The Forgotten Field - Chapter 66

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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 66
“You’ve burned the incense again.”
Barcas studied her dilated eyes with a reproachful tone.
Heat flooded her cheeks in an instant.
I used the medicine because it hurt.
I hadn’t done anything wrong, yet I felt as though I deserved to be scolded.
I lowered my gaze to avoid his stare, and a dry sigh brushed against my forehead.
“…Perhaps it turned out for the best after all.”
Barcas murmured bitterly, then knelt and wrapped one arm around my back.
I looked up at the sharp jawline inches from my face with bewildered eyes.
He slipped his other arm beneath my legs and slowly lifted me.
I reflexively gripped my skirts tightly, my spine tingling with the fear that my dress might ride up.
“I can walk on my own feet.”
“Just remain intoxicated by the medicine’s effects.”
Barcas spoke dryly as he descended from the carriage.
“It will make enduring today far easier.”
I caught the cynicism in his voice and my shoulders shrank. For him, today was something to be merely survived. I lowered my head dejectedly when a strange voice reached my ears nearby.
“Commander, His Majesty appears to be running somewhat late.”
I startled and burrowed deeper into his embrace.
Barcas spread his coat to cover my body, then issued a curt instruction to the man who had spoken.
“Go inform the High Priest of this.”
Then he strode forward toward the marble-carved arch.
I unconsciously gripped his shirt tightly. Beyond the thin coat that carried the scent of mint, the sky hung heavy with clouds.
That melancholy gray cast an ominous light upon the faces of saints carved into the stone walls and pillars, as though foretelling my own dark future.
As those faces drew nearer, the fear pooling in my stomach crawled up my throat.
I opened my mouth impulsively.
“The weather today is so dreary.”
His blue eyes, holding flecks of silver, fell upon my forehead.
I stammered, avoiding his gaze.
“No one gets married on days like this.”
So we should call it off instead. I was about to say so when his lips parted.
“Then we shall be the first.”
At his soothing voice, I swallowed the words that had risen to my throat.
He was well-versed in my whims. These words were merely meant to pacify me.
Though I tried to steady myself with this thought, my shameless heart raced on regardless.
I bowed my head deeply to hide my flushed face.
Soon, the Grand Cathedral’s enormous maw swallowed us whole. Cold, heavy air pressed down upon my body wrapped in the thin dress.
I hunched my back and peered out from between the folds of Barcas’s coat. My eyes took in the sight of hundreds of people filling the cloister. The sheer number of guests far exceeded my expectations, and my mouth went dry.
They could not have gathered to celebrate this marriage.
They had all attended reluctantly, watching Senevir’s every move.
Perhaps they’ve come to see what has become of a bastard princess.
I lowered my gaze to check that my legs were properly concealed beneath my garments. Even after confirming multiple times that the flowing fabric covered me down to my toes, the anxiety refused to settle.
With clammy hands, I gripped the hem of my skirt and pulled it downward, scanning the audience to ensure no one was stealing glances at my legs. That was when I saw hundreds of pairs of eyes staring widely open.
My spine stiffened at the thought of how grotesque I must appear, but a dark-colored coat suddenly obscured my vision.
“It seems we must wait until His Majesty arrives.”
The voice was oddly gentle.
He turned his steps past the Transept toward the relatively quieter Transept, adding as he walked.
“Until then, perhaps you should rest your eyes.”
I looked up at him with vacant eyes, meeting his jawline.
Today, he speaks in such strange ways. What bride in this world sleeps at her own wedding?
Just as I was about to say so, a familiar voice reached my ears from behind.
“Grand Duke Sierkan.”
I cast my gaze beyond his collar. The Knight who had shadowed Barcas like a phantom was rushing toward us.
“Marquis Orisstein is looking for you. He wishes to have a brief conversation before the ceremony begins.”
Marquis Orisstein was the maternal grandfather of Gareth and Aila. Why would such a man have come to the ceremony hall?
As I looked up with a bewildered expression, I noticed Barcas’s face had subtly hardened. He fell silent for a moment as if contemplating something, then lowered me onto the Choir Seating. He removed his coat and draped it over my shoulders, saying:
“Wait here for just a moment. I’ll return shortly.”
I reached out to stop him, then hastily withdrew my hand.
