The Forgotten Field - Chapter 23

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Chapter 23
* * *
Contrary to her expectations, the journey proceeded without incident.
Though tar-thick nights stretched on endlessly, morning broke without a single soul drenched in blood, and they packed their belongings before the sun reached its zenith, setting out once more.
The pilgrimage progressed without major disruption, though the schedule slipped gradually as exhausted soldiers fell behind in the oppressive heat.
The procession, led by Gareth and his personal guard, reached the small northern city of Sortica five days after departing the Imperial Palace, and after spending a day there, they moved north once more.
Throughout this time, Talia watched the attendants Senevir had sent with burning intensity.
They feigned an almost nauseating loyalty, yet Talia never once lowered her guard against them.
They were simply waiting for the opportune moment. That something terrible would occur soon was as obvious as fire in daylight.
Had not sinister plots always shadowed whatever Senevir involved herself in?
If not today, then tomorrow; if not tomorrow, then the day after. Soon, a horrific scene would unfold before her eyes.
Talia could not discern whether she feared this or anticipated it.
Whenever she saw Barcas, who had been so cold toward her, display endless tenderness toward Aila, she wished for something terrible to happen immediately.
If both of them were reduced to unrecognizable carnage, her heart would feel relieved. Seeing his corpse would be infinitely preferable to watching him stand beside Aila.
Yet as night deepened, suffocating dread would overwhelm her. No matter how many times she repeated that such a man deserved to die, it was futile.
Talia, who had trembled with anxiety all night, fled the barracks before dawn broke. Relying on the dim light of early morning, she set out to find him. Only by confirming with her own eyes that Barcas lived and breathed would her suffocation finally ease.
She moved hurriedly along a narrow path overgrown with brush until the sound of a horse neighing made her stop abruptly.
Pushing through the dense undergrowth, she glimpsed a gray stallion with a black mane flowing luxuriously.
Barcas, who had skillfully led the massive horse to the spring, knelt on one knee upon the ground. He pulled the reins to guide the stallion’s head toward the water’s surface, then cupped spring water in his other hand, wetting the horse’s long, powerful neck.
Sunlight filtering through the dense foliage painted his hair a beautiful silver. Watching this scene with bated breath, Talia closed her eyes in despair.
No matter how much I carved it away, my love for Barcas grew like a tumor, consuming me. I could see no path out of this mire.
How could I cast aside this heart?
Talia, who had been leaning against the Large Tree gazing vacantly at the sky, weakly turned her body around. Then, spotting Aila emerging along the path, she hastily hid behind the tree.
She had come out immediately upon rising from her bed, wearing only a thin dress beneath a single loose gown, her long hair cascading over her shoulders. She was disheveled—as much as Talia herself, perhaps even more so.
Yet despite this, Aila appeared noble and dignified. Talia found herself thinking that perhaps this woman possessed something in her blood that she could never have, even if she died trying.
“So you were here.”
Aila, her cheeks flushed with warmth, approached him carefully and settled onto a flat rock beside him.
Barcas’s gaze fell upon her. As if unable to bear even his quiet gaze, Aila softly curved the corners of her eyes and carefully removed her shoes. Then she dipped her feet into the spring water and splashed it playfully.
The sound of the horse neighing, the splash of water, and bright, cheerful laughter like birdsong melted into the cold morning air.
Talia suppressed the urge to rush out and seize her half-sister by the hair. She restrained the desire to tear apart the lips that smiled at him, to rip out the tongue that chattered at him. She could not bear to witness Barcas protecting Aila.
Soon, after Aila had enjoyed enough splashing, she reached out her hand toward him. Rather than taking it to help her up, Barcas bent down and dried her feet. Then, as if he were a devoted servant, he carefully put her shoes back on. That sight pierced her heart like a dagger.
Talia turned and began to run. Branches and leaves tore at her arms and calves, but she felt no pain. It was as if all her senses had broken down.
She raced through the winding forest path like a thoroughbred, breathing heavily. Then her foot caught on a protruding tree root—thud—and she tumbled forward. Buried in the undergrowth, her chest heaving, Talia suddenly burst into laughter.
What would Senevir say if she saw me like this? She would probably furrow her delicate brows and shake her head in disapproval. I could almost hear her mocking voice from somewhere.
“You have two paths before you. One is to obtain the man you desire by any means necessary, and the other is to become a somewhat less pathetic loser.”
She seemed to hope that Talia would become a seductress and tempt him, but Talia could never become like Senevir, even if she died.
She would have seized what she wanted without hesitation or scruple. But Talia could only pray for this painful time to end soon, unable to conceive of what else she should do.
Gazing up at the fragmented sky between the branches, Talia soon pushed herself to her feet. As she emerged from the dark forest path with weary steps, she noticed several knights milling about uncertainly. Passing them and approaching the carriage, a guard knight—Rubon or whoever—quickly blocked her path.
“Where have you been without a word! I’ve told you repeatedly that you mustn’t wander alone without an escort….”
The knight, pouring out his presumptuous scolding, suddenly fell silent. He seemed quite startled by her disheveled appearance.
“What on earth… is that state… surely you didn’t get beaten somewhere?”
She stepped past him onto the carriage footboard.
But the man showed no signs of ceasing his nagging. Gripping the doorframe, he continued in a stern tone.
“I have a duty to protect Your Highness. Therefore….”
“Anyone listening would think you actually cared about me.”
Talia looked down at him with a sneer.
“It seems you’ve been ordered not to take your eyes off the reckless princess for even a moment… but if you’re going to keep watch, at least stay alert. Why are you blaming me for what you lost sight of while standing there like an idiot?”
The man fell silent, his mouth clamped shut.
Talia slammed the door shut directly in his face.
The man’s fingers caught in the doorframe, and he let out a harsh curse. Protected by his gauntlets, the injury wasn’t severe, but he continued grumbling about the considerable pain for quite some time.
She, as always, ignored all the complaints drifting in from outside.
Had I absorbed every word spoken by those surrounding me, I would have lost my mind long ago.
Since becoming a princess, the first thing she learned was how to let things go unheard.
Talia drew thick curtains over the glass window where the morning light filtered through and curled up like a hedgehog.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————