The Forgotten Field Novel - Chapter 81, 82
## Chapter 81
“I apologize. I have been inconsiderate.”
The butler bowed his head immediately. Varkas entered his bedroom without saying a word.
One of his servants followed him quickly. With a casual wave of his hand, Varkas dismissed the man, and then sat down in a chair. He removed his armor and clothes himself, folding them neatly, before stepping into the bathwater that the servants had prepared in advance.
Having ridden all day, his body had to be covered in a thick layer of dust and the smell of horses.
After washing every inch of his body in the crystal-clear water, he pulled out a deep navy blue doublet and woolen trousers, and put them on. When he stood in front of the mirror wearing boots that reached up to his shins, a neatly tailored silhouette caught his attention.
His physique, molded by years of training, was perfectly conditioned to maintain an impeccable posture at all times.
He gazed for a moment at the man who looked as though he had been cast in the imperial mold, then took his coat and left the room.
Just as he was about to head toward the great hall, a woman coming down the stairs caught his eye. Recognizing her as the healer sent by the imperial palace, Varkas called out to her immediately:
“Why are you coming down from upstairs?”
The woman hurriedly bowed her head.
“Her Royal Highness the Princess sent for me…”
He frowned. He had expected Talia to disregard his words, but seeing it confirmed firsthand stirred a slight irritation inside him. He asked in a rigid tone:
“How is Her Highness?”
“Perhaps thanks to a full day of rest, she looked better than usual. His fever has also completely subsided. However, the pain in her legs seems to persist…”
“Did you burn another sleeping potion?”
Perhaps sensing the reproach in his tone, the healer’s face visibly tensed. The woman spoke as if justifying herself:
“Her Highness suffers from severe chronic pain. The use of sleeping incense is the best course of action to alleviate that suffering.”
He scrutinized the woman’s face with a sharp gaze.
Could he really trust the healer the Empress had assigned? She was a woman who treated her own daughter like a pawn. He had no idea what schemes she might be plotting behind his back.
He examined her face as if trying to gauge her true intentions, and then nodded his head to signal that she could leave.
The woman bowed her head and went down the stairs at a pace that was neither too fast nor too slow.
Varkas, who had been staring fixedly at her retreating figure, soon headed toward Talia’s bedroom.
When he knocked on the firmly closed door, a voice that sounded a bit muffled came from inside:
“Come in.”
The moment he opened the door and entered, a cool breeze brushed his cheek. He frowned. Contrary to his expectation that the room would be filled with thick smoke, the spacious bedroom was only infused with a faint scent of flowers and dry grass.
He calmed his unsettled stomach and carefully examined the untidy room.
Finally, he spotted a small silhouette sitting on the windowsill.
Just as he was about to utter her name, Varkas snapped his mouth shut. He couldn’t tell what had made him go silent.
The woman, who had been enjoying the pouring light of the sunset, turned her head toward him. As their eyes met, an inexplicable anxiety grew even stronger.
He pulled at the collar of his doublet and strode purposefully toward her. After firmly shutting the window wide open, he pressed the back of his hand against her pale, radiant cheek, feeling a chill as cold as ice.
“How long have you been standing there like that?”
“Me? What?”
“I mean how long have you been exposed to the cold wind.”
Her eyes narrowed. As her small face filled with a pout, she looked about two years younger than her actual age.
She slapped his hand away and said bluntly:
“I don’t know. Who cares?”
“What if you get a fever again?”
“And what if I do?”
He frowned. Every time he spoke with this woman, a strange impulse reared its head. He felt the desire to make her listen to him, even if it meant using brute force, and at the same time, a peculiar yearning to gently persuade her to yield.
As if to shake off that strange feeling, he took a step back. Once he put some distance between them, she seemed to relax; he could see the tension leaving her rigid shoulders.
Talia, who had been hugging her knees and looking him up and down, continued in a sullen tone:
“More importantly, why are you dressed like that?”
“Some guests are coming, so I plan to host a small banquet.”
“Guests?”
“Regional lords of the East. I heard they have come to make a good impression on me.”
“Mmm…”
She made a strange sound while fidgeting with the hem of his coat. He silently looked down at her hand.
The woman, who had been tugging at his coat for a good while, opened her mouth hesitantly:
“Don’t I have to attend as well?”
He raised his gaze again. A face of such beauty that it felt almost unreal filled his field of vision.
She was a woman who provoked others’ emotions in a strange way. Wasn’t she the kind of person who could make even him—a man whose senses were usually under strict control—feel a peculiar impulse? He could foresee, even without seeing it, what kind of chaos she would cause here.
He paused for a moment and then slowly shook his head.
He couldn’t keep her hidden forever, but at least until he had firmly secured control of the East, he wanted to avoid drawing attention to her as much as possible.
“There is no need for that. I will explain everything to the nobles myself, so Your Highness should rest for the time being.”
“…You’re saying that because I embarrass you, right?”
