The Forgotten Field Novel - Chapter 61, 62
## Chapter 61: THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVEL)
The gossips rushed to spread the rumors before the echo had even faded.
Many agreed that it was tragic that the Second Princess had suffered such a misfortune, but they insisted it was irrational to blame Lord Sierkan. In principle, they argued, the matter should have ended with the punishment of the Second Princess’s personal guard. Above all, this was a decision that completely ignored the position of the First Princess.
Although their engagement had been a political agreement, both had known each other since childhood. Their official engagement had been set three years ago, but in reality, their promise of marriage went back more than a decade. Breaking off such a long-standing relationship so abruptly was something that many openly criticized.
And everyone was sure that behind the emperor’s irrational judgment lay the powerful influence of the Empress. It was an open secret that she conspired tirelessly to place her young son on the throne.
“So… what will happen to the relationship between His Highness the Crown Prince and the Sierkan family?” asked a maid, stirring a pot with a ladle, to the healer sent from the Empress’s palace.
The middle-aged mage, named Marisen, frequently visited the main palace and was well-versed in every rumor. While finely chopping a bundle of fresh herbs with a knife, she replied without emotion:
“Well… if Lord Sierkan really breaks his engagement with the First Princess and marries the Second Princess, then we would have to say that the old alliance between the two factions has effectively ended.”
“Then… could the Sierkan family change their stance and support the Second Prince instead?”
Marisen looked doubtful.
“Knowing Lord Sierkan’s temperament, I don’t think he will change his stance so easily.”
“Why not? His Highness the Second Prince is much better than that delinquent of a Crown Prince.”
At the maid’s reckless comment, the healer shot her a severe look.
“You had better watch your mouth. Even if there aren’t many people coming and going from here, the palace has ears in every wall.”
The maid pursed her lips, though her eyes darted nervously from side to side, clearly frightened. Seeing that, the healer let out a small snort and resumed cutting.
Whatever the Crown Prince’s relationship with the Sierkan family was… none of it really concerned her. Although she kept an ear open to rumors for her own safety, she generally paid little attention to anything outside her duties.
Marisen placed the rare herbs she had obtained with such care into a small pot and pulled the bellows. Soon, the mandrake sap began to bubble, filling the kitchen with a thick herbal aroma. Once the herbs had steeped long enough, she placed the jar by the window to cool.
Just at that moment, a hoarse voice boomed from the outside:
“Is there no one here?!”
Startled, the maid who was sweating over the pile of firewood snapped her head up.
“Was someone expected today?”
“None of those who informed me…”
Marisen peeked through the window and looked toward the entrance of the side palace. Through the dense bushes, she saw several figures wrapped in loose robes. They certainly did not look like people sent by the Empress’s palace.
A sense of unease made Marisen frown. She pushed the maid toward the back door.
“I will check outside. You go to the Empress’s palace and bring guards.”
There were only three or four maids, the Second Princess’s nanny, and Marisen herself in the entire side palace. The Second Princess was so abnormally distrustful of people that the place did not even have a proper guard stationed. If the newcomers had bad intentions, they had no means to resist.
The maid understood this well and ran out of the kitchen.
Marisen waited until the young girl was far enough away, then crossed the foyer and opened the main door. At the entrance stood two men in military uniforms and three women dressed as nobles.
Observing them with cautious suspicion, Marisen spoke carefully:
“What business brings you here?”
“We are here to see Talia Roem Gyrta.”
The woman at the back took a step forward. Upon seeing her face, Marisen gasped sharply. Before her stood the highest-ranking woman in the empire after the Empress herself.
Marisen bowed her head immediately.
“I greet His Highness, the First Princess.”
“It is enough. Just take me to the girl.”
Ayla Roem Gyrta’s voice was tinged with deep exhaustion as she urged her.
Marisen raised her head and hesitated, then spoke carefully:
“My apologies, Your Highness, but the Second Princess has not yet fully recovered. If you could return another day…”
“Are you worried that I will harm my own sister?” the princess’s voice turned icy. “Your loyalty is admirable, but you seem to be unaware of who stands before you. I am not making a request; I am giving an order.”
“…”
“If you understand, lead the way.”
Petrified like a mouse before a snake, Marisen had no choice but to obey.
The First Princess said nothing as they walked toward the chambers. Marisen kept looking back nervously, and her fear grew as they approached the bedroom door. Hours had passed since she lit the aromatic herbs, so the Second Princess should already be awake. But Marisen worried whether her fragile patient could handle such an overwhelming visitor.
