The Forgotten Field - Chapter 231

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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 231
Gareth’s fingers dug into his palms with such force that his nails drew blood.
Looking back, it had been an ill omen from the start—a man who had never shown displeasure at any injustice suddenly refusing to serve as the Guard Knight of that bastard child.
At the time, he had thought it was merely revulsion at having to serve the daughter of the woman who had driven his mother to her death. But perhaps he had sensed it then—that this girl would one day shake his entire world.
That someday, she would become a force that would upend everything he knew.
Unable to contain his fury, Gareth struck the windowsill with brutal force.
Had it not been for the oath he swore to his mother, he would have turned his back on that wretch long ago.
Gareth recalled the moment Bernadette had bound him with her covenant.
In that instant, he had clearly perceived that Barcas’s fate was intertwined with his own and Aila’s.
He could not fathom how such a thing was possible. Perhaps, as the High Priests had long insisted, the blood of the Khan People carried within it a sinister power.
From his earliest childhood, he had sensed that his mother possessed an uncanny ability.
She wielded an intuition that bordered on foresight, and at times she seemed to see through the very depths of a person’s heart.
Could it be that his mother had foreseen a future in which Barcas would betray them?
Perhaps she had bound him with Khan sorcery for precisely that reason. If Grand Duke Sierkan were to turn toward Senevir, that sorceress, then his and Aila’s position would become precarious.
‘But in the end, that bastard trampled upon the covenant.’
He glared out the window with bloodshot eyes.
The countless lights blanketing the Mountain Foot were now gradually closing in on the Castle Gate, drawing ever nearer.
Witnessing the army advance directly toward the Castle Gate instead of halting at a safe distance, Gareth found himself holding his breath. At that very moment, a horn’s wail pierced the air, announcing an enemy assault.
“Hah, it seems the Imperial Coalition has decided to abandon the Crown Prince after all.”
A Northern Soldier who had crept up behind him let out a low, sinister laugh.
Gareth shot the man a furious glare, then stiffened as he detected the intense murderous intent burning in his eyes.
The man seized Gareth’s collar with a sinewy hand and yanked him forward with a growl.
“The leadership still believes you retain value as a hostage, but watching this spectacle makes me question their judgment.”
“You insolent wretch! Release me at once—!”
“I’ll drag you to the Castle Gate. If those fools don’t retreat, I’ll have your head mounted on the city walls as a warning.”
Gareth felt the blood in his veins turn to ice.
The man dragged him brutishly toward the doorway. At that moment, a sharp scream erupted from outside, accompanied by the sound of something shattering.
The Northern Soldier, who had been dragging Gareth like a dog, whirled around and bellowed.
“What is happening out there!”
No answer came from beyond the door.
The Northern Soldier, who had been staring at the suddenly silent door with intense eyes as though the commotion had been a lie, shoved Gareth roughly into a corner and strode toward the entrance with heavy, thundering steps.
“I asked what is happening—!”
The man’s voice cut off abruptly as he wrenched the door open.
Gareth stared blankly at something that tumbled to the floor with a dull thud.
Only after several seconds did he recognize it as a severed forearm.
The Northern Soldier, his expression equally vacant, gazed down at his own arm as blood spurted from his elbow. He clutched at the wound and let out an agonized shriek. But his scream was short-lived. A long blade pierced straight through his chest.
The Northern Soldier, his heart impaled, attempted to draw the sword with his remaining arm in a desperate struggle, then collapsed as though his strings had been cut.
Gareth, frozen in place as he witnessed the carnage, slowly lifted his gaze. A tall figure, drenched in blood, stood before him, regarding him with pale, luminous blue eyes.
It was only upon meeting those silver-blue eyes that Gareth could discern the identity of the mysterious assailant.
“B-Barcas….”
The man offered no response.
Barcas, his expression devoid of emotion, flicked the blood from his blade before sheathing it with a curt nod.
“Come outside.”
Without hesitation, he turned away. Seeing this, Gareth scrambled to his feet. As his paralyzed mind snapped back to clarity, a convulsive wave of relief swept through his entire body.
