The Forgotten Field - Chapter 61

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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 61
The gossips vied with one another to wag their tongues.
While many acknowledged that the Second Prince’s misfortune was lamentable, not a few raised their voices in protest, insisting it was unjust to lay the responsibility at Grand Duke Sierkan’s feet.
By proper protocol, shouldn’t the matter conclude with the punishment of the Second Prince’s personal Guard Knight?
Above all, this decision had utterly disregarded the First Princess’s position.
Though their betrothal was born of political necessity, the two had cultivated their bond since childhood.
While the formal engagement had been established three years prior, their de facto betrothal spanned more than a decade.
Many poured forth criticism at this unilateral severance of two souls so intertwined.
And all agreed that behind the Emperor’s reckless judgment lay the Empress’s formidable influence—her machinations to elevate her young son to the throne were, after all, an open secret.
“What will become of the Crown Prince’s relationship with House Sierkan going forward?”
The handmaiden stirring the cauldron with a ladle turned toward the healer dispatched from the Empress’s Household and posed the question.
Maricen, a middle-aged mage of that name, frequented the Main Palace often enough to be thoroughly versed in every rumor.
She sliced a bundle of fresh medicinal herbs into fine pieces with her knife, answering with indifference.
“Well… if Grand Duke Sierkan truly severs his betrothal with the First Princess and marries the Second Prince, then the steadfast alliance between the two factions would, in effect, be at an end.”
“Then House Sierkan might pivot to support the Second Prince instead?”
Maricen’s expression grew skeptical.
“Knowing Grand Duke Sierkan’s temperament, I doubt he would shift his stance so readily.”
“Why not? The Second Prince is far superior to that reckless Crown Prince.”
At the handmaiden’s reckless remark, the healer cast a stern warning glance.
“Mind your tongue. No matter how limited the traffic through here, the Imperial Palace has ears in every wall.”
The handmaiden pouted her lips in chagrin.
Yet fear seemed to grip her heart, and she cast furtive glances about the room.
Witnessing this, Maricen let out a soft chuckle and resumed her knife work.
Whatever became of the Crown Prince and House Sierkan mattered little to her.
She kept her ears open to rumors for self-preservation, but fundamentally, she harbored little interest beyond her own duties.
Maricen placed the rare medicinal herbs she had painstakingly procured into a small pot and worked the bellows.
Soon the mandragora sap began to bubble and roil, and a rich herbal fragrance permeated the kitchen.
Once the herbs had steeped sufficiently, she set the vessel on the windowsill to cool, when suddenly a hoarse voice rang out from beyond.
“Is anyone here!”
The handmaiden, who had been perspiring as she fed kindling into the furnace, started in alarm and lifted her head.
“Was someone expected to arrive?”
“I received no such notice…”
Maricen leaned her head out the window to examine the entrance of the Separate Palace.
Between the dense shrubs, figures draped in tattered robes stood arrayed—they bore no resemblance to those dispatched from the Empress’s Household.
A foreboding premonition furrowed Maricen’s brow, and she thrust the handmaiden toward the rear exit.
“I’ll go investigate outside. You run to the Empress’s Household and summon the soldiers.”
Currently, the Separate Palace housed only three or four handmaidens, the Second Prince’s Nursemaid, and herself, the healer.
The Second Prince’s peculiar selectiveness with people meant they could not station a single proper guard.
Should these intruders mean harm, there would be no way to stop them.
The handmaiden, fully aware of this, swiftly slipped from the kitchen.
Maricen waited until the handmaiden had moved sufficiently far away before crossing the hall and opening the entrance door.
At the entrance of the Separate Palace stood two men in military uniforms and three women who appeared to be nobility.
Maricen, scrutinizing them with wary eyes, carefully opened her mouth.
“What brings you here?”
“We’ve come to see Talia Roem Guerta.”
The woman standing furthest back stepped forward and spoke.
