Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor -
Chapter 65
“Oh my, what in the world is all this?”
“There’s been a commotion in the middle of the night?”
“Why exactly? Who did?”
“Master Ian was attacked on his way back to the mansion.”
“What?! How did that happen?”
“That’s what they’re investigating right now. It’s a bolt from the blue for someone who just went out to distribute gruel.”
“Master Ian? Is one of those corpses Master Ian?”
As dawn broke, people became aware of the incident that had occurred at daybreak. The mountain of corpses piled up in the alley was blocking it, making it impossible to keep as a secret. And what about the blood that flowed out to the main road?
The guards lined up the bodies in a row for identification, while everyone kept their distance, whispering among themselves.
Meanwhile, the mansion was no less noisy, especially the basement of the main building.
“Arghhh!”
There were two survivors among the attackers.
One was known as ‘Petreio’, presumably by conjecture, and the other was an unidentified man. Of them, Petreio, with a gag in his mouth, was screaming. He was soaked through with sweat, tears, and blood.
“Do you know how terrible your situation looks right now?”
“Ugh…”
“You’ll die if this goes on. As soon as we confirm your identity, I’ll assign a physician to you.”
In fact, during his faint, a physician had already seen him. But the wounds were so bizarre and severe that the prognosis was that it would be difficult for him to survive more than a few days. Beric pressed a cloth to his face, annoyed.
“Shut your mouth already!”
“Arghhh!”
“Stop making noise! Damn it, if someone saw us, they’d think I was torturing you!”
Although tied to a chair and gagged, what they were doing seemed closer to nursing rather than torture. They cleaned off the filth with lukewarm water, but even that was painful due to the skin peeling off.
“Ugh…”
“Beric. That’s enough. Strip him.”
“Strip? Everything?”
“Don’t leave a single cloth.”
“Hng.”
Reluctantly, Beric followed Ian’s order.
Petreio was from the military. It wasn’t clear exactly what kind of work he did, but it seemed certain he worked under the orders of the imperial palace. Judging by his age, he appeared to have been involved in several battles, both big and small, and in such cases, it was common to mark one’s body with their identity. Even if they were torn to pieces on the battlefield, the markings were to ensure they could return to their homeland.
“Ah, what’s this?”
Beric, while stripping off the shirt, discovered a tattoo on the left side of the ribcage. However, someone had deliberately made wounds over it, scratching away the flesh. It was meticulously prepared.
“Tsk tsk.”
Ian slightly bent down to examine the wound and met the man’s eyes. Even with a stomach pierced and face melting away, the eyes had not lost their light. These kinds of men rarely opened their mouths easily. Molrin knew this very well too.
“I have no desire to torture a man who’s about to die.”
“……”
“But a true warrior never forgets vengeance. I hope for your sake that you have no one dear to you. For anyone who bears the name Petreio will meet the same death as you.”
It was a calm statement, yet incredibly cruel. In truth, he had no such intentions, but he threw out the threat to probe for any weakness in Petreio. As expected, the man showed no reaction.
“…Keep an eye close on him.”
“Okay. Phew. The smell of blood is nauseating. Really.”
Ian had no choice but to leave the cleanup to Beric and escape into the basement corridor.
Creak.
“…Aaaaagh!”
Petreio’s scream leaked through the closing door before abruptly stopping. As he intended to move to the opposite end of the corridor, the sound of someone tumbling down the stairs reached his ears.
Thud! Tumble! Thump!
“I, I, Ian!”
“Ah, Sir Romandro. Are you up?”
“This! This! Oh my…”
He had rushed over just after getting up, and he seemed to be wearing remarkably light attire. He grabbed Ian’s shoulder and looked him up and down, apparently flustered by how unharmed Ian appeared to be.
“They say that more than a dozen warriors have died…”
“As you can see, I’m quite unscathed.”
“Indeed, indeed! A magic wielder is different! Indeed!”
