The Forgotten Field - Chapter 237

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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 237
Feeling reluctant to approach, he stood motionless by the door, until Barcas set the ledger down on the desk and raised his head to look at him.
“What is it?”
His expression was composed, at odds with the gaunt paleness of his face.
For a moment, Edrick felt a strange sense of unease, but he shook it off and strode briskly up to the desk.
Though he had grown visibly thinner, the man was bearing up relatively well.
Ever since the funeral of the Grand Duchess, he had carried out every one of his duties as Grand Duke without the slightest lapse, and of late he had even begun investigating the power behind the scenes that had backed the Zrami, hadn’t he?
Turning the scattered Zrami across the Eastern Territories into a massive armed force was beyond the reach of the Heimdal Family alone. Certain that an outside power was involved, Barcas had mobilized the entire intelligence network of House Sierkan and begun digging through every detail of the affair. Even his wife’s sudden death had not been enough to crack that iron composure of his.
A bitter taste spread across Edrick’s mouth as he drew a bundle of parchment from inside his coat and laid it on the desk.
“These are the reports from the informants I dispatched to Balbon. It seems the Central Church Authority intends to cut its losses by pinning the blame for this entire affair on a High Priest named Alwin.”
Barcas picked up the report and began reading through it slowly.
The only reason the man in question had been able to pass himself off as a member of the Holy Temple Guardian Order was that the Central Church Authority had vouched for his identity. Every document he had submitted, the identification badge, the dispatch certificate stamped with the Central Church seal, and even the appointment letter bearing the Holy Temple Guardian Order’s crest, had been scrutinized thoroughly, yet not one of them was forged.
That could only mean that someone among the High Priests of the Central Church had colluded with the rebel forces. Yet the Pope seemed intent on smoothing the matter over by excommunicating a few senior clergymen who had directly signed the official documents.
“The Imperial Family doesn’t seem to have any intention of launching a proper investigation, either. I suspect some sort of… secret arrangement passed between His Majesty and His Holiness the Pope.”
“What grounds do you have for that judgment?”
“According to the information I’ve obtained, the investigation was wrapped up right after the two of them met alone in secret. By all appearances, the Imperial Family has also agreed to bury the matter at a suitable level.”
Having turned to the last page of the report, Barcas gazed thoughtfully at the candle resting on the desk.
Each time the flame wavered, the shadows across his face deepened and then faded, over and over.
For a moment he pressed his fingers firmly against the bridge of his nose, as though his eyes had grown dim. When at last he spoke, it took him a long while.
“Before long, send a letter of protest to the Central Church Authority demanding a satisfactory explanation. And you are to keep a close watch on developments in the capital.”
“Understood.”
Edrick bowed his head respectfully and slowly turned to leave.
Just as he was about to step out the door, an inexplicable impulse surged up within him. He turned back, and gazing steadily at the man’s calm face, he blurted out a question.
“…Are you all right, Your Grace?”
The man, who had been reaching for a fresh official document, looked up at him with a puzzled expression.
“Why on earth would you ask that all of a sudden?”
Faced with a look that suggested he couldn’t grasp the point of the question, Edrick felt the words die in his throat for a moment.
He stammered out his reply.
“Well… it’s just that you don’t look well…”
“Given the circumstances, I can hardly deny that I’m exhausted in body and mind.”
Barcas answered as if it were nothing at all, scrawled his signature across the parchment, and added in an even tone.
“Still, now that the aftermath is finally on track, I should have a moment to catch my breath before long.”
Edrick frowned at the answer, which somehow missed the mark.
Barcas unfolded a new document and said off-handedly,
“Keep up the work until then, will you?”
With that, he flicked a hand in a small wave, as though telling him to take his leave.
Edrick, unsettled by the man’s strangely indifferent demeanor, was about to say something when a hurried presence stirred outside, followed by a knock at the door. Barcas lifted his head once more and looked toward the door.
“What is it?”
“It’s Darian, Your Grace. I have urgent news to report.”
Barcas furrowed his brow, set the document aside, and leaned back against the chair.
“Come in.”
The moment he gave permission, the door swung open with a bang, and a broad-shouldered man strode briskly into the room. Edrick quickly stepped aside.
