Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor -
Chapter 90
Count Merellof dumped the reclaimed valuables on the table. Lady Lien, seated before him, began to re-adorn herself with the jewelry, just as she had the day before, including the pumpkin-colored ring in question.
“Look closely. He seemed to fancy it, so he might have taken it.”
“That’s absurd.”
The Count was subtly probing, watching the Lady’s reaction. Was the suspicious atmosphere he had felt before a mere misconception? Just then, the steward cleared his throat to speak.
“Cough. My lord, there’s a problem.”
“A problem? What kind of problem?”
“Upon leaving the Bratz estate, I noticed an unusual number of locals around. It seems Lord Ian has opened up Grula trading to the villagers.”
“Grula trading? So, he’s been controlling the share meant for my estate’s villagers as well?”
The Count failed to grasp the crux of the issue. He couldn’t have imagined that Grula trading would have been opened to the villagers within just a day. The steward bit his upper lip in a troubled manner, which gradually turned the Count’s face pale.
“…No, surely not.”
“The villagers from Bratz were selling Grula to those from Merellof estate. The word spread quickly, and it was quite a bustling scene.”
“That wretched, despicable scoundrel!”
Clang!
Involuntarily, the Count threw a teacup onto the table. The Countess, the steward, and the attending servants all flinched, their attention fixed on the Count.
“Please calm down, my lord.”
“Calm down? You’re telling me to calm down now?”
“The villagers were selling roasted Grula, which are only edible and can’t be used for cultivation. It shouldn’t significantly affect the operation of the estate.”
For each sack, thirty-five gold coins were needed. To break even, the Count had no choice but to sell the Grula cultivated from these seeds to his estate’s villagers. He could use the increased yield as a pretext for raising the next year’s taxes or sell them in exchange for money.
“Currently, there’s a food shortage within the estate, so it’s not entirely bad. The issue is the suddenness of it all, without any discussion…”
Indeed, when looked at objectively, the Count should be grateful to Ian. The Grula would help keep the villagers sustained until their own crops could be cultivated. However, the Count couldn’t help feeling strong displeasure and even a sense of threat from Ian’s unilateral action.
“What if we release raw Grula after the cultivating season when supply stabilizes?”
It seemed like a clear intention to sabotage. The Count kept tapping the desk, frowning deeply. He should have been wary from the moment Ian started talking about freedom of economic activities.
“This bastard, I swear…”
“For now, I suggest calming down like Simon said. There’s still time and we can’t confidently guess Lord Ian’s motives.”
Lady Lien, who had been listening quietly, signaled a servant to clear the broken teacup. It was dangerous to have sharp objects around when tempers were high.
“And he, um, made a personal proposition to me.”
“What? Ian did?”
“Yes. He asked if I could help with the training of his mansion’s stewards during my personal time. I indirectly declined, saying I needed your permission, but he then offered to pay me separately and even return Clark if I wanted.”
“Absurd. As if I care about getting some slave back.”
The Count dismissed the idea as ludicrous, but Lady Lien took it seriously. So I can have Clark back if I send over the steward? Or after it’s all done?
‘It’s hard to tell, really.’
In the past, Count Merellof had become extremely sensitive about sending letters to Ian, especially after sending him gifts and congratulations. He had many questions he wanted to ask, but couldn’t act rashly.
“Send another letter.”
“To Lord Ian?”
“Invite him to dinner at the mansion.”
It was a guise of expressing gratitude for the gourd trade, but internally, it was a plan to issue a proper warning. The Count was uneasy about Ian’s behavior, which seemed too bold, considering he had the central government backing him.
“Understood.”
“You should prepare as well, dear.”
“Of course.”
As the Count stood up, the servant cleaning up the broken pieces hesitated. Fortunately, the Count went outside to check on the gourd cultivation, bringing a sigh of relief to the room.
“Sigh.”
The Countess and servants simultaneously exhaled, relieved. They exchanged glances and awkwardly looked away.
***
“Unbelievable.”
Beric rubbed his eyes, mumbling in disbelief. It had been just one day since Ian allowed gourd trading in Merellof. He had sensed the village outside the mansion was bustling but hadn’t expected this extent.
“This is what we earned in just one day?”
“It seems everyone is quite adept at business, dealing with those who live off commerce.”
Ian laughed, looking at the chest full of coins. Most were silver and copper, but there were also some gold coins, likely taxes from the wealthier villagers.
“So this is why people go on about easy money.”
“The nature of land and home owners getting it all. Not that I can talk.”
The revenue generated by the villagers’ trading had turned into tax revenue. Being the first day of implementation, there might have been some omissions or hiccups. However, as a side income, it was more than satisfactory.
“And since it’s the first day, it’s this much, but it will decrease gradually. Many villagers bought in bulk, and the surplus will eventually run out.”
The Bratz villagers had set aside their share for the winter and were now making a profit. Not many had greenhouses. To prevent a shortage of Grula, Romandro’s men were constantly patrolling the village, monitoring the trade.
“How much is all this?”
“Good question. Beric, what do you think?”
“Hmm, wouldn’t I have to count it?”
“I suppose so. Go ahead and count it then.”
“…Uh, sir?”
“Separate the gold, silver and copper coins. Ask for help if you need more hands.”
“From who?”
“You’ve been taking Clark around like a servant lately, right?”
“Oh, him? It’s no fun. He’s not entertaining.”
Beric had quickly lost interest in handling people, as he had never really had anyone under him before. The biggest problem was that Clark wasn’t suitable as a sparring partner for sword practice.
