Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor -
Chapter 82: Welcome
Count Merellof frowned as he eyed the table. The small, worn-out bag was wide open, revealing the large Grula seeds inside. In total, there were barely fifty seeds.
“These are worth fifteen gold coins each?”
The Count automatically started calculating in his head.
Clark was a slave like Lien, bought when the slave caravan passed through the territory. At that time, he paid fifteen gold coins for a young and strong slave. Over time, the value of a slave diminishes, so in the long run, trading for Grula seeds was definitely more profitable, especially in times of famine like now.
“They said they wouldn’t trade for less than fifty coins per bag. But out of humanitarian concern, they gave us these to help with the urgent situation.”
“Ridiculous.”
It was unclear if the Count’s exasperation was due to the small quantity or the fact that they had bought Grula in the first place. The butler couldn’t decipher his master’s thoughts and just nodded along. Whatever it was, the Count valued money above all.
The Countess Merellof lifted the edge of the bag with her pipe.
“Did you get a slave certificate?”
“I just signed it. It was urgent, so we agreed to formalize it later.”
“Ha, so naive. Who postpones a certificate transfer? What were they thinking?”
“That’s why we got Grula so easily.”
The Count looked over the Grula seeds without responding. He had only ever acknowledged their existence before, never examining them so closely despite decades of life.
“So, how do we eat these?”
“You can eat them raw, boiled, roasted, steamed, or fried. The possibilities are endless. Should I send them to the kitchen?”
These seeds were worth fifteen gold coins each. Even if they were mere weeds, they couldn’t just end up in the mouths of mere servants, not after paying such a price.
“Have two cooked and plant the rest in the garden.”
“Yes, my lord.”
The Count probably meant two for himself and the Countess. The steward bowed and took the bag, and the Countess, exhaling smoke from her cigarette, moved closer to her husband.
“I hear they eat a lot of Grula in the central regions?”
“Just rumors. Spread by that Ian to feed his people.”
“Are you sure? I heard Romandro didn’t seem too averse to it either.”
Rumors were rife in the territory, but one certain thing was the great taste of Grula. Otherwise, why would the people of Bratz be so obsessed with farming it and eating it three times a day?
Tap, tap.
“We’ve prepared a simple Grula dish.”
“Come in. Hmm, what’s this smell?”
“We followed a recipe from Bratz. I hope it suits your taste.”
“If it doesn’t, you will.”
Despite the steward’s polite words, the Count’s response was as cold as ever. The retreating steward swallowed nervously, tense and uneasy.
“It looks quite good.”
“Indeed. You wouldn’t know it’s just a weed if you didn’t say it.”
The fragrance of the sugar sauce wafted from the crisply grilled Grula, sweet and inviting, with the edges cooked to a golden, crunchy perfection.
The boiled Grula was another story – like a firm pudding, it seemed to melt in the mouth.
The servant sliced the Grula into pieces and presented them to the Count and Countess. Though the seeds were smaller than an egg, making slicing somewhat unnecessary.
“Here, try it.”
The Count hesitated but cautiously took a bite. Despite his preconceived notions about Grula, he tried it – after all, it cost fifteen gold coins, and he had to at least taste what he bought.
“Hmm?”
The Count paused mid-chew, surprised by the unfamiliar flavor that pleasantly dissolved on his tongue. The Countess smiled knowingly at his reaction.
“Quite good, isn’t it?”
“Better than I expected.”
“Now that I think about it, the trend in the central regions doesn’t seem so far-fetched. I’m looking forward to trying more elaborate dishes once the month passes.”
The Countess elegantly ate her piece with a fork, causing the Count to stroke his mustache thoughtfully. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was no denying the unique delicacy he had just tasted. He cleared his throat a few times before turning to the steward.
“Ensure no rumors spread about this. And set up a guard rotation in the garden.”
“Yes, my lord.”
With such a valuable crop, undoubtedly others would covet it. The Countess had been fooled by rumors, so it was clear how the less educated might regard Grula. After all, each seed was worth fifteen gold coins, deserving meticulous care.
“And butler,” the Count added, wiping his mouth.
“Yes, my lord?”
“Bring up two more Grula for dinner.”
“What would you like, my lord?”
“Grula, of course.”
“Ah, understood.”
The butler looked pale, concerned about running out of Grula seeds and fearful of failing to please the Count’s palate.
Creak.
The butler sighed and exited to the corridor, and the other servants retreated. A heavy silence hung between the Count and Countess.
“Shall I pour some wine?”
“What did you discuss on your visit?”
“As you can see, a very beneficial conversation.”
The Countess stood and fetched her husband’s empty glass. As she opened the wine cork, a servant approached, but she indicated with her gaze that she would pour it herself. She detailed her visit to Bratz while refilling his glass.
“…So, I also checked Lady Mary’s room. As expected, nothing. It must have been lost in the commotion.”
“Why bring back belongings of a deceased traitor?”
“Well, it was originally mine.”
The Count seemed more relaxed than usual, perhaps influenced by the acquisition of the Grula. Before her return, he was filled with the urge to strangle her, but now he was calmly savoring his wine.
Click.
“Oh, my apologies.”
“Tsk.”
