The Forgotten Field - Chapter 74

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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 74
He tilted his head to one side. His damaged senses occasionally malfunctioned.
After waiting for the droning sound to fade, he brushed past the woman and stepped into the Tent.
Whether she had burned medicinal herbs again throughout the night, the dim space was thick with the acrid smell of smoke. Yet mingled within it was a strange scent—one that reminded him of overripe fruit on the verge of decay.
It was an odd fragrance that had begun emanating from her skin at some point.
He held his breath for a moment, then slowly inhaled the air. Quietly, he called out to her.
“Talia.”
No response came. Yet he could sense her presence.
His eyes moved busily as he stepped into the cluttered space scattered with bowls, wine bottles, and cups. Then he stopped, noticing a pile of clothes heaped beside the disheveled bed.
He bent down in front of a large chest placed at one corner of the Tent.
As he carefully opened the lid, a small form curled into a ball came into view.
His body reacted strangely again. It felt as though his chest had been struck by a horse’s hoof.
He steadied the turmoil within and placed his hand on her shoulder.
The woman, who had buried her head in her knees, lifted it.
Beneath her damp eyelashes, pure blue eyes—untainted by any impurity—were revealed. Clear tears glistened across her transparent skin, like that of a creature dwelling in the deep sea.
He cupped her damp cheeks and gently touched her slightly reddened chin, then tilted her withdrawn head slightly backward.
There were several thin scratches on her slender neck, as if she had been scraped somewhere. As he examined them closely, a fractured voice flowed from between her lips, which appeared to be stained with blood.
“Did you… defeat all the monsters?”
He looked into the woman’s eyes again.
Her deep blue irises wavered precariously, as if submerged in water.
He recalled the first time he had met those eyes.
The day he regained color—it was the first hue he had ever seen.
With a sensation of tightness in his throat, he drew a long breath and lifted his stiffened body.
Supple, soft arms wrapped around his neck as though it were the most natural thing. A thin whimper dampened his taut skin.
“I thought I was being taken again.”
Barcas tightened his arms around her.
Never again. That would never happen again.
The words that had lingered on his tongue flowed back down his throat. Since the incident, he had found himself swallowing his words repeatedly in her presence.
Those swallowed words accumulated like sediment in his belly, layer upon layer.
With a frown at the uncomfortable sensation of a stone pressing down on his insides, he gently stroked her narrow, intermittently trembling back.
Her rigid body gradually relaxed, clinging to him softly. When he lifted her head from his shoulder to look at her face, he saw her eyes closed as if exhausted.
After gently smoothing her drooping golden eyelashes with his thumb, he adjusted her slipping body and quickly scanned the Chamber.
He spotted a coat hanging on the Tent’s support pole. He snatched it and draped it over her, then stepped outside.
As he quickly crossed the Campsite, a few mounted warriors who were busily dismantling the Tents sent curious glances his way. He pulled the coat up to the top of her head.
The men had been sending her hungry, feral gazes since she was barely five cubits tall. And this woman, though she feared it, sometimes exposed herself defenseless before their eyes—as if she didn’t mind being torn to shreds.
He pulled her closer to his chest and quickened his pace, as if shaking off their irritating stares.
After entering his own Tent and laying her on the bed, he noticed her body had become noticeably gaunt over the past few months.
A sigh rose in his throat.
The frustrating part was that her thinness was leading her beauty in a dangerous direction. As Barcas let his gaze slide along her skeletal neck, her emaciated shoulders, and her prominent collarbone, he turned his attention toward the Tent’s entrance.
The young attendant who had followed to serve him was staring at her. His half-dead nerves suddenly sharpened to a keen edge.
He dismissed all the Attendants and firmly shut the entrance. It was not a wise decision. The Tent was now filled with the sweet, cloying scent she emanated.
A strange thirst, as if his throat were burning, made him swallow hard against his dry mouth.
He raked his damp hair back roughly, casting an irritable glance, when her pale cheeks—streaked with the remnants of tears—seared themselves into his vision.
Words she had uttered years ago in terror echoed through his mind.
“He… he did that. As if addicted, I cannot help but continue to seek him out… again and again…”
He bit gently at the soft flesh inside his cheek with his molars. A faint taste of blood filled his mouth.
He tapped his temples lightly with his fingertips before reaching for the coat he had left in the corner of the Chamber.
As he stepped outside, the metallic scent of blood flooded his lungs.
He breathed it in deeply, as if to erase the stale, coppery smell lingering in his throat, when Barakan—now fully armed—approached his side.
“Preparations are nearly complete. Once your Tent is dismantled, we can depart immediately. Shall we begin now?”
“In an hour.”
Barcas, after a brief pause, spoke in a subdued voice.
“We’ll set out after we’ve caught our breath.”
A faint smile of amusement crossed the man’s lips.
He shrugged his shoulders and replied in a casual tone.
“As you command.”
The man immediately turned to convey the orders to his subordinates.
Barcas sat upon a waterskin, gazing out at the Norden Plain, which lay dimly visible between the densely clustered trees.
A dry wind swept harshly across his cheek.
A strangely familiar scent drifted through the air.
When had he encountered that scent before?
As he searched through his hazy memories, the distant howl of a wolf reached his ears.
He turned his head.
A mournful cry stretched long from the edge of the Forest.
* * *
Her weakened body could not endure the long journey and she fell into a continuous fever.
Talia gazed up at the swaying ceiling, tossing restlessly as she gasped for breath. The Carriage moved at a pace scarcely faster than walking, yet even that faint vibration was nothing short of torture for her.
Talia clutched her head as a splitting headache threatened to cleave her skull.
Then, a sharp horn blast sounded from outside. Had they finally reached their destination? She struggled to rise and peered out the window. The vast expanse of the plain filled her fevered vision.
Confronted with the unfamiliar sight, Talia’s eyes widened. A deep verdant grassland stretched endlessly, as if touching the sky itself. A gust of wind swept violently across that lush meadow.
She opened the window and cooled her flushed face against the crisp breeze.
“That is Kalmor.”
At the sudden voice, she turned her head with a start, and a man riding a horse came into view nearby. He drew closer and offered a familiar smile.
“My name is Tyron. We were introduced before—do you remember?”
She kept her lips firmly sealed, shooting him only a wary glance. The man’s smile dimmed slightly. After a moment of probing silence, he pressed on gently, undeterred by her coldness.
“You seem to be in poor health.”
“….”
“We should arrive at Laedgo Castle soon. Look there—can you see the City Walls?”
The man pointed ahead.
Talia followed the direction of his finger with her eyes.
At the horizon’s edge, grayish-brown City Walls emerged as if sculpted from ash and sand. I craned my neck out the window to examine them more closely.
Laedgo Castle appeared as though constructed from colossal boulders stacked upon one another.
Thick outer ramparts, devoid of ornamentation, encircled the base of the Hill without a single gap, and above them rose massive and modest towers and fortifications composed entirely of straight lines, standing in austere prominence.
I unconsciously wrapped my arms around my neck.
Perhaps it was because the place where I would spend my days ahead seemed excessively desolate. A chill crept up my spine.

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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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