The Forgotten Field Novel - Chapter 75, 76
## Chapter 75
—The exterior may look a bit rough, but the interior is adorned as luxuriously as any fortress in the central region. You will not experience any inconvenience while living there.
The man, observing her countenance, consoled her with a gentle tone. Talia only responded with an expression of doubt.
Had this village bumpkin ever set foot in a royal palace or the residence of a great noble?
Perceiving her condescending attitude, a vein twitched slightly on the man’s forehead. He added, deliberately emphasizing each word:
—Laedgo Fortress was built by the dwarves during the Era of the Ten Kingdoms. Its scale and comfort are comparable to those of the Imperial Palace…
—I know. Your Khan tribe dragged the dwarves from the northeast as slaves and forced them to build the bastion.
Her sharp retort slammed the man’s mouth shut.
Talia continued coldly, intending to prevent this frivolous man from engaging in conversation again.
—You have already prattled on enough about things I have not asked you. Now leave, will you?
—Ha… incredible.
The man shook his head in disbelief.
—Your Highness, do you even know the meaning of the word “sociability”?
—And do you know the meaning of the words “unnecessary meddling”?
Talia’s tone became sharper.
—Or perhaps the meaning of “rudeness”?
Realizing that he would gain nothing by continuing, the man clicked the reins and rode away indignantly.
Talia sneered at his retreating back and closed the window.
People who approach with unsolicited kindness usually have some sort of hidden motive.
Furthermore, that oriental had only smiled with his mouth; his eyes had been busy dissecting and evaluating her from head to toe.
He must be trying to gauge what kind of person the future Grand Duchess would be.
Snorting, Talia drew the curtains and sank deeply into her seat.
She could not afford to lower her guard even for a single moment.
Undoubtedly, the Sierkan clan considered her unwanted.
The ex-empress Bernadette and Grand Duke Sierkan had been cousins; and very close ones, at that.
The Khan tribe would certainly resent the fact that she, the daughter of the current empress—their political rival—had become the future Grand Duchess instead of their blood relative, Ayla.
Talia held her head, which was throbbing.
They would probably treat her much worse than she imagined.
Had she not suffered all kinds of filth inside the Imperial Palace, where the Sevenevier faction stood firm?
Laedgo Fortress would be no different, if not worse.
Her lips, cracked and scabbed from constant worry, split open from the scratch of her fingernail.
Her throat ached with a feverish dryness.
She reached into a small drawer in the carriage, pulled out a flask of water, and moistened her parched mouth when a loud trumpet sounded from the exterior.
Talia pulled the curtains aside again.
The carriage had arrived at the front of the bastion.
After what appeared to be an identity verification process, the carriage slowed down and finally crossed the enormous gate.
Talia looked outside and, involuntarily, caught her breath.
Tyron’s words had not been an exaggeration.
Despite its rugged exterior, the interior of the fortress overflowed with a meticulously calculated beauty.
She contemplated one by one the impeccably maintained streets, the high spires, and the refined architecture.
Everything seemed carved by the hands of a master craftsman.
The fortifications built with gray stone and black marble rose to different heights, exhibiting an exquisite harmony.
Arched stone bridges connected one structure to another like arteries.
She admired them with wide eyes when she spotted a fountain in the center of the plaza.
Talia’s eyes opened even wider.
It was much larger and more ornate than the one installed in the Imperial Palace.
The crystal-clear water shot upward in powerful jets.
There must be an abundant water supply feeding the fortress.
The water from the overflowing fountain flowed into channels carved along the edge of the road.
Overwhelmed by the perfect blend of stone, marble, steel, and water, she could not stop directing her gaze everywhere.
Just at that moment, the cavalry marching in formation stopped before what appeared to be the main tower.
Talia shifted her gaze to the front.
Before the beautiful citadel—an exquisite fusion of Roem Empire architecture and oriental aesthetics—stood a row of people dressed in elaborate robes.
Varkas dismounted from his horse in front of them and shouted something in the oriental language.
The people waiting on the stairs ran to surround him.
Varkas’s relatives?
She observed them with curiosity.
After shooing away the noisy group, Varkas walked directly toward her carriage.
Talia hastily closed the curtains.
She tried to lean back and pretend she was sleeping…
…but the carriage door swung open without warning, and Varkas entered.
Talia looked at him with a tense expression.
As always since leaving the Knights of Roem, Varkas wore black iron armor with a loose oriental-style coat draping over it.
The large body bearing the dry scent of hay quickly filled her field of vision.
—How do you feel?
Varkas removed his gauntlet and placed his hand on her forehead.
Upon feeling the heat, a small crease formed on his clear brow.
—Your fever still has not gone down.
—I am fine. It is nothing new.
Talia lowered her eyes uncomfortably.
She had grown somewhat accustomed to it; she no longer startled every time he touched her.
But the awkwardness and discomfort persisted.
She squeezed her skirt nervously.
Varkas took the coat off his shoulders and placed it around hers.
Then, naturally, he slid his arm under her knees to lift her.
