The Forgotten Field Novel - Chapter 49, 50
## Chapter 49
### THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVEL)
Was it truly so strange that she had woken up in the middle of the night?
Talia took a deep breath, desperately trying to calm her heart, which was beating violently. But the suffocating pressure only grew stronger.
Struggling to force air through her constricted throat, she finally couldn’t take it anymore and sat up. Her leg, still splinted, screamed in pain, but she was too close to suffocating to care. Practically falling out of the carriage, Talia stumbled forward, her mouth wide open as she tried to gulp down air.
Shortly after, she spotted a flickering light not too far away. A deep relief spread through her chest as she dragged her stiff, trembling leg toward the large tent where a bonfire blazed.
Then, carried by the wind, came a bright and mocking voice.
—She has been struck by divine punishment.
Talia froze mid-step.
A woman sitting by the fire poked at the logs with a long stick, speaking loudly.
—Everyone knows it, right? That woman cursed the First Princess. She even barged into her birthday banquet and caused a scene!
The maid’s voice grew enthusiastic.
Talia studied her face in the firelight. Unfamiliar; probably one of Ayla’s or Gareth’s attendants.
The maid took a sip of her drink, wetting her lips, and continued with renewed enthusiasm.
—It’s clearly the punishment of the gods! Her curse turned directly back on her. She completely got what she deserved!
—I heard she might end up crippled. Is that true?
—That’s what they’re saying! A maid who attends to the Second Princess told me that her leg bone was completely shattered… they had to put it back together piece by piece for hours, like a puzzle!
Talia shuddered and looked down at her leg.
The woman’s voice dropped slightly in tone.
—And apparently, she’s covered in horrible scars now. The skin is so twisted that even magic can’t heal it cleanly. They say it’s all red and bumpy… disgusting.
—Well, we won’t have to see her strutting around the palace anymore, huh?
—Exactly! Her only source of pride is ruined! With that body, how could she keep acting so haughty and powerful?
Laughter and mockery erupted around the fire.
Talia, frozen in place, began dragging her injured leg toward the woman.
The others noticed her shadow first; their faces drained of color. But the woman, still caught up in her own glee, hadn’t yet realized who was standing behind her.
—An her chances of marriage are basically over. What noble house would accept a bastard who is… kyaaa!
Her sharp shriek pierced the night as Talia suddenly grabbed her by a handful of hair and pulled hard.
Ignoring her scream, Talia yanked the tightly braided hair with savage strength. The woman’s skin turned ashen upon seeing Talia’s face.
Talia looked down at her, curling her lips slightly.
—Why did you stop talking?
—Y-Your Highness…
—You were saying that a crippled bastard isn’t scary… so why are you trembling so much?
The woman’s eyes widened. Just moments ago she was smiling; now her lips trembled and muffled sobs broke from them.
—I-I was wrong, Your Highness! I committed a terrible sin—
—And what sin would that be?
—I-I spoke ill of Your Highness with… with blasphemous words. Please, forgive my insolence…
—If you have done wrong, you must be punished. Why do you beg for forgiveness first?
The woman’s face turned ash-gray.
Talia looked away from her and slowly scanned the others surrounding the fire.
The maids were completely frozen, like mice before a snake. They bowed their backs flat against the ground. Among them, Talia spotted a tense-looking knight and gestured with her chin for him to come closer.
—You. Come here.
The knight hesitated, then reluctantly took a step forward.
Talia forced the woman to her knees in front of him, dragging her down by her hair.
—She insulted a member of the royalty with her viperous tongue. Make her pay for it. Go on… draw your sword and do what you must.
The knight’s shoulders tensed.
The woman was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. The knight looked at her with a somber face, then placed a hand over his chest and bowed deeply.
—Your Highness, we are already short-handed as it is: preparing the funeral, tending to the wounded. If we carry out an execution now, it will cause unrest among the troops. I beg you, please appease your anger…
—Are you refusing to follow my order?
The knight pressed his lips together and bowed his head even lower.
A short, humorless laugh escaped Talia. Then her face contorted.
—If you won’t do it, I will.
