The Forgotten Field Novel - Chapter 25, 26
## Chapter 25
THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVEL)
“I always keep His Highness in mind.” Varkas spoke in a tone so polite that it left no room for Gareth to find any fault. “I only wanted to say that Her Highness the Princess is resting comfortably, so there is nothing to worry about. Please, do not take offense.”
Gareth looked at him with irritation and then strode into the wide hall. Getting upset with this rock-like man would only make him look ridiculous. He clicked his tongue lightly and crossed the hall, which was decorated as splendidly as the banquet hall of any noble.
“Thank you for honoring us with your presence, His Highness the Crown Prince.”
As Gareth approached the long table covered with a white tablecloth, the abbot jumped up to receive him.
“Please, take this seat.”
Occupying the chair offered to him, Gareth glanced at the table. The abbot clearly had no intention of pretending to lead a life of poverty. The wide table was packed with silver tableware, gold cups, and luxurious food seasoned with all kinds of spices. Gareth examined everything with satisfaction and then nodded slightly toward the dozen priests seated around the table.
“I thank you for such a warm welcome. Please, take your seats.”
As soon as his words ended, the monks pulled back their chairs and sat down together. Only Varkas, attending as his escort, remained silently behind him like a shadow. Curious glances flew toward the man; it seemed the monks were surprised by the unusual appearance of the Commander of the Imperial Knights.
Gareth frowned slightly. Varkas always drew people’s glances more than necessary, that was nothing new. Even so, Gareth felt a pang of annoyance seeing that people paid more attention to Varkas than to him. It was something he had grown used to when accompanied by this man, but the displeasure never disappeared.
Forcing himself not to show irritation, Gareth raised his cup high.
“Let us first express our gratitude to the abbot for preparing such a delightful gathering.”
All the priests’ eyes centered back on him. Gareth paused, enjoying their attention, and then continued slowly.
“I hope this occasion holds great significance for all of us…”
He was about to finish the toast with suitably dignified words when a golden specter suddenly invaded his field of vision. Gareth froze, staring fixedly toward the entrance of the hall. For a moment, he thought that nightmare of a woman —Senevier— had appeared. He grabbed his cup abruptly and scanned his half-sister from head to toe.
Did she not even know the basic rule that one must dress with simplicity in a monastery?
Talia Roem Guirta was dressed in such an extravagant manner that she would have stood out even in a royal ballroom; vulgar and indecent in every sense. He gritted his teeth with contempt. Talia, revealing the soft, immature curves beneath her thin dress, walked slowly toward the table.
The monks looked as if they were going to faint at any moment. Some had their mouths open, completely dazed. Unable to repress his fury, Gareth jumped to his feet.
“How dare you…! Do you even know where you are, dressed in that manner?”
With a sharp thud, the wine overflowed from the cup he had slammed against the table. He did not bother to wipe his wet hands as he pointed at her furiously.
“Did you not hear my warning to stay out of my sight?”
“Oh, I heard it perfectly well.”
The woman, pulling back the chair right beside him as if it were the most natural thing in the world, sat down with a playful smile.
“But how could I stay still when my dear brother says he wishes to see me? I could not bear the thought of disappointing the great Crown Prince, so I took the trouble to adorn myself for the occasion.” Then, with an ostentatious movement, she brushed her skirt with one hand.
He looked at his half-sister with an expression of absolute incredulity.
“What nonsense are you talking about…?”
“Surely my brother knows enough of my wicked character. For you to personally send the commander of the Imperial Knights to deliver such a message… didn’t that mean you were dying to see your little sister?” Her eyes, of a pure cobalt blue without a trace of impurity, narrowed with cunning. “When His Highness the Crown Prince makes such a sincere request, the right thing is for a younger sister to meet his expectations, isn’t that so?”
He had to gather every last ounce of his self-control not to slap that woman’s face. As if to provoke him even further, Talia continued indolently:
“Ah, how pleasant it is to see your face again, brother. Are you having fun too?”
“…I was, until you appeared.” At his words, dragged out between clenched teeth, Talia burst into laughter.
“Then it was worth the effort to come all the way here despite the fatigue.”
Gareth clenched his jaw so hard he was on the verge of breaking it. Every time this woman smiled like that, he could barely contain the urge to tear that grotesquely beautiful face into a thousand pieces. He clenched his fists so tightly his shoulders trembled, spitting out the words one by one.
“How long do you intend to keep acting this way? Are you trying to test how much I can tolerate you?”
“Oh, brother, how cruelly you speak…”
Leaning an elbow on the table, the woman tilted her body toward him. The light from the chandelier poured over her pitifully thin shoulders and the sharp lines of her shoulder blades. The eyes of the monks were also drawn to that delicate silhouette, as if it were carved from ivory.
