The Forgotten Field - Chapter 67

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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 67
He carried her across the Chapel Wing as though cradling her in his arms.
Talia ran her tongue over her lips, which stung from where she’d bitten them so hard.
Are you really going to marry me like this? Really?
She opened her mouth to ask, then closed it again.
He was right. Perhaps we had already gone too far to turn back.
She lowered her gaze, surveying the guests who filled the Nave.
Countless faces crowded into her tear-dimmed eyes—the Empress’s attendants, high-ranking officials, and nobles from several prominent houses. Influential figures she recognized were watching them in silence.
I understood now why Barcas couldn’t simply abandon me and flee the ceremony.
No matter how much of a Grand Duke’s heir he was, he couldn’t sabotage an Imperial wedding before so many nobles.
“The ceremony will begin shortly. The bride and groom, please come to the waiting area.”
As they reached the Transept, the High Priest who had been waiting approached them carefully.
Barcas immediately followed the High Priest to the waiting area positioned beside the Altar.
Talia stumbled after him, her eyes darting frantically in every direction.
Beyond her hazy vision, faces flashed past as though watching an enthralling play. Those ashen, cold faces seemed to be mocking me in unison.
“Are your legs perhaps in pain?”
Noticing her body had gone rigid, Barcas cupped her chin with one hand and asked.
Talia stared at him blankly. Barcas gently wiped her wet eyes with his thumb—a touch so tender it made me wonder if all of this was merely a sleeping draught-induced illusion.
He gazed deeply into her eyes and whispered in a low voice.
“Just endure a little longer. Once the ceremony ends, I’ll let you rest.”
His tone, as though coaxing a child, made my throat tighten.
This man is only doing this because he’s worried I might cause a scene before all these people.
He’s merely soothing me so I won’t throw a tantrum.
As I repeated this to myself, desperately trying to calm my racing heart, a voice I never expected to hear echoed in my ears.
“I can’t bear to watch. Anyone would think this is a marriage of love.”
Talia’s shoulders stiffened, then she slowly turned her head. Gareth, dressed in a crimson doublet and leading five or six guards, was crossing through the congregation toward her.
In that instant, the blood in my veins turned to ice.
“Why such a grim face for your brother who came to offer congratulations?”
Gareth, stopping before her, twisted his lips into a sneer.
Talia looked up at him with eyes full of dread.
Did he find it satisfying that his half-sister, who always scratched at his nerves, had gone pale and couldn’t even open her mouth?
A strange smile crossed Gareth’s rough face.
He bent toward her and whispered coldly.
“You gained the position of Grand Duchess with just one leg—you should smile brightly.”
Talia glared at him with a rigid expression.
Under normal circumstances, I would have clawed that smug face. But in that moment, I couldn’t even open my mouth. My already muddled mind seemed to have completely shut down at his unexpected appearance.
I was trembling like someone confronting a nightmare, when suddenly my head was wrenched around.
“Crown Prince.”
Barcas, pulling her head against his chest and burying her face there, spoke in warning.
“If you’ve come as a guest, please conduct yourself with appropriate courtesy. Must you sow discord on the wedding day of an old friend?”
A heavy silence pressed down upon her mind.
Talia swallowed dryly, her forehead buried against Barcas’s ceremonial robes.
I couldn’t understand why Barcas was trying to protect me from Gareth.
It should have been the opposite. Wasn’t his role to shield Gareth and Aila from this vicious bastard?
“There’s no need to be so tense. As long as you keep your promise, I’ll keep mine.”
Gareth’s cold voice reached me from behind.
I wanted to turn my head and read his expression, but the hand pressing down on my head left me completely immobilized.
Barcas tightened his grip around my waist, his voice turning glacial.
“If you intend to observe the ceremony, please be seated.”
The sound of grinding teeth echoed, and Gareth’s presence receded. Only then did Barcas release his grip.
I twisted my head to watch Gareth’s retreating figure as he made his way toward the guest seating.
Once he sat down, an elderly man beside him said something. It wasn’t difficult to recognize him as Marquis Orisstein.
Had they arranged something beforehand?
As I squinted, I suddenly realized that a considerable number of those filling the chapel were Conservative Faction nobles who supported the Crown Prince, and my eyes widened.
What on earth was happening here?
As I looked around the chapel in confusion, a strong hand yanked my head back once more.
“You need not think of anything.”
Icy eyes locked my gaze firmly in place.
“After today, these are faces you will never see again. Don’t waste your attention on them.”
He spoke with such force, as though etching his words into my very mind, then walked toward the Altar without a moment’s hesitation.
I was pulled along in his wake, biting at my cracked lips.
Barcas seemed unsurprised by the current situation. His composed reaction gradually brought order to my tangled thoughts.
Perhaps Gareth wanted to demonstrate to everyone that this marriage hadn’t driven a wedge between himself and House Sierkan.
And Barcas had agreed to it.
From the beginning, this marriage was nothing but a theatrical performance born of the Emperor’s demand, Barcas’s sense of responsibility, and my thirst for revenge. He still stood with Aila and Gareth.
“His Imperial Majesty the Emperor and Her Imperial Majesty the Empress have arrived!”
Shortly after, a resonant voice rang out from the staircase leading to the Upper Dais.
I tore my gaze away from Barcas and looked upward.
The Emperor and Empress walked gracefully toward the Throne positioned on the second level.
They truly appeared to be the genuine protagonists of this stage.
I gazed at the Emperor radiating solemn majesty for a moment, then my eyes shifted to Senevir standing beside him.
As always, she blazed with a brilliance that could blind the eye.
Her deep golden hair—as if molten pure gold—harmonized perfectly with her exquisitely refined features and the sensual curves of her flawless form.
The beauty I had once believed I could one day possess pierced my retina like a needle.
“We shall now commence the ceremony.”
Once the Emperor and Empress took their seats on the Throne, the High Priest ascended the Altar and proclaimed in a solemn voice.
I was led forward by Barcas’s hand to stand before the High Priest.
Behind his deeply lined, grave face, a rain-laden black sky loomed. The High Priest, bearing dark clouds upon his shoulders, began to recite scriptures written in an ancient tongue.
It all felt like some ridiculous farce.
Senevir with her ambiguous smile, the Emperor who seemed somehow uncomfortable, the High Priest spouting formal blessings, and the guests watching this false ceremony with barely concealed contempt.
“Barcas Laedgo Sierkan, do you swear to take Talia Roem Guerta as your spouse and walk beside her for all your days?”
The High Priest, having recited the lengthy scripture in full, finally posed the ultimate question.
Talia kept her gaze fixed upon the floor, her parched lips trembling slightly.
After several seconds of silence, he opened his mouth.
“Yes.”
His answer was so perfunctory it bordered on indifference.
The High Priest turned the same question toward her.
“Talia Roem Guerta, do you swear to take Barcas Laedgo Sierkan as your husband and walk beside him for all your days?”
Talia lifted her gaze to the High Priest’s face, her eyes clouded and distant.
She wanted to answer as casually as he had, but only ragged, gasping breaths escaped her—as though invisible hands were strangling her throat.
As her silence stretched, his grip around her waist tightened.
Talia turned her head to look at him.
His blue eyes quietly demanded her answer, brooking no delay, no hesitation. Pushed forward by that resolute gaze, she barely managed to force out a single word.
“…Yes.”
“By the grace of God and in the name of His Majesty the Emperor, I declare you both formally bound as husband and wife.”
The High Priest, his tone as sterile as stone, added the final words to consecrate the ceremony.
“Now, you shall prove your union with a kiss.”

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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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