The Forgotten Field - Chapter 77

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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 77
Lucas wore an expression of utter exasperation.
Ever since hearing the news of Barcas’s marriage, his younger sister seemed to have completely lost her mind.
Raina, who harbored a subtle admiration for the relationship between Aila and Barcas, had conjured up a clumsy romance in her head. And in that narrative, Talia Roem Guerta had emerged as a villainess of legendary proportions—one who had torn apart a tender love between two souls.
Her eyes burned with the same fierce determination as when she had first pursued the mounted warriors to hunt the manticore.
“Just you wait. I’ll make that woman leave this place of her own accord. We’re going to rescue my brother from the Taren Family’s witch!”
What in the world had possessed her to see Barcas Laedgo Sierkan as someone in need of rescue?
Sometimes I wanted to crack open her skull and peer inside.
He swallowed a sigh and reached for the coat draped over the back of his chair.
“Well, do your best then.”
“So you’re just going to sneak away on your own like a coward?”
“Didn’t you see how the eldest brother wrapped that woman up tight before leaving? I have no desire to fall out of favor with the future Grand Duke by meddling in pointless affairs.”
“That’s all part of her cunning schemes! Haven’t you heard the rumors that the women of the Taren Family bewitch men with their dark sorcery and steal their very souls?”
Raina’s mouth frothed with indignation.
“She’s clearly feigning weakness to elicit sympathy! My brother simply couldn’t bear to turn a blind eye to her plight!”
He shook his head slowly. There was no point reasoning with Raina in this state.
Releasing a deep sigh, he turned toward the door when Raina’s voice rang out sharply.
“Where are you going!”
“To ride. I need some fresh air to clear my head.”
“You can’t! Don’t you know there’s a welcome banquet for my brother coming up soon?”
He left the chamber without acknowledging her words.
The central Hall bustled with servants moving cargo.
Workers with the pale complexions of Central Region folk stacked enormous chests like mountains in one corner of the spacious Hall, while the servants of Laedgo Castle opened the boxes and recorded their contents. Even at a glance, the treasures within were dazzling enough to make one’s eyes widen.
‘So the rumors about her extravagance are true, it seems.’
He swept his gaze across the clothing and various ornaments that filled the chests, then exited through the rear door.
As he headed toward the Stables, he noticed the warriors of the Wolfram Spear Knights—who had departed to assist Barcas—gathered in throngs at the Training Grounds situated in the Backyard.
Spotting a familiar face among them, Lucas immediately changed direction.
“Tyron!”
The man, clad only in a loose tunic, turned to look over his shoulder while taking a swig of wine.
“Ah, the second young master.”
He wiped his wet lips and spoke in his characteristic drawling manner.
“I trust you’ve been well?”
“Well enough to be bored out of my mind.”
Lucas plopped down on the steps surrounding the Training Grounds, snatched the wine bottle from the man’s hand, and drained it in one gulp.
“How are things in the Capital?”
“Unsettled, as expected.”
The man, seemingly unbothered by Lucas’s rudeness, shrugged casually and continued in an even tone.
“This marriage has thrown not only Marquis Orisstein but most of the Conservative Faction into disarray. Grand Duke Sierkan has had quite the time pacifying them.”
“What about the First Princess and the Crown Prince?”
“I haven’t had the chance to meet the First Princess. She’s been confined to her chamber. Understandably so, given that her betrothal was broken off just before the wedding…. She likely won’t appear at any official functions until a new match is arranged. As for the Crown Prince….”
Tyron crossed his arms over his chest and furrowed his brow as if carefully selecting his words.
“Though poison certainly clouds his judgment, he’s accepted the situation with surprising composure. Rather than making a complete enemy of Grand Duke Sierkan, he’s judged it more advantageous to feign acceptance of this marriage while strengthening his position.”
At the unexpected assessment, Lucas tilted his head in confusion.
“That’s surprising. I thought he’d wage war against the Eastern Territories to make the First Princess pay for her betrayal. The rumors said he’d stop at nothing for her sake.”
As Lucas recalled the Crown Prince’s rough demeanor from their meeting in the Capital years ago and furrowed his brow, Tyron burst into laughter.
