The Forgotten Field - Chapter 41

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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 41
The Crown Prince’s thick neck flushed crimson, the veins standing out prominently.
As though he might throw a punch at any moment, Edrick positioned himself directly beside Talia. It wasn’t only he who sensed the danger—Barcas, who had been standing silently like a shadow, slipped between them.
“The schedule has fallen considerably behind. Shall we proceed with the ceremony now?”
The Second Princess, who had stiffened momentarily, turned her gaze toward Grand Duke Sierkan.
Though it lasted only an instant, Edrick, whose nerves were stretched taut, could discern how rigidly tension seized her body. Even this thunderous woman understood that when Grand Duke Sierkan turned serious, one had to exercise restraint.
She clamped her mouth shut and averted her eyes. The Crown Prince, who had seemed ready to explode moments before, gritted his teeth and returned to stand before the Altar.
As the situation appeared to settle, the High Priest, who had been hunching his neck like a turtle and watching for his moment, cleared his throat and resumed the ceremony.
Edrick stood at a distance, observing as the three members of the Imperial Family received the blessing prayers in turn.
When the Crown Prince stepped forward to the Altar first and bowed his head, the High Priest lifted a silver chalice and poured holy water over it, then intoned words of blessing in the ancient tongue.
Next came the First Princess and Grand Duke Sierkan, who would become her consort, approaching the Altar, and finally Talia bowed before the priest.
Edrick gazed at Talia, who kept her eyes lowered, as though observing a stranger.
As the firelight from hundreds of candles cast a mystical radiance upon her tawny-gold hair and pale skin, she appeared to exist in another dimension entirely.
While he stared at her in a daze, the priest poured holy water over her head as well.
The transparent stream dampened her hair like spun gold, trickling down her smooth forehead and cheek, along her straight nose, and gathering at the tip of her chin.
The priest raised his hand above her head and poured forth his divine power.
“May the grace of the Divine be with you eternally….”
The prayer, which had seemed as though it would never end, finally ceased.
As the priest rang a silver bell, the Crown Prince rose first and strode across the congregation.
The First Princess and Grand Duke Sierkan followed, and Talia Roem Guerta likewise slowly straightened. Then, holding her chin high with the bearing of a queen, she crossed the congregation with confident strides.
All eyes remained fixed upon her commanding presence.
The embodiment of discord. An unsettling and ominous existence.
As though they were only now realizing for the first time that the woman they had always perceived thus was, in fact, a Princess of the Empire….
* * *
As the altitude rose sharply, the air that had been scalding as hot spring water grew refreshingly cool.
Drawing in the dry, crisp air, Talia gazed out the window at the sun sinking toward the horizon.
From the east, deep indigo night was advancing. Another day would end without incident.
My throat burned as though I had swallowed embers.
I opened the storage compartment affixed to the corner of the carriage and withdrew a small silver dagger I had brought from the Monastery. The pale, gleaming blade seemed to speak to me, saying it had grown weary of waiting.
Tucking it into my pocket, I carefully descended from the carriage, and the bustling scene of the Campsite came into view at once.
I pulled the hood attached to my gown over my head and surveyed my surroundings carefully. It appeared Gareth was hosting a grand feast to lift his spirits.
Servants hurried between tents more busily than usual, carrying wine and food, and several soldiers were already thoroughly intoxicated.
I touched the blade in my pocket and moistened my parched lips. I welcomed the chaotic atmosphere. It would make the task easier. I carefully crossed the Campsite.
Then, a Guard Knight who spotted me came rushing over with delight.
“Your Highness!”
I furrowed my brow.
Why did this man persist in wagging his tail so relentlessly before me? His unnervingly familiar demeanor even stirred my displeasure.
I fixed a cold stare upon his harmless, innocent face, let out a derisive snort, and brushed past him without a word. Yet even my frigid response failed to dampen his spirits.
“You must have felt quite confined, haven’t you? Come this way, if you please. The servants have prepared food. If you observe the cooking process, you can rest assured, can’t you?”
I ignored the incessantly chattering knight and turned my steps toward where music could be heard.
It wasn’t long before I found Gareth enjoying a lavish feast before his ornate tent, a fire crackling nearby.
She halted at a distance, observing the scene with barely concealed disdain. The Crown Prince sat with a sullen expression, tilting his wine glass, while his attendants spared no effort to lift his spirits. Attendants dressed in ridiculous jester costumes performed tricks with daggers, Musicians played sticky melodies suited to his tastes, and several Handmaidens fawned over him under the pretense of service. As she watched with contempt, a Guard Knight stepped into her path.
“It would be best if you went elsewhere.”
Talia gazed up at his grave expression. He’d worn that same look at the Temple, standing beside her as though he were protecting her from danger.
Talia scoffed inwardly. As if I would be fooled.
“Don’t meddle where you’re not wanted.”
With cold dismissal, Talia turned her direction toward the tents lined near the Riverbank.
Her true target had never been Gareth. She made every effort to appear natural as she searched for Aila’s Camp, her eyes darting about. Soon enough, she spotted her half-sister surrounded by Handmaidens, enjoying her meal.
She fell into contemplation.
Knights swarmed around Aila. To them, I was a person of concern—any hasty approach would be immediately stopped.
She bit her lip anxiously.
How could she reach her half-sister without arousing suspicion?
While lost in such deliberation, the Guard Knight who had been chattering incessantly suddenly fell silent.
Talia glanced up. The man was gazing down at her with suspicious eyes. He seemed to have noticed something unusual about her behavior.
She feigned composure and settled onto a nearby dining table. Then, to divert his attention, she blurted out abruptly.
“I’m hungry. Bring me something to eat.”
The man’s face brightened immediately at her words. He was absurdly simple-minded.
“Just a moment, please! I’ll prepare it at once!”
Once the tiresome watchdog disappeared, Talia rolled her eyes beneath her pulled-down hood, observing Aila’s movements again. Her half-sister was laughing continuously at the Handmaidens’ jokes.
Could I really end that insufferable woman’s life?
My mouth had gone dry. Perhaps before I could even attempt it properly, the Knight would notice something amiss and restrain me. Then this wouldn’t pass off as mere mischief.
She fingered the blade hidden in her pocket, contemplating whether this act was truly worth sacrificing her life.
Even if Aila disappeared from this world, it wouldn’t result in me obtaining Barcas. He would continue living his life as always, and I would become nothing but dew upon the scaffold, vanishing. The only thing this foolish action would yield is a miserable death.
‘And yet….’
Would watching Barcas become the husband of Aila truly be worse than death?
While Aila, as the Grand Duke Sierkan’s wife, bore and raised his heirs, I would wither away in excruciating agony.
Perhaps I would be forced into marriage with a man chosen by Senevir. Then I would be unable to endure the vile touch of that vile, filthy man and would hang myself. No—it was certain I would.
Whether I died this way or that, death was inevitable. Perhaps it would be cleaner to end it today, taking Aila with me as my companion.
At last, her resolve hardened. Talia rose from her seat and began approaching Aila as naturally as possible, when suddenly a familiar silhouette caught her eye.
‘That woman….’

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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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