Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor
Chapter 34

Erica, the leader of the imperial investigation team, looked around the messy office filled with stacks of documents. Even the small drawers had been turned over and emptied, so the mess was expected. Inside the inner office, her subordinates were gathered, drying papers soaked in ink.

“Is it recoverable?”

“We’ll have to check what type of ink was used. Still, we’re lucky to salvage at least half of it.”

“The rest is no problem!”

“Anyway, that guy. He sure moves quickly.”

“That guy” did not refer to the servant lying dead with his neck severed in a corner. She was talking about Dergha, who had ordered the disposal of documents in such a short time.

Although his guilt was not yet confirmed and he maintained the title of Count, they did not care. The woman before their eyes, Erica Berti, was going to be the next lord of this place.

“What about the tax returns submitted to the central office?”

“They are here.”

“Philip and Sarien will calculate the production quantity and the tax rate for the territory’s people. The rest will extract the mine and trade records. Roughly three years’ worth will do. Can you do it within a week?”

The subordinates smiled faintly at their boss’s instruction. Erica’s question was not a question but a command. It meant to get it done within a week.

“Yes, Commander.”

“Good. Delrix is responsible for managing the annex. Move!”

“Let’s go! Let’s shake this place down properly!”

“Ahhhhh!”

They cheered with high spirits, shouting that they would find evidence of tax evasion. If successful, this place would become their territory! Their boss would become a noble, and they would all have a place in the central government! This place, Dergha’s office, was the starting point for the career advancement they had dreamed of.

‘Darn, damn it.’

Meanwhile, in the annex, where Dergha had been confined to the room Ian used to use, he muttered curses, furiously tugging at his beard. Sᴇaʀch* Thᴇ n0vᴇl(ꜰ)ire.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

Mary and Chel had not yet returned.

“My lord, what will happen now?”

“What do you mean, what will happen?! Shut your mouth!”

The loud scream made the butler flinch, but he couldn’t help it. Depending on the Count’s behavior, his life was hanging by a thread. He paced the room, trying to sort out his complicated thoughts.

‘The Emperor has sent an investigation team directly. But the one who pushed me to this is that Molrin. If I lose my head here, it will benefit the second prince. Then … ‘

Dergha rummaged through his desk, finding parchment and a pen. He composed his thoughts and then wrote without stopping. There was no time to correct typos. Every second was crucial.

Scribbles.

“Butler, there are two things you must do.”

“Sp-speak, sir.”

“Send these letters. One to the Cheonrye tribe, and the other to the 1st Prince in the capital. Prepare the soldiers after you send them, fully armed, ready to depart at any time.”

The one sent to the Cheonrye tribe was a request for military support and Ian’s beheading. The central support army was soon to arrive, so they needed to suppress them with force before that.

But this would truly be a rebellion within a rebellion.

The counterbalance was the letter to the 1st Prince. If the 1st Prince knew that this was part of the 2nd Prince’s scheme, he would undoubtedly take action. Whether it was a countercheck or posed an obstacle, it would be an opportunity for Dergha.

He sealed the letter, and since he was unable to stamp it, he placed one of his rings inside.

‘Right. First, survive. Survive and rebuild for the future. That will do … ‘

As he frantically composed himself, the butler made a bewildering remark.

“You want me to leave here? How?”

Dergha jutted his chin toward the door, “Wasn’t the door guarded by the investigation team?”. The butler’s face turned pale, and he shook his head as if he couldn’t do it.

“My lord! I’m already fifty years old.”

“So? You want to die like this? Fifty will be your last age.”

“If you say so……”

The butler tearfully looked down from the window. It was a three-story drop. Unluckily, he could die, and even with good luck, something would break.

Dergha tore the curtain and threw it to the butler.

“Make a rope.”

You bastard. We could at least do this together. The butler, swallowing his rising anger, tightly tied the curtain as if it were his lifeline itself.

* * *

A single horse crossing the desert at dawn. Perhaps it had been running night and day through the sandstorm, for steam was rising off the beast’s skin.

A warrior on the lookout of Cheonrye noticed its presence. And soon, he recognized the banner being waved as that of Bratz.

“A messenger…! A messenger from Bratz has come!”

“Sound the water buffalo horn.”

“Sound the water buffalo horn, he says!”

Boooo- Boooo-

The tribe, peacefully preparing for the start of the day, all looked up at the sky at once. It was the sound announcing a visitor’s arrival. It also reached Ian, signaling that the time had finally come. A knight from Bratz knocked on the outer wall, gasping for breath.

“I’ve brought a message from Bratz! It’s urgent!”

Heeiiing!

At the same moment, the horse collapsed to the side. The exertion of relentless running was palpable. The tribespeople brought water to pour over the horse’s body, and the warriors guided the knight inside, as if they had been waiting.

Creak—

“A message from Count Dergha?”

Upon opening the tent, Kakantir of Banla rose from his bed. The knight suddenly realized he had not declared his affiliation at the entrance. He had merely mentioned himself as a messenger, but he was let in without any questions, as if it were expected…

“Are you going to faint standing up?”

When the knight stood there blankly, Kakantir chided him with an irritated voice.

