The Forgotten Field - Chapter 228

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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 228
“A direct assault would be nothing short of suicide.”
A commander from the Imperial Coalition traced his fingertip across the map spread upon the table as he spoke.
“The moment our forces enter that slope, we’ll be bombarded with falling rocks and arrows from atop the city walls. And there’s no viable alternative route to circumvent it.”
“It’s not as though no alternative exists at all.”
Darian, who had been studying the intricate terrain marked upon the map with arms folded across his chest, finally broke his silence.
“What are your thoughts on approaching from behind the fortress by moving northward, as the Crown Prince attempted? If we exercise caution against ambushes, wouldn’t this route be the most practical option? If we could establish fortifications behind the fortress, we’d gain a geographically superior position as well.”
“That would be true, if we could enter safely.”
Kailias, seated at the far end of the long table with a rigid expression, pointed to a passage marked upon the map and added with cutting precision.
“To approach the rebel base, we must traverse a narrow mountain path barely wide enough for two carriages to pass. Moreover, the Jotungar Mountain Range is frequently shrouded in dense fog even in broad daylight. If fortune turns against us, we could find ourselves trapped in fog so thick we cannot see an inch ahead.”
The man shot the words out one by one, as though driving nails into wood.
“That was precisely why we fell victim to their ambush.”
Barcas said nothing in response, merely gazing down at the map with its detailed depiction of Jotungar’s terrain.
The fortress where the rebels were garrisoned was backed by a steep cliff face to the east, making approach impossible, while the south featured a relatively gentle slope but with a narrow entrance unsuitable for deploying large forces.
As Darian had suggested, assaulting the fortress from behind was indeed the most practical approach.
The problem was that the enemy surely understood this as well.
He pressed his temples, recalling his younger cousin’s reckless advance. Had Gareth only exercised greater caution and considered the possibility of ambushes along the detour, the current catastrophe would never have unfolded.
‘He must have grown overconfident in striking at the enemy’s weakness, hastily concluding that the risk of ambush was low.’
He exhaled heavily.
While Gareth’s recklessness was nothing new, the way all circumstances had unfolded so overwhelmingly in the enemy’s favor could not be dismissed as mere coincidence.
The timely bait dangled before Gareth, who was incensed by news of the betrothal, which provoked his impulsive action, combined with the uncanny precision of the ambush’s timing, suggested a strong possibility of internal collaboration.
His suspicion immediately turned toward the person who would benefit most from this situation.
If that woman were behind all of this….
Barcas cradled his forehead in one hand. If his suspicion was correct, that woman could only be described as mad.
Should it be revealed that she had collaborated with a traitor to sow division within the Empire and pushed the Crown Prince into a trap, she could not escape execution.
The punishment would not end there. Not only her family, but her children as well….
“What are your thoughts on this matter, sir?”
His tangled thoughts were abruptly severed.
Barcas turned his head to regard the man who had posed the question. Theodric Hart, one of the core figures of the Roem Knights, was watching him with eyes lost in contemplation.
“Rather than attempting a rash assault immediately, would it not be wiser to blockade the passages leading to the fortress and settle in for a siege? As for the Crown Prince….”
The man, who had been drawing out his words as though carefully selecting each one, added with deliberation.
“I believe it would be prudent to leave room for negotiation. There is a risk that you yourself could be held responsible for the Crown Prince’s safety.”
“I appreciate the concern, but I have no intention of reversing my decision.”
Barcas rose from his seat with firm resolve and picked up an iron stylus. He then marked the map at points suitable for establishing strongholds and issued his orders.
“Divide the forces into two. The main contingent will establish fortifications here, to the south. The remainder will circle northward and approach from behind. For now, we’ll camp at the mountain foot leading to the entrance, and once I give the signal, move immediately along the path and advance.”
“As I have repeatedly stated, the detour carries the danger of being ambushed…!”
“Spare me your unnecessary objections.”
Barcas cut off Kailias’s rebuttal with a single stroke.
“The opinion of a defeated soldier who surrendered the Crown Prince to the enemy hardly seems worth heeding.”
At the caustic remark delivered with deceptive gentleness, not only Kailias but every member of the Roem Knights present in the conference hall had their expressions harden like stone.
Indifferent to the chilled atmosphere, he continued speaking with measured composure.
“Send a reconnaissance unit ahead to thoroughly survey the area surrounding the fortress. Select an appropriate contingent for the task.”
“I shall deploy our special detachment as scouts, sir.”
Darian, who had remained silent until then, raised one hand lightly as he spoke.
Barcas nodded in acknowledgment.