Viper of a woman.
Dominated by a fierce disgust, he breathed sharply through his teeth. Noticing that his anger was reaching its limit, Talia’s lips curved markedly upward.
“I only came because I was invited. I do not understand why you are so angry. With your charming little sister… don’t you think you are being a bit harsh?” Turning her head toward the abbot as if seeking approval, she asked, “Don’t you think so, Father?”
The monk froze with embarrassment, unable to answer. Finding his bewildered reaction amusing, Talia’s eyes curved with malice. Her coquettish behavior was nauseating.
Gareth grabbed her arm roughly.
“It seems you are in heat; if you need a bed partner, choose one of your own servants. Do not play your dirty games with the monks. If you stain the imperial name with your indecent scandals, I will make sure that pretty face of yours never sees the light of day again.”
At that brutal threat, her eyes flashed.
“And what exactly will you do to me?” Leaning forward as if to challenge him, Talia hissed, “When you say things like that, brother, you make me want to fulfill your expectations.”
He could not contain himself any longer. He reached out his hand, ready to twist that thin neck. At that moment, a firm hand descended onto his shoulder.
“His Highness.”
Startled, Gareth raised his head. Varkas Laedgo Siorcan was looking at him with his usual serene expression; a face devoid of emotions that he had seen countless times before. However, for a fleeting instant, Gareth felt threatened, absurd as it seemed.
“Everyone is waiting for His Highness’s toast.” The man’s hand pressed his shoulder more firmly, as if warning him not to take the bait of Talia’s provocations.
Gareth brushed the hand off his shoulder roughly. The tips of his fingers trembled with the irrepressible impulse of violence. To hide it, he clenched his fist and glared with venom at the woman’s mocking face.
Talia Roem Guirta was deliberately provoking him. He must not let himself get caught by it. Repeating that to himself, Gareth suppressed his fury and let go of her arm. Then, snatching his cup again, he raised his voice theatrically, as if nothing had happened.
“We have already wasted enough time on meaningless disputes. Let us eat now. Once again, I thank the abbot for preparing such an excellent occasion. May today be a significant day for all of us.”
The monks exchanged uncomfortable glances between the Crown Prince, the illegitimate Princess, and the Commander of the Knights who remained silently behind them, before timidly raising their cups. Only Talia Roem Guirta, with her arms crossed, observed the scene with a mocking smile.
Just as Gareth felt his temper flare up again at her defiant attitude, Varkas leaned slightly over Talia’s head.
“As a guest, the correct thing would be to observe basic manners, Your Highness.” Then, with a fluid movement, he gently opened her hand and placed a silver cup in it.
Talia tensed at the sudden contact and then shot him a venomous look. Gareth expected her to throw the cup with rage. Since childhood, she had always clashed with Varkas more than anyone; she seemed desperate to tear him apart.
But contrary to his expectations, Talia —who had looked up like a cat with its fur bristling— straightened up in silence. The prince narrowed his eyes. It was not like Talia Roem Guirta to back down after such a slight warning. She was a woman who had never known moderation. Instead of submitting to Varkas’s pressure, she should have jumped on him foaming at the mouth; that would have been the Talia he knew.
What plot could she be hatching?
—
## Chapter 26
THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVEL)
Gareth, who had been observing the profile of his half-sister with a suspicious gaze, suddenly felt irritated with himself for paying so much attention to every movement of this insignificant creature, and turned his head away.
What did it matter what went through that head of hers? In any case, the day he ascended the throne, she would be erased from this world forever. He only needed to endure until then. As if to eclipse the annoying existence of his sister, he swallowed the strong wine in large gulps.
Talia brought the wine to her lips, feigning an expression of boredom.
Then she noticed that the tips of her fingers were trembling slightly and immediately set the cup down. Exerting herself to the utmost to appear natural, she hid her hands beneath the table and moistened her dry lips.
The place where she had brushed against Varkas burned as if it had been set on fire. Although their bare skin had not touched, it felt that way. The sensation of his solid knuckles pressing through the cold leather gloves seemed to seep beneath her skin.
She forced strength into her shoulders, which threatened to shrink, and rubbed her sweat-moistened palms against her skirt. She could feel the fabric, damp from perspiration, sticking to her skin. A wave of dismay suddenly invaded her. The dress she had chosen to provoke Gareth’s anger now felt as if it were strangling her neck.
She clenched her fists, feeling the sting on her bare shoulders and back. Although she knew very well that man would not be looking at her, her nerves were tense to the point of pain. Talia desperately suppressed the impulse to turn her head over her shoulder to check where that man’s gaze was fixed. Years of practice allowed her to barely maintain a serene expression, but she could do nothing against the sweat slowly breaking out on her skin. Feeling the thin fabric adhering to her like a sticky film, she bit her lower lip hard. Choosing this dress had been, truly, a stupid decision.
