The Forgotten Field - Chapter 227

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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 227
Barcas gripped the reins tightly with his veins bulging beneath the skin, surveying the military camp in a sweeping glance before spurring his horse forward.
As he descended the slope in one fluid motion, the camp’s ramshackle perimeter came into sharper focus.
The wooden palisade hastily erected along the basin’s outer edge bore the scars of severe damage, and the scattered tents within were crammed with a considerable number of wounded soldiers—a sight that spoke volumes of the scale of battle that had transpired.
He dismounted and strode purposefully toward the barricade.
A sentry who had been watching their approach from afar quickly shifted the fence aside to clear a path.
Upon entering, Barcas spoke without preamble.
“Where is the Crown Prince?”
The soldiers stationed on either side of the entrance stiffened instead of answering, exchanging nervous glances with one another.
Reading profound dread in their silence, Barcas clenched his jaw and proceeded directly toward the central tent where the command staff was quartered.
In the meantime, Knights of the Imperial Army came rushing out in succession upon hearing reports that the main force of the Imperial Coalition had arrived. Most were familiar faces.
Barcas swept his cold gaze across the faces of his former subordinates before stepping into the large tent, where he caught sight of Kailias rising from his bed with the assistance of an Elderly Attendant.
“I pay my respects to Grand Duke Sierkan.”
The man offered a formal bow while settling stiffly on the edge of the bed.
Barcas regarded the man—whose shoulder was wrapped in bandages from his injury—with a cold gaze before cutting straight to the matter at hand.
“Explain what happened here.”
“We were ambushed.”
The man ground his teeth as he replied.
“Half a day’s march northeast from here lies the enemy’s stronghold—an impregnable fortress nestled halfway up a mountainside near a cliff face. To draw the enemy out, we cut off their water supply and took a northern detour to completely block the access route to the fortress. But there were traps the enemy had dug in that location…”
“I’m not asking you to make excuses.”
A low groan escaped the high Knight’s lips.
Only then did he realize he had the man’s hair gripped in his fist. At some point, he had become unable to restrain his aggressive impulses in the slightest. It occurred to him that everything he had done to excise his inherent nature might have been nothing but futility.
Barcas wrenched the man’s head upward roughly and spoke with chilling coldness to his contorted face.
“Did you not receive orders to withdraw to the rear and await further instruction? Explain to me in a way I can comprehend why you dared defy my command and launch such a reckless assault.”
“We could not disobey the Crown Prince’s orders.”
The man spat the words through gritted teeth.
“He is to be the next Emperor. We Roem Knights have sworn our loyalty to him!”
“Loyalty is not merely charging in the direction your master points, like a trained dog.”
Barcas countered coldly.
“True loyalty lies in biting your master’s leg to stop him from walking toward his own destruction.”
“We do not believe the Crown Prince’s judgment was entirely mistaken.”
The man glared at him with wide eyes as he spoke.
“The Northern rebellion has claimed the lives of countless loyal servants of the Empire, including comrades we have stood beside for many years. Yet to elevate the daughter of a house responsible for those deaths to Crown Princess—this shakes the very foundations of Imperial order! We fully support the Crown Prince’s judgment that showing indiscriminate clemency to those who have raised their hand against the Imperial Family will only invite further calamity!”
Barcas looked down at the man in silence, a twisted sneer playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Then where, pray tell, is the Crown Prince whom you so fully support?”
The man’s face drained of all color.
He bit his bruised lips and averted his gaze.
“He has been taken captive by Heimdal.”
Barcas said nothing for a long moment.
Unable to bear his silence, the man added anxiously:
“It appears Heimdal has been targeting Your Majesty from the very beginning. He deliberately leaked information about the rebel forces’ location to lure us into a trap, then took the Crown Prince hostage to cripple the Imperial Army.”
“So what you’re telling me is that we’ve handed over the entire line of succession directly into the enemy’s grasp.”
The man’s mouth had opened as if to protest, but now his teeth clenched shut. He seemed to realize that whatever he said would amount to nothing more than pathetic excuses.
Barcas gazed down at the man’s flushed face with cold, piercing eyes before releasing his hand dismissively.
“From this moment forward, I assume direct command of not only the Roem Knights but also the Imperial Elite Forces. The moment the coalition’s mages finish healing all the wounded, concentrate every soldier at Heimdal’s Fortress.”
The man shot to his feet in shock.
“Are you even listening to yourself? The Crown Prince is being held hostage! If we attack now, His Highness’s safety could be jeopardized. Our only option is to comply with Heimdal’s demands!”
“The moment we comply with his demands, the Empire will be set on a path toward fragmentation.”
The knight’s neck stiffened at this categorical pronouncement.
“He’ll demand Balto’s autonomy and massive war reparations. Even if we somehow negotiate an end by paying the ransom, the Imperial Family’s prestige will crumble to dust. Meanwhile, Heimdal will be hailed as a hero of the Northern Region, and Balto’s independence will become inevitable.”
“That doesn’t necessarily have to happen!”
“With the Bleston family itself turning their backs on the Imperial Family, do you truly believe the Northern Forces will peacefully accept Imperial rule?”
“….”
“If Balto gains independence from the Empire, the other nobles won’t remain idle either. Within a few years, this entire Robiden Continent will regress into the ancient age of warring states, plunging us into an endless maelstrom of warfare and slaughter.”
By now, the knight’s complexion had become as pallid as a corpse. Barcas watched the terror spreading across the man’s face with quiet composure before continuing.
“Therefore, negotiation is impossible.”
“So you’re saying we should sacrifice the Crown Prince right now?”
Barcas offered no response.
The man lurched to his feet and staggered forward until he stood before him.
“This is not a decision the Grand Duke can make unilaterally! At the very least, we must report this to His Majesty first!”
“The Emperor’s decision would not differ greatly. If asked to choose between the Empire’s survival and the heir, the answer is already determined.”
Barcas drove the point home with ruthless finality.
“Besides, His Majesty has another heir. There is another legitimate successor to the throne, born through proper procedure, residing in the Imperial Palace as we speak.”
The man stared up at him with eyes wide in shock.
Barcas left the stunned man behind and stepped outside the tent. The knights gathered around the entrance bore grim, rigid expressions, as if they had overheard the dispute within.
Barcas surveyed them slowly before issuing his command in a quiet voice.
“Tomorrow, at first light, we advance on Heimdal’s Fortress. Ensure all preparations are completed without fail.”
* * *
The main force of the Imperial Coalition arrived at the campsite just as the sun sank completely beyond the ridge of hills.
The soldiers who emerged from the gathering darkness immediately set about reinforcing the inadequate defenses and preparing for the march that would follow the next day. Most of the commanders raised no objection to his decision. They gathered at once in the central tent for a strategic conference.

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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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