The Forgotten Field - Chapter 223

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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 223
He summoned the Head Handmaiden at once. Before long, a sturdy middle-aged woman entered through the chamber door.
“You called for me, sir?”
Barcas studied her tense expression in silence, then parted his lips as he poured wine into an empty glass.
“I’d like to know what’s happened to Her Highness during my absence. Over these past few months, it seems her condition has improved considerably.”
Unable to find more precise words, he trailed off awkwardly, and a complex expression flickered across the Head Handmaiden’s face.
After a moment of deliberation, she carefully began to speak.
“I cannot say precisely what change of heart occurred within her. Even after your departure, she continued to refuse meals and remained confined to her bed for quite some time. Then, one day without warning, she expressed a desire to attend the dawn prayer service held by the Grand Cathedral.”
Barcas narrowed his brow. Given the conflict between the Eastern Sect and her, this behavior made no sense to him.
The Head Handmaiden, too, seemed unable to comprehend her actions, her brow furrowed as she continued carefully.
“From that day forward, she became as if transformed into a different person—composed and serene. She began requesting meals of her own accord, and spent her time tending flowers or embroidering, occupying herself with such pursuits.”
Barcas’s hand froze as he reached for his wine glass.
“She does needlework?”
“Recently, she has even begun learning to weave cloth in the Weaving Room. Though still quite unskilled, her aesthetic sensibility is so refined that she creates distinctive and beautiful patterns with remarkable ease. Her work has garnered considerable praise.”
The Head Handmaiden spoke with composure.
A hollow laugh escaped Barcas’s lips as he stared blankly for a moment.
Embroidery was a common pastime among noblewomen, yet she had never shown the slightest interest in such pursuits. And weaving cloth—that was grueling labor fit only for handmaidens.
Noticing his displeasure, the Head Handmaiden spoke as if in self-defense.
“I was aware this was not work befitting the Grand Duchess, but I could not bring myself to dissuade her. I believed that having something to occupy herself with would be more beneficial to her.”
“She has weaker constitution than most people. What if her health deteriorates from such strenuous labor?”
“With respect, sir, such concerns need not trouble you. Everyone takes care to ensure her work does not strain her health, and her physician has said that physical activity will aid her recovery of strength.”
The Head Handmaiden’s tone grew somewhat firmer. She seemed wary that he might restrict the Grand Duchess’s access to the Weaving Room.
She emphasized each word with conviction.
“In truth, Her Highness is gradually regaining her stability. Her relations with the handmaidens who work in the Inner Castle have become far more harmonious than before. So…”
“I have no intention of hindering what she does, so spare me the unnecessary persuasion.”
Barcas cut off her words sharply. A peculiar displeasure stirred within him at the Head Handmaiden’s manner, as if he were some threat to her peace.
Barcas poured the remaining wine entirely into his glass and gave a rather cold nod.
“You may withdraw now.”
The Head Handmaiden bowed respectfully and departed the chamber with composed steps.
Barcas leaned back in his chair and gazed out the window. Beyond the darkening sky, black clouds gathered and rolled forward.
Suddenly, a strong bitterness spread across his tongue.
Perhaps my return is to her like dark clouds gathering on the horizon.
With such a thought, he brought the wine glass to his lips.
The fiery liquid traced down his throat and pooled heavily in his stomach. Yet no matter how much he drank in succession, he could not feel intoxication.
He leaned his head against the back of his chair and exhaled a deep sigh.
* * *
Just as the Head Handmaiden had said, she was living a simple and peaceful existence.
His retainers still seemed to regard her with displeasure, but at least the resentment of the handmaidens who spent time with her had noticeably diminished.
The servants treated her with considerably greater ease than before, and Talia, too, had ceased to unnecessarily sharpen her edges.
Barcas could occasionally discover her in the Garden conversing with the handmaidens—a figure so gentle and serene that one could scarcely believe she was the same woman who had always been wary of others and bristled with thorns.
What on earth could have transformed her so completely?
My thoughts naturally drifted toward Edrick Lubon.
He was a man possessed of a remarkable talent for blending seamlessly with any company. Despite the weakness of his humble family origins, had he not naturally integrated himself into the Imperial Elite Guard, an organization rife with territorial prejudice? He had likely deployed his characteristic charm to its fullest effect, dismantling her defenses piece by piece.
I gazed out the window with a bitter expression.
As always in the afternoon, Talia had ventured into the Garden, walking along the promenade attended by her handmaidens. Among them, naturally, was Edrick Lubon.
He chattered ceaselessly at her side.
Having apparently produced some genuinely amusing anecdote, the handmaidens could be seen suppressing their laughter, their shoulders trembling delicately. The faint smile that had begun to grace Talia’s lips was a far cry from her initial expressionlessness.
After observing the scene for some time, I turned my gaze away.
Upon the wooden desk lay an accumulation of official documents and reports demanding my immediate signature. Though they had apparently submitted only the most urgent matters in consideration of my injured state, the volume remained considerable.
I meticulously reviewed the legal amendments submitted from each region, affixed my seal, and handed them to the waiting Elderly Attendant. I then examined the list of nobility to be invited to the betrothal ceremony when hurried footsteps and an abrupt knock sounded from beyond the door.
Without lifting my head, I spoke.
“What is it?”
“I came because I wished to ask my brother something.”
A sharp voice, as though suppressing anger, carried through the door.
I gave the Elderly Attendant a slight nod indicating he could open it.
Raina soon stormed in, her face contorted with fury, her footsteps heavy and deliberate.
“Is it true that you intend to grant Allen a territory?”
I furrowed my brow. Since I had recently granted territories to more than one person, I could not immediately recall whom she was referring to.
Only after several seconds did I remember that this was the name of the young man who would become my brother-in-law, and I nodded.
“Yes. There is a castle in the Southeastern Region of suitable size for you to inhabit. It comes with a city that collects considerable tax revenue and a large horse ranch. You would lack for nothing there in the future.”
“I clearly stated that I wanted the grand mansion east of Kalmor.”
My sister, who had drawn close to the desk, protested in a harsh voice.
“That mansion was built by Father for me! He promised that when I married, I would live there….”
“I am now offering you a dowry twice that scale.”
I set down the documents I had been holding and cut off my sister’s words with a cold tone.
“What more could you possibly want?”
“Stop pretending to care for me! You simply wish to drive me from Kalmor.”
Raina glared at me, her voice trembling with suppressed tears.
“You took Father from me, then Lucas, and now you seek to take even the home I have dwelt in all my life—how could I not be resentful?”
“Raina.”
At the soft tone that fell quietly from my lips, my sister’s shoulders stiffened with a flinch.
I continued in a measured yet chilling voice.
“If I so wished, I could marry you off to some elderly nobleman in the remote provinces with nothing but the clothes on your back. Considering the disrespect you have shown me and my wife, it would be remarkable if I did not.”
Raina’s complexion drained of color in an instant.
I continued speaking calmly, unmoved.
“It is only because you are a princess of House Sierkan and my own blood that I do not cast you out destitute. Therefore, accept this clemency with gratitude.”

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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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