The Forgotten Field - Chapter 75

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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 75
“The exterior may appear somewhat crude, but the interior is decorated with such splendor that it rivals any castle in the Central Territories. You will find nothing wanting in your comfort here.”
The man speaking to her offered these words in a soothing tone, gauging her expression. Talia’s face remained etched with skepticism.
Had this provincial fool ever set foot in the Imperial Palace or the grand estates of the nobility?
Sensing the disdain in her demeanor, the man’s temples flushed slightly. He pressed forward, each word weighted with emphasis.
“Laedgo Castle was constructed by dwarves during the Age of Ten Kingdoms. It boasts a scale and convenience rivaling the Imperial Palace itself——”
“I know. Your Khan People dragged the dwarves from the Northeastern Region into slavery and forced them to build this fortress.”
At her cutting words, the man’s lips sealed shut.
Talia continued coldly, intent on silencing this frivolous man before he could speak further.
“I didn’t ask for your commentary. Now, will you kindly remove yourself?”
“Well, I—”
The man’s expression turned dumbfounded as he shook his head in disbelief.
“Does Your Highness perhaps understand the meaning of the word ‘sociability’?”
“And do you understand what ‘needless meddling’ means?”
Talia’s voice took on a sharp edge.
“Or perhaps ‘discourtesy’?”
Realizing further words would only deepen his loss, the man wheeled his horse about and fled as though chased.
Talia released a scornful laugh at his retreating form, then promptly shut the window.
People who approach with unwarranted kindness almost invariably harbor ulterior motives.
Moreover, this Easterner merely feigned a smile with his lips while his eyes dissected me piece by piece, rendering silent judgment.
He was likely probing to discern what manner of woman would become the next Grand Duchess.
With a derisive snort, I drew the curtains and sank deep into my seat.
I could not afford a moment’s carelessness. The Sierkan Clan surely viewed me with displeasure.
The Former Empress Bernadette and Grand Duke Sierkan were cousins, bound by considerable affection. The Kan Clan would certainly harbor strong resentment that the daughter of the current Empress—their political rival—had become the next Grand Duchess instead of Aila, their own blood.
I pressed my throbbing temples between my palms. Perhaps I would face treatment far worse than I could imagine.
Had I not endured countless indignities within the Imperial Palace, where Senevir stood her ground? Laedgo Castle would be no better, if not worse.
I scratched at my lips with my fingernails, where dried blood had crusted from my anxious gnawing.
My throat, parched from the heat, burned painfully. I retrieved a water bottle from a drawer built into one side of the carriage and moistened my desiccated mouth when a resonant trumpet blast sounded from outside.
I peered between the curtains once more.
The carriage had arrived before the fortress.
As if undergoing identity verification, the carriage slowed momentarily before passing through the towering Castle Gate.
Surveying my surroundings through the window, I could not help but gasp.
The Easterner Tyron had spoken no falsehood. Beneath its crude exterior, the castle’s interior blazed with meticulously calculated beauty.
I observed the remarkably pristine roads, the soaring spires that seemed to pierce the heavens, and the intricate architectural structures one by one. Each edifice appeared as though carved with meticulous care by a single master craftsman.
The fortress, wrought from a combination of gray stone and black marble, rose at varying heights in exquisite sculptural harmony, while arched stone bridges connected the buildings like arteries flowing between them.
As I gazed upon them with wonder-filled eyes, a Fountain in the center of the Plaza came into view.
My eyes widened. A Fountain far grander and more elaborate than the one in the Imperial Palace shot forth crystalline streams of water with vigorous force.
This fortress clearly enjoyed an abundant supply of water.
The water cascading from the Fountain flowed along grooves carved into the roadside and descended into the channels below.
I was overwhelmed by the vista of the fortress interior, seamlessly woven together from stone, marble, steel, and water, my eyes darting ceaselessly in every direction.
The mounted cavalry marching in formation came to a halt before what appeared to be the Main Citadel.
Talia turned her gaze forward.
