The Forgotten Field

“Beautiful, isn't it?”

She suddenly tilted her head toward him.

He quietly watched the rays of light cascading along the delicate contours of her face before feeling a feverish warmth, almost like dizziness, spread through his veins. He looked away.

For some reason, it felt as though he should not keep looking at her any longer.

He removed the cloak draped over his shoulders, wrapped it around her, and gently closed the window.

“It is already past dinner. You should go inside now.”

“Just a little longer...”

Curled up beneath his cloak, she rested her chin on her knees and murmured,

“I want to watch the sun set all the way to the end.”

He looked down at her slender shoulders and the nape of her neck with quiet eyes before letting out a low sigh and leaning against the wall.

A faint smile spread across her lips.

Without knowing why, he felt his chest tighten painfully and turned his gaze toward the setting sun.

As the entire world slowly sank into crimson afterglow, the cool evening air drifting through the crack in the window gradually drove away the lingering warmth inside the study. For some reason, that tranquil moment sent strange ripples deep through his heart.

He clenched his fist tightly.

A powerful sense of alarm rose within him at the feast of sensations she had awakened inside him.

This moment would not last forever.

He would soon return to where he belonged, and he would never again spare a glance for the beauty of a sunset.

Therefore, the unfamiliar warmth coursing through his body could be nothing more than a fleeting illusion.

Watching the fading light disappear beyond the darkened forest, he slowly closed his eyes.

* * *

Faint sounds seeped into his clouded mind.

Varkas slowly opened his eyelids, which felt as heavy as though they had been glued shut, and stared at the ceiling wrapped in dark gray shadows before pressing a hand against his forehead.

Then he noticed the bandages wrapped around his hand and narrowed his eyes.

How did this happen?

As he tried to piece together memories blurred as though shrouded in fog, someone's voice sounded nearby.

“Y-Your Grace! You're awake.”

He blinked sluggishly, his vision still struggling to focus.

Only several seconds later did he recognize the man's face.

The gaunt chief steward tossed aside the damp cloth in his hand and hurried to the bedside.

“How are you feeling? Is there anywhere that hurts...?”

The ringing voice echoed dully in his ears.

Varkas pressed his temple before slowly sitting up.

“How long was I asleep?”

“You were unconscious for nearly two days. According to the healing mage, your condition was almost...”

The hand that had been placing a pillow behind his back suddenly stopped.

The chief steward swallowed hard, his throat tightening, before hurriedly changing the subject.

“T-this will not do. I'll summon a high priest. You were unconscious for far too long. You'll need restorative magic.”

Without even waiting for a reply, the man hurried out of the room.

Varkas listened to his frantic footsteps before turning toward the window.

A pale, lifeless sun was hanging beyond the black fields, casting gray light across the sky.

He stared blankly at the sight for some time before a commotion arose outside.

Moments later, a man dressed in flowing priestly robes entered the room.

While the priest examined him, Varkas leaned against the headboard and slowly looked over the servants' faces.

Every one of them looked as though someone had died.

Apparently, his condition had been far more serious than he had realized.

How disgraceful.

How many times had he collapsed and lost consciousness like this now?

As he sat there absentmindedly thinking that, the memories from just before he had blacked out came rushing back all at once.

Varkas frowned and gripped his forehead.

Seeing that, the priest spoke gravely.

“For the time being, you must do absolutely nothing and get proper rest. Even if medication is required, you must be made to sleep.”

“...Didn't you say I already slept for two straight days?”

“That is nowhere near enough.”

The priest answered solemnly.

“Your body's condition is hardly any different from that of a prisoner who has gone for weeks without food or sleep while enduring torture. How could anyone allow you to deteriorate to this extent...?”

After pressing two fingers between his brows, the priest finally rose from the bedside.

Then he turned toward the servants, who all stood with their heads lowered like criminals, and said firmly,

“I will prescribe medicine. Make certain he takes every dose without fail. And for the time being, ensure that he is not allowed to handle any official affairs.”

“We understand.”

Once the priest packed away his medical bag and left, Varkas immediately dismissed the servants.

Their worried eyes irritated him.

At last, heavy silence settled over the room.