“Everyone stay here. I will go in alone.”
At the end of the hallway, the First Princess dismissed her companions and directed an authoritative look at Marisen. Under that silent pressure, Marisen knocked timidly on the door.
“Your Highness, you have a visitor. May we enter?”
There was no answer. Was she still asleep?
After hesitating, Marisen carefully turned the doorknob. A pungent mixture of herbs and the cloying sweetness of fruit on the verge of rotting floated densely in the air. Frowning at the dizzying aroma, she froze upon seeing Talia sprawled on the bed like a corpse.
Frightened, she rushed over and placed a hand under the young woman’s nose. A weak breath. She exhaled in relief, only for her breath to catch again as she noticed the state of Talia’s legs.
Her skirt had ridden up to her thighs, revealing a disaster. It appeared she had torn off her bandages again, scratching at her own scars; bright red scratch marks covered her skin.
Letting out a long sigh, Marisen placed her hand on the princess’s leg and cast a simple healing spell. At that moment, a fragile hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.
Marisen startled, turning her head… and met a pair of blue eyes cloudy like mist.
Unfocused pupils floated aimlessly in the air, and deep irises like sea water trembled with every subtle movement. Eyes like the smoke she inhaled daily: unsettling, disorienting, impossible to look away from.
“…Who told you that you could enter,” Talia’s voice came out thin, metallic, cracked.
Coming to her senses, Marisen hastily covered the princess’s legs with the blanket.
“My apologies, Your Highness. A visitor insisted on seeing you…”
She pointed toward the door with her eyes. Talia’s gaze followed immediately.
Marisen felt her patient’s fragile body tighten rigidly. Talia sat up unsteadily, fixing a wary gaze on her half-sister.
“What brings you to such a dismal place?”
“I came to talk.”
Entering the room, the First Princess silently studied her sister’s sickly face, then turned to Marisen.
“Leave us alone.”
Overwhelmed by the princess’s authority, Marisen reluctantly backed out of the room. Just before closing the door, she caught one last glimpse of the two sisters: Talia Roem Gyrta, so fragile she seemed ready to shatter into pieces, and Ayla Roem Gyrta, radiant with an overflowing vitality.
The contrast left a bitter taste in her mouth. Marisen gazed at Talia for a brief moment with shadowed eyes, and then closed the door with a heavy sigh.
—
## Chapter 62: THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVEL)
While she slept, it felt as though a cluster of ants was walking along the inside of her eyelids. A stinging, burning sensation brewed behind her eyes, and Talia fixed her gaze on her half-sister. As always, Ayla looked down at her without a single trace of disarray: elegant, serene, immaculate. Facing that haughty face made her already aching eyes feel as though they were burning. Talia clutched the blanket as if it were a shield and shot her a sharp look.
“Did you come to enjoy the show? If you have something to say, hurry up and get out.”
“…How do you feel?”
“How do I look?”
Her sarcastic response caused those pale green eyes to slowly scan her.
“You don’t look well.”
Talia pressed her lips together. The tips of her fingers were trembling. If her legs were in any condition to work, she would have grabbed that woman by the hair and kicked her out immediately. Suppressing the fury bubbling in her throat, she forced a calm voice.
“If you’ve seen enough, leave. Being near you makes me feel worse.”
Ayla’s lips closed tightly. The longer the silence stretched, the more Talia’s nerves frayed. The pain she had barely managed to contain crept back up her bones, and she raised her voice.
“Didn’t you hear me tell you to get out?”
“I told you: I have something to talk about,” Ayla said with a touch of impatience.
Talia narrowed her eyes at her.
“Then say it and get out. Just seeing your face turns my stomach. And am I supposed to wait patiently while you take your time? Don’t be ridiculous. Say what you have to say now or disappear from my sight!”
Ayla’s face hardened noticeably under the barrage of hostility. Shooting her a cold look, she spoke.
“Fine. I’ll get straight to the point. I want to know what you plan to do from now on.”
“What do you mean by ‘what’?” Talia asked with indifference.
Her headache was worsening. The ants biting at the back of her eyes seemed to be drilling into her skull now. The stinging sensation spread toward the back of her neck. While all her nerves focused there, Ayla kept speaking.
“Don’t pretend. You know exactly what I mean.”
“What am I, a mind reader? If you don’t say it, how am I supposed to know?”
“You…!” Ayla’s voice rose.
Talia turned her head and frowned at her half-sister’s face, distorted by humiliation. Ayla paused, as if trying to regain her composure, and then continued in a calmer voice.
