The Forgotten Field - Chapter 72

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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 72
The Handmaidens walked quietly down the Corridor.
Talia followed behind them, placing each foot with utmost caution.
By the time I reached the staircase with steps slower than a tortoise, my back was drenched in sweat.
I gazed down at the stairs with a grim expression.
That was when Barcas strode into the manor, capturing my attention.
I forgot how to breathe as my eyes swept over him from head to toe.
Instead of his Roem Knights uniform, Barcas wore a black breastplate emblazoned with the House Sierkan crest, and across his shoulders hung a loose ash-gray cloak fashioned from beast hide.
My heart constricted at the sight—he resembled the Khan People cavalry warriors who once made the entire Robiden Continent tremble in fear.
He ascended the stairs with long strides and came to a halt before me.
His usually immaculate hair was disheveled in a way I had never seen before, as though he had come in haste.
He bent toward me, his eyes—sharp as tempered steel—boring into mine.
“How are you feeling?”
I could only blink blankly. Under normal circumstances, I would have snapped at him to mind his own business, but strangely, my tongue felt parched.
After a long moment, I finally managed to speak.
“…I’m fine.”
His eyes narrowed. He seemed skeptical of my subdued response.
Barcas, who had been studying my face intently, removed his gloves and pressed his hand to my forehead. I reflexively swatted his hand away.
A sharp sound rang out, followed by a tense silence. I wrapped my tingling fingers around my palm and watched his expression carefully.
He didn’t seem particularly displeased. Or rather, I couldn’t tell. Had I ever truly been able to read his expression?
I lowered my gaze and muttered in a strained voice.
“Y-you startled me by touching me so suddenly.”
Then long, pale fingers invaded my vision once more.
I shrank my neck. But he would not permit me to push his hand away a second time.
Barcas gently brushed my forehead, then meticulously fastened the clasp of my coat all the way to my neck. Without giving me a chance to protest, he lifted me into his arms with both hands and spoke flatly.
“You will need to become accustomed to my touch going forward.”
My eyes widened. My heart fluttered with a tremor.
What could he possibly mean by that?
No. No. Do not hope.
He was merely caring for a pitiful cripple. I hastily crushed the weeds of foolish longing that threatened to sprout, and Barcas adjusted me into a more comfortable position before descending the stairs slowly.
Fearing I might tumble, I wrapped my arms around his neck. Barcas cradled my back with one hand and proceeded with deliberate care.
Shortly after, the sight of a Garden filled with unfamiliar men unfolded before my eyes.
I surveyed them with a puzzled expression. At first glance, they did not appear to be soldiers of the Roem Knights.
The men all bore long halberd-axes on their backs, and over their dark armor, they wore loose, gown-like cloaks.
One of them stepped forward before Barcas.
“Is this the lady who will become the next Grand Duchess?”
I studied the man with a cautious gaze. He was a young man with sun-darkened honey-brown skin, dark brown hair, and black eyes.
He observed me—with only my eyes visible above the edge of my cloak—with curious interest, then bowed respectfully.
“It is an honor to meet you, Princess. My name is Tyron El Drakan.”
Upon hearing that unfamiliar name, I realized that the men arrayed before me were from the Eastern Territories. It seemed the retainers of House Sierkan had come to attend to him.
She reached down to pull away the fabric covering her face in order to return the greeting, but Barcas’s interference rendered her attempt futile.
Barcas, having drawn the hood over her head, passed the man and spoke in an indifferent tone.
“Prepare the horses. We depart shortly.”
“Should we not stop by the Imperial Palace first?”
“The transfer of the Knight Order is already complete. There is no reason to linger here any longer.”
Barcas, having responded with firm resolve, cast a cold gaze toward the Elderly Attendant standing vacantly beside the carriage.
“Why do you not open the door at once?”
The Elderly Attendant, whose expression had been blank, immediately opened the carriage door.
Barcas climbed inside with a single stride and set her down upon the thickly cushioned seat. Then, with meticulous care, he adjusted her garments as he spoke.
“We will travel continuously for several hours without rest. Should you experience any discomfort, signal the coachman.”
Talia looked up at him with confusion in her eyes.
She could not fathom why he was in such haste. Could someone be pursuing them?
The faces of Gareth and Aila suddenly flashed through her mind.
Could those two be plotting something?
Aila’s venomous voice, declaring that she would come to regret this, echoed in her ears.
Talia bit her lip. It had always been her role to weave schemes and conspiracies. But now their positions had reversed.
If Aila loved Barcas even half as much as she did, she would stop at nothing to reclaim him.
Perhaps she would even send ruffians to ambush them. And Barcas, anticipating such circumstances….
“Your Highness.”
Noticing her mind churning in turmoil, he lifted her chin and met her gaze.
“Have I not told you before? You need not think of anything.”
His low, mellifluous voice resonated in her mind like a hypnotic spell.
Talia’s expression became flustered.
What was his intention in saying such things? Was he preemptively blocking me from causing trouble?
Or perhaps, or perhaps….
She quickly reined in thoughts that were drifting toward dangerous territory.
He was a man who had left her mind in chaos and departed as though nothing had happened.
A man who had cast her into an unfamiliar place and not shown his face for an entire week.
The chasm carved within her ran too deep to harbor vain hope over a few cryptic words.
Talia pushed his hand away.
“…Stop saying strange things. If we’re going, then let’s depart already.”
Even at her curt words, he did not so much as flinch.
An inscrutable gaze brushed across her brow. Talia moistened her parched lips. Only when her throat had grown unbearably dry did he slowly rise and exit the carriage.
Only upon hearing the door close did Talia release the breath she had been holding.
As she cautiously pressed herself against the carriage wall, she caught sight of Barcas conversing with the Eastern Territories men through the window frame.
Among the men with dark hair and pale golden skin, he stood out distinctly, like a foreigner. Yet perhaps there was not so great a difference, she thought.
He had left his homeland at a young age and spent most of his years in the Imperial Palace. For him too, the Eastern Territories must be an unfamiliar place.
Suddenly, the image of a young boy sent alone to a foreign land took shape in her mind. That image transformed into her own self when she first arrived at the Imperial Palace.
Had the six-year-old Barcas felt as lonely as she had? Had he felt as helpless and suffocated as though swallowed into a monster’s belly?
While she stood lost in such thoughts, the carriage that had been stationary began to move. Talia watched as unfamiliar yet familiar landscapes flowed past like a river.
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. Was this really the time to be worrying about the man who would come to rule the Eastern Territories?
From this moment forward, I would venture into unfamiliar lands entirely alone, with no one to lean upon, forced to rebuild my life from nothing—and yet here I was, squandering my concern on matters that had nothing to do with me.
‘Besides, when did I ever have anyone to rely on?’
Talia curled herself into a tight ball in the corner of the carriage, burying her face against her knees.
The Imperial Palace had been no different—a place where I could never truly belong.
To Senevir, I was merely a useful tool.
To the Emperor, I was an inconvenient reminder of past failures, and to my half-siblings, I was nothing but a stain that needed to be scrubbed away someday.
A question suddenly took root in her mind.
What would I become in the Eastern Territories?

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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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