“Please, try to calm down a bit.”
Beric would have been horrified if he heard this. He would not understand why Ian was receiving such praise when he, Beric, was the one who had fought till he was nearly bursting.
“A man named Petreio conspired and caused this mess. He seems to be a subordinate of Molrin, but we couldn’t confirm his identity because he disfigured his face with poison the moment he was caught. We’re investigating, but he kept mentioning some strange names.”
“Molrin and his party?”
“They’re not much different.”
At Romandro’s question, Ian gestured with his chin towards the last room in the corridor where Molrin and two men were locked up.
“What will you do now?”
Romandro paced in front of Ian, then asked as if he could not find an answer. Even if it was true that Molrin had attempted to kill Ian here, by custom, there would be no particular issue for him. Molrin was an administrative officer of the imperial palace, and Ian was, according to his claim, a commoner with the desert as his garrison. Although Ian was a magic wielder and the owner of the mansion, none of it was an official position.
“Will you kill him?”
“No. We refuse to have more investigators sent down from the imperial palace.”
If Ian were to kill Molrin, the palace would undoubtedly send more people down. If they were unlucky, Galel’s side might even send an army to execute Ian.
“So, what then?”
“I don’t think it’s my place to decide.”
“…Hmm?”
“Didn’t I tell you? I said I would prove it. So please relay a message to Prince Mariv. I will comply.”
It was the cleanest and most straightforward method other than proving that he wasn’t on Gale’s side. He could guess the situation in the imperial palace to some extent, but that was merely speculation. He couldn’t be certain of the outcome Moirin’s death would bring, so it was best to pass the responsibility to Mariv.
“Then, until we get a response…”
“Let it be. That will be fine.”
“Understood. I’ll send the message straight away.”
“Ah. Wait a moment. Romandro-nim.”
He caught him just as he was about to hurry up the stairs. Ian had sent a ring wrapped in cloth. It was a simple silver design, but inside there was a small needle and the area around it was discolored with poison.
“Have you heard of this? When pricked, it causes the face to melt away.”
“Hmm. Let me see…”
Romandro pulled his face back and narrowed his eyes.
“Are you planning to use this again?”
“Is it possible to?”
“Well, you would need to refill the needle, so a technician is necessary, but it’s not impossible to use. The poison seems to be tevarphin. It’s what assassins use to conceal their identities, or, you know, human traffickers use it frequently for their crimes… that sort of thing.”
Human trafficking or organ trading and such.
It was a poison actively used in crimes where the identity of the corpse should not be discovered. In Ian’s time, it wasn’t used at all, so the fact that it existed was quite shocking.
“There’s such a thing?”
“It’s possible you didn’t know, why so surprised?”
He realized that such a potent poison was used 100 years ago. Ian felt chills run down his spine. Just how many crimes involving body mutilation had occurred and been covered up?
It was definitely a poison that was not recognized in Ian’s time. It must have been banned for some reason, but he had no way of knowing that.
Romandro glanced at Ian and then went up to the ground level, saying he would write the letter.
“I’ll send it as soon as I can.”
“Thank you. I will see you later.”
Ian wrapped the ring back in cloth and put it in his pocket. Then he approached the end of the corridor where Moirin’s party was being held captive.
“Has there been any trouble inside?”
“No. There wasn’t any.”
“Open the door.”
With a clank, the gatekeeper unlocked a lock as big as an adult’s fist. Inside, like feeding animals, only wooden utensils were carelessly placed on the floor.
At the sound of the door opening, Mack’s pulse reflexively quickened.
“Ian, you bastard!”
But he was soon stopped by the guard. Ian, putting a fallen wooden bowl back on the table, asked,
“Did you get some sleep?”
“How dare you, a lowly creature, act out of line! Do you not realize who we are? Open the door immediately! Or else I will kill you! The imperial palace will not let you off for this!”
