The Forgotten Field - Chapter 4

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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 4
True to his nature of despising unnecessary attention, he raised a hand to silence the attendant attempting to announce his name, then descended the staircase with elegant, measured grace.
Yet despite such efforts, all eyes fixed upon Barcas. Even the presence of the future Emperor seemed to pale in the shadow of his arrival.
Talia devoured the sight of him with ravenous intensity, from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet.
As always, he wore the ceremonial dress uniform of the Imperial Guard without flaw. The sole difference from his usual appearance was that beneath the ornate overcoat distributed by the order, instead of the golden armor symbolizing the Roem Knights, he bore a black breastplate emblazoned with the crest of a black horse.
This signified that he attended the banquet as the heir of Grand Duke Sierkan and the betrothed of Aila.
As Talia had anticipated, Barcas proceeded directly toward the center of the hall where Gareth and Aila were seated.
“Your Highness the Crown Prince, I pay my respects.”
He offered Gareth a bow of perfect measure—neither excessive nor insufficient—before turning his body toward Aila, who smiled with becoming shyness.
My fingertips trembled violently. I gripped the wine glass with such brutal force that my knuckles blanched bone-white.
As Barcas extended a hand toward the “legitimate princess,” Aila accepted it with gentle grace. In that instant, a pain like my very entrails twisting seized me.
Don’t touch him. Don’t lay your hands on Barcas.
I longed to cry out despite having no right whatsoever. I had to bite my lips to avoid committing some terrible indiscretion.
“Would it not be wise to withdraw from the Banquet Hall at this juncture?”
The man observing my face offered the suggestion carefully. When one who seemed to genuinely relish discord spoke thus, my senses sharpened. I had not come to this gathering to make a pathetic, shabby exit.
Talia steadied the expression that had momentarily crumbled and crossed the hall with elegant strides. Those surrounding the Crown Prince, the First Princess, and the noble of the Eastern Territories naturally parted to allow passage.
They too surely harbored expectations that some fascinating spectacle would unfold. I intended to fulfill their anticipations perfectly.
“Good evening. My esteemed brother, and… my beloved sister.”
Deliberately ignoring Barcas’s existence, I offered greetings to only the two of them with deliberate slowness. Should I meet his gaze directly, I feared I would completely lose the tenuous thread of reason I barely maintained.
I kept my back turned to Barcas, my gaze fixed solely upon Aila’s face. Then I spoke with a voice tinged with mockery.
“How fortunate that you appear to have recovered your health safely. You presented such an unfavorable appearance previously, after all.”
“Thank you for your concern.”
Aila spoke with a gentle smile that harbored not the slightest shadow of displeasure.
In that moment, my entire body erupted in gooseflesh.
This woman surely knew that it was her half-sister who had poisoned her wine cup. Yet in her gaze toward me, not a speck of anger could be discerned. It was the look one might cast upon some common object scattered about—a mere trinket of no consequence.
Like the wine glasses, plates, or candelabras strewn throughout the hall… How could one harbor anger toward such things?
Faced with her composure that transcended serenity into sheer indifference, a deep regret flooded through me.
I should have given this woman poison rather than an emetic. Even if it meant facing some terrible execution… even if it meant burning eternally in hellfire…
Compared to this woman, my brother’s raw, undisguised fury seemed almost human.
“How dare you show your face here.”
Gareth leaned toward me sharply, his teeth grinding audibly. His gleaming eyes, brimming with profound contempt, raked over me from head to toe.
“And in such vulgar attire no less! Did your mother, who plays the whore, instruct you to seduce my loyal subjects?”
“Vulgar attire, you say? That seems rather harsh.”
Talia spread her skirts wide as if to make a point.
“This dress is the very gown my mother wore the day she first met His Imperial Majesty. A dress of considerable significance, wouldn’t you agree?”
In that instant, silence descended upon the hall.
Flames of fury ignited and blazed in the Crown Prince’s eyes. Unfortunately for him, I was exceedingly fond of playing with fire.
“Our father must have adored this dress greatly. Don’t you think so?”
The Crown Prince’s shoulders shot upward. He appeared ready to raise his hand to my face, overcome by his own temperament.
But his perceptive sister would never permit such a thing to occur. At precisely the right moment, Aila placed her hand upon Gareth’s forearm to restrain him, then turned toward me with a smile of crystalline clarity.
“Yes. It truly suits you well.”
Surprisingly, there was no malice in her voice. She spoke as though merely stating an observable fact, her tone so composed and indifferent that my blood boiled. Perhaps this woman believed that reacting to the provocations of a worthless bastard would itself diminish her dignity.
Aila cast a calm, steadying gaze toward her twin brother before approaching her fiancé’s side. She leaned gently against him and spoke with an expression of utmost happiness.
“In any case, thank you for coming. Today is a day of great significance for us—especially for me. I wanted to receive blessings from as many people as possible.”
Aila’s delicate hand descended softly onto the man’s forearm as he stood silent as a shadow.
Talia stared at that hand as though she wished to tear it to shreds. She could not bring herself to lift her gaze. If she were to glimpse him smiling at Aila, even for a moment, she feared she would lose all composure.
Aila spoke in a voice soft as a feather.
“Our official wedding date has finally been set. When the Season of Wind begins, I shall depart to the Eastern Territories to become a member of House Sierkan. Of course, before that, I must first undertake a pilgrimage to receive the blessings of the elders. I must leave before the heat arrives, so today may well be the last time you see me.”
She feigned an expression of regret quite convincingly.
“I’m grateful we could meet like this before I leave the Imperial Palace. I wanted to exchange at least a final farewell.”
With that, she leaned gently against Barcas’s shoulder as though wishing to end the conversation, adding warmly:
“Please, do enjoy the banquet held in our honor.”
Aila, a benevolent smile gracing her lips, turned her body gracefully. Talia, who had been staring intently at her, suddenly opened her mouth.
“The last time, you say… I do wish to bless your future, sister.”
As Talia stepped toward Aila, the man who had been quietly observing the silent war between the two women reacted immediately. My vision blazed crimson as he extended his arm forward as though to protect his fiancée.
Before Barcas could completely block her path, Talia swiftly poured wine across Aila’s chest.
The deep-hued wine stained the pristine white dress, densely adorned with pearl embellishments, a spreading crimson that dripped down to the hem. It resembled a heart pierced and bleeding.
“I shall pray every day that sister comes to look like this soon.”
Everyone drew a sharp, ragged breath at the terrible curse.
Even Aila’s perpetually composed face drained of color. Her expression of genuine terror was so absurd that Talia nearly burst into loud laughter.
But the joy was fleeting. A powerful hand seized my wrist and wrenched me forward. In that instant, I was forced to face directly the man I had so long avoided looking at.
A pair of pale, luminous blue eyes burned with sharp fury as they fixed upon me.

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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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