Chapter 210
THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVEL) – Chapter 210
Chapter 210
THE FORGOTTEN FIELDS (NOVEL)
—Give Kan back to me! Give me back my son!
Her slender fists fell erratically upon his jaw, chest, and shoulders.
Varkas looked with somber eyes at the woman who was screaming so bitterly, and then tightly seized her wrists.
—Get a hold of yourself! That is not our son, it is just a beast!
—No! No! Kan is my son, you are the one who killed my son! You have torn him away from me twice!
The woman continued her violent resistance as if fighting for her life.
Varkas felt fury boil in his veins upon seeing her state, which gave the impression that she had completely lost her sanity.
He firmly held her cheeks with both hands and brought his head close to her face, which was distorted by weeping.
—Our son died; he died and was buried in the cemetery a long time ago.
—Shut up! Shut up! I told you to shut up!
The woman screamed frantically while severely scratching the backs of his hands, until he felt her bloodied nails dig deeply into his skin.
He increased his grip with more force upon the woman, who was twisting violently as if suffering a seizure, and pinned her directly with his gaze into those eyes clouded by delusion.
—Face reality now: that wolf was nothing more than a magical beast tamed by humans.
An animosity as sharp as a blade flashed behind her blue pupils, stained by tears, and that gaze tore through the deepest part of his being without mercy.
Varkas did not stop; on the contrary, he continued his words with greater harshness:
—What is more, it was not even tamed correctly. In truth, you knew that beast represented a danger, and now you are paying the price for having ignored that matter despite having knowledge of it.
Bright red blood welled from the back of his hand, where her reddened nails had embedded themselves.
Her crimson lips, upon which crusts of blood had dried, trembled, and then she exhaled words that resembled a curse:
—Die. —Her voice emerged like molten metal from between her ragged gasps, similar to those of someone drowning—. I wish it were you who died instead of him.
At that instant, the savage agitation that filled her body dissipated like slipping sand.
He responded with a voice devoid of emotion, as if denying that freezing sensation:
—Then look for a more powerful poison next time, and I will ingest it with absolute pleasure.
Those words seemed to strip away all her desire to fight.
Her shoulders, which had been tense like the string of a bow about to break, subtly relaxed.
And even her eyes, which before overflowed with tears like a torrent, dried up in a single instant.
She looked at him with a face as pale as a specter’s, and murmured with a voice that was almost vanishing:
—Kan is not a beast; the beast is you.
—……
—You are a terrible monster, devoid of feelings. I should never…… have married you.
A dry smile tinged with self-deprecation formed at the corner of Varkas’s lips, who remained motionless for a moment.
—Regret always arrives late, no matter how early it appears.
She pinned him with her gaze as if contemplating something repulsive at his words, and then closed her eyes with extreme fatigue.
Her appearance suggested that she would lose consciousness again if he exerted more pressure on her.
He ceased his attempts to force her to eat and walked toward the fireplace.
While stirring the weak embers of the fire with the poker, his eyes fell upon the torn back of his hand.
He took a towel from the shelf and wiped away the blood, at which moment he felt an unbearable exhaustion and sat down in the chair.
His vision turned blurry, as if covered by frost.
He held his forehead, which was throbbing with pain, and diverted his gaze toward the bed once more.
His sight was flooded by the bed messed up from the fierce altercation and by the woman’s body, lying upon it like a broken doll.
He felt an oppression in his chest for some reason.
He rubbed his face roughly and sank his body deeply against the back of the chair.
The days passed as if they were a war.
He found himself forced to engage in a violent dispute for three or four hours just to make her ingest half a bowl of porridge.
And even if he succeeded in feeding her, she vomited more than half of it on most occasions.
And everything indicated that this minuscule amount of sustenance she was forced to digest consumed her completely in her disputes with him.
As he observed her body waste away more day by day, Varkas understood with bitterness the meaning of one’s blood drying up from tribulation.
Although she had agitated his nerves beforehand by rejecting food on various occasions, this was the first time he faced a resistance of such ferocity.
She gave the impression of a person resolved to let herself starve to death completely.
Varkas restrained the woman who was trying to induce vomiting by inserting her fingers into her throat to expel the oatmeal porridge she had swallowed with difficulty after a two-hour struggle; he held her tightly in his arms as if immobilizing her, and shouted toward the maids waiting aside, visibly alarmed:
—Light the sedative immediately!
The women stationed by the door ran quickly, placed dried herbs inside the censer, and set them on fire.
During that lapse, she continued to twist in an attempt to break free from his arms, as if suffering a seizure.
—Let go of me! I told you to let go of me!
He wrapped her tightly with the bed blanket without leaving any opening, and leaned her body against the headboard of the bed.
Shortly after, the woman’s body relaxed like seaweed.
Her anatomy, which had reached the extreme of exhaustion, could not resist even the effect of a highly diluted substance.
