The Forgotten Field - Chapter 80

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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 80
He crossed the deep verdant meadow, seized by the sensation of treading upon unfamiliar ground for the first time.
Across the gently rolling hills, dozens of plump foals and mares grazed contentedly on the grass.
“Over a hundred foals have been born in this ranch this year alone. All of them carry the bloodline of Norneksan’s legendary steeds.”
Daren Dru Sierkan, who had been following quietly, explained with evident pride in his tone.
Barcas turned to regard the man with his stern, somewhat obstinate bearing and posed a question.
“How many trained war horses do we have?”
“Three thousand here at this ranch. If we include the ranch to the north, it should come to around six thousand three hundred.”
“That’s fewer than the numbers I was briefed on.”
A flush of red crept across the man’s face at his observation.
“You were stationed in the Central Region, were you not? It’s practically impossible to convey every minor detail beyond the regular reports.”
The man added defensively, averting his gaze.
“A month ago, one of the horse ranches in the Northeastern Region suffered severe damage in a raid by the Zrami. The retaliatory battles that followed resulted in the loss of a considerable number of serviceable war horses.”
Barcas furrowed his brow.
“Why wasn’t this reported to the Imperial Family?”
“We were capable of handling it ourselves. What was the point?”
The man shrugged with an indifferent expression.
“It was the Grand Duke’s philosophy that the Eastern Territories should resolve their own problems. His retainers agreed with this approach.”
“The Eastern Territories are also part of the Roem Empire.”
Barcas countered in a measured tone.
“We are imperial subjects as well. Just as the Eastern Territories show loyalty to the Imperial Family, the Imperial Family has a duty to protect its people.”
The man’s lips pressed firmly shut. He seemed to recoil instinctively at the word “protect.” The Khan People, with their fierce pride, regarded external aid as an affront to their honor.
Rather than correct this misguided notion, I turned my horse’s head toward the village below the hill.
Most of the residents dwelling outside the castle walls lived far more austere lives than their urban counterparts.
As evidence, the buildings lining the muddy path were uniformly dilapidated and shabby.
As I swept my indifferent gaze across them, something suddenly arrested my attention.
Barcas urged his horse toward the center of the village, narrowing his eyes. Then something hanging from a massive tree in the plaza became visible.
Drawing closer, I could discern its nature: three corpses, their flesh beginning to rot with a purplish hue as though they had been dead for some time, hung limply with ropes wound about their necks.
“It appears these heretics were executed not long ago.”
Daren spoke, wrinkling the bridge of his nose.
Barcas turned to him and inquired.
“Are heretical movements spreading through Kalmor?”
“As you well know, many among the Eastern people cannot abandon their ancestral faith. Some among them revere spirits as gods, while others are consumed by superstition.”
The man released a heavy sigh.
“Particularly of late, accusations of heresy have increased. It’s likely due to the escalating conflicts with the Zrami. They are all consumed by spirit worship ideology, after all. The intensified resentment toward heretics has led to frequent religious trials at the village level.”
“In just a few years, this place has descended into chaos.”
A look of displeasure crossed the man’s face.
As if to conceal it, the man forced a smile to the corners of his mouth and shrugged his broad shoulders.
“The Grand Duke has been bedridden for quite some time, so there’s little that could be done about it.”
Barcas gazed up at the corpses in contemplation, then gestured with his chin toward his subordinates.
“If left as is, there’s a high probability it will become a ghoul. After lowering the corpse, conduct a simple funeral rite.”
The man raised his thick eyebrows.
“You mean the heretic?”
Barcas regarded him with a cold gaze.
“Do I need to repeat myself?”
Daren Dru Sierkan, who had been staring at him intently for a moment, soon barked orders at the Knights lined up behind him.
“Why aren’t you following the Lord’s command this instant!”
The men immediately dismounted and cut the rope suspending the corpse.
The body fell with a heavy thud onto the dirt ground.
As it dropped, I observed the head twisted at an odd angle, as though the neck had snapped upon impact.
Inside the hollow sockets where the eyes had been gouged out, maggots writhed in profusion, and within the lips that had been carved away, all the teeth had been extracted. All precautions taken against ghoulification.
