drummed his fingertips against the desk, conjuring the image of the young Grand Duke—a man carved from ice itself.
Despite his delicate features bearing the unmistakable mark of Osyrian blood, he possessed a decidedly martial temperament.
Could such a rough-hewn, reckless youth truly navigate this labyrinthine situation with finesse?
Erikh rose from his chair, his expression clouded with doubt as he stroked his chin.
Though Grand Duke Sierkan and the Crown Prince were said to be as close as brothers, rumors abounded that their bond had grown distant after the marriage negotiations with the First Princess fell through.
It seemed wiser to seek alternative avenues. Having reached this conclusion, Erikh spoke with a troubled tone.
“Sitting here any longer would be a waste of time. I believe I shall take my leave.”
Just as he rose to depart with his nephew, someone entered the conference chamber.
The nobles instinctively turned their heads, and every one of them held their breath. A man of almost unreal beauty strode into the hall, flanked by two knights who appeared to serve as aides.
A few of the nobles who recognized his face let out soft gasps of astonishment.
“Grand Duke Sierkan….”
Mere weeks ago, he had been carried into Dolakan Castle looking little better than a corpse.
Dozens of pairs of eyes, wide with shock, traced over the man’s sculpted features and powerful frame.
According to the soldiers’ testimony, a poisoned longsword had pierced his flank and exited through his back.
Though the High Priest had immediately begun treatment, rumors had spread that his condition was grave enough that full recovery could not be assured.
Yet as the man crossed the hall, not a trace of injury was visible upon him.
“I trust you’ll forgive my intrusion without prior notice.”
The man took his seat upon the upper dais with casual certainty, offering a leisurely smile as he spoke.
“I confess I’ve grown unbearably curious as to why these negotiations have stalled for half a year without progress.”
“…I understand you’ve only recently awakened. Surely such exertion cannot be advisable at this stage of your recovery?”
The Emperor’s Chief Attendant asked, his gaze wary.
The man lifted a goblet to his lips, moistening them before speaking in a gentle tone.
“As you can see, I have made a complete recovery.”
“How fortunate indeed. His Majesty will surely be relieved of his burden.”
“I regret having caused His Majesty such concern.”
The man spoke flatly, leaning back against his chair as he loosened the buttons of his doublet with practiced ease—a gesture reminiscent of a great cat lowering itself before pouncing upon its prey.
Erikh settled back into his seat.
It appeared Grand Duke Sierkan intended to honor his promise to me. I would do well to observe how this man untangles this knot before deciding my next move.
With that thought, he folded his hands upon the desk as the man continued in an unhurried tone.
“Pay me no mind—do continue your discussion. I am most curious to see how this matter concludes.”
“Your Excellency, did you not assume command of the Imperial Allied Forces? Should you not be attending to that matter rather than this conference?”
“How ungracious. You would have a man freshly returned from death’s door march straight back to the battlefield?”
The man chuckled as though amused by a fine jest, raising his empty goblet toward the attendant standing behind him.
The summoned servant hurried over and filled the silver chalice to the brim. The man brought it to his lips, took a sip, then turned to the Emperor’s Chief Attendant with a languid smile.
“Does His Majesty wish for me to perish in this land?”
“How could you speak such words…!”
The Emperor’s Chief Attendant raised his voice in alarm.
“Surely Your Excellency isn’t suggesting that the Imperial Family bears responsibility for the injuries you’ve sustained? That would be entirely…!”
“My wounds are no one’s fault but my own inadequacy. I would never harbor resentment toward the supreme authority of the Empire over such a matter.”
The Grand Duke Sierkan cut short the Chief Attendant’s words with a dismissive tone, then set down his cup with a sharp clink. Tension visibly tightened across the Chief Attendant’s face.
Just moments before, he had loudly proclaimed that the lords’ grievances were directed at Balto rather than the Imperial Family. Yet here stood Grand Duke Sierkan, one of those very lords, openly displaying signs of discontent—a deeply awkward predicament indeed.
The man, his expression hardened, soon spoke in a conciliatory tone.
“His Imperial Majesty expresses profound gratitude for the Grand Duke’s dedication. He has repeatedly instructed that no effort be spared in supporting your recovery to full health.”
“How gracious of him to say.”
The man murmured in an indifferent voice, then leaned forward across the table.
“But what I require is not some Healer or the like. What I need is an end to this war. If His Majesty truly cares for his subjects, I would ask only that he devote his full strength to bringing this conflict to a close.”
The young Chief Attendant’s face hardened like stone. By contrast, the faces of the Northern nobles flushed with color—they seemed to believe circumstances were turning favorably in their direction.
The man, sweeping his gaze across those faces with cold eyes, spoke once more.
“The longer we delay, the weaker the Empire’s unity becomes. We cannot continue to ignore such an obvious truth.”
“So you’re saying His Imperial Majesty should grovel before the rebels?”
The young Chief Attendant spat the words bitterly between his teeth. As a man from a loyal house that had served as the Emperor’s right hand for generations, he could not tolerate the Grand Duke’s remarks, which seemed to challenge the very authority of the Imperial Family.
The Grand Duke looked down at the man, whose forehead was flushed as if he had witnessed a fatal betrayal, and spoke with weary resignation in his calm gaze.
“Surely not. My point is simply this: we must cease this foolish obsession with pointless pride contests that cause us to lose sight of what truly matters—the security of the Empire. The Roem Empire was founded upon the principles of unity and harmony. The first Emperor, Darian Roem Guerta, even embraced our Khan People, who had opposed the Empire for countless ages, as its own. Now that the Roem Empire faces the crisis of division, we must revive that spirit of reconciliation.”
From the lips of a man renowned for his taciturnity flowed eloquent words, and a strange silence fell over the hall.
After a moment of bewilderment, the Chief Attendant asked in a somewhat irritable tone.
“What exactly are you proposing?”
“To end this conflict, we need a symbol of unity that will bind the Empire and the North together once more.”
Only then did the young Chief Attendant seem to grasp what was being suggested, his eyes widening considerably.
As the hall stirred with murmurs, the Grand Duke lightly raised the cup in his hand and continued smoothly.
“The Imperial Family needs assurance that the North will never again raise arms in rebellion, and the North desires firm guarantees that they will retain their former status as members of the Empire. A union between the daughter of the house representing the North and His Highness the Crown Prince—what stronger pledge could there be than this?”

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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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