The Forgotten Field

He crossed the deep blue-green grassland, overcome by the feeling that he was setting foot on unfamiliar land for the first time.

On the gently rolling hills, dozens of plump foals and mares were grazing.

“More than a hundred foals were born on this ranch alone this year. All of them inherit the bloodline of the famed horses of Norneck Mountain.”

Daren Dru Siorcan, who had been quietly following behind him, explained in a voice tinged with pride.

Varkas turned to look at the man, whose upright impression made him seem somewhat stubborn, and asked a question.

“How many trained warhorses are there?”

“There are three thousand on this ranch alone. If we include the ranch in the north, there should be around six thousand three hundred.”

“That is fewer than the number I was briefed on.”

At his remark, a red flush rose over the man’s face.

“You were in the central region, Young Lord. Realistically, it is difficult to relay every minute detail beyond the regular reports.”

The man avoided his eyes and added, as though making an excuse.

“A month ago, one of the horse ranches in the northeast suffered great damage from an attack by the Zram people. Afterward, retaliatory battles broke out, and we lost a considerable number of usable warhorses.”

Varkas furrowed his brow.

“Why was no report sent to the imperial family?”

“Why would we, when we could resolve it with our own strength?”

The man shrugged with a sullen expression.

“His Grace the Grand Duke always believed that eastern problems should be resolved among easterners. The vassals agreed with him as well.”

“The East is also territory of the Roem Empire.”

Varkas refuted him in a dry tone.

“We are also subjects of the Empire. Just as the East is loyal to the imperial family, the imperial family has a duty to protect the people of the East.”

The man shut his mouth tight. He seemed to feel an instinctive aversion to the word ‘protect.’ The warriors of the Khan people, who possessed a strong sense of pride, regarded outside aid as humiliation.

Instead of correcting that mistaken idea, Varkas turned his horse toward the village located below the hill.

Most of the residents living outside the castle walls led harsher lives than the townspeople.

As proof of that, the buildings lined along the muddy road were all old and shabby.

He was sweeping his indifferent gaze over them when something suddenly drew his attention.

Varkas narrowed his brow and drove his horse toward the center of the village. Then he saw something hanging from the large tree in the square.

Once he drew a little closer, he could tell what it was. Three corpses, apparently long dead and already beginning to rot purple, hung limply with ropes tied around their necks.

“They must be heretics who were executed recently.”

Daren said, wrinkling the bridge of his nose.

Varkas turned to him and asked,

“Are heretical forces spreading through Kalmor?”

“As you know, Young Lord, there are many easterners who have been unable to abandon their ethnic faith. Among them are those who worship spirits like gods or become engrossed in superstition.”

The man let out a heavy sigh.

“Especially recently, accusations against heretics have increased. It is likely because conflicts with the Zram people have become more frequent. They are all deeply immersed in spirit-worshiping beliefs, are they not? Because resentment toward heretics has intensified, religious trials are taking place frequently on a village level.”

“In the space of a few years, this place has become a mess.”

A displeased look appeared on the man’s face.

As though trying to hide it, the man forced a smile onto his lips and shrugged his broad shoulders.

“His Grace the Grand Duke has been confined to his sickbed for a long time, so it could not be helped.”

Varkas looked up at the corpses with a thoughtful expression, then jerked his chin toward his subordinates.

“If they are left like that, there is a high chance they will become ghouls. Take down the bodies and perform simple funeral rites for them.”

The man raised his thick brows.

“For heretics, you mean?”

Varkas looked at him with cold eyes.

“Do you need me to say it twice?”

Daren stared fixedly at him for a moment, then soon barked at the line of knights.

“What are you all doing instead of obeying the Young Lord’s order at once!”

The men immediately dismounted and cut the ropes holding up the corpses.

The bodies fell heavily onto the dirt with a {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} thud.

He quietly looked down at the head bent at an odd angle, as though the neck bones had broken during the fall.

Maggots swarmed inside the hollow sockets where the eyeballs had been gouged out, and beyond the lips carved away with a knife, every tooth had been pulled. These were all measures taken in preparation for ghoulification.

