The Forgotten Field Novel - Chapter 13, 14

## Chapter 13

### THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVELA)

The maid, her hands trembling uncontrollably, lifted the spoon but could not force herself to touch the bowl. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut tightly as if, by sheer willpower, she could escape what was about to happen. Perhaps she even hoped that someone would appear and intervene.

Talia took the knife from the table. Her voice was cold and ruthless as she gave the order.

—Hold this woman’s fingers against the plate. Since she dares to despise my generosity, I will use her as an example by cutting off a finger.

The man immediately pinned the maid’s hand against the silver tray. Talia grabbed the tip of the woman’s index finger and raised the carving knife into the air.

The maid shrieked in terror.

—I’ll eat! I’ll eat it all! I’ll eat everything!

Frantic, she plunged the spoon into the bowl and began to shove into her mouth the broth containing the dead bird. She engulfed it greedily, as if hoping that swallowing without tasting would make it bearable. She barely chewed, forcing down large pieces. But before she had passed even five spoonfuls, she vomited it all up.

Even so, Talia maintained her cold demand.

—Eat it all. Down to the last drop. I want to see the bottom of that bowl.

The maid’s terrified eyes locked onto her; they were no longer eyes of contempt, but the wide, horrified gaze of someone beholding a monster.

Talia, with a single look, ordered her to continue.

Weeping bitterly, the maid obeyed: eating, vomiting, and eating again. She put the broth into her mouth time and time again, but she could never swallow the decomposing bird. Time after time, the gags brought it back up. In the end, her face—stained with blood, tears, and vomit—turned ashen. Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed onto the carpet with a heavy thud.

Talia looked down at the maid, who was foaming at the mouth and suffering convulsions, and then gave a haughty nod to the petrified servants.

—Clean all this up. —She threw the dirty plate at their feet—. And bring me fresh food. Something decent this time.

From that day on, the incessant torment of the servants ceased as if it had never existed. The maids treated her with the caution shown to a dangerous weapon. Some servants trembled from pure fear. They no longer looked at her with contempt or muttered cruel words loud enough for her to hear. Whenever Talia appeared, they closed their mouths like clams and bowed their heads.

Soon, rumors of the Second Princess’s cruelty spread throughout the Imperial Palace. Stories of how she had mercilessly tortured an innocent maid who had faithfully served the imperial family for more than ten years shocked everyone. People shuddered at the malice of such a young child.

The priests clicked their tongues, saying that a viper’s brood had sneaked into the imperial family. The loyal subjects of the Empire worried that such a vicious princess would disgrace the authority of the throne.

But there were those who were pleased by Talia’s brutality.

It was a day just before winter. The Empress arrived at the separate palace, adorned in a dress of the same deep, dark blue of her eyes.

As she walked down the stairs with a stiff face to receive her, Talia froze in place the moment she saw Senevier. To her own disbelief, her throat tightened with longing. This was the mother who had so cruelly turned her back on her. Talia had seen her slender figure walk away, remembering how she had pushed her hand away with cold indifference, and had sworn never to love that woman again.

But when Senevier crossed the great hall and kissed her cheek, that oath crumbled like a sandcastle before the tide.

—Hello, Talia. You look truly beautiful today.

The Empress smelled of roses and lilacs, and a sweetness like ripe fruit. Realizing that she had longed for that intoxicating fragrance with all her being was nothing less than despair. Senevier looked down at her daughter’s somber face and sketched a gentle smile.

—You must be upset because I have come after such a long absence. Forgive me. I have been preparing a very special gift for you.

An expression of uneasiness crossed Talia’s face.

—A… gift?

—I heard about the efficiency with which you disciplined those insolent servants. That rejoiced your mother’s heart, and therefore you deserve a reward.

Her voice sang like a canary as she turned elegantly. Only then did Talia see the figure of a boy approaching slowly through the hall.

Talia’s breath hitched. Within the span of a few months, he must have been formally knighted, as he now wore the uniform of the Imperial Guard. Varkas walked toward her. The sunlight streaming through the windows scattered over his ash-blonde hair, breaking into flashes of brilliance that struck her eyes like splinters of glass.

Senevier stood beside the boy and extended her hand as if displaying a prized trophy.

—Here is the handsome knight who will protect you.

The boy stopped before her and offered a bow. In another time, his eyes had shone with the dream of a crown. Now, they flickered only with a sharp, dagger-like anger and the faint glint of humiliation. It was quite clear that he had not come here by choice. Looking down at her as if she were an inanimate object, he introduced himself:

—Varkas Raedgo Siercan. —His voice was dry enough to chill the spine—. I will serve at your side until Your Highness’s coming-of-age ceremony.

