The Forgotten Field

Unable to contain the fury surging inside her, Talia raised her hand once more.

A sharp smack rang out, followed by a stinging pain spreading across her palm.

Talia, who had naturally assumed she would be stopped again, flinched in surprise and drew her shoulders in. But the person who had just been slapped remained utterly calm.

“I will consider this sufficient payment for the crime of laying hands on Your Highness without permission.”

He spoke while casually tapping the smooth cheek that did not even bear the faintest handprint with the armored fingertips of his gauntlet.

“But I have no intention of indulging your tantrums any further. I hope you remember that I am no longer your guard knight.”

Then he stepped out of the carriage and shut the door behind him.

Talia remained pressed against the backrest for a long while without moving before finally turning to look outside through the window.

Varkas was nowhere to be seen. It seemed he had already left. Instead, all she could see were servants unloading crates from the baggage carriage while the dimwitted imperial guard knight hurried them along.

She wanted to leap out immediately and make an example of those who had ignored her orders, but if she did, Varkas would not stay silent. He never tolerated cruelty toward subordinates.

The memory of those icy eyes staring at her the day she had shredded the scalp of the maid who buried her face in Varkas’s discarded coat caused her fingers to curl instinctively.

Talia irritably drew the curtains shut.

Then she clasped her burning palm and curled tightly into herself atop the seat.

How long had she remained like that?

At last, together with the sound of trumpets announcing the beginning of the journey, the carriage slowly began to move.

It seemed the journey destined to become the nightmare of her entire life had finally begun.

Talia stared for a moment at the thin ray of light slipping through the crack in the window before carefully drawing the curtains tighter.

Then, burying herself within the dim darkness, she found herself wishing this procession might continue straight into hell.

If they all entered the grave together like this—

If everything simply ended—

Nothing in the world could possibly make her happier than that.

* * *

The pilgrimage procession of the imperial family was set to follow the path of Darian, the founding Emperor of the Roem Empire, tracing the winding Silviska River as it curved north to west, then west to north once more.

Long ago, when this continent had been divided into ten kingdoms—Weden, Dristan, Valto, Gwyn, Osiria, Libadon, Arex, Vallis, Dumnos, and Siorcan—Darian Roem Gwirta, a royal descendant of Gwyn, fled the invasion of the Kingdom of Valto and migrated to the central territories, where he became the adopted son of Duke Valender, leader of the Osirian people and his maternal uncle.

Later, after unifying the many tribes of Osiria, Darian gathered powerful supporters from every kingdom and launched the movement to unite the Ten Kingdoms.

And after twenty years and dozens of wars, he finally achieved the monumental feat of unifying all ten kingdoms into a single vast empire.

The enormous procession departing from the Imperial Palace was both a sacred rite retracing his footsteps and an important event displaying the descendants of the great Emperor before the people of the Empire, proclaiming the majesty of the imperial family to all.

Accordingly, the scale of the march was unbelievably extravagant and magnificent.

At its head rode the Crown Prince atop a massive golden horse, followed by over a hundred imperial guards carrying banners embroidered with the imperial crest as they advanced powerfully through the capital.

Behind them came the carriage bearing Aila Roem Gwirta, the First Imperial Princess, followed by her guard knights.

Citizens gathered along the streets to catch sight of Darian’s descendants erupted into ecstatic cheers.

The Roem Knights, who had carried centuries of history and tradition upon their backs, wore brilliant white battle uniforms embroidered with the imperial crest over armor forged from orichalcon, the so-called divine metal, and led the procession with solemn expressions.

To their right marched the infantry, silver shields bearing the insignia of the Imperial Guard strapped to their backs as they advanced in perfect rhythm.

The disciplined march of the soldiers only further inflamed the crowd’s excitement.

Women gathered by the roadside scattered colorful flower petals toward the knights, while bards sang songs blessing the descendants of Darian.

As though responding to the people’s cheers, the First Imperial Princess opened her carriage window and revealed herself.

The crowd collectively gasped.

Could there possibly exist another ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) woman in the world more perfectly suited to the title of imperial princess than Aila Roem Gwirta?

Elegant posture straight as a lily.

Clear skin tinged with soft pink.

Glossy dark brown hair.

Large emerald eyes.

People stretched their necks like cranes, desperate to catch even a slightly better glimpse of her lovely appearance. Some followed the carriage as though enchanted. Had the guard knights not surrounded it, the First Imperial Princess’s carriage likely would have been completely engulfed by the crowd.

Swept up in fervent excitement, the people showered the beloved princess with endless blessings.

But then, a carriage so flamboyantly extravagant it bordered on gaudy appeared behind hers.

The festival-like atmosphere instantly fell silent, as though cold water had been poured over it.

The knights began scanning their surroundings with tense expressions.

The very people who had been cheering moments earlier now lowered their voices and whispered into one another’s ears while quietly holding their breath.

Apparently, they had realized that the infamous Second Imperial Princess was inside that carriage.

Those crowding the boulevard subtly stepped backward, sending looks mixed with curiosity and hostility toward the carriage. Some crossed themselves, while others spat on the ground.

The knights sighed bitterly.

Such reactions were hardly unreasonable.

Among the citizens living in the capital, there was no one who had not heard of the vicious temperament of Talia Roem Gwirta.

The Emperor’s illegitimate daughter, who had thrown the entire Empire into chaos from the moment of her birth, continued causing terrifying incidents even after becoming an official imperial princess.

There were countless servants who had worked at her detached palace only to be thrown out broken and battered afterward.

Some had even died horrific deaths.

Naturally, the eyes of the imperial citizens looking upon the Second Imperial Princess could only remain cold.

“Wouldn’t it be better to open the curtains and at least greet the people?”

Unable to bear it any longer, the imperial guard knight Edrick Rubon cautiously approached the carriage and carefully offered the suggestion.

But no response came from inside.

He looked displeased as he stared at the heavily curtained window.

Ever since the procession began, the Second Imperial Princess had remained shut inside the carriage without showing even the tip of her nose.

Apparently, she was still thoroughly sulking over the argument she had with Sir Siorcan.

Edrick swallowed the sigh rising to his throat.

‘That face alone is enough. If she just showed herself for a moment, the people’s reactions would soften considerably...’

In some ways, she truly seemed astonishingly lacking in social grace.

If she behaved even a little warmly, there would be countless men willing to hand over their hearts and souls to her. Yet Talia Roem Gwirta acted like someone determined to be hated.

Her sharp attitude constantly wore down everyone around her to the point where even the beautiful appearance inherited from her mother lost its brilliance.

How many guard knights had already collapsed under that monstrous temperament?

The fact that Sir Siorcan had endured seven years by her side made him seem almost saintly.

‘Though it doesn’t look like he simply endured it quietly...’

Recalling the sight of his superior tossing the Second Imperial Princess into the carriage like baggage, Edrick shifted his gaze forward.

Between the perfectly marching knights, he could faintly make out Varkas wearing a black hood pulled low over his face.

It seemed even that man had finally grown completely fed up with Talia Roem Gwirta.

In some ways, it was almost shocking.

Just how atrociously had she behaved for that rigid man, who was utterly consumed by loyalty toward the imperial family, to resort to such violent actions?

If Edrick had not witnessed it with his own eyes, he never would have believed it.

Perhaps the Second Imperial Princess truly possessed an innate talent for provoking hatred in others.