A corpse that had not undergone a purification ritual had a high chance of becoming undead, and for that reason, heretics often had their eyeballs, teeth, and even fingernails removed.

‘Pointless.’

Ghouls could use tools as much as they liked according to the memories they had possessed while alive. If they wanted to prevent danger, it was better to completely incinerate the corpse or perform a purification ritual.

He watched the soldiers drag the three corpses to the corner of an empty lot, then turned his head and looked over the farmers in shabby clothing gathered on one side of the square.

Most of them looked terrified, but a few had dissatisfied expressions.

He pointed at one of them.

“You. Go and bring a priest right now.”

The man who had been singled out slowly shuffled toward the chapel located on one side of the village.

Soon after, a priest came running and carried out a simple purification ritual.

After quietly watching the scene, Varkas left an order to bury the bodies somewhere suitable, then led his horse out of the village.

At that moment, a discarded wooden statue at the end of the wide road entered his sight.

A statue of a three-headed dog, no, a wolf, lay abandoned on the path leading to Argand Forest, half-split by an axe blade.

It was an unmistakable sign of a curse.

Daren, who belatedly discovered it, stiffened his face and shouted loudly at the soldiers.

“Remove it at once!”

Varkas calmly looked down at the statue, then turned his gaze toward the village.

Given that it had been placed there in time for their visit, it was clearly an act filled with someone’s malice.

He let out a dry laugh.

‘It seems there are people who do not welcome my return.’

There was no way to know whether it was the work of heretics steeped in superstition or a provocation by anti-imperial forces, but he had a feeling that life here would not be easy either.

“Shall we search for the culprit?”

Daren asked while watching his expression.

Varkas pulled the reins and lightly shook his head.

“Leave it. If we stir things up over a single statue, what else would we become but a laughingstock?”

The man swallowed a sigh and nodded.

“That is true.”

He agreed for the moment, but perhaps because his anger could not possibly subside, the eyes with which he looked back at the village were fierce. Varkas thought he might drag his subordinates off and cause trouble.

He had only observed him briefly, but the man possessed an especially belligerent disposition even among mounted warriors.

Feeling a strange weariness wash over him, Varkas spurred his horse on.

By the time he arrived back at Laedgo Castle, the sun was slanting toward the west.

Varkas lightly dismounted, handed the reins to the stable keeper, and crossed the wide training ground.

As he entered the main castle, the head butler, who had been directing the servants, came running out.

“You have returned, Young Lord.”

He accepted the greeting with a nod, then passed through the chaotic hall and set foot on the stairs.

The man hurriedly followed after him and said,

“The lords of several regions have come to see you, Young Lord.”

Varkas turned to look at the head butler with a frown.

“Regional lords?”

“They are vassals who govern the southeastern region.”

The man added carefully.

“It seems they have come to make themselves known to you before you hold the succession ceremony, Young Lord.”

He lightly rubbed his chin with his gloved hand, then resumed climbing the stairs and spoke indifferently.

“Prepare a banquet for the guests. After I change clothes, I will go to the hall.”

“Um......”

As he continued toward his bedroom on the second floor, the head butler trailed off.

Varkas looked at him over his shoulder.

After hesitating for a long while, the man carefully opened his mouth.

“Would your wife also be able to attend the evening banquet, Young Lord......?”

Varkas narrowed his eyes.

The head butler, watching his expression, quickly continued as though tattling.

“Is she not the one who will soon become the mistress of the grand ducal family? Everyone is curious about what sort of person she is. But she has not come out of her chambers all day......”

“Head butler.”

Varkas cut him off in a low voice.

“Do you think Her Highness the Princess must endure discomfort in order to satisfy the curiosity of my relatives and servants?”

The blood drained from the butler’s face.

Varkas added coldly.

“Her Highness suffered a serious accident only a few months ago. Before her body could fully recover, she endured an arduous journey lasting several weeks. She must recuperate for the time being, so tell everyone not to bother her with unnecessary matters.”