The implication was obvious: he longed for that day to arrive quickly so he could rid himself of this humiliating duty.

Talia raised her gaze to his face, which was as frigid as a mask, her eyes desolate. His icy gaze, his cutting words, his rigid bearing… all of it reduced her once again to a despicable and worthless being. She fought desperately not to cower, but the heat of shame burned her neck and ears until she could barely stand it.

And at that moment, Talia understood with painful clarity: this beautiful boy would not be her hope. He would be her torment. A torment of the most cruel kind.

After days of drizzle, the skies cleared. The sun beat down, announcing the season of fire.

Crossing the bustling courtyard in search of her fiancé, Aila wiped the sweat from her forehead and squinted her dazzled eyes against the glare. The wide training grounds, usually used for military maneuvers, were now crowded with dozens of luggage wagons, harness merchants, enormous draft horses bred especially for hauling loads, and soldiers carrying all kinds of equipment necessary for long journeys.

For a moment, she frowned at the chaos that resembled a market. Then, spotting Varkas checking the condition of a warhorse near the outer wall, her eyes lit up. He did not wear the white combat uniform of the Knights of Roem, but a black tunic embroidered with intricate patterns, over which he wore a breastplate of dark iron. He looked more like the noble lord of the East than an imperial knight.

Aila smiled with pride as she watched him. Once this mission was over, Varkas would leave the Guard to begin the succession process and become the Grand Duke of Siercan. And she would study to become the lady of that house by his side. This had been her mapped-out destiny since the day he had followed his mother into the Empress’s gardens.

However, sometimes Aila was assaulted by the doubt of whether that day would ever come. Varkas was always courteous, sometimes even kind, but Aila knew that a distance persisted between them that could not be bridged. That distance had been a constant ache for her, and even now, it was difficult to believe that in a few months he would be her husband.

—

## Chapter 14

### THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVELA)

—Aren’t you going to go talk to him?

The maids at her side grew impatient with Aila, frustrated that she merely limited herself to observing from a distance. They were all dying to see Varkas from closer up. Among them, there were those who looked at him not only with admiration, but with eyes full of longing.

Aila chose to ignore their presumptuous hearts. She could afford that composure because she knew Varkas would never look at another woman.

“Though, to tell the truth, he has never looked at me with passion either…”

A bitter smile appeared on her lips. Varkas simply lacked the capacity to feel such emotions.

He had entered the Imperial Palace at a very young age, where fundamentalist and fanatical priests had beaten into him the doctrines of loyalty to the Empire. The indoctrination was so severe that he had lost almost all his emotions. Although his mother had done everything possible to protect him from the rigor of the priests’ discipline, by then the child had already been stripped of joy, anger, sadness, and pleasure, along with most basic human desires.

Aila remembered the first time she had met him. How frightened she had felt before that child with eyes as empty as an insect’s shell. Varkas looked like a wax doll. He was so silent that he rarely uttered more than two sentences in the entire day and, unless someone ordered him to, he did not eat or sleep. Having had every instinct ruthlessly suppressed for so long, he seemed to have lost even hunger and the need for rest.

Compared to those days, the Varkas of now almost seemed… human.

“Maybe… maybe he will get better and better with time.”

She contemplated her fiancé with hopeful eyes. She had promised herself countless times not to expect too much, but every time she looked at him, her heart trembled with nostalgia. That beautiful child who had always been by his poor mother’s side… now turned into the man with the most impeccable figure in the entire Empire of Roem. How could she not long for him?

She knew that many women had suffered bitter heartbreak for loving him. But Aila considered herself in a much more favorable position than them. It was true that their marriage had been arranged for the sake of a political alliance. But soon she would be his wife and, someday, she would give birth to his heir. If she poured constant affection over the many years they would share together, surely one day the ice in his heart would melt.

Clinging to that hope, Aila approached him with caution. Noticing her presence, Varkas turned his head, and the sunlight behind him outlined his face with coldness. A chill ran down her spine. His expression seemed to mock all her dreams and hopes.

The man who had looked at her with such an unfeeling gaze turned and spoke in a flat, monotonous voice:

—What is the matter?

Aila forced her disordered feelings to line up and deliberately sketched a bright smile.

—I only came to see if the preparations for the journey were going well.