Talia pulled away immediately and hugged her knees.
—Don’t do it! Do you want to humiliate me in front of your family?!
Varkas narrowed his eyes, tilting his head slightly as if he could not understand.
—How can it be a humiliating act for a husband to care for his wife?
Talia looked at him, speechless.
She had always known he was a man made entirely of duty.
But she had not expected him to try to fulfill even the obligations of a marriage imposed by the Emperor.
She threw him a fierce glare.
—Did Ayla teach you that? That a husband must care for his wife?
He frowned.
Varkas paused, as if reflecting on something, and then spoke in a flat tone:
—Did we not swear before the altar? That I would care for my wife as my own body.
—Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t even care for your own body.
—…
—And I have no intention of playing the “obedient wife” just because a priest droned out a monotonous sermon about it. So stop pretending to be a devoted husband.
She spoke sharply and stood up, tottering to leave…
…but Varkas grabbed her from behind and scooped her up into his arms.
Talia glared at him furiously, on the verge of exploding…
…but he spoke first.
—Do I seem so stupid as to expect something “obedient” from you?
—What is that supposed to mean…?!
—It means I expect nothing from you. Do as you please.
He said this coldly, and then readjusted his grip around her struggling body.
—And I will do as I please.
He flipped the hood of the cloak over her head and stepped out of the carriage.
The blinding sunlight made Talia wince.
As her vision cleared, unfamiliar faces stared at her, some wary, others curious.
Her face flushed with humiliation.
Not only was she failing to display the dignity of a princess, but she was being carried in his arms like a helpless child.
—The woman who pushed aside the First Princess and took the place of my brother’s wife… is it her?
Unconsciously, she hid her face in his shoulder.
A youthful, androgynous voice resonated.
Talia turned.
A boy with messy black hair and large amber eyes was standing with his hands clasped behind his head, looking at her.
Fourteen? Fifteen at most.
His youthful, downy face approached straight toward hers.
The boy leaned in and scrutinized her, his eyes filled with open curiosity.
—Your eyes look like lapis lazuli.
Then, suddenly, he reached out and tried to yank her hood down.
Frozen in shock by such impudence and rudeness, she did not react…
…but Varkas grabbed the boy’s wrist.
—Lucas.
A frightfully cold voice resonated above her head.
—
## Chapter 76
Startled, she raised her head. The first thing she saw was Varkas’s face, hardened with a cold displeasure. Looking at his younger brother with sharp, cutting eyes, he spoke in a low voice.
—It seems you have become quite insolent.
The boy’s youthful face contorted into a pout.
Releasing Lucas’s hand as if shaking off dust, Varkas directed his gaze toward a middle-aged man standing near the stairs.
—How have you taught him his manners?
—My sincerest apologies.
The stern-looking man bowed his head as if ashamed.
Seeing that, Lucas suddenly erupted.
—If you have something to say, say it to me! Why scold someone who did nothing?
Varkas’s icy eyes snapped back to him.
The boy, who had been shouting boldly, flinched and lowered his gaze.
—It’s not like they are going to wear out. I just wanted to see her face.
At that murmur, Talia’s eyes narrowed sharply. The way he spoke—as if she were some kind of rare animal—made anger surge inside her.
—How dare you treat someone like a spectacle…!
Just as she was about to lash out, a long hand moved into her line of sight.
Varkas pulled her hood down to her eyes and carried her directly up the stairs.
Talia looked at him with absolute incredulity.
Why was he trying so hard to hide her like this? Was it to avoid friction with his family?
She threw her hood back and shot him a fierce glare.
—What are you plotting? You should at least introduce me!
—You have been feverish throughout the entire trip.
Crossing the wide, marble-paved hall, he replied calmly.
—First, recover your strength. I will introduce you to everyone once you are well.
—I am fine…!
She tried to argue, but a harsh cough scraped her throat.
Talia covered her mouth as her shoulders shook. Her throat, parched by the fever, stung as if it had been scraped with sandpaper.
Varkas let out a soft sigh.
—Stop wasting energy and get some sleep.
Then, once more, he pulled the hood over her head.
Talia frowned at him, but soon let her head drop.
He was right: after days of illness, she had little strength left. Although she hated to admit it, she secretly felt relieved that the awkward introductions were delayed. Unable to show that sincerely, she muttered between her teeth.
—You are damn insufferable.
Varkas did not reply and continued climbing the stairs in silence.
A man who appeared to be the butler rushed to guide them toward a large bedroom on the second floor of the main tower.
Moments later, the lavish interior unfolded before her eyes, much more luxurious than the private palace quarters she was accustomed to.
Talia looked around with wide eyes. A crystal-encrusted chandelier hung from the high ceiling, and gold candelabras were placed at regular intervals throughout the room.
The furniture was grand enough to be offered to the Emperor as tribute. At a glance, she could tell it had probably been crafted by dwarves.
In other places, tapestries of unique patterns, shields engraved with the Sierkan family crest, animal pelts, and white porcelain were decoratively arranged.