A corpse that had not undergone purification rites had a high probability of becoming undead, and for this reason, heretics were often stripped of their eyes, teeth, and even fingernails.
‘A pointless measure.’
A ghoul could use tools as readily as it had in life, depending on its memories. To prevent danger, it would have been better to either incinerate the corpse completely or perform a purification rite.
I watched the Soldiers drag three corpses to a corner of the open ground, then turned my gaze to sweep across the shabby-clothed farmers gathered at one side of the plaza.
Most bore expressions of fear, though a few wore looks of discontent.
I pointed to one of them.
“You—fetch the High Priest at once.”
The man who had been singled out shuffled toward the Chapel situated at the edge of the village.
Soon the High Priest arrived and conducted a brief purification rite.
Watching quietly, I left instructions to bury the corpses in an appropriate location, then led my horse out of the village.
At that moment, an abandoned wooden sculpture caught my eye at the end of the broad path.
A three-headed dog—or rather, wolf—sculpture, half-split by an axe blade, lay abandoned on the narrow path leading into the Argand Forest.
It was unmistakably a curse marker.
Daren Dru Sierkan, who discovered it belatedly, stiffened and shouted loudly to the Soldiers.
“Remove it at once!”
I gazed down at the sculpture with a measured expression, then turned my gaze toward the village.
Given that it had been placed in anticipation of our visit, it was clearly an act of deliberate malice.
I let out a dry laugh.
‘It seems there are those who are displeased by my return.’
Whether it was the work of heretics steeped in superstition or a provocation from anti-Empire forces remained unclear, but I had a premonition that life in this place would not be easy either.
“Shall we search for the culprit?”
Daren Dru Sierkan asked, gauging my reaction.
I pulled the reins and shook my head lightly.
“Leave it. Stirring up trouble over a mere sculpture would only make us a laughingstock.”
The man swallowed a sigh and nodded.
“That’s true enough.”
Though he had acquiesced, his frustration was clearly unresolved, and his gaze sweeping across the village was sharp. I sensed he might well lead his subordinates back to cause trouble.
Brief as my observation had been, the man possessed an unusually belligerent temperament even among the mounted warriors.
I felt a strange weariness wash over me as I spurred my horse forward.
By the time I returned to Laedgo Castle, the sun had tilted toward the western horizon.
Dismounting swiftly from my horse, I handed the reins to the stable keeper and crossed the expansive Training Grounds.
Upon entering the Main Castle, the Steward who had been directing the servants came rushing out.
“Welcome home, my lord.”
I acknowledged his greeting with a nod, then passed through the bustling Hall and ascended the staircase.
The man hurried after me, speaking urgently.
“Several regional lords have come to meet with you, my lord.”
I furrowed my brow and glanced back at the Steward.
“Regional lords?”
“Vassals overseeing the Southeastern Region, my lord.”
The man added carefully.
“It appears they have come to make their presence known before you hold your succession ceremony.”
I rubbed my chin lightly with my gloved hand, then continued up the staircase, speaking without particular concern.
“Prepare a banquet for our guests. After I change clothes, I shall proceed to the Hall.”
“I… ”
As I made my way toward my Bedroom on the second floor, the Steward prolonged his words.
I regarded him over my shoulder.
After hesitating for some time, the man carefully opened his mouth.
“My lord, I wondered whether your wife might be able to attend the evening banquet as well…”
I narrowed my eyes.
The Steward, gauging my reaction, spoke hastily as though delivering gossip.
“She will soon become the mistress of the Grand Duke’s household, will she not? Everyone is curious to know who she is. Yet she has not left her Chamber all day long…”
“Steward.”
I cut off his words with a quiet voice.
“Do you truly believe the Princess should endure discomfort merely to satisfy the curiosity of my relatives and servants?”
The color drained from the Steward’s face. I continued coldly.
“Her Highness suffered a grave accident mere months ago. Having not yet fully recovered, she has just completed an arduous journey spanning weeks. She requires rest and recuperation for the time being. See that everyone is informed not to trouble her with unnecessary matters.”

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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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