Suddenly, her voice turned sharp. Varkas, who was about to turn toward the door, stopped and looked down at her.
She bit her lip, which was covered in scabs of dried blood, and said with a sneer:
“Do you already regret taking a cripple as your wife?”
He clenched his fists tightly. If he didn’t, he felt he might do something crazy. Taking a deep breath, Varkas looked at her with a cold gaze, waiting for his sharp emotions to subside. In that moment, the hostility in her eyes became even more pronounced. Instantly, the words he had been holding back finally broke through his throat:
“Sometimes I get confused. I don’t know if what you say is meant to hurt me, or if it’s meant to hurt yourself…”
Her lips tightened as if she had been left speechless.
He silently contemplated her face, laden with distrust, then let out a soft sigh and turned around.
“I will have the maid come, so please get ready. If you truly wish to attend, I will not stop you.”
“Forget it,” Talia jumped off the windowsill and snapped coldly. “If I stay with you for one more second, I’ll start boiling with rage again.”
With that, she staggered toward the bed and threw herself onto the sheets. Varkas watched her fixedly for a moment before leaving the room.
As he walked down the stairs and entered the grand banquet hall, hundreds of eyes turned toward him.
Everyone rose from their seats at once.
“You have arrived, Young Lord.”
One of his vassals, sitting near the entrance, bowed respectfully.
He acknowledged the greeting with a nod and advanced slowly through the hall.
High-ranking nobles in lavish garments and his own relatives occupied the central table of the banquet hall, while men dressed in much simpler clothes sat around them.
As he passed by them and reached the head of the table, the faint melody that had been playing in the hall ceased abruptly. He scanned the assembly carefully before offering a ceremonial greeting:
“Thank you for coming from so far away. I hope you will excuse us if our hospitality is not up to standard.”
“Not up to standard? This is the best wine I have ever tasted in my life!” shouted enthusiastically one of the men sitting around the long table.
Varkas directed his gaze toward him. Embroidered on the man’s dazzling and ornate coat was the emblem of a black bear. It was the symbol of the Gutvan family, who ruled the southeastern region.
The man raised his wine glass high and continued in a provocative tone:
“Certainly, a gift bestowed by His Imperial Majesty is something else. I’m not sure if scoundrels like us even dare to taste it. Is this not the reward the Young Lord received for a lifetime of devotion?”
The man, speaking in a theatrical tone, swallowed the wine in one gulp and slammed his glass against the table with a loud crash.
“When I think of the sweat and tears the Young Lord has shed, this fine wine tastes bitter to me.”
A heavy silence settled over the hall.
Varkas leaned back in his chair and curled the corners of his lips.
“It seems you have come here looking for a fight.”
—
## Chapter 82
“How could that be!”
The man shrugged his broad shoulders as much as he could and put on an exaggeratedly frightened expression.
“How would I dare to do such a thing to the one who will become the ruler of the East!”
Varkas, who had been silently observing the man’s face, brought the wine glass to his lips without a word. Seeing that he did not react immediately to the provocation, the man seemed to lose some of his enthusiasm.
The man wiped the mocking expression from his face and grunted:
“Even so, I am a bit curious. I wonder what on earth went through your head, Young Lord, to betray the First Princess and take on the headache of the imperial family.”
A heavy silence settled over the hall.
Varkas swept his gaze across the faces of the nobles seated on both sides of the long table, moving only his eyes.
The loyal vassals of the Sierkan family who resided in Kalmor—the heart of the East—and who had long served as the family’s right hand, showed stern expressions.
The provincial nobles, however, calculated their reaction with evaluating glances. It seemed they were trying to determine if the young heir of the Grand Duke’s house was a figure worthy of being entrusted with the future of the East.
He lightly swirled the wine in his glass, paused for a moment, and then opened his mouth slowly:
“Betrayal? That is a great exaggeration. As everyone knows, my engagement to her was based on political interests. If the situation changes, the terms of that agreement can also change.”
“What exactly has changed?” The veins on the man’s forehead bulged. “Are you saying that a few words from His Imperial Majesty are serious enough to break a promise made years ago?”
“Then, do you consider the orders issued by the ruler of the empire to be trivial?” replied Varkas, tilting his head.
As if momentarily left speechless, the man tightly pressed his thick lips together. His face, covered by a thick black beard, flushed red as he stared fixedly at Varkas and mocked loudly:
“What a display of loyalty! A man like me could never even begin to imitate it!”
“Lord Gutvan, it seems you are getting too worked up,” a middle-aged noble sitting across from the man attempted to calm him cautiously.
But Gutvan paid him no attention. He took a glass full of wine, drank it in one gulp, abruptly wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and continued speaking:
“But one day the time will come when our great Emperor must leave the throne. Then His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince will become the ruler of this empire. What do you intend to do then? Will His Highness truly accept the loyalty of the East with a willing heart?”