He cried out in an elevated voice.
“You came to rescue me yourself? All the way here?”
“….”
“Ha, you mad bastard! I knew it. You’d never abandon me!”
Gareth, seized by convulsive laughter, snatched the coat hanging on the wall. He threw it haphazardly over his shoulders and stepped over the corpse sprawled across the threshold, when the sight of the blood-soaked corridor came into view.
Gareth barely suppressed the nausea rising in his throat. Bodies with severed necks and chests filled the dim passage, where dying embers flickered in the shadows.
Though I had rolled through battlefields for years and grown weary of corpses, I had never witnessed such a horrific scene.
He muttered in a disgusted tone.
“How many subordinates did you bring with you anyway?”
“….”
“And where are the other Knights? Why aren’t they escorting me to safety already…!”
Consciously raising his voice to hide his momentary intimidation at the hellish landscape, an ice-cold hand seized his collar and slammed him against the wall.
Gareth gasped roughly, his eyes widening in shock as he looked up at him.
The man, his face streaked with blood, pressed it close to his face and spoke in a whisper.
“Did my words amuse you?”
“Wh-what is this….”
“I clearly instructed the Northern Alliance to suppress the rebellion, and ordered the Imperial Army to withdraw to the rear.”
At his ominous tone, Gareth flinched and closed his mouth.
Barcas’s voice became sharp as a honed blade.
“If you’re going to ignore everything I say and do the opposite, why do you keep me as your aide?”
A growling breath poured down over his forehead.
Barcas, tilting his head even closer, spoke with savage intensity.
“If you don’t need me, just say so. I’m tired of wasting my effort.”
Gareth looked up at him with a pale, sickly expression, meeting the piercing gleam of his eyes.
The man, gripping his neck even more forcefully, pressed him harder.
“Say it. Tell me you don’t need me, that you don’t want my protection anymore.”
In that moment, Gareth realized this man wanted to break free from the oath that bound him.
He moved his bloodless lips with difficulty.
“I, I… need you.”
The man’s brilliant blue eyes, which had gleamed so brightly, darkened as if a shadow fell across them. Meeting those eyes directly, Gareth added in a fractured voice.
“I… was wrong. Brother….”
The moment he spoke the title from childhood, the grip on his neck loosened.
Gareth wrapped one hand around his throat and coughed dryly. Barcas, looking down at him with dry eyes, eventually turned away.
“Follow me.”
Gareth, leaning his back against the wall to catch his breath, forced himself to his feet. He then moved his weakened legs stiffly to follow him, when the corpse of a soldier caught his eye, hanging over the staircase railing.
Nausea surged up his throat in an instant. The soldier had only his upper body remaining.
“This should serve your purposes well enough.”
Gareth, who had been unconsciously scanning the soldier’s torso with rolling eyes, stiffened abruptly at the shoulders. Barcas, who had approached once more without warning, extended a blood-soaked blade toward him.
“This is….”
“The craftsmanship leaves much to be desired, but under the circumstances, it’s the best we have.”
Gareth accepted it with a rigid grip. The worn hilt, evidently belonging to a fallen soldier, bore not a single ornamental fixture of common metal.
He regarded Barcas with eyes clouded by unease.
“…The rest of your men are waiting below, then?”
Barcas, descending the staircase slick with blood, glanced back over his shoulder as he spoke.
“There is only myself to guard Your Highness.”
Gareth went rigid as though struck by lightning. The man straightened his head and continued down the staircase with measured composure.
“I shall do everything within my power to protect Your Highness, but I cannot in good conscience assure you that we will escape this place unscathed.”
Gareth surveyed the dozens of corpses scattered across the staircase and corridor with a face drained of all color.
All were clad in full plate armor. The realization of what this signified sent a chill through his spine, dampening it with cold sweat.
“Steel yourself, for the outside will be chaos incarnate.”
Barcas, looking up at him from where he stood hesitantly upon the staircase, added in a low voice.
“It will be a very long night indeed.”

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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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