“Before power, even pigs will calculate their abacus. The Crown Prince may indeed hold his sister dear, but surely not more than the imperial throne itself. In truth, he seemed more concerned about his support base crumbling than about the humiliation the First Princess suffered.”
Lucas’s brow creased.
He too had received education at the Academy in the Capital for several years, but he could never quite adapt to the values of the Central Region nobility.
The Eastern Territories maintained stronger bonds of blood kinship.
Though Raina was an insufferable sister, had she been jilted, they would have waged war to avenge that humiliation.
Suddenly, he felt a pang of sympathy for the First Princess.
She had been betrayed not only by her betrothed but also by the brother she had trusted.
Perhaps Raina’s words held truth. Did women with Taren blood possess some dangerous allure that made men abandon even their honor?
He recalled the deep blue eyes that lay beneath the hood.
Those two eyes, shimmering with faint warmth, were like living, breathing jewels.
No. Even the finest lapis lazuli could not compare.
The impulse to remove the hood had been entirely unconscious. The moment their eyes met, his hand moved of its own accord.
He asked in a slightly hoarse voice.
“What kind of person is the Second Princess?”
Deep wrinkles etched themselves across the man’s brow.
After a pause, he answered.
“I’ve only spoken with her once, so I don’t know much. But it’s clear she’s not an ordinary person, just as the rumors suggest.”
“More so than Raina?”
“Surely not more than the young lady.”
He delivered it as a jest, though uncertainty flickered in the shallow creases around his eyes.
Lucas felt his curiosity swell even further.
What kind of person could make this slippery, evasive man furrow his brow like that?
“What about her appearance? Is she really that beautiful?”
At the abrupt question, the man who had been reaching to reclaim the bottle from his hand hesitated, his gaze turning searching.
For some reason, Lucas felt a twinge of discomfort.
He scraped the heel of his shoe against the floor, feigning indifference.
The man, observing him quietly, drained the last of the wine in one gulp and spoke with casual indifference.
“Troublesome enough to be a problem.”
Then, with a contemplative expression, he added meaningfully.
“Which is precisely why Grand Duke Sierkan keeps her so carefully hidden.”
* * *
When she opened her eyes, deep darkness had settled over the room.
Talia gasped roughly, her hands clutching at her throat as if someone were strangling her.
As she clawed at her skin to remove the invisible fingers, she crawled toward the head of the bed and pulled the cord attached to the bell.
Moments later, the sound of the door opening echoed through the chamber.
Talia turned her head.
The moment that familiar silhouette came into view, the tightness in her chest dissolved. Her body seemed to recognize him before her mind could even process it.
“Are you experiencing leg cramps?”
Barcas, who had lit a lamp by her bedside, leaned over the bed as he asked.
Talia took a long, deep breath and shook her head from side to side.
“I simply called for a handmaiden because I was thirsty.”
His eyes narrowed. He clearly didn’t believe her words.
Barcas, who had been checking her temperature by pressing one hand to her forehead, issued a curt order to the handmaidens who had arrived belatedly.
“Bring medicine from the Healer.”
Then he poured water into a cup and handed it to her himself.
She felt a brief flash of irritation at how blatantly he disregarded her words, but grateful that he had rushed to her side, she accepted the cup without complaint.
As the cool water touched her lips, the haze that had clouded her mind cleared considerably.
She set down the cup and studied him with eyes now free from fever.
Barcas wore a fitted tunic beneath a loose outer coat of the kind the men of this land favored, draped casually across his shoulders.
The unfamiliar attire sent an unexpected flutter through her chest.
She caught herself stealing a glimpse of the outline of his chest visible between the folds of fabric, then quickly looked away with an uncomfortable expression.
“What is that outfit? It looks strange.”
“…It is traditional Eastern attire.”
“Don’t wear that anymore. It doesn’t suit you.”
In truth, it suited him devastatingly well.
The man who always dressed with the precision of a blade, leaving no room for disorder, now appeared in such loose, relaxed garments that he seemed on the verge of coming undone—a sight that struck her as rather provocative.
And for some reason, it bothered her.
She spoke with emphasis.
“You look utterly undignified. If you walk around dressed like that, the retainers will take you lightly. So don’t wear it.”
Barcas gazed down at her face for a moment, then slowly nodded.
“Understood.”

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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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