“This marriage was something that the Crown Prince also accepted,” Varkas, who had been tilting his glass to contemplate his reflection in the red liquid, continued slowly. “No. Later on, he was the one who pushed for it most actively.”
“What on earth does that mean…?”
“It simply explains that this marriage also offered some benefits to His Royal Highness the Crown Prince,” Varkas interrupted him coldly. “One cannot go around blabbing about the royal family’s dirty laundry, can they?”
A look of suspicion spread across the faces of the nobles. His words could be interpreted to mean that he held the Crown Prince’s weakness in his hands. Varkas watched them exchange glances and then spoke in a light tone, as if to relax the atmosphere:
“Now that some of your questions have been answered, let us bring this pleasant conversation to a close.”
Then he raised his glass and looked around.
“Come, everyone drink. As Gutvan said, is this not the wine that the next Grand Duke of the East received as a reward for seventeen years of loyal service?”
With a slight smile, Varkas brought the glass to his face as if savoring the aroma and added unhurriedly:
“When will you ever get the chance to taste such a delicacy again?”
The nobles, who had been crossing glances as if unsure how to respond, soon raised their glasses with awkward smiles. It was clear that everyone wanted to end the heated debate at that point.
However, Gutvan did not seem to have the slightest intention of backing down. He struck the table with his fist—as hard as a steel hammer—and shouted:
“How on earth are we supposed to believe such a thing! The entire empire knows how much His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince cherishes the First Princess. There is no way such a person would make a decision that tramples on the Princess’s honor!”
Varkas erased the smile from his lips. His patience was slowly running out at this man’s completely irrational words and behavior.
Leaning his head against the back of the chair, he gestured with his chin, as if saying, “Continue.” The man lost no time in pouring out his words:
“Do you know what rumors are circulating right now? That even the heir of the East has fallen under the spell of the witch of the Taren family! Just as His Imperial Majesty was deceived by that viper of a woman and betrayed Her Majesty the Empress, the next Grand Duke of Sierkan has also been hoodwinked by her daughter and has betrayed Her Royal Highness the First Princess! Such comments are circulating throughout the entire empire!”
His last words were practically a shout. The thundering voice filled the hall.
“If Her Royal Highness the First Princess were to follow in the footsteps of Empress Bernadette, how do you plan to atone for that sin!”
“This is getting out of hand!” Unable to bear it any longer, Daren Dru Sierkan interrupted the conversation. “Alec Gutvan, you are a vassal of the Grand Duke’s family! Do you really think it is acceptable to behave that way toward the heir of the Grand Duke’s house here, in Laedgo Castle?!”
“When a leader strays onto the wrong path, it is also the duty of the vassals to raise their voices in criticism!” The man who had boldly shouted at Daren turned his gaze back to Varkas. “Your Highness could have made the First Princess—whom the entire empire adores—the lady of the eastern lands! However, you brought home as a wife a wicked woman who is nothing but a bastard. How is it possible for us to remain silent in such a situation…!”
The man who had been shouting suddenly went mute. Varkas, who had been looking down at him as if witnessing a ridiculous play, also froze.
A small figure, with a loose hood covering her head, had stealthily slipped up behind the bear-like man and tilted a bottle of wine over his massive head, pouring a torrent of blood-red liquid.
At the sudden turn of events, the sound of people sharply catching their breath could be heard in every corner of the hall.
The victim himself seemed so stunned by the shock that he could not react immediately. The man, who had been left soaking in the falling liquor with a dazed expression, only sprang to his feet once the bottle was completely empty.
His massive frame, nearly seven cubits (about 210 centimeters) tall, loomed menacingly over the unexpected guest, whose entire body was wrapped in a cloak.
“What kind of lunatic would do something like this…!”
The man grabbed the intruder’s wrist and pulled off the hood covering her head. As he did, a long mane that had been hidden under the cloak cascaded down like a golden waterfall, flooding his field of vision.
The man, who had raised his fist as if ready to strike her face at any moment, froze in place.
The woman shot him a venomous look through her disheveled hair.
As if struck by lightning from that intense gaze, the man trembled slightly and swallowed hard with difficulty. His pitch-black pupils slid across the woman’s face like sticky pitch.
Varkas, who had been gripping his glass as if to crush it, stood up immediately. As he approached her from behind and drew her slender body into an embrace, the man instinctively tightened his grip around her wrist, as if to prevent her from being taken away.
In that instant, something churned in his stomach. Varkas stared fixedly at the dark hand holding her.
The man was still gazing at her face with a lost look, examining every inch of it. A sharp chill ran down her spine. As Talia narrowed her eyes at the strange sensation of her neck growing cold, a sound suddenly resonated like the cracking of a whip against a horse.
The man looked at the woman with a bewildered expression. His face showed that he had absolutely no idea what had just happened.
She raised her arm and slapped his wine-soaked face once more.
“How dare you lay your filthy hands on me.”
Only then did the man come to his senses; he released her wrist and took a step back.
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