She released the woman’s hair as if throwing it away and lunged at the knight. Startled, he instinctively grabbed her by the shoulders.
—How dare you touch me without permission!
He pulled his hands back abruptly as if he had been burned. In that brief instant, Talia snatched the sword from his belt.
But the knight’s longsword was heavier than she expected, and her legs were too weak to support even her own weight. As she tried to lift it, she lost her balance and collapsed to the ground.
A dreadful silence fell over the scene.
Clinging to her trembling leg, Talia looked up.
Knights and maids stood around her, their stern faces filling her vision.
Old memories surfaced: countless cold eyes looking down at her while she lay helpless in her own vomit. The humiliation, the degradation, the pure terror… it all came back to life inside her head.
She pressed a trembling hand against the ground and forced herself up. She wanted to stand firmly again —to show them the dignity of a princess—, but her leg wouldn’t move.
Then she saw her.
The very woman who had mocked her moments ago was watching her now as she crawled on the ground.
Unforgivable.
Talia’s hand fumbled in the dirt until it found a burning log from the bonfire. The heat seared her fingers, but the pain of her flesh was nothing compared to the agony of her crushed pride.
She swung the flaming log toward the woman’s face.
A horrible scream resonated.
Talia raised the log again… but before she could bring it down, a dark shadow emerged from the night and pinned her.
She writhed like a wild beast until a familiar scent made her freeze.
Varkas held her easily with one arm, looking down at her with cold, unbothered eyes.
Immobilized under that gaze, she panted heavily while he took the burning log from her hand and threw it aside… just as he had taken her sword before.
Rage exploded in her chest.
This man… he was never on her side.
He wouldn’t fight for her.
And yet, he wouldn’t even let her fight for herself.
—
## Chapter 50
### THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVEL)
Talia’s face contorted viciously as she delivered a hard slap to his cheek.
—You miserable bastard! Do you have to interfere with me every single time to feel satisfied?!
In the darkness, his blue eyes gleamed faintly. But the face looking down at her was as cold and expressionless as ever. That solid composure of his was terrifying.
Talia raised her nails and scratched his cheek. Varkas caught her wrist without even blinking and cast a glance around the chaotic camp.
His glacial gaze swept over the pale-faced maids, the stunned knights, and finally, the woman who was sobbing while clutching her burned cheek.
A dry sigh escaped his lips.
—Take her to the healer.
With a slight nod of his head, he indicated the woman and then turned around.
Talia thrashed her limbs wildly and screamed:
—Who gave you permission?! She is a criminal! She should be executed on the spot!
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw people gathering at the commotion and whispering to each other, but she no longer had the strength to care about appearances.
Her voice rang out loudly enough to make the entire camp tremble.
—Miserable bastard! What kind of knight are you supposed to be?!
But Varkas didn’t even blink.
Without saying a word, he crossed the rows of tents, entered a large pavilion, and laid her down on the wide bed inside.
Talia didn’t even realize she had been dragged into his quarters; she was too consumed by rage, spitting her fury at him.
—You have never protected me properly! Never! Never! You have always let me fall apart! This time you didn’t even think about saving me, did you? You wanted me dead! That’s why… you left me behind, didn’t you?! You didn’t even come to rescue me right away, did you?! I know it! I know everything!
Ignoring her screams, Varkas pinned her wrist against the bed and forced her hand open.
Blood and pus were oozing from her reddened palm because of the burn. Frowning, Varkas took a small glass bottle from the shelf.
When she saw him pouring an unknown liquid over her hand, she shrieked:
—No! Don’t do it! Leave me alone!
He applied the medicine to her wound in silence, then took a roll of white bandage from somewhere and wrapped it firmly around her hand.
While he worked, Talia beat his shoulder with her free hand until all her strength was depleted and her limbs fell powerless.
Looking down at her limp form with cold, distant eyes, Varkas stood up slowly.
—I will bring you a sedative.
Talia, half-sunk into the pillow and breathing with difficulty, raised her eyes to him.
He walked calmly toward the shelf in the corner of the tent and examined a small vial.
Upon his straight back, the image of him running toward Ayla flashed through her mind. A searing pain swallowed her entirely.