“I want to know if you really intend to marry him.”
Talia stared silently, saying nothing. It seemed that now it was Ayla who could not bear the silence.
“You hate Varkas. Since you were children, you tormented him at every opportunity, and now suddenly you’re going to be his wife?”
Her eyes contained a plea, and Talia let out a faint, breathless laugh. Ayla’s lips tightened. Seeing her pitiful expression only made Talia’s intermittent laughter rougher. Talia held her stomach and laughed out loud, forgetting the headache splitting her skull and the painful tingling creeping up her legs.
“So that’s what it is. You rushed over here because you were afraid?”
Ayla’s complexion had turned ashen, like plaster. Talia observed her, almost with admiration, and spoke in a low voice.
“You were terrified that I would steal your fiancé, weren’t you?”
“…”
“But the problem is… when you act like this, it makes me want to steal him from you even more.”
Ayla’s previously charming face contorted with hostility. Even her eternal green eyes filled with venom. Talia felt a peculiar sense of jubilation. Her sister—who had always looked down on her with an immaculate expression—was finally showing raw emotion.
“He only said he would marry you out of responsibility,” Ayla snapped. “He feels guilty about what happened to you! But your injury was not his fault. Why should Varkas have to carry that weight?”
Talia’s smile vanished. The pleasant chill evaporated instantly, replaced by an icy anger. Her fingers twitched with the urge to rip out that tongue that spoke as if she were Varkas’s spokesperson. Crushing the rising insults gnawing at her throat, she forced a sweet voice.
“I thought you were smarter than this. Turns out you’re not. You’re actually quite stupid.”
Ayla’s lips froze. Talia continued slowly.
“That’s not what you should be saying to me. What you should be doing… is asking for it. Politely. Fervently.”
“…”
“Beg me not to marry Varkas Laedgo Sheorkan.”
Ayla’s eyelids trembled. Looking at her distorted face, Talia watched with malicious calmness as her sister moistened her lips to speak.
“If… if I ask you, will you refuse to marry him?”
“We’ll see,” Talia replied flatly. “That depends on how sincerely the person asking behaves, don’t you think?”
Ayla bit her lip and stared at the floor. She did not dare to speak. A suffocating silence stretched on. Finally, Ayla raised her head. Her eyes reflected a grim determination. Then, through her trembling pink lips, she pleaded:
“Please… reject the marriage to Varkas. If you refuse, His Majesty will not insist. So please…”
Her voice cracked before she could finish. Talia gazed at her afflicted face and swallowed a bitter smile. Ayla probably believed she had surrendered something grand. Her pride: her noble princess pride. She had bowed her head to a worthless bastard and expected compensation.
Talia lowered her gaze to her legs beneath the blanket. Only after being left in this state was she considered a possible bride. But this woman believed that giving up a fragment of her pride was enough to win him back. To her, the ruined legs of Talia Roem Guirta were worth less than her own fragile dignity.
Talia spoke suddenly.
“Fine.”
Color returned to Ayla’s face. Talia studied her expression calmly and added:
“But I have one condition.”
“A… condition?” Suspicion flickered in Ayla’s eyes.
Talia turned her head, scanning the shelf with her gaze. On it was a tray with fruit, bread, and butter, along with several silver utensils. She took the small butter knife and threw it at Ayla’s feet. The silver blade slid to her shoes. Ayla stared at it, blinking. Talia spoke in a low voice:
“Use that. Stab your leg.”
“…What?” Ayla looked at her, incredulous.
Holding her gaze, Talia emphasized every word.
“Cut your leg. Make a scar. Like this…”
Slowly, she pulled back the blanket. Ayla’s eyes widened at the grotesquely swollen scar. Talia traced the long, ugly mark running upward from her shin.
“From here… to here. Cut yourself. If you do that, I will do what you ask.”
Ayla looked alternately at the knife on the floor and her leg covered by the velvet skirt. Her eyelids trembled violently. At last, a cold, bitter laugh escaped her pale lips.
“You never had the slightest intention of listening to me, did you?”
Talia said nothing. The princess mask returned instantly to Ayla’s face. As if she had never shown weakness, she raised her chin and walked with a firm step toward the door. Her steps stopped at the threshold. With her hand on the doorknob, she turned back. Her eyes, dark as a swamp, gleamed with threat.
“You will regret this day, Talia Roem Guirta.”
As if casting a curse, she stepped out and added coldly:
“Without fail.”
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