—They are almost finished —he passed a hand over the strong neck of a horse, his tone indifferent—. The preparations have taken longer than expected, which is worrying. With the heat of the season, the journey will be grueling.

—There was no choice. It was Gareth’s stubbornness that disrupted the schedule.

She spoke cautiously, looking sideways at her fiancé. The thought of her younger brother’s reckless behavior made her cheeks burn with shame. Gareth had not only forced himself onto the trip, but acted as if he intended to take the entire Palace of the Crown Prince with him. Dozens of servants to attend to him, court jester’s, and a personal chef to ease his boredom, even a tailor; everything had been demanded.

She had been astonished by Varkas’s patience, seeing how he endured every irrational demand without raising his voice a single time. She lowered her eyes apologetically.

—I am sorry to have caused you so much trouble with all this.

—There is nothing for Your Highness to apologize for. It is something that sooner or later had to be resolved —handing the reins to the stable master, he added indifferently—: Compared to what I expected, he is behaving quite moderately. For a brother separating from his precious sister, this little mischief is tolerable.

Aila’s face darkened. His words fanned the anxiety she had tried so hard to ignore. She looked toward the resplendent white fortress rising before her, clutching her skirts. Her heart ached at the thought of leaving her younger brother in this palace of painful memories. Especially when this place housed that evil demon who coveted Gareth’s position. Could her temperamental brother hold his ground on his own against that astute woman?

—If it would not be too much of a burden for you, I would like to visit the Imperial Palace from time to time, even after we are married. Would that be alright?

Varkas directed his gaze toward her, and slight wrinkles formed on his otherwise smooth forehead. Seeing this, Aila flushed, realizing how childish her request must sound. As the future Grand Duchess, it would be no simple task to manage the vast lands of the Siercan family and command hundreds of vassals. After marriage, her duty to the House of Siercan must come above everything else.

But after a moment of reflection, Varkas merely nodded as if it were a triviality.

—As long as said journey does not pose an excessive burden on Your Highness, you may come and go freely. This marriage, after all, was arranged to strengthen the Crown Prince’s position.

Aila’s expression faded. For him, it was a purely political marriage. For her, it was not. A pang of disappointment struck her, although she forced herself to smile brightly.

—Thank you for understanding.

Varkas only nodded slightly before returning his attention to inspecting the horse’s teeth.

Repressing a sigh, Aila placed her hand on the young man’s arm, forcing him to look at her.

—I know you are busy, but couldn’t you spare me just a little time? Before we leave, there is something I want to give you.

He contemplated her with curiosity, then turned around and ordered a squire to put away the horses that had already been checked. Afterward, he escorted her to a quieter place.

The maids, sensing the moment, discreetly withdrew, granting Aila the opportunity to enjoy a walk alone with him. She held his steady arm as they moved along the well-kept path. Upon entering the vast garden, a gentle breeze caressed their faces.

The palace gardens were at their most beautiful moment. The flowerbeds, carefully tended by the servants, were bursting into summer flowers. The perfectly pruned shrubs shone with emerald-colored leaves.

Aila contemplated it all with a melancholy gaze. That view always broke her heart. Over time, the palace that bore the traces of Senevier had become part of daily life, and her mother’s garden was fading from memory. That was the hardest part of all.

—What is it that you wished to give me?

Snapping out of her reverie, Aila looked at Varkas. In childhood, he had spent a lot of time in Bernadette’s garden. She knew that place had soothed his wounded heart, if only a little. Suddenly she wondered: did he still long for his mother’s garden?

Looking at his expressionless face, she sighed with resignation and pulled a handkerchief out from her cloak.

—I embroidered the crest of the Siercan family on this.

His gaze fell upon the neatly folded cloth. Her mouth went dry. Trying to shake off the nerves, she began to chatter in an exaggerated tone:

—It is tradition for a fiancée to give her fiancé a handmade handkerchief before a journey. Of course, given that we will be traveling together…

—A generous gift.

He interrupted her flustered words and accepted the handkerchief. A faint smile brushed his dry lips.

Aila felt her chest fill with emotion. It hurt her pride to be so anxious over every single one of his gestures, but the fact that Varkas—so stingy with expressions—had smiled at her filled her with joy.

—I will treasure it.

He tied the handkerchief to the hilt of his sword as he spoke. She smiled shyly.

At that moment, hurried footsteps echoed not far from there.

———–

The Forgotten Field Novel - Chapter 13, 14

Comments for chapter "Chapter 13, 14"

MANGA DISCUSSION

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Madara Info

All Genres