THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVEL) - Chapter 116
Lucas watched the Empress intently.
Guinevere Taryn Gerta sat at the head of the long banquet table, conversing with complete naturalness with the nobles of the East.
The nobles, who were expected to be cautious around her, seemed fascinated by every word she uttered, as if they had been cast under a spell.
Lucas let out an ironic laugh at that astonishing scene and then shifted his gaze to the woman sitting to the left of the Empress.
While Guinevere dominated the room with her imposing charm, Talia Ruim Shierkan remained seated with a face as cold as ice, tilting her wine glass in silence.
That stark contrast made him feel uncomfortable.
"Why does this woman always look so gloomy?"
At first glance, they looked so much alike that anyone would think they were twins.
If Talia were to smile like the Empress and deliberately try to captivate those present, probably no one in the castle would be able to resist her.
However, she always behaved like a hedgehog, raising her spines and pushing away anyone who approached her.
For a time, she seemed to make an effort to fulfill her role as Duchess, but in recent days, she didn't even try to pretend to blend in with the others. Even the nobles who had previously shown her sympathy were beginning to distance themselves.
"Has her health worsened again?"
The question crossed his mind, causing him to narrow his eyes.
Talia Ruim Shierkan looked paler than usual, gazing with empty eyes at the candles on the table.
She truly looked ill.
While he shifted restlessly in his seat, overcome with worry, Varkas suddenly entered the banquet hall.
Lucas tensed subconsciously.
As soon as Varkas appeared, the festive atmosphere in the room froze completely.
He was not the only one to notice; everyone around the table fell silent and watched the subtle confrontation between the Empress and Varkas.
"If seeing you is going to be this difficult, I shall feel a bit disappointed."
Guinevere broke the strange silence in the room first.
The Empress exhaled a long sigh and rested her hand on her cheek, feigning an expression of disappointment.
"Meeting with old friends and reminiscing about the past is all well and good, but pay a little attention to me and your wife as well."
"If I have caused you any inconvenience, I apologize."
Varkas replied calmly as he walked over to the main seat and sat down.
"A lot has been happening at the palace lately. I was delayed discussing some matters. I beg your pardon."
A frightfully smooth smile formed on the Empress's lips at that reply, which was loaded with underlying intent.
Lucas was amazed by the woman's composure.
The Empress was practically in the heart of enemy territory.
Half of the delegation accompanying her belonged to the knights of Ruim.
In other words, she was surrounded by adversaries, so how could she maintain such calm?
Guinevere spoke sweetly, curving the corners of her eyes like crescent moons:
"I hope your discussions were fruitful."
The tense atmosphere loomed over the room once again.
It seemed obvious that the Empress knew perfectly well that Varkas was actively moving to obstruct her plans, and given that Varkas was not trying to weigh or hide his actions either, that was to be expected.
Lucas glanced at Talia from the corner of his eye.
She was holding her glass tightly and biting her lips intensely, her face rigid.
It was evident that she had already learned that her husband was making great efforts to save his former fiancée.
Lucas brought the glass to his mouth, fixing his gaze on his brother's unreadable face.
After burying his father's coffin in the mausoleum, he had been officially appointed as the aide to the Duke of Shierkan.
As a result, he had become deeply familiar with the political currents of the East and the imperial palace over the past few weeks.
Tensions were beginning to rise between the East and the conservative nobles, and those from the North were trying to take advantage of that gap.
The problem did not lie solely in their ambition to expand their political influence.
Those from Balto were reinforcing their military power at an alarming speed, and suspicious movements to secretly raise military funds through various commercial enterprises had been detected.
If their ultimate goal was the independence of Balto, in the worst-case scenario, Ayla Ruim Gerta could end up as a hostage to pressure the imperial family.
The new marriage of the First Princess carried the seeds of the empire's division.
For this reason, Varkas was concentrating all his efforts on convincing the Crown Prince and the conservative nobles, putting aside the affairs of the duchy itself.
"If my brother had married Ayla Ruim Gerta from the beginning, we wouldn't be facing any problems," Lucas murmured to himself.
If Varkas had chosen loyalty to the Crown Prince instead of giving in to the Emperor's pressure, he wouldn't have to be running around like this.
Laidgo Castle would be a much more cheerful place than it was now.
Perhaps Lina would have coped better with their father's death.
Ayla Ruim Gerta was famous for her sweet nature, so she would have taken very good care of Lina.
And Talia wouldn't have had to endure so much suffering in a foreign land.
"No, why should I care whether that woman suffers or not?"
Lucas cut his thoughts short abruptly.
The only thing that should matter to him was the Shierkan family and Lina.
The Empress and her daughter were nothing but a source of trouble for the East.
Lucas quickly composed himself, silently rose from his seat, and left the room.
He could no longer tolerate watching his cold brother, the fox-like Empress, or his pale sister-in-law who looked like a ghost; he felt as if his head were about to explode.
He loosened the tight collar of his jacket and walked down the hallway.
Suddenly, he missed those days when he would ride his horse and race through the fields without a single care.
He felt a deep pity for his brother, who had carried these burdens his entire life.
He rubbed his stiff neck and looked out the hallway window toward the back garden.
"Should I go see Torgan?"
He thought of his horse, which he had neglected for almost two weeks, while massaging his tense muscles, when he suddenly spotted the silhouettes of two people in a corner of the garden.
It was not unusual to see servants walking through the backyard.
However, Lucas stopped without a clear reason and stood there watching them.
A woman with a familiar face was speaking very seriously with a young man who seemed to belong to the imperial delegation.
After observing her for a moment, Lucas remembered that the woman was Talia Ruim Gerta's personal physician.
"Do they happen to know each other?"
He tilted his head, intrigued.
Judging by the man's attire, he appeared to be one of the Empress's escorts.
Since the physician came from the Taryn family, it was not unreasonable for her to run into someone she knew among the Empress's vassals.
Even so, a strange sense of suspicion took hold of him.
"What are you doing in a place like this?"
While he was trying to read their lip movements, a deep voice resonated behind him.
Lucas turned around.
It was Tyron, who was walking down the long hallway wearing a loose robe; apparently, he had followed him after seeing him leave the room without a word.
Lucas opened his mouth to explain what he was seeing, but realizing that it was a scene that did not warrant any real suspicion, he closed it again.
He looked toward the window, but both of them had already disappeared.
He showed an annoyed expression for a moment and then shook his head as if it were not worth dwelling on.
"Nothing."
The delegation from the imperial palace stayed for exactly a week and then marched back.
Talia sat on the windowsill to watch the retinue depart and then drew the curtain.
Until the very last second before leaving, Guinevere had reiterated her demand that she fulfill her orders.
Talia had not responded, but the Empress seemed utterly confident that her daughter would not disobey her.
Or perhaps she was not entirely sure, since she had poured instructions into the ears of one of her most faithful followers before departing.
"You must share a bed this very night."
The nanny pulled a translucent garment from a chest, declaring in an unwavering tone:
"The funeral rites have already concluded, so there is no longer any excuse to keep postponing it."