He brushed the tangled strands of hair away from her neck while she rested her head against his chest with limp limbs.
She threw a gaze loaded with reproach at him from her face stained with sweat and tears.
—Please…… stop already. Just leave me alone.
He ignored her pleas that resembled a lament and wiped her face with a warm towel.
The woman contemplated him as if he were something dreadful, and then lost consciousness from the effect of the substance.
He laid her back down on the bed, where the pillows had been piled up, and stood up from his place.
While shedding his messy shirt to dress in clean clothes, he felt glances observing him stealthily.
He turned toward the hesitant maids:
—What is the matter?
—It is just…… I wondered if Your Lordship should not tend to your wounds as well…… —the maid responded in a low voice while blushing.
He lowered his gaze to discover the red nail marks upon his forearm.
Those nails that left deep wounds in the first days now caused nothing more than a few light, superficial scratches.
It seemed evident that even the strength of her grip was diminishing day by day.
Varkas looked at her with a somber expression, and then responded coldly while fastening the buttons of his shirt:
—There is no need to worry about that.
—But……
—Before that, where does the Duchess’s former nanny perform her duties currently?
The maid looked surprised at the sudden question; her shoulders tensed and she stared at him:
—B-Brimda resides in the textile workshop of the outer wall. Since a few years ago, she was excluded completely from service due to having committed an extremely grave fault against Your Lordship……
The maid responded with hesitation, denoting concern over the possibility that he might reinstate that woman to her position as the Duchess’s maid.
Varkas placed a black coat over his thin shirt and indicated with his head toward the door:
—Bring that woman to the lower floor of the annex pavilion.
The woman hesitated for an instant and then went out.
He summoned another maid and ordered her to watch over her condition, after which he abandoned the dark bedroom.
Upon descending the stairs, the spacious room where the maids remained appeared before him, along with the small kitchen and the entrance to the orderly reception room.
He entered the room where the fire had been lit and sat in a velvet chair.
One of the maids who followed to assist him filled a glass with wine and placed it on a small table.
While he took the glass to moisten his dry throat, a woman of the half-dwarf race, with sallow skin, entered the pavilion escorted by a soldier.
He examined the face of the woman he had grown weary of seeing since his childhood; she did not seem to have suffered great privations, as she sported a more robust build than the last time he saw her.
—Greetings…… to the Lord Duke —murmured the woman, who was led before him with a worried face.
Varkas did not open his mouth for a moment, so the woman, who observed his features while her pupils moved like pebbles, began to speak with caution:
—To what is it due that you have summoned me……
—She has refused to ingest food for more than half a month —he spoke finally.
The woman’s eyes opened wide as if she had not expected those words, and then she relaxed her shoulders:
—It seems that detestable habit has returned to her once more. —The woman sighed as if the matter were nothing new and shook her head from left to right—. Since ancient times, when her temperament is altered, she abstains from eating and drinking, fraying the nerves of those around her…… When will the day arrive when she matures……. —Then she clicked her tongue; she showed no signs of great concern despite hearing that the woman she had raised with her hands since she was an infant abstained from sustenance for half a month.
Varkas pinned the woman with a glacial gaze:
—Watch your words. Do you perhaps continue to see her as a child sheltering under your skirts?
The woman’s round shoulders shrank upon experiencing fear.
He pressed his eyelids, which ached due to the insomnia of several days, and then stated his purpose:
—Prepare a food that she is capable of ingesting.
—Y-Your Lordship does not know it well perhaps, the young lady…… no, Her Grace the Duchess, once she closes her mouth, does not yield before any plea of those around her, no matter what is crafted and presented to her…….
—And yet, is it not true that she correctly ingested the food you used to craft? If you require any ingredient, I will provide it to you; craft the dishes she liked to consume and bring them.
The woman closed her mouth and did not respond, so Varkas threw a threatening gaze at the woman who dared not to abide by his disposition.
—Have you not heard my words?!
—Y-Yes, I heard, I heard perfectly —the woman responded, hesitating while plunged in panic, but signs of discontent remained evident on her face. She said, moving her eyes with tension and hesitation—: I w-will execute Your Lordship’s disposition…… but I pray that you grant me a single request.
He let out a dry laugh:
—Do you perhaps consider that you find yourself in a position that allows you to negotiate with me now?
—I…… do not belong to the ducal house; I find myself here solely by disposition of the Empress to watch over Her Grace the Duchess.
Varkas leaned his body forward, lifting it from the back of the chair, and then nodded slightly with his head as if indicating for her to continue.
The woman shrank and drew back as if becoming smaller before his gaze, then closed her eyes and spoke rapidly:
—But Her Grace the Duchess discarded me, saying she did not require me, and left me performing heavy labor among the common servants. I am no longer able to tolerate this treatment; as soon as Her Grace the Duchess restores her health, I wish for you to send me back to the Empress’s palace.
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