The Forgotten Field - Chapter 39

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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 39
In a flash, Barcas reached the carriage and deposited her onto the seat as though discarding a sack of grain.
Talia rubbed her throbbing backside, glaring at him with eyes burning with indignation. Then she caught sight of his grimly set face and froze. Barcas looked down at her with an expression of patience stretched to its breaking point, his words grinding out like gravel.
“Did I not warn you not to cause any more troublesome incidents?”
Her hesitation lasted only a moment before defiant fire flashed in her eyes.
“Why should I listen to you? What exactly are you?”
“Better than a Princess in name only.”
A cold sneer curved Barcas’s lips.
Talia surged to her feet with a cry of fury. She felt she could not possibly restrain herself from striking that arrogant face.
But Barcas was faster. He leaned over her, pinning her arms, and looked down at her with eyes devoid of all warmth. That merciless gaze swept across her burst blood vessels and the bruises that surely darkened her neck.
A sigh of exasperation escaped his lips.
“What is it that you fail to understand, thrashing about like this? No one here will actively protect you. If the Crown Prince wills it, no one can guarantee your life.”
“Why do you even care?”
Talia cried out sharply.
“Wouldn’t you be most relieved if I disappeared from this world?”
“I cannot deny that.”
Though she had expected this answer, Talia felt her heart bleed with anguish.
He continued with cruel composure.
“But I cannot allow your actions to jeopardize the Crown Prince’s position. So, if you wish to harm yourself, do it with your own hands.”
Talia pressed back the tears that burned at her eyes.
He slowly straightened, and the sharp edges of his face were now masked by the impassive countenance of a seasoned knight. He added in a businesslike tone.
“I shall summon a healing mage. Compose yourself and rest.”
Talia answered by seizing a goblet from the floor and hurling it. The silver cup struck his chest and clattered to the ground. Barcas, his gaze turning glacial with disdain, departed the carriage.
Talia slammed the door shut. The tears she had desperately held back finally spilled down her cheeks. Terrified that her sobs might escape, she clamped her hand over her mouth. The cry lodged in her throat constricted her breathing. She wished to suffocate entirely.
* * *
Atop Ulgram Hill stood only the White Temple, erected by Emperor Darian to commemorate Osyria’s independence.
Pilgrims paused before it, gazing up at the magnificent structure gleaming pristine white with reverent wonder.
Despite the passage of centuries, the temple remained nearly perfectly preserved.
They traced the prayers carved into the walls and the statues of various heroes, surrendering to religious ecstasy. Yet the Crown Prince seemed unmoved by the relics left by his ancestors.
Gareth leaped down from his saddle and surveyed the arched entrance with indifferent eyes before asking.
“Is this the second sacred site?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
An attendant answered in a tense voice.
The attendants, well aware that his mood had been abysmal since the previous day, all wore subdued expressions and watched only for his signals. Only Barcas maintained his usual composed demeanor.
“There is no resident priest here, I understand. We shall prepare the ceremony ourselves.”
Barcas approached the Crown Prince’s side and spoke.
The Crown Prince, regarding him with eyes tinged with peculiar hostility, turned sharply and replied.
“Then don’t dawdle—do it quickly.”
The moment his command fell, the attendants began positioning the carriages near the temple and unloading supplies. The retinues of the First and Second Princesses, arriving late, joined in the effort.
While soldiers swiftly erected tents, servants withdrew incense burners, sacred vessels, silver ewers, and candlestands from chests and began polishing them to a gleam. Once the preliminary preparations were complete, the handmaidens attended to the grooming of the Crown Prince and the First Princess.
From a distance, Edrick watched the scene unfold before approaching the carriage where Talia had barricaded herself. It was time to suggest she prepare herself for the ceremony, yet for some reason, the words wouldn’t come.
He stared at the firmly closed door, scratching the back of his head rather roughly. The image of the Second Princess from the previous evening surfaced in his mind, and his stomach twisted uncomfortably.
Edrick let his raised arm fall limply to his side, abandoning his intention to knock. Instead, his gaze drifted toward the Crown Prince’s tent pitched at a distance.
While servants hauled out a massive bathtub before the tent and filled it with water, kindling a fire beneath it, the Crown Prince reclined in a chair, leisurely sipping wine without a care in the world. The sight left a bitter taste in Edrick’s mouth.
‘He brutalized his own sister to that extent and feels not a shred of remorse.’
He had heard rumors that the Crown Prince laid hands on the Second Princess, but he never imagined it would be to such a degree.
He clenched his fists as he recalled the sight of a delicate woman with a frame barely substantial enough to grasp being struck across the face by a man built like a mountain, her neck constricted as she thrashed helplessly. It was only by fortune that Sierkan had been nearby—otherwise, a terrible tragedy would have unfolded.
Edrick looked down at his palm, slick with cold sweat, then turned away.
Talia Roem Guerta would undoubtedly insist on not participating in the ceremony. There was no point in exhausting himself further.
As he swallowed a heavy sigh and began moving toward the temple, a clattering sound echoed from behind him.
“You there.”
Edrick spun around, his eyes widening in surprise as he spotted Talia standing at the carriage entrance with her arms crossed. The woman descended from the carriage with an expression of arrogant composure, as though nothing had transpired, and gestured with a nod.
“Summon the handmaidens.”
“…I beg your pardon?”
The woman fixed him with an irritated gaze as he merely blinked blankly.
“Are you both ugly and stupid, with ears to match? I’m going to prepare myself, so fetch the handmaidens at once!”
Edrick, stunned by language he had never heard directed at him before, quickly turned and gathered the servants the Empress had assigned to him.
A sigh of relief escaped him at the sight of Talia wielding her sharp tongue with such commanding presence. Though the healer had mended her wounds cleanly the previous night, he had worried whether she might collapse after enduring such brutal suffering on a body that had fasted nearly the entire day.
‘Fortunately, she appears unharmed.’
Then again, she was a woman who had narrowly escaped death yet mocked the Crown Prince without a trace of intimidation. Her spirit would not be so easily broken.
With a hollow laugh, Edrick promptly ordered the servants to fetch water and commanded his subordinates to don their formal uniforms. Since the Second Princess had finally resolved to participate in the imperial family’s traditional ceremony, he intended to serve her properly as a Royal Guard Knight.

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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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