## THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVEL) - Chapter 140
Tyron had the fleeting thought of what would have happened if Varkas Laidgo Sherkan had married the first princess, just as had been originally planned. From a political standpoint, it would have undoubtedly been more advantageous; nor would a dispute have arisen between the Sherkan family and the crown prince like the one that existed now. However, for some reason, it was not easy for Tyron to imagine Varkas married to another woman.
—We have kept the guests waiting for too long. Come with me. I will assign you rooms so you can rest.
Tyron, who had been lost in his thoughts, suddenly snapped back to reality. Turning around, he saw Darren personally guiding the northerners. Darren threw a slight reproach over his shoulder as he walked toward the annex building:
—Go take a bath. Your appearance is a mess.
Tyron let out a light sigh while scratching his cheek, which was stained with dried blood. This was not the time to get tangled up in useless assumptions. After shaking off the blood and dust, and treating his minor wounds, he had to rejoin his unit immediately. He surely had mountains of backlogged work, and security issues were the most urgent.
Tyron frowned at the thought of Zaram's band that had attacked him. Internal conflicts in the East must have worsened while they were appeasing the outbreak of war in the north. He roughly ruffled his messy hair and guided his men forward with a slow, fatigued pace through the wide courtyard.
Suddenly, he felt a cold caress on his cheek and looked up at the sky, where gray clouds were gathering. Just as the Duchess had foreseen, the white snow was beginning to fall, driven by the wind. It was a premature snow. Tyron was overcome by an inexplicable presentiment: perhaps this year's winter would be unusually long and severe.
—Have you been fighting? —the woman he carried in his arms asked in a soft voice as they crossed the long hallway, suddenly sniffing.
Varkas checked his clothes to see if they were stained with blood. His appearance did not differ from when he had left the castle, so the smell of blood must have permeated his body. She was a woman with an extremely sensitive sense of smell, and it seemed that this sensitivity had sharpened even more with the pregnancy.
Varkas lengthened his stride and justified himself in a calm tone:
—I only went hunting.
—Liar. You returned with the knights just a moment ago. What kind of hunting is accompanied by such a number of riders?
—I reinforced the guard due to the increase in thief assaults lately.
The woman contemplated him with narrowed eyes.
—Really?
—Yes.
Varkas replied without hesitation and opened the bedroom door while holding her with a single arm. The atmosphere was cold, probably because they had ventilated the room. He went straight to the window to close the glass panes and then seated her in front of the fireplace. While he added firewood to the dying embers, she tugged at his sleeve.
—Don't go hunting anymore. The thieves are increasing, why expose yourself to danger? You can ask the hunters to bring the meat or buy it from the butcher.
Varkas frowned. Since she became pregnant, his wife showed herself more anxious than before; she seemed to believe that her safety and that of their child would be in danger if something bad happened to him. It would be of no use to assure her that such a mishap would never occur. After reflecting for a moment, Varkas ended up nodding his head:
—All right. I won't go hunting anymore.
The shoulders of the woman, who was looking at him with a tense face, relaxed as if she had felt relief. It seemed he would have to warn the servants not to spread inappropriate comments, such as that the meat had been obtained by the Duke himself. He looked at the firewood that was beginning to burn and lightly brushed the dust off his hands. He knew it was more efficient to resort to the hunters, just as she said. However, he did not intend to leave hunting for now; somehow, he did not like the idea of her consuming meat that had been hunted by another man.
It was a thought that would have never occurred to him in the past. Meat was still meat, what difference did it make who obtained it? He could not understand why he acted under such an irrational idea. However, when he saw the woman —who had not tasted meat since her childhood— take a big bite of a juicy piece and eat greedily, those ironic questions completely dissipated. He experienced a strange satisfaction seeing her eat the food he brought her and noticing how she gradually gained weight. He did not want anyone else to be involved in that matter.
—Then… what did you bring today? —she asked suddenly in a cautious tone, seeming worried about having scolded him too much.
Varkas replied calmly while stoking the fire with the bellows:
—I brought moon pheasant.
In that instant, her eyes shone. The woman leaned toward him and spoke with her voice a bit higher:
—Do you remember what I ate last time? It was delicious. Tell the cook to crisp the skin well. And don't forget the camelina sauce!
He contemplated her without blinking. It was strange that the woman who always showed herself cautious and acted with reservations toward everything around her would get enthusiastic about a simple meal. Perhaps noticing his peculiar gaze, she murmured with an embarrassed face:
— It is not I who wants to eat. It is he who wishes it —and she touched her belly, which was beginning to bulge slightly, with one hand.
Varkas cast a glance at her belly and clenched his fists tightly. If he didn't, he would have held her tight in his arms to stroke her belly at his whim with his dirty hands. The woman twisted her plump lips and continued grumbling, oblivious to the fact that he was restraining himself:
—It seems this child is going to be very gluttonous. What will happen if he is born fat as a pig? A fat baby is ugly to look at…
—If that happens, I will leave him to the nanny and make sure Your Highness does not see him as much as possible.
Her eyebrows arched at the words he pronounced with indifference while trying to focus his scattered mind.
—Fool! Is that what you should say now? You should have said: "He will be beautiful even if he is fat"!
—He will be beautiful even if he is fat.
Although he offered her the answer she wanted immediately, her face did not change. She grumbled angrily, took a cushion from the chair, and hit him with it on his back without mercy.
—Besides, it's impossible for my child to be ugly. He will be, without a doubt, very, very beautiful! He will be the most beautiful in the world even if he gets fat as a pig!
It was she who worried about the possibility of the child being ugly, yet she grew furious with him. Varkas could not understand the reason for it, but he felt a pang in his chest because her sulking face, which unleashed an unjustified anger, was terribly beautiful.
He sighed and turned toward the dressing table. He did not want Talia to worry about unnecessary matters; he only wished for her to live in peace, without any fear, just as she was now. He washed his hands and face with fresh water in the basin to cool his temperature. Looking down, he felt a warmth sticking to his back.
—Are you angry?
Asked the woman, who had clung to him, poking her head toward the front. Varkas narrowed his brow. Was she doing this on purpose? He looked at her warily and stepped back a bit.
—My body smells like horse. Move away a little.
—It doesn't matter… —she sniffed his shirt while breathing in the air. Her damp breath tickled his skin through the thin fabric—. The scent of mint and the smell of your body are the strongest.
She definitely seemed to be doing it on purpose. Varkas clenched his teeth, turned around, and lifted her up in his arms. He sat on the chair and tightly held her body, which was becoming softer day by day. Her chest, which was turning fuller, pressed against his. Then, he placed his hand on her belly, which was beginning to rise slightly.