The Forgotten Field

”My.”

The man let out a faintly irreverent exclamation before straightening his posture and placing one hand over his chest.

”My respects, Your Grace.”

”You know me?”

”Who in the Roem Empire doesn’t know the young Grand Duke of Siorcan? Among knights especially, you are nothing short of a legend.”

A gentle smile settled on the man’s lips as he spoke with flattering ease.

Varkas calmly examined him with cold eyes.

Light brown hair. Fair skin with a bronze sheen. Deep dark-brown eyes...

At first glance, he appeared unassuming, yet there was something about him that radiated danger.

His instincts immediately put him on guard.

”You still haven’t told me your name.”

”Oh...”

The man smiled apologetically.

”Forgive my discourtesy.”

Keeping the same courteous smile, he answered leisurely,

”My name is Roman Talis.”

”Are you attached to the Grand Cathedral?”

”I am.”

The man admitted it without hesitation before continuing in the smooth accent characteristic of Osiria.

”More precisely, I belong to the Temple Guardians. We received reports that heretics have been spreading throughout the Grand Duchy of Siorcan, so we’ve come to investigate the situation.”

”You’ve made the trip for nothing.”

Varkas cut him off flatly.

”The investigation has already been completed. Preparations to eliminate the heretics are finished as well.”

”As expected of you.”

The man let out a quiet note of admiration and lightly spread his hands.

”However, we were officially dispatched. We can’t very well return empty-handed without accomplishing anything. Isn’t it the Temple Guardians’ duty to seek out and execute heretics? My men and I would gladly lend our strength to your campaign.”

”I appreciate the offer, but I must decline. We are perfectly capable of resolving this without outside assistance.”

”Outside assistance... How could you say such a thing?”

The man looked genuinely—almost theatrically—astonished.

”The Grand Duchy is also Imperial territory, and the Church has a duty to protect every flock within the Roem Empire.”

”Those guilty of apostasy will all stand trial before the Eastern Church.”

Growing weary of the pointless exchange, Varkas’s gaze became even colder.

”Whatever your station may be, you’re nothing more than a stranger to me. I cannot allow an unknown outsider to roam freely through my lands.”

”...”

”I’ll permit you to remain in Kalmor until this matter is concluded. But I will never tolerate you using force against my people.”

The smile faded from the man’s face as he silently watched Varkas.

Without another thought, Varkas turned toward the staircase leading to the private chambers on the second floor.

Then a low voice called out from behind him.

”Is there some particular reason you insist on excluding us?”

Varkas stopped halfway up the stairs, one hand gripping the banister, and looked back.

The man approached with slow, effortless steps that seemed oddly light for someone of his massive build.

Calmly, he continued,

”From the moment we arrived in the East, we heard quite a few interesting rumors concerning Her Grace the Grand Duchess. If she’s the reason you’re so wary of us...”

”People must tell you rather often that you don’t know your place.”

Varkas interrupted him in an unexpectedly gentle voice.

As if sensing the killing intent filling the air, the dimples in the man’s left cheek vanished as the muscles there stiffened.

Varkas leaned slightly toward him and continued coldly,

”Do you think my wife is someone a mere priest may casually speak of?”

”...I have overstepped. Please forgive my rudeness.”

The man lowered his head respectfully.

Yet Varkas did not miss the flicker of amusement that crossed his eyes.

A wave of intense disgust rose within him.

He stepped even closer in an unmistakably threatening manner.

Immediately, a thick stench of fresh blood—something one would expect from a wild beast—filled his nostrils.

Such a horrifying aura could never have come from a true clergyman.

His eyes narrowed further.

”You... are you really someone sent by the Holy See—”

Just as he was about to press the man further, hurried footsteps echoed through the chapel.

”My apologies for keeping you waiting, Your Grace.”

A priest hurried over and respectfully continued,

”The High Priest requests your presence in his private chamber. Please follow me.”

Then he glanced toward the man beside them.

”As for you, Brother...”

”I’ll take my leave.”

The man smoothly finished the priest’s hesitant sentence.

”We’re staying at the Grand Cathedral’s relief house. Should you ever change your mind, please don’t hesitate to send for us. We’d be delighted to lend our strength to Your Grace.”