Before the magnificent fortress—a harmonious blend of Roem Empire’s refined architectural style and the Eastern Territories’ distinctive aesthetic sensibility—stood rows of elaborately dressed figures.
Barcas reined in his horse before them, dismounted from the saddle, and shouted something in the Eastern language. At his words, those waiting on the steps rushed down and surrounded him.
‘Are these Barcas’s kinfolk?’
I studied them with curious eyes, but Barcas, having dispersed the clamoring crowd, walked directly toward my carriage.
Talia hastily drew the curtains shut. I was about to lie down on the sheets and feign sleep when, without warning, the carriage door swung open and Barcas climbed inside.
Talia looked up at him with a tense expression.
Since leaving the Roem Knights, Barcas wore his customary black iron armor with an Eastern-style cloak draped loosely across his shoulders.
His massive frame, heavy with the scent of dried grass, instantly filled my entire vision.
“How is your condition?”
Barcas removed his gauntlets and placed his hand upon her forehead. Sensing the fever, fine lines appeared between his smooth brows.
“Your fever hasn’t broken yet.”
“…It’s fine. It’s not like this is the first or second day.”
Talia lowered her eyes with an uncomfortable expression.
By now somewhat accustomed to his touch, I no longer startled each time he reached for me, yet the awkwardness and discomfort remained unavoidable.
I fidgeted with my skirts when he removed the cloak from his shoulders and draped it around me. Then, as though it were the most natural thing, he began to slide his arm beneath my knees to lift me.
Talia immediately twisted her body to the side and hugged her knees.
“Don’t! Are you trying to embarrass me in front of your own family?”
Barcas’s eyes narrowed. He tilted his head to one side as though unable to comprehend.
“Why would a husband caring for his wife be shameful?”
Talia stared at him, rendered speechless.
I had long known this man was bound by a sense of duty. Yet I never expected him to fulfill his obligations even in a marriage forced upon him by the Emperor’s pressure.
She shot him a fierce glare.
“Did Aila teach you that? That a husband must care for his wife?”
At her sharp tone, his brows drew together.
Barcas paused as though considering something, then spoke tersely.
“Did you not swear before the Altar to care for your wife as you would your own body?”
“That’s laughable. You don’t even spare your own body.”
“….”
“And I have no intention of playing the role of an ‘obedient wife’ as the High Priest droned on about. So stop pretending to be a devoted husband.”
She spoke sharply and rose unsteadily to leave, but Barcas, approaching from behind, caught her body and lifted her into his arms.
Talia glared at him with indignation. But before she could lash out, Barcas spoke first.
“Do I appear so foolish as to expect anything ‘obedient’ from you?”
“What do you mean by that…!”
“It means I expect nothing from you, so do as you wish.”
He spoke flatly and adjusted her struggling form with one arm.
“I, too, intend to do as I wish.”
Then he pulled the hood attached to his cloak over her head and stepped down from the carriage.
The piercing sunlight stung Talia’s eyes, and she furrowed her brows.
As my vision cleared from its white haze, I became aware of unfamiliar faces regarding me with a mixture of wariness and curiosity.
Talia’s cheeks flushed with shame. Rather than commanding the dignity befitting a Princess, humiliation washed over me at the realization that I was being carried about like a helpless child.
“Is this the woman who pushed aside the First Princess and claimed the position of my brother’s wife?”
Without thinking, I buried my face against his shoulder when a clear, androgynous voice reached my ears.
Talia turned to look behind me.
A boy with tousled black hair and large amber eyes stood with his hands clasped behind his head, studying me intently.
He couldn’t have been more than fifteen. His youthful, downy face drew close enough to touch.
The boy peered at me with curious eyes as I peeked out cautiously, my eyes alone visible.
“Your eyes are just like lapis lazuli.”
Without warning, he reached up toward my head to pull back my hood.
Shocked by such rudeness—something I had never experienced before—I froze in place, but Barcas caught the boy’s wrist.
“Lucas.”
A voice so chillingly cold it made me start reverberated from above my head.

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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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