This time, D’gor could not hide his agitation either. He seemed ready to grab by the collar and began to argue on the spot.
“We are here on the orders of the imperial palace! Treating us like this is an insult to the capital! You’re acting just line in a way befitting of the borderlands! The Choenrye tribesmen! Straighten out your behavior! Ian is currently affiliated with the Cheonrye tribe! Do you not understand what it means to treat an imperial administrative officer this way?”
“Isn’t that why you are still alive?”
“What, what did you say?”
“If it weren’t for the imperial banner, you would not be eating right now but sitting in the place of Petreio.”
Ian said this and pulled out a ring. Holding the cloth-wrapped ring part, he thrust it close to Mack’s face. Mack instinctively recoiled, recognizing the item.
“Petreio!”
“The investigation is underway. Even if a face is necrotized, it does not mean the person ceases to exist. Haven’t you already heard?”
The red brooch that Beric had shown them. Their secret conversation had been recorded on it. However, Molrin’s party was not intimidated. Instead, they shouted defiantly, protesting the injustice.
“This is unknown to us! If you are so confident, then hold a formal trial! What kind of sham process is this, beggarly obtained? How dare a nameless one…”
“How could a person have a name when even a territory has lost its own? D’gor, this is the frontier, not the central regions you’re used to.”
Ian muttered as he dusted off Mack’s disheveled collar.
“A subordinate’s mistake is a superior’s mistake. Above all, the warriors of the great desert do not take vengeance lightly. There is a natural conclusion that arises from the brooch, and I do not intend to simply let this pass.”
It was precisely Mariv’s directive to punish Molrin’s group. Ian, looking at the spilled barley porridge on the floor, warned,
“Food is precious.”
It was a warning that next time, they might have to eat off the floor. Ian gestured to the guard to keep a good watch and stepped outside.
Click.
“Master Ianr! M-Master Ian!”
It was then. Hanbah came running down to the cellar, calling out to Ian.
“What’s the matter?”
“The people of the territory, they’ve all come in droves!”
Why had the territory’s people come? For what reason?
But Hannah, apparently in a hurry, just kept running ahead.
Ian, chasing after her, pondered a few hypotheses. To plunder Grula? Or was it an armed force that Molrin had prepared?
“Master Ian!”
Emerging from the basement, the sunlight poured down brilliantly. The local residents below had gathered. Each held wildflowers or small fruits in their hands. They too seemed surprised to see Ian.
“Look at you, all in one piece!”
“Oh, thank goodness. That’s a relief!”
“Who was it, huh? Who spread the nonsense? They said Master Ian got a massive stabbing in the stomach?”
“We were so worried. Hearing about the tremendous attack you faced in the middle of the night… The alleys were drenched with blood.”
“You’re okay, right? It’s so worrying that you went out in the middle of the night, oh dear.”
“Shh! Keep it down! The central bastards might hear.”
“Master Ian. Please take this. It’s small but substantial.”
The local residents surrounding Ian continuously poured out their worries. They checked him for any possible injuries with their eyes and placed gifts into his hands. In no time, his arms were filled with an abundance of flowers and fruits.
“All of this…”
Ian paused, unable to continue his sentence, quietly looking down at the flowers. It was belatedly that he remembered what had helped him bear the weight of the crown for a mere three years.
Such small smiles. This was everything.
“Good timing, everyone’s here. Sir Romandro has finally granted permission.”
“Permission? If it’s been granted then…”
“The cultivation, distribution, and consumption of Grula.”
“Wow! Incredible!”
“Thank you! Thank you!”
The unexpected good news had everyone hugging and jumping for joy. Ian gestured for them to calm down, and they all looked at him with sparkling eyes.
“But there’s a condition.”
“Just tell us!”
They all became noisy, inwardly picturing a prosperous winter. Ian handed the flowers and fruits to Hannah, and conveyed his message.
“Tell all the local residents to gather at the square in the afternoon. I will announce and explain then.”
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