”Your words alone are appreciated.”

Answering coldly, Varkas turned and followed the priest.

Even as he walked past the man, the nauseating scent of blood clung stubbornly to the air.

Varkas glanced back over his shoulder one last time.

At that exact moment, a flash of lightning illuminated Roman Talis’s eyes in a grotesque, unsettling light.

Leaving that disturbing afterimage behind, Varkas climbed the staircase swallowed by darkness.

* * *

”So you’ve broken your promise.”

Seated at the solid wooden table inside the prayer chamber, Varkas spoke flatly.

”Have you forgotten our agreement to bury those absurd accusations concerning the Grand Duchess?”

”The report submitted by the inquisitor was destroyed immediately after my meeting with you.”

The High Priest quietly sipped his tea before releasing a weary sigh.

”I don’t know what you’ve heard or from whom, but our Church has never disclosed anything concerning the Grand Duchess to outsiders. If the investigators sent by the Central Church discovered something, then it was through their own independent inquiry.”

”So you’re saying you have nothing to do with them.”

”That is correct.”

The elderly priest lifted his head proudly.

”If I had intended to involve the Temple Guardians from the beginning, I would never have sought Your Grace’s assistance. What possible benefit would this situation bring me? Their arrival has been every bit as unexpected to me.”

Varkas studied him thoughtfully for a moment.

Indeed, interference from the Central Church in the affairs of the East could hardly be welcome to this priest either.

His tone softened somewhat.

”Are their identities genuine?”

”Without question. Every visitor carried identification bearing the Grand Cathedral’s seal and presented official letters of appointment issued by the Holy See.”

The High Priest withdrew a parchment from within his robes and handed it over.

”You may examine it yourself.”

Taking the document, Varkas inspected it carefully.

Written in ancient Osirian, the letter bore both the seal of the Central Church and the unmistakable emblem of the Temple Guardians.

”No room for doubt.”

”Was there some reason you felt compelled to verify their identities?”

Varkas shook his head.

”No. One of the priests struck me as unusually rough-looking for a man of the cloth. I merely wanted to be certain.”

”The Temple Guardians devote themselves to hunting and judging heretics. Men inevitably become rough after work of that nature.”

The old priest dismissed the matter casually before rubbing his tired forehead and changing the subject.

”More importantly, what do you intend to do now? The Temple Guardians will certainly begin investigating the heretics in the East themselves.”

”I have no intention of allowing them to rummage through my lands as they please.”

Dropping the parchment onto the table, Varkas spoke decisively.

”The operation begins tomorrow. Once every heretic has been captured, the Temple Guardians will have no justification for remaining here. Your Eminence, once everything has been settled, see that they return to the Central Church.”

”Then your operation must not fail.”

Concern clouded the High Priest’s eyes.

”If, by some chance, the campaign ends in failure, they will exercise the investigative authority granted to them. And if that happens, it will no longer be possible to suppress the suspicions surrounding the Grand Duchess...”

”That will not happen.”

Varkas rose to his feet, his voice leaving no room for argument.

”I intend to eradicate every last heretic from this land so that such annoyances never arise again.”

After a brief pause, he added in a chilling voice,

”So stop using my wife as leverage against me.”

His eyes darkened.

”If you attempt to pressure me by invoking her safety even one more time, the Grand Ducal House will no longer treat you as the High Priest.”

”...I shall bear that in mind.”

Leaving the High Priest’s calm reply behind, Varkas turned and departed without another word.

By the time he returned to the castle, the rain had finally begun to ease.

The sky, however, remained buried beneath thick black storm clouds.

Listening to the occasional rumble of thunder, Varkas entered the castle.

Since most of the knights had chosen to remain at the encampment, the castle itself was unusually quiet.

”Welcome back, Your Grace.”

As he crossed the softly illuminated hall, the head steward, who had been directing the servants near the dining room entrance, hurried over.

Removing his rain cloak, Varkas glanced into the brightly lit dining hall.

His younger sister and the elderly retainers were finishing a late supper.

”Where is the Grand Duchess?”

At his habitual question, the head steward accepted the damp cloak from him and answered with an awkward cough.

”Her Grace said she would take her meal privately in her room.”