“The general outline appears settled. Let us adjourn for now.”
As he unilaterally concluded the conference, the commanders who had been exchanging sidelong glances gradually rose from their seats one by one.
Barcas watched the Knights disperse leisurely before departing the tent.
At that moment, Darian’s voice reached him from behind.
“Sir.”
Turning, he saw his adjutant’s face etched with concern.
Darian gestured toward the outer perimeter of the military camp with a tilt of his head.
“Might we speak privately for a moment?”
Barcas turned without hesitation in the direction Darian indicated.
As they crossed the densely packed campsite and reached the outer edge of the basin, pitch-black darkness enveloped them.
After walking in silence for some time, Darian finally spoke when they reached the palisade.
“…Do you truly intend to abandon the Crown Prince in this manner?”
Barcas offered no response, merely gazing upward at the darkened sky.
Darian pressed on with visible agitation.
“It cannot be denied that the Crown Prince is impulsive and inexperienced. However, the Second Prince is equally unstable, is he not?”
Darian’s voice grew more grave.
“Behind the Second Prince stands Senevir Taren. The current Empress will prove far more dangerous than the Crown Prince.”
The man paused briefly, studying his face intently before adding with deliberation.
“Moreover, did you not swear to the late Bernadette that you would protect the Crown Prince? Should it become known that you have broken such a sacred oath, it would inflict a fatal stain upon your honor.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
Barcas withdrew a waterskin from his belt and moistened his lips before responding in a parched tone.
Darian continued with evident frustration, his words tumbling forth urgently.
“Many still condemn you for unilaterally severing your betrothal to the First Princess. Should you now turn away from the Crown Prince, all will believe the Grand Duke’s House has sided with the Empress.”
As Barcas listened silently to his lengthy tirade, a dry laugh escaped his lips.
“So you fear that Grand Duke Sierkan will be condemned for losing his wits to the Empress’s daughter, abandoning both faith and honor?”
Darian could neither affirm nor deny, his lips pressed firmly shut.
Barcas closed the waterskin’s cap and straightened his posture from where he had been leaning against the fence.
“Do not worry. I shall not bring shame upon my House’s name.”
“What do you mean by that…?”
Barcas ignored the question and turned his body toward where his tent had been pitched.
“Now, let us retire. If we are to advance at first light tomorrow, we must conserve our strength.”
With that, he gripped Darian’s shoulder firmly once before releasing it, then strode through the darkened campsite with measured steps.
* * *
The following day, as Barcas led his forces northward, he halted the march at the foot of the mountains when the sun reached its zenith.
He then divided his forces into two contingents as previously arranged—positioning the main body directly before the fortress while dispatching the remaining units to circle around the ridges surrounding it and advance to its rear.
Shortly thereafter, nearly fourteen thousand soldiers began moving in perfect unison.
As they fortified their positions and installed siege weapons, Barcas led roughly thirty soldiers up the steep mountain foot.
The terrain was treacherously rugged and the slopes too precipitous for large-scale troop deployment, yet it proved ideal for a small unit to move undetected by enemy eyes.
He nimbly scaled the nearly vertical mountainside, gesturing directions to the soldiers following behind.
How far had they traveled?
By the time the sun began its descent, they had reached a vantage point overlooking the enemy fortress.
He climbed atop a massive boulder and examined the fortress’s interior structure with a calculating gaze.
“Surely reconnaissance of enemy positions could be entrusted to scouts. Why trouble yourself with such labor, sir?”
Edrick Lubon, who had chased after him with breath coming in ragged gasps, grumbled in bewilderment.
Barcas, rather than answering, pointed toward the steep mountain path.
“We’ll go a bit further.”
Then he began scaling the cliff face once more.
Upon reaching a suitable vantage point at last, he ordered the utterly exhausted soldiers to rest, then withdrew parchment from his garments and began sketching the fortress’s interior layout.
The enemy stronghold possessed an exceptionally formidable structure. The garrison’s strength far exceeded expectations, and the defensive installations were arranged without a single gap.
‘This will be no simple matter.’
He clicked his tongue softly and ran his sweat-dampened hair through his fingers roughly. Then, sensing an odd gaze, he turned his head.
Edrick, seated on the ground catching his breath, was staring at me intently.
Noticing that his gaze lingered on my waist, Barcas furrowed his brow.
“What are you looking at?”
“Nothing, sir. I was worried since you were so cold the day you departed… but I see you accepted it after all.”
Barcas narrowed his eyes at the incomprehensible remark and glanced down at his waist.
Tied to the belt the Elderly Attendant had prepared was a pouch embroidered in Eastern style.

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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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