The Forgotten Field - Chapter 81

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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 81
“I apologize. My judgment was lacking.”
The man immediately bowed his head. Barcas entered his bedchamber without responding.
A servant quickly followed after him. With a casual gesture, Barcas dismissed the man, then settled into a chair and methodically removed his armor and clothing, arranging them neatly before immersing himself in the bath the servants had prepared.
After riding all day, his body was thoroughly caked with dust and the acrid smell of horses.
He washed himself thoroughly in the clear water, then dressed in a deep indigo doublet and wool trousers. As he stood before the mirror in boots that reached his shins, a perfectly composed silhouette came into view.
Years of rigorous training had honed his body into an instrument of flawless discipline, ready to assume an impeccable stance at any moment.
He regarded his reflection—a man who might have been cast by the Imperial Family itself—for a long moment before taking up his coat and leaving the chamber.
Just as he turned toward the hall, a woman descending the stairs caught his eye. Recognizing her as the Healer dispatched from the Imperial Palace, Barcas immediately called her to a halt.
“Why are you coming down from the upper floors?”
The woman hastily bowed her head.
“The Princess summoned me.”
His brow furrowed. He had anticipated that Talia would ignore his instructions, but seeing confirmation of it with his own eyes kindled a faint irritation.
He asked in a clipped tone.
“How is the Princess’s condition?”
“Thanks to a full day of rest, she appears to be in better health than usual. Her fever has completely subsided. However, the pain in her legs seems to persist.”
“Did you burn sleep herbs again?”
The Healer’s face visibly stiffened as she detected the reproach in his tone. She spoke defensively.
“The Princess suffers from severe chronic pain. Using sleep herbs is the best measure to alleviate her suffering.”
He scrutinized her face with sharp eyes.
Could he trust a Healer appointed by the Empress? A woman who treated her own daughter like a chess piece. There was no telling what schemes she might orchestrate behind the scenes.
He studied her face carefully, as if gauging her true intentions, then gave a nod dismissing her.
The woman bowed and descended the stairs at a measured pace—neither hurried nor slow.
Barcas watched her departing figure intently before turning toward Talia’s Bedchamber.
When he knocked on the firmly closed door, a slightly hoarse voice emerged.
“Come in.”
The moment he stepped inside, cool air brushed against his cheek. His brow drew together. Contrary to his expectation that the spacious bedchamber would be thick with stale smoke, only the faint fragrance of flowers and the scent of dried herbs lingered in the air.
He surveyed the disorderly room, composing himself.
Soon he discovered a small silhouette perched on the windowsill.
Barcas was about to call her name when he suddenly fell silent. He couldn’t explain what had stopped him from speaking.
The woman, bathed in the cascading light of sunset, turned her head toward him. As their eyes met, an inexplicable unease intensified.
He pulled at the neckline of his doublet and approached her in long strides. After firmly locking the open window, he brought the back of his hand to her pallid, luminous cheek and felt an icy coldness.
“How long have you been doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“How long have you been exposed to the cold wind?”
Her eyes narrowed. With a petulant expression filling her small face, she appeared two years younger than her actual age.
She swatted his hand away and spoke curtly.
“I don’t know. Why should I care?”
“If your fever returns, what then?”
“So my fever returns. What of it?”
He furrowed his brow. Whenever I engaged in conversation with this woman, strange impulses stirred within me. A desire to make her obey by sheer force warred with an equally bizarre compulsion to coax her into compliance through gentle persuasion.
As if to shake off that peculiar emotion, I took a step backward. The moment I created distance, her rigid shoulders visibly relaxed, tension draining away as relief washed over her.
Talia hugged her knees with both arms and raked her gaze over me from head to toe before speaking flatly.
“More importantly, why are you dressed like that?”
“Guests are arriving. I’m preparing to hold a modest banquet.”
“Guests?”
“Regional lords from the Eastern Territories. They’ve come to make an impression on me, or so I’m told.”
“Hmm….”
She made an odd sound while fidgeting with the hem of my coat. I gazed quietly at her hand.
After worrying at my garment for some time, she hesitantly opened her mouth.
“Don’t I need to attend as well?”
I lifted my gaze. Her face, hauntingly beautiful, filled my vision.
She was a woman who stirred others’ emotions in unsettling ways. Even I, whose senses were largely restrained, felt those strange impulses in her presence. I could envision without seeing what chaos her appearance would unleash.
After a brief pause, I slowly shook my head.
I couldn’t hide her forever, but at least until I secured complete control of the Eastern Territories, I preferred to keep her out of the public eye.
“There’s no need. I’ll explain matters adequately to the vassals. For now, I’d prefer you rest and recover.”
“…Is it because you’re ashamed of me?”
Her voice suddenly turned sharp. I halted mid-turn toward the door and looked down at her.
She bit at her scabbed lips and spoke with bitter mockery.
“Are you already regretting taking a cripple as your wife?”
I clenched my fists tightly. Without doing so, I feared I might do something terrible. Drawing a long breath, I waited for the sharp emotions to subside while regarding her with cold eyes. Her pupils gleamed with hostility all the more vividly. In that moment, the words I’d been suppressing clawed their way up my throat.
“Sometimes I can’t tell if what you say is meant to wound me, or if you’re trying to hurt yourself.”
Her lips stiffened rigidly, as if words had abandoned her.
I stared silently at her face, thick with disbelief, then exhaled softly and turned away.
“I’ll have a Handmaiden brought. Prepare yourself. If you truly wish to attend, I won’t stop you.”
“Fine.”
Talia jumped down from the windowsill and spoke coldly.
“If I stay around you any longer, I’ll develop a fever again.”
With that, she stumbled toward the bed and threw herself onto the sheets. Watching her silently, I left the chamber.
I descended the stairs and entered the Grand Banquet Hall, where hundreds of eyes turned toward me.
They rose from their seats in unison.
“You’ve arrived, Lord Barcas.”
One of the vassals positioned near the entrance bowed respectfully.
I acknowledged the greeting with a slight nod and slowly crossed the hall.
Elaborately dressed high nobility and my own relatives occupied the central table of the banquet hall, while more modestly dressed men surrounded them in a circle.
Upon reaching the upper dais, the faint melody flowing through the hall ceased abruptly. I surveyed the assembly before offering the customary greeting.
“Thank you for traveling so far. I hope you’ll forgive the modest arrangements.”
“Modest? In all my years, I’ve never tasted wine this exquisite!”
One of the men seated at the long table exclaimed heartily.
I turned my gaze toward him. His brilliant coat was embroidered with the black bear insignia—the symbol of the Gutban Family, which controlled the Southeastern Region.
The man raised his glass high, his tone dripping with provocation.
“Indeed, gifts bestowed by His Imperial Majesty are incomparable. I hardly dare let such a thing touch my lips. Is this not the reward our lord received for a lifetime of unwavering devotion?”
The man’s theatrical declaration was followed by him gulping down the wine in greedy swallows, then slamming the glass down with a loud crash.
“When I think of this fine wine as the sweat and tears shed by our lord, it tastes bitter indeed.”
A heavy silence descended upon the Hall.
Barcas leaned back against his chair, twisting his lips into a thin smile.
“It seems you’ve come spoiling for a fight.”

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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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