“But Ian.”
“Yeah?”
“When you go up to the capital, will you take me with you?”
Beric crouched down, starting to sort the coins in the chest one by one. Ian sat opposite him and helped divide the coins, finding Beric’s actions both amusing and pitiful.
“That’s up to you.”
The deal between Ian and Beric was simple.
Ian would awaken Beric’s potential as a demon swordsman.
Beric would ensure Ian’s safety.
Realistically, now that Bratz had fallen and an alliance was formed with Cheonrye, there was almost no threat to Ian’s life. Going to the central, his status as a magic practitioner would also serve as a shield.
‘There’s no need to take many people with me, especially if I end up at the Magic Department’s villa. Who knows what will happen there.’
“What could I learn there?”
“Obviously. Beric, it’s the imperial palace. The palace. All those who claim to protect Bariel will be there.”
“How do they compare to the Cheonrye clan? How strong are they?”
“Hmm…”
Ian pondered for a moment. There were too many factors to consider in measuring strength.
Magic practitioners directly involved in combat from the Magic Department would be almost unrivaled without control stones, and physically, there would be the Imperial Guard.
“There’s no comparison. When was it, there was that incident up north…”
“Up north? Why’d you stop mid-sentence?”
He almost slipped. He had almost confused an event that hadn’t happened yet with one that had. Beric asked again, annoyed, but Ian remained silent, not wanting to reveal more.
“Whyyy?! Tell meee!”
“They say even northern warriors are powerless before the imperial guards captains.”
“Wow, nice bluff.”
“That obvious?”
“I’d have to be an idiot not to notice.”
“Sorry, I actually forgot.”
The incident in the northern part of the Bariel Empire. It was a shocking event for an empire almost free from monster attacks. Ian remembered studying that a descendant of the blood clan, the Atan tribe, had gained considerable power, but was ultimately defeated and killed by a captain of the Royal Guard.
‘Right. That’s going to happen soon.’
There were also several significant wars, fights, and rebellions.
Instead of counting coins, Ian began counting the years. As he counted, Beric’s eyes shone with curiosity.
“That many?”
“Hmm? Many what?”
“Captains. There’s that many?”
“Ah. Three is the standard number of imperial guards captains.”
Excluding the chaotic situations like the Emperor being overthrown. The captains of the ImperialGuard in Ian’s memory were all remembered by their backs, either leaving him or dying in battle to protect him.
“The palace is freaking huge.”
“It’s not because it’s the palace itself, the capital brims with talented people. Borderlands are borderlands for a reason.”
“You talk like you’ve actually been to the capital.”
“…I picked up bits here and there.”
“Then I wanna go too.”
Beric decisively made up his mind. Going to the capital felt like an opportunity to level up, to get stronger. Swordsmanship, like physical strength, grows only with stronger stimuli.
“I’ll go! Take me!”
“Alright, fine.”
It seemed like Beric hadn’t thought much about what he would do once he got to the central, but for Ian, it was a favorable turn of events. The journey would be safer with Beric’s presence. If there was one thing he could trust, it was Beric’s combat skills, proven in an unexpected attack where he took down dozens.
‘Enlisting him in the army might not be a bad idea.’
As a demon swordsman, Beric would be a highly valuable asset for the empire. It seemed like a good choice for Bariel’s future and for securing a stable life for Beric.
Knock, knock.
“Lord Ian. A letter has arrived from Merellof.”
“Again? That old man sure has a lot of time.”
“It must be about the Grula trading. I thought he would come storming in, but this is unexpected.”
Ian laughed as he took the letter. It was an invitation for dinner either today or tomorrow.
“What does it say?”
“He’s inviting us for dinner.”
Ian handed the letter to Beric and stood up.
“If we finish sorting the coins by the afternoon, I’ll take you to the dinner. Beric, since it’s a formal invitation, there should be plenty of good food.”
“Woah, leave it to me.”
Beric quickly got back to work, but his enthusiasm waned when Hana brought in two more heavy pouches, claiming them as additional income.
“Lord Ian, are you going out this evening?”
“Yes, I received a dinner invitation from Merellof.”
“I’ll prepare your change of clothes.”
Hana promptly took out a neat outfit and laid it on the bed. While changing, Ian suddenly remembered he was wearing the necklace. Since he seldom took it off, he often forgot about it.
“Will you wear the necklace too?”
“Yes, it’ll nag at me if I leave it out.”
“Then please change into something with a high collar.”
“Why?”
Hannah answered as she rummaged through the wardrobe.
“Didn’t you say that Count Merellof has some…odd tendencies? Like jealousy issues.”
“I did.”
“It would be awkward if he comments on you wearing the same type of jewelry as Lady Lien.”
“Surely not.”
Ian smiled faintly, finding it hard to believe. Even if someone was unhinged, it seemed unlikely they would make a fuss over such a trivial matter. However, Hannah spoke matter-of-factly.
“You’d be surprised. People with mental instabilities often exceed what you’d consider ‘surely not’. Wear this one.”
Ian changed his clothes as Hannah suggested, pondering her words.
“Hannah.”
“Yes, Lord Ian.”
“I think we should take Clark with us. Get him ready.”
“I’ll prepare him right away.”
Creak.
To Ian, Clark was a means to keep the Countess in check, but to her, he was perhaps the only ally in the mansion. It seemed right to send him back for safety reasons.
“Ian! I’m done!”
Thump! Thump, thump!
Beric’s shouts of triumph echoed down the hallway. Ian chuckled softly and neatly buttoned up his shirt.
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