As the servants cleared the table, one of them apologized and stepped back, noticing the closeness between the Count and Countess. Seizing the moment when the Count’s attention was diverted, the Countess swiftly sprinkled powder into his wine.
“Lien.”
“Yes, what is it?”
“But this is the last time. If you return home after dark again, I’ll break your ankle.”
“…Is there going to be a next time? I won’t need to go to Bratz anymore. And if I do, you’ll be with me.”
‘And by then, you’ll be a corpse.’
“Answer me.”
“Understood.”
The Count nodded, seemingly satisfied, and picked up his wine glass. The Countess did the same, clinking glasses lightly with a faint smile.
* * *
“Hmm…”
“How is his condition?”
Ian called a doctor to examine Beric, who hadn’t woken up despite occasional sleep talking. Beric remained unconscious even when shaken.
The doctor assessed Beric and replied, “He’s definitely asleep. He might be so deeply asleep due to extreme fatigue. What kind of drug did you say it was?”
“A newly circulated drug from Hawan, its components are unclear, but it seems to be a sleep-inducing hallucinogen. Taking it for about a month can lead to death by apnea, but Beric just smelled the powder and fainted.”
“Some people have a strong resistance to drugs, though this seems severe. Since he didn’t ingest it, there’s probably no need to worry. However, considering it’s a hallucinogen, you should be cautious…”
The doctor muttered as he set up an IV for Beric.
“It has anesthetic effects.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
“It means until he fully regains consciousness, he might sleep talk, act out, or even behave like a sleepwalker.”
Romandro, who had been quietly listening, suddenly stood up in alarm. Knowing Beric’s temperament and physical capabilities, the possibility of sleepwalking could be quite problematic.
“Ian, maybe we should get some chains to restrain him?”
“That’s a good idea, but I’m not sure how effective it’ll be.”
“Better than doing nothing. And how much can Beric really do, even if he goes wild? He can’t break metal chains with his hands.”
Romandro rushed out to find the servants, calling for strong and sturdy chains. The sounds of his instructions echoed into the room.
“Hehehe…”
Oblivious to his impending restraint, Beric continued to laugh and smack his lips in his dream. The doctor finished applying a bandage where the IV was inserted and stood up.
“This IV will boost his strength. If he doesn’t wake up by tomorrow noon, please call me again.”
“What about the wound on his side?”
“Oh, the injury?”
At Ian’s question, the doctor chuckled and shook his head.
“It’s healed very nicely. Still, he should be careful since the deeper layers might not be fully healed yet.”
“He’s not one to heed caution.”
“Still, please let me know if there’s any issue.”
“Thank you for your help. You can go now.”
Creak.
After the doctor left, Ian returned to his desk and spread out his documents. The room was quiet, filled only with the sound of the fireplace and Beric’s breathing. Ian, deeply engrossed in his work, suddenly felt an odd presence and looked over at Beric.
“Ah!”
Startled, Ian saw Beric wide-eyed and staring right at him. Ian grimaced in surprise.
“The IV seems to be effective.”
“…Why am I lying here?”
“You fainted after smelling the powder from Countess Lien’s compact. I might need to call the doctor again. Do you feel unwell anywhere?”
Beric slowly got up and walked to the window, muttering curses under his breath.
“Damn it…”
“Beric?”
“Am I dreaming right now?”
“No, it seems you’re awake.”
Beric, moving slowly and appearing unfocused, pressed his forehead against the cold window, trying to clear his head.
“Beric, what’s wrong? Is there a problem?”
“I see something strange.”
“Strange? It could be a hallucination from the drug. Try to relax and take deep breaths.”
Just then, Romandro, who had gone to fetch chains, hadn’t returned yet. Ian approached Beric, worried he might become agitated, and held his arm.
“If it’s hard to distinguish between reality and hallucination, it might be better to sleep more. I’ll call the doctor…”
“No, I can tell the difference.”
Beric pressed his temples in irritation.
In truth, there wasn’t a big issue. He just saw his long-dead family standing there, just like in his memories, silent and unmoving.
Beric sighed and muttered.
“This feels gross.”
Click.
Just then, Romandro entered with a servant, carrying chains. Seeing Beric standing normally, Romandro stumbled back in surprise.
“You’re awake?”
“What’s this?”
Beric, asking about the chains, was met with a stuttering response from Romandro.
“Can’t you recognize me?”
“What?”
“Ian, do something about this!”
“Calm down, Sir Romandro.”
Ian tried to explain that Beric seemed fine, but Beric’s sly smile and playful approach towards Romandro suggested he was indeed recovering quickly.
“Here comes a rolling pig.”
“Yikes! Ian! Ian!”
“I’m hungry! Let’s roast it!”
“Warriors, where are you? Warriors!”
Beric’s recovery seemed rapid as he playfully chased Romandro, who threw down the chains and fled.
“Come here, piggy! Where are you going?”
“Ahhhh! The warriors…”
Thud! Thump!
“Lord Ian, is Beric really alright?”
“Hm? Seems so.”
Despite seeing hallucinations, Beric was aware they were not real, indicating no serious issue. His mental strength was certainly exceptional.
‘No wonder he’s fit to be a magic swordsman.’
Unaware of the full situation, the servant could only futilely fiddle with the now unnecessary chains.
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