Talia’s voice came out distorted and bitter:
—You must be disgusted… seeing me still alive, still breathing like this.
His hand, which had been hovering over the shelf, suddenly froze.
He stood motionless for a long time before turning his head slowly, so slowly that it seemed unnatural.
Facing that refined expression, devoid of all emotion, something inside her cracked and shattered.
A cold smile appeared on her lips.
—What a pity. You were so close to getting the chance to see the thorn in your side disappear from this world.
Tears finally overflowed, running down her cheeks. His pale, cold face wavered behind the thin film of tears.
He approached with heavy steps and leaned down in front of her.
A cool glass bottle brushed her lower lip.
—Drink this. It will make you feel a bit better.
—I don’t need it.
—……
—I don’t need anything from you anymore.
Varkas put the bottle back in its place.
In that moment, the lamp’s flame dimmed, casting a dark shadow over his face.
It didn’t matter. She didn’t need to see him to know his expression. He would have that same indifferent look as always… or perhaps a touch of fatigue and irritation.
She turned her back on him.
The man, who had been watching her in silence, finally turned and left the tent.
Listening to the sound of his footsteps fade away, Talia reached down and touched her leg.
The stiff, wooden sensation her fingers met sent a chill down her spine.
Crippled.
The word crossed her mind, and she quickly tried to banish it.
No. That couldn’t be true. That was just something said by the people who hated her.
There was a vast number of exceptional healers in the Imperial Palace. And her mother… her mother knew more than a few sorcerers who practiced forbidden magic.
Surely, she would stop at nothing to restore her daughter.
And when that day came, she would stand tall before everyone who had mocked her and show them her flawless body.
Talia, clutching her throbbing knee, slowly closed her eyes.
The grand pilgrimage that had begun at the Imperial Palace had now turned into a somber funeral procession.
The royal attendants changed their crimson surcoats for black robes, and the knights covered their armor with dark, muted banners.
The wagons that once carried fine wine, silk, and jewels now loaded thirty-four carefully prepared corpses.
The musicians played a slow, low funeral dirge at regular intervals.
Inside one of the carriages, Talia sat listening to the mournful notes with a vacant gaze, clutching the brass censer containing the ashes.
The metal was cold, filled only with a pile of gray dust.
Muttering a brief curse, she struggled to sit up among the cushions and opened a small chest beneath her seat.
From it, she drew a new incense cone, made of dried frost grass, primrose, mandrake leaves, and tightly bound red fragment flowers.
She placed it in the censer and lit it with a magic stone.
A thin, gray smoke rose and filled the air.
Talia lay back down under the blanket, and her mind quickly sank into the fog.
Since the return procession began, she had spent most of her time in a lethargy of painkillers.
The pungent smoke blurred the boundary between days: tomorrow became today, and today became yesterday.
From time to time, a mage would come to check on her condition, or an imperial guard would enter with food, but they always seemed to exist only at the edge of her consciousness.
The only person who could drag her back to painful reality was Varkas.
When the carriage suddenly stopped and a shadow appeared at the open door, Talia blinked her unfocused eyes upward.
Her carriage —which used to be at the end of the procession—, for some reason, had been moved to the front and was now heavily guarded by the Imperial Knights.
It seemed they had decided she needed to be watched personally, to ensure she didn’t cause any more trouble.
Varkas stepped inside and leaned over her sprawled body, which looked like a heap of seaweed.
His cold fingers brushed a few strands of damp hair away from her sweaty forehead.
—Don’t burn the incense so often. You will develop a tolerance soon at this rate.
—……
She stared at his face as if studying a problem that had gone unsolved for a long time.
He remained silent for a moment, then exhaled softly.
—We will camp here for the night.
The sun had set and the carriage had stopped; it was obvious they would stay for the night.
She had no idea why he bothered to explain it. Wasn’t he the man who never spoke, even when he should?
Comments for chapter "Chapter 49, 50"
MANGA DISCUSSION
Madara Info
Madara stands as a beacon for those desiring to craft a captivating online comic and manga reading platform on WordPress
For custom work request, please send email to wpstylish(at)gmail(dot)com
English