While she examined every detail, Varkas headed to the large bed in the center of the room and deposited her carefully.
—You will use this room from now on.
Talia, by instinct, grabbed his sleeve.
—And you?
Varkas had been reaching for the bell cord to summon the servants, but he stopped and looked down at her.
Heat rushed to her cheeks.
She quickly added, flustered:
—I… I don’t mean that we should share the room…
—Don’t worry. I have no intention of using this bedroom.
His tone was serene.
Talia relaxed her shoulders in relief. She had been anxious the entire time at the possibility of having to expose her leg to him.
Straightening up, he continued naturally:
—This is the alcove traditionally used by the ladies of the Sierkan family. It should be more than adequate for Your Highness.
—If I use this room… then, where does the current duchess live?
—For the past ten years, the position of Duchess of Sierkan has been vacant.
She fell silent. The family history she had heard in the palace slowly surfaced in her memory.
Varkas’s biological mother had died shortly after giving birth, due to postpartum fever.
The second duchess who followed also died in an accident, and Duke Sierkan’s health declined after that.
Under those circumstances, it was natural that they had not welcomed a new duchess.
She cleared her throat awkwardly.
—Ah, right. That’s true.
—I will call a healer. Take a fever reducer and get some rest.
Noticing her hoarse voice, he poured a glass of water and offered it to her.
While she accepted it and took a sip, there was movement at the door.
Turning her head, Talia saw a middle-aged woman with a dignified appearance. By instinct, she straightened up.
Varkas pressed her shoulder to prevent her from rising and then turned toward the woman. The woman, who had been observing Talia with an inquisitive gaze, bowed in a courteous reverence.
—It has been a long time, Young Lord.
Her voice, surprisingly soft for her stern appearance, flowed firmly.
—The Grand Duke has ordered that you be brought before him immediately.
—Tell him I will go shortly.
Varkas replied calmly, then looked at Talia.
—Then, I will take my leave.
—Wait… shouldn’t I go too?
—You can greet him later. I will explain everything to him myself, do not worry.
Before she could protest, he left the room.
Talia blinked at the closed door, then slowly slid out of bed and tottered toward the window.
Beyond the transparent glass stretched the vast view of Kalmor.
A city surrounded by walls, villages beyond it, and undulating green plains… Opening the window, a cool wind whipped her face.
She contemplated the plains merging with the sky. Then, hearing a faint and strange sound coming from somewhere, she turned her head.
On a distant hill stood a forest of white birch trees that gleamed under the sunlight. A strange sensation—whether anticipation or dread—ran through her.
This is where I am going to live now.
She took a deep breath.
The faint scent of Varkas—cold, dry wind—filled her lungs.
And at that moment, she knew she would come to love this land.
Lucas sprawled carelessly in a chair, kicking the floor.
His younger sister, Rayna—a year younger than him—glared at him with sharp irritation.
—If I end up being treated like an ill-mannered brat because of you, you’re dead!
—You are an ill-mannered brat.
A cushion stuffed with goose feathers flew into his face.
Rayna had spent hours braiding her thick hair, wearing her late mother’s jade jewelry and the finest silk robe (the traditional oriental attire), all to make a good impression on her older brother.
However, she didn’t even receive a proper greeting; he hadn’t spared her a single glance.
She vented all her frustration on her easiest target: her brother, who was only a year older than her.
—Brother Varkas received a royal education in the capital! He is a noble among nobles, perfectly trained in imperial etiquette! And you speak like a village bumpkin in front of him?!
—Noble among nobles, my foot.
Lucas jumped to his feet.
—Didn’t you see him? He didn’t even greet the people who have been waiting for him for days. He just passed right by everyone! Is that your imperial etiquette?!
—That’s only because you annoyed him first!
—What did I do that was so bad?!
Lucas stamped his feet like a wild colt.
—I just wanted to check what the woman looked like! You were curious too!
—I am not curious at all!
Rayna tore the jade jewelry from her neck and glared at him with reddish-brown eyes.
—What is the use of seeing the face of that vulgar woman who tarnished our brother’s honor? She is probably just like her vulgar mother!
—…Didn’t you tell me not to speak rudely?
—That’s only when you are in front of Brother Varkas!
Rayna undid her hair braids, letting her dark locks fall messily, her eyes flashing.
Because she had ridden horses daily since the age of six, her skin was tanned by the sun and her limbs were long and slender; without her fine clothes, she looked like a young, energetic boy.
She threw aside her embroidered coat, climbed onto the bed, and sat cross-legged.
—Listen carefully. In front of our brother, you must never treat that woman harshly. If you bully her openly, our sweet and naive brother will start to pity her! Then she becomes the victim and we become the cruel younger siblings!
—…Naive? —Lucas muttered in disbelief.
Rayna ignored him and continued passionately:
—So we have to torment her silently and indirectly! If we poke her just a little, she will run straight to our brother to complain. Then she becomes the unpleasant woman who speaks ill of his lovely siblings, and we become the poor, mistreated ones!
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