Upon recognizing her face, Maricen inhaled sharply. The woman of the highest rank in the Empire after the Empress herself stood before her eyes.
Maricen quickly bowed her head.
“Your Highness, the First Princess. It is an honor.”
“Yes, yes—now guide that child for me.”
Aila Roem Guerta urged her forward in a voice laden with exhaustion.
Lifting her head, Maricen hesitated for a moment before carefully expressing her refusal.
“Forgive me, Your Highness, but the Second Princess has not yet fully recovered her health. If you would visit again at a later time….”
“Are you afraid I might harm my younger sister?”
Suddenly, the Princess’s voice turned glacial.
“Your loyalty is admirable, but you seem unaware of whom you are addressing. I am not making a request. I am issuing a command.”
“….”
“If you understand, lead the way at once.”
Like a mouse frozen before a serpent, Maricen ultimately turned her steps forward.
Throughout the journey to the chamber, the First Princess spoke not a single word.
Maricen, constantly gauging her expression over her shoulder, swallowed dryly as the bedroom door drew ever nearer.
Several hours had passed since the incense was lit, so by now the Second Princess should have awakened from sleep.
Yet she was deeply concerned whether her patient—weakened to the point of frailty—could withstand this oppressive visitor.
“You all wait here. I shall enter alone.”
Upon reaching the end of the corridor, the Princess issued a firm command to the attendants who had been following her, then fixed Maricen with an imperious gaze.
Under the silent pressure to announce her arrival, Maricen hesitantly knocked upon the door.
“Your Highness, a visitor has come to see you. May they enter?”
Yet no response came from within.
Could she still be asleep?
After a moment’s deliberation, Maricen gently grasped the door handle and pulled it open.
The chamber was thick with the sharp scent of herbs mingled with the cloying sweetness of fruit on the verge of decay.
Frowning at the dizzying fragrance, Maricen discovered Talia sprawled across the bed like a corpse and started in alarm.
She rushed to the bedside and held her hand beneath Talia’s nose, relieved to feel the faint whisper of breath.
Her sigh of relief was short-lived; beneath the skirt hem rolled up to the thigh, she glimpsed legs in a terrible state.
It appeared she had carelessly torn away the bandages and clawed at the scars—her skin was covered in scratches of every hue.
Maricen exhaled heavily and placed her hand upon Talia’s leg, casting a simple healing spell.
In that instant, a skeletal hand shot out and seized her wrist.
Maricen flinched and turned her head, meeting eyes of blue as though shrouded in mist, and involuntarily held her breath.
The unfocused pupils drifted aimlessly through empty space.
With each minute tremor of that gaze, the deep blue irises rippled like water.
Eyes that scattered one’s mind like the smoke the Princess inhaled daily.
“…Who said you could just walk in here?”
Talia parted her lips, crusted with dried scabs, and exhaled a thin voice laced with the rasp of metal.
Only then did Maricen snap to attention, quickly drawing the blanket up to cover her legs.
“Forgive me, Your Highness. The visitor insisted on seeing you….”
As I straightened my posture and gestured toward the door with my eyes, her gaze followed immediately.
Maricen could feel the Second Princess’s delicate frame tense with rigid vigilance.
Talia, her upper body swaying as she pushed herself upright, glared at her half-sister with guarded eyes.
“What brings you to such a dreary place?”
“I wanted to talk.”
The First Princess, stepping into the chamber, gazed quietly down at her sister’s pallid face before turning her head toward Maricen.
“Leave us for a moment.”
Maricen, overwhelmed by the First Princess’s commanding presence, shuffled backward out of the bedroom.
Just as I was closing the door, the image of two sisters born of different mothers pierced my vision.
Unlike Talia Roem Guerta, who looked as though she might shatter into pieces at any moment, Aila Roem Guerta radiated with vibrant life.
For some reason, that stark contrast left a bitter taste in my mouth.
Maricen, her shadowed eyes lingering on Talia for a moment, finally closed the door with a heavy sigh.

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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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