“Is the food not to your liking?”
Startled by the sudden voice, Talia flinched. In front of her, a young monk was staring at her in silence. The abbot, right? Talia shrugged her shoulders indolently.
“It is quite humble compared to what I used to have in the palace.”
At her indifferent comment, the monk’s face twitched slightly. To make him lose interest, she turned her head abruptly to the other side and took a small piece of cake. If she at least pretended to eat something, perhaps he would not bother her with unnecessary chatter. With that thought, she popped the crumbly piece into her mouth and chewed mechanically. It was like swallowing a sponge. Repressing her nausea, she took a sip of wine.
Then she noticed that several monks were casting lingering glances at her by stealth and frowned. Their sticky, persistent gazes were more nauseating to her than the greasy food.
Suddenly, she stood up.
“What a disappointing banquet. It will be better if I retire to sleep.”
Gareth shot her a look of annoyance. In normal circumstances, she would have said a couple more things just to drive him out of his mind, but her stomach was turning so violently that she could not remain there for even a second longer. She walked quickly out of the hall. Once outside the room, which was permeated with the smell of grease, liquor, and burnt wax, the nausea inside her seemed to calm down a bit.
Inhaling deeply, Talia wiped the sweat dampening her forehead and walked slowly down the corridor. The cold night air slid down her spine. Hugging her goosebump-covered arms, she quickened her pace a little.
Sometimes, she failed to understand why she did these things at all… What was the point of exhibiting herself before people’s eyes only to cause trouble?
“The Crown Prince seems completely unable to endure your existence. Sometimes, it almost seems he tolerates you even less than he tolerates me.”
Senevier’s voice, murmured with amusement long ago, resonated faintly in her ears. It must have been the day of the memorial service for the late Empress Bernadette.
Dragged into the hall by her mother’s hand, Talia had watched Gareth completely lose his mind. The nobles, scandalized at the sight of the Crown Prince screaming and strangling the young princess, had tried to stop him, but he had not moved. Only when two knights rushed forward did they manage to pull him away from her.
Barely released from that merciless grip, Talia had crawled to her mother’s feet, curling up. Then, Senevier had wrapped her arms around her protectively. For a fleeting instant, the relief almost made her cry… but then she caught a flash of satisfaction crossing Senevier’s face.
Perhaps it was from that day on that she began to provoke Gareth every time she had the chance. Her reputation, which was already on the floor, had sunk to the worst depths, but it did not matter. The Crown Prince’s reputation would also be damaged, and that would please her mother.
A hollow laugh escaped her chest. Even now, she found herself pathetic, desperately trying to win a shred of that woman’s affection. Even if she dragged the Crown Prince’s honor through the mud, Senevier would never love her.
Her mother loved no one; not the Emperor, not even Asros, whom she cherished so much. To her, everything was simply a tool, a means to an end. Perhaps it was precisely because Talia knew it all too well that she kept repeating these foolish acts. If she failed to prove her utility, she really would be nothing to that woman…
“Your Highness.”
At the sudden voice, Talia came abruptly out of her thoughts. Turning her head, she saw a dark silhouette standing in a shadowy corner of the corridor. Realizing it was one of the monks who had been staring at her persistently during the banquet, her body tensed.
*Has he followed me?*
She looked around cautiously. The long corridor leading toward the garden was completely empty; not a mouse in sight. When it dawned on her that he had followed her in silence until reaching such an isolated place, goosebumps pricked her entire body.
“What business do you have with me?”
Talia struggled to hide any sign of fear and tried to sound imperious. Fortunately, her bluff seemed to work; the monk hesitated. She shot him a sharp, cold look, hoping he would simply turn around and leave.
“I asked what business you have.”
“For… for what you said earlier…” the monk stammered.
She frowned. “What did I say?”
“Th-that’s… at the banquet…”
The man twisted in a grotesque manner, his freckled face flushed a bright red, casting stealthy, indecent glances at her. Talia tensed her legs to avoid taking a step back. Showing weakness would only give him more courage. She raised her chin arrogantly.
“I have no idea what you are babbling about. If you have no business in particular, I will go on my way.”
“Y-you said… that you wanted to fulfill the Crown Prince’s expectations… didn’t you?” the man blurted out in a hurry.
Talia, who had just turned toward the garden, froze and looked back at him.
Could it be…? Had he followed her because of that reckless comment she had thrown out at the banquet, just to provoke Gareth after his warning not to play games with the priests?
A chill like ice water ran down her spine.
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