He staggered out of bed.

Only then did he notice how strangely unfamiliar the room had become.

Come to think of it... when was the last time he had used this bedroom?

His vacant eyes slowly narrowed.

A tapestry hanging on one wall caught his attention, and he walked toward it.

A forest and open fields, woven from threads of countless shades, covered nearly half of the broad fabric.

After staring silently at what appeared to be an unfinished work, he walked over to the chest where he kept his personal belongings and bent down.

Opening the lid with his bandaged hand, he found his travel belongings neatly arranged inside.

He rummaged through them until he finally found an embroidered leather waterskin.

He stood motionless, staring at it for a long time.

Then he slowly walked toward the fireplace.

The flickering firelight revealed dark stains upon it.

Absentmindedly rubbing them with his thumb, Varkas suddenly let out a hollow laugh before collapsing into a chair.

He did not even know why he was laughing.

He pressed his forehead against the embroidery stained with blood.

His shoulders trembled silently.

How long had he remained like that when someone knocked on the door?

He did not answer.

The visitor seemed to have no intention of leaving.

Another clear knock followed.

Then came a cautious voice.

“Your Grace, forgive the interruption while you are resting. Her Highness the Imperial Princess has earnestly requested an audience...”

“Send her away.”

“B-but...”

“It will only take a moment.”

A soft female voice sounded from behind the chief steward's troubled reply.

Varkas closed his eyes wearily.

Receiving no answer, the unwelcome guest persisted.

“I won't take much of your time. Please...”

It seemed she intended to remain there until he relented.

At last, he opened his tightly closed lips.

“Come in.”

The door soon opened, followed by measured footsteps.

Remaining seated in the chair, he merely shifted his eyes toward her.

Aila crossed the room with the same composed and elegant grace she always possessed before asking softly,

“How are you feeling? I heard your condition was quite serious...”

“Didn't you say you would not take much of my time?”

His dry voice cut her off.

“State your business.”

The color drained from her face.

She tightly gripped her skirt with both neatly folded hands before continuing with a firm expression.

“Very well. Then I'll speak only of business.”

She walked toward the window and looked out over the estate, where darkness had already begun to settle.

“Using Gareth's mistake as an opportunity, the Empress's faction has begun moving all at once. A proposal demanding that he be stripped of command over the Roem Knights has already been submitted to the council, and we've also detected efforts to win over the conservative nobles.”

After calmly listing her brother's failures, she turned toward him with a bitter expression.

“To resolve this situation, we need your help.”

Without replying, Varkas simply traced the dense embroidery stitches with his fingertips.

The prolonged silence made the Imperial Princess increasingly anxious.

She hurried on.

“I mean a political alliance, not a real marriage. If Gareth falls from power now, the grand ducal house will suffer a tremendous blow as well. If the radical faction centered around House Taren grows stronger, the position of House Siorcan, leader of the conservative nobles, will inevitably weaken. Surely you do not wish to see that happen either.”

She paused briefly before looking at him with determined eyes.

“The attacks against House Siorcan have already begun. The Empress intends to place the blame for Talia's death upon the grand ducal house. If we are to stop her, we must unite once again.”

Varkas slowly lifted his gaze from the leather pouch and looked at her.

The Imperial Princess immediately recoiled.

She instinctively took a step backward, as though confronted by something terrifying.

Looking at her, he spoke indifferently.

“Have you finished saying everything you came to say?”

Supporting his head with one hand as though exhausted, Varkas gestured toward the door.

“You may leave now.”

Humiliation darkened her face.

She clenched her fists tightly and stepped closer.

“You were the one who unilaterally broke off our engagement. Even after suffering such humiliation... I have never once blamed you or resented you.”

A faint shimmer of tears appeared in her eyes.

She struggled desperately to steady her breathing as though swallowing back overwhelming emotions.

Finally, in a trembling voice, she asked,

“Have you never, not even once, felt sorry for me?”

A clear stream of tears ran down her pale cheek.

Varkas watched her expressionlessly before speaking.

“No.”

Her elegant face crumpled in despair.

Watching her without the slightest emotion, he calmly added,

“I have never really given you any thought in the first place.”

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