The man didn’t spare him so much as a glance, going straight up to stand before Barcas.
“His Highness the Crown Prince has reportedly arrived at Kalmor with his Imperial Guard.”
Edrick, who had been quietly preparing to give them room, hesitated and looked back over his shoulder.
The man continued heavily.
“He’s said to have come to lend a hand with the recovery of the Eastern Territories and to help restore order… So what do you want us to do?”
Barcas, who had been rubbing his temple wearily, rose to his feet with a heavy sigh.
“It’s not as if we can turn away the Crown Prince of the Empire at the door. We have no choice but to welcome him with proper courtesy.”
He took the outer robe hanging on the wall, threw it over his shoulders, and stepped into the corridor with a measured, disciplined stride.
Edrick stood rooted in place, watching his retreating back, before he turned and set off toward the staircase at the end of the corridor.
Ever since his days as a Guard Knight, he had already fallen out of the Crown Prince’s favor for taking Talia Roem Guerta’s side. Then he had gone and left the Imperial Knight Order to enter the Grand Ducal House, so he was surely held in deep disfavor. It would be best to avoid catching the Crown Prince’s eye as much as possible.
Pulling his hood low over his head, he slipped quietly out of the Main Castle. Then he climbed up the watchtower connected to the Inner Castle Wall and stepped up to the castle rampart.
Before long, he spotted the Crown Prince passing through the entrance of the Main Castle.
As always, he sat astride his golden steed, moving across the Training Grounds with several hundred members of his Imperial Guard in tow, looking every inch the commanding figure. It was hard to believe that this was the same man whose reckless conduct had plunged the Empire into crisis.
Edrick let out a short, incredulous laugh, but then his body stiffened when he made out the face of the woman riding behind him.
Even from a considerable distance, he had no trouble recognizing who she was.
Aila Roem Guerta.
The woman who now stood as the Empire’s one and only Princess.
Dismounting with the assistance of the Knights, she stood beside her twin brother and passed through the Inner Gate with graceful, dignified steps.
Edrick watched as the hundreds of retainers lined up before the main castle to greet the guests bowed in unison, and something surged up inside him. He turned sharply on his heel.
Less than a month had passed since the Grand Duchess died, and the Crown Prince had come calling with the Princess in tow. The obviousness of his motives made Edrick’s stomach turn.
Swallowing his disgust, he strode along the city walls until he came to a halt before a railing that overlooked the chapel.
On one side of the burial grounds, where green grass grew thick, two headstones stood side by side. Something tightened sharply in his chest, and he closed his eyes.
As he thought of the brief life of a woman who had lived and died amid coldness and isolation, a strange sense of powerlessness pressed down on his whole body.
He drew a deep breath, as if to shake the feeling loose, and then turned his back on the burial grounds and walked on.
* * *
“It’s been a long time.”
He looked down at the woman, who was smiling gracefully, with an expressionless face.
She was putting on a show of composure, but it wasn’t hard to tell how tense she really was. Lifting the corners of her mouth, she held her head stiffly high, as if to hide her unease, and continued in a warm tone.
“Seeing you standing here, unharmed, finally puts my mind at ease. I can’t tell you how worried I was when I heard you’d been wounded in the war.”
“…What brings you here?”
At the blunt question, the woman’s face stiffened faintly.
Gareth stepped forward, as if to shield his sister, and spoke in a tense voice.
“We’ve come on behalf of the Imperial Family. We’re here to offer condolences for the many tragic incidents that unfolded in the Eastern Territories, and His Majesty has ordered us to lend our support to House of Grand Duke Sierkan.”
“…”
“Out of respect for all the toil you’ve poured into the Empire, the Imperial Family intends to spare no effort in helping rebuild Kalmor.”
From inside his embroidered doublet, the Crown Prince drew out a personal letter bearing the Emperor’s seal and held it up for him to see.
Barcas took it, broke the wax seal, and quickly scanned the words written on the parchment. Just as Gareth had said, neatly arranged lines offered brief words of comfort for the devastation in the east and promised a generous sum of aid.
He rolled the parchment back up, handed it to the scribe, and turned away with an indifferent air.
“I understand His Majesty’s wishes. For now, please come inside.”

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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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