He had only taken me on by the Emperor’s command. I must grow accustomed to being cast aside.
“Watch over her well.”
Barcas instructed the Knight as he departed, then left the Transept with elegant strides.
I watched his retreating figure and nervously bit my lip.
Marquis Orisstein must have come to prevent this marriage. What words would he use to persuade Barcas?
As I stood there in a daze with such thoughts, I felt a sharp gaze upon my cheek.
I turned my head with a start and discovered a pair of dark brown eyes gazing down at me intently.
The Knight, who had been observing me with that peculiar look, flinched and turned his head away. Cold sweat beaded on my spine.
Why had he looked at me with such eyes?
Could there be something wrong with my appearance beyond my legs?
I looked down at my body, surrounded by the flowing dress. I grew suspicious—could the twisted outline of my legs be showing through the fabric?
“Would you like me to bring you something to drink while you wait?”
The Knight cleared his throat and asked in an awkward voice.
I concealed my anxiety and deliberately spoke in an arrogant tone.
“I… I don’t need anything.”
But my tongue, loosened by the herbal effects, would not obey my will.
I moistened my parched lips and glanced around nervously.
Besides the Knight standing beside me, priests and Attendants who appeared to be waiting for the ceremony were lined up along the walls of the Transept.
They, and those gathered in the Transept beyond, all cast furtive glances at me. Those sticky stares gnawed at my nerves.
I bit my lip. I wanted to scream at them to stop staring.
Senevir’s voice echoed in my ears—that the ugly are meaninglessly mocked and trampled upon.
I wanted to leap from my seat and flee the ceremony hall at once. But if I did such a thing, I would collapse ungracefully before everyone’s eyes, and their mockery would rain down upon me like a downpour.
A bastard.
A cripple.
The worst bride.
“Your Highness, you don’t look well. Shall I summon a priest to perform healing magic?”
The Knight approached me with a worried expression.
Talia shook her head.
“Never mind.”
“Even a simple restoration spell would——”
“Are your ears not working? I said never mind.”
At my irritable retort, the bothersome man finally sealed his lips. Yet those strange eyes of his never wavered.
His presence was becoming unbearable. Every gaze fixed upon me felt utterly repulsive.
She stared anxiously toward the place where Barcas had vanished.
‘When on earth is he coming back?’
What could they possibly be discussing that was taking so long?
Suddenly, Aila’s voice echoed in my mind—that warning that I would come to regret this. Perhaps that woman had goaded my grandfather into orchestrating some scheme.
Yes, that had to be it. A marriage between Barcas and myself? It made no sense from the beginning.
Could this entire affair have been a performance designed to humiliate me from the start?
Barcas had likely already fled the ceremony. And I would become a pitiful bride—a bastard, a cripple, abandoned at the altar.
“I want to leave.”
The Knight’s eyes widened in bewilderment at my sudden declaration.
Talia seized the coat Barcas had draped over her shoulders and hurled it to the ground, then staggered to her feet. Desperate to escape the suffocating stares bearing down upon me, I limped toward a small side door at the far end of the Transept.
The Knight, his expression one of shock, hastily moved to block my path.
“Where are you going? The ceremony is about to——”
“Get out of my way!”
I reached out to push him aside. But the armored Knight would never yield to my feeble strength.
I shot him a look seething with hostility.
“Did you not hear me? Move!”
As I extended my arm to push him again, my legs gave way beneath me, and my body tilted to one side. I reflexively grasped his arm.
I felt the Knight’s body stiffen. My own revulsion was equally intense.
His touch was abhorrent. His massive frame, beyond my control, made my skin crawl.
Only Barcas’s touch was bearable. Yet that man had abandoned me here in the ceremony hall. Tears suddenly burst forth.
“Let go of me!”
I violently shook off his hands as they moved to steady me around my shoulders, when suddenly my body lifted into the air.
Talia turned in alarm. I saw Barcas’s cold eyes.
He stared at her face as though consumed by fury, then shifted his gaze toward his subordinate.
The Knight’s face flushed crimson as he bowed his head. Barcas regarded him in silence for a long moment, then turned, his arm still encircling her waist.
“All the guests have arrived. The ceremony will begin now.”
His frigid voice rang out clearly from above my head.
“It is too late to turn back.”

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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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