“My apologies. I am a knight from the Bratz estate, Bel. The Count urgently requests your assistance.”

The knight quickly regained his composure and handed over the paper he had brought. Scrappy and uneven, Kakantir chuckled at the crude handwriting. It must have been a real hurry.

“Let’s see, we’ve run into danger due to a misunderstanding with the central government. Since we are allies, we cannot ignore each other’s troubles. I beg you as a friend to lend us the power of Cheonrye and fight with us. Also, as for my son Ian Bratz….”

—I want you to behead him. If you think this stains your honor, the knight I have sent can take your place.

Kakantir hummed a tune and nodded.

“What’s this misunderstanding with the central government?”

“The Count is being investigated for the charge of rebellion. This is clearly false, and there will be a military clash to resist it soon.”

“The evidence that the charge of rebellion is false? If we participate in a true charge, we’ll become enemies with the palace.”

“The evidence is Ian Bratz himself. The Count has decided to prove his innocence through the death of his beloved son.”

“Ahahahaha!”

The sudden burst of laughter caused the knight to stop panting. He wore an expression of not understanding what was going on. Kakantir leisurely tilted his head and lightly chewed a betel leaf.

What a crafty and villainous man.

Without lifting a finger, he was plotting to use Ian’s death to his advantage, indicating what he thought of Ian’s existence.

‘A tool. Nothing more, nothing less.’

“Chieftain?”

“Oh, that’s just me, not quite awake yet.”

“…I’ve also sent a letter to the palace. Exactly two weeks, just two weeks until help arrives from the palace. We are allies, aren’t we? I’ve heard that a warrior’s loyalty is like a promise to a god and will not waver in anything.”

Kakantir exhaled a puff of smoke in agreement and made a gesture to wait. He began to write a reply, loosely dressed.

“Indeed. And we are warriors among warriors. Take this reply to your master. We’ll follow soon.”

“Thank you!”

Kakantir wrapped the letter tightly with leather straps, ensuring the knight couldn’t sneak a peek. The knight glanced outside.

“As for the disposing of Ian Bratz….”

Kakantir fell silent. As the silence stretched on, the knight swallowed hard. He had expected a quick answer, but the unexpected pause raised his tension.

“Ah. About that. As the Count might’ve guessed, Ian is a token of friendship but also a family member who has spent time with Cheonrye. I don’t want to stain our hands with his blood.”

“…I fully understand.”

“So, you can handle this yourself. Is there anyone outside?”

“Did you call me, Kakan?”

“Take this person to Sir Ian.”

The knight felt uneasy. Perhaps he was just too exhausted to notice the difference between ‘Ian’ and ‘Sir Ian.’

Kakantir and his subordinates stood in front of Ian’s tent. As they bowed their heads, the door was drawn back.

“Sir Ian. Are you awake?”

“Kakan.”

Still shimmering golden hair and green eyes. Ian looked much healthier, perhaps due to his slightly tanned skin.

The knight reached for the hilt of his sword.

“This one wants to kill you.”

“Of course. Just as I expected.”

But he soon hesitated. The chieftain’s words once again missed the knight’s expectations. He had thought that the chieftain would order Ian to be pulled out immediately.

The knight looked back at Kakantir in confusion, but the chieftain was only watching Ian and Beric next to him.

“Didn’t we make a promise then? To teach you everything about a warrior. To your, that red-haired subordinate.”

“Oh, yes. That’s right.”

“A warrior is an entity that survives by walking the path of death. There are limits to battling with us if you don’t hold any hostility.”

A trigger was needed for combat power. To reach a higher dimension, one must burn everything.

That included life and death.

“The conditions are perfect. There’s enmity, and above all, since this one’s a knight of Dergha, isn’t his skills are well recognized, even in Bariel?”

To Kakantir, it may have seemed trivial, but it was the truth. The title of knight meant that one was recognized to some extent. He had survived in both small and large battles against monsters and had been active in wars against external forces.

“Chieftain. What exactly is this…?”

“You want to kill Ian, so I’m personally setting the stage for you.”

There was something the knight didn’t know. Despite that, they were treating him like a fool. He tightly gripped the sword handle and glared at Ian.

His neck was exposed, perfect for cutting.

“Ha. I see. Then, excuse me.”

The knight let out a short, hollow laugh and charged at Ian. There was no time to waste. Dergha was imprisoned, and he had to go back and assist his lord as soon as possible.

Clang!

At that moment, Beric swung his sword to block the knight’s sword. A momentary, illusion-like spark flew, and Beric lowered his body into a defensive stance.

“Ah.”

Ian blinked his eyes. After scratching his cheek, he looked up at the knight. Then he slowly turned his gaze towards Beric. Even from the back of his head, one could see his face, and it must have been an expression eager to fight.

“…It seems you’ll have to kill Beric first if you want to kill me.”

“…?!”

Even though Beric had been training with the desert tribe and rolled in sand dunes, Ian wasn’t sure if the man could face a knight. Many of the knights in the Imperial Palace were mage-swordsmen like Beric.

He himself didn’t know either. Who knows what kind of abilities he might have?

“I’m looking forward to this. Well, please do your best.”

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