Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor [EN]: Chapter 37

“Did you hear that too?”

“Wasn’t that from Ian’s tent?”

Two or three Cheonryeo tribesmen, jolted awake, quickly threw on some clothes and went outside. It seemed they hadn’t imagined the noise. They hurried towards Ian and Beric’s tent, soon confirming the half-open entrance.

“Sir Ian? Are you alright?”

“Is there a problem? Beric, you’re not dead, are you?”

The scene that greeted them as they stepped inside was an unknown figure sprawled on the floor, and Ian clutching his neck, flushed and coughing.

“Cough!”

“S-Sir Ian? What is this?”

“That guy… that guy… subdue… suddenly tried to kill me…”

Only then did they notice the fragments of a dagger scattered on the floor. They immediately alerted those outside and bound the man’s arms and legs.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know either. I woke up and he was trying to kill me.”

“No, that aside, how did you take him down? Sir Ian, you don’t even train.”

“…It just happened.”

Ian pretended it was difficult to answer and just rubbed his neck. Soon, everyone in the tribe had woken up. Kakan was also lightly dressed, wearing only his lower garments.

“What’s all the commotion? Who attacked Sir Ian?”

“Kakan! It’s this guy. He was lying here like this when we came in.”

“Is he an idiot? What kind of guy is he?”

“That’s what I’m saying…”

“Who is it? I can’t tell with his face covered.”

It was a pure question without any malicious intent.

Frankly, in terms of combat power, even a Cheonryeo child could subdue Ian in an instant. So how did this big guy get knocked out like this?

“Take off his mask.”

Kakanthir, bewildered by this unprecedented event, carefully examined Ian’s condition. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to be injured.

From now on, they would treat Ian as a ‘guest,’ not just someone to go into battle with. If something unpleasant happened, it would be a great dishonor.

Swoosh.

“Gasp!”

As the subordinate removed the mask, everyone gasped and covered their mouths in surprise.

It was Bumart. The cousin of Nersarn’s second stepmother, and the man in charge of food management. Ian recognized him immediately as well. Wasn’t he the one who had been staring at him intently during the homecoming ceremony? He had been left with an unsettling feeling, so he remembered him.

“…Move Bumart. We will interrogate him at dawn.”

At Kakanthir’s command, three subordinates rushed in and dragged Bumart away. The tribal chief, about to leave, turned back to Ian.

It was Bumart, of all people. He was one of the strongest warriors in the tribe. And yet, Ian had faced him without a single scratch, just a bit disheveled.

“Sir Ian. Is it true that you subdued Bumart?”

“It just happened. I think so.”

“In the Empire…”

Kakanthir’s gaze flickered towards Beric. Now he was starting to understand.

“They call those who perform miracles, magicians [mana users].”

“I have no intention of lying in the Great Desert.”

“Are you telling me not to ask?”

“I will tell you when the time is right when I return to Bariel. What the meaning of my existence is, you will have a hard time understanding now because we have lived different lives.”

He probably reacted like that because he didn’t know the status of mana users, or magicians, in the Empire. No matter how lowborn, they had the qualifications to be the core of the imperial palace. That was the social power of mana.

“I see. More importantly, internal matters are more pressing now. Rest well. If there’s any problem, feel free to speak up.”

“Thank you.”

Kakanthir smiled lightly, as if in anticipation, and left the tent. Even amidst the commotion, Beric was still sleeping with his mouth wide open.

“Kuh-erk.”

“Haa.”

Judging by the loud snoring, he seemed to be recovering. Considering he had a hole in his side, he seemed to be in pretty good shape.

Only then did Ian notice the fresh gurute leaves [a medicinal plant] on the table. He burned a few in the lamp and dried a few more to hold under Beric’s nose.

* * *

Swish!

As the darkness faded, Kakanthir’s subordinates poured sand on Bumart’s face. Usually, they would pour water, but this was the middle of the Great Desert. Ian felt as if his own cheeks were stinging.

“Keep pouring until he comes to his senses.”

“Yes, Kakan.”

The sand poured endlessly, reaching up to Bumart’s chest. Only then did the man finally twitch and regain consciousness. Kakanthir scrutinized him with a sharp gaze.

“Bumart.”

“Ah…”

His limbs were bound and splinted. Bumart twisted his body this way and that, then raised his head with a look of injustice.

“Bumart. Is it true that you attacked Sir Ian in the early morning?”

Bumart hesitated to answer. Human tongues could lie, but they had Winchen [a truth-telling ritual]. Kakanthir would surely discern the truth from the lies based on the interrogation.

“Kakan. First, untie this…”

“Answer. If you speak nonsense, I will cut off your fingers.”

It was a coldness without hesitation. Bumart couldn’t do anything, biting his lip, and finally slammed his head on the ground.

“…”

“You choose silence?”

It was infuriating. He was someone he could kill with one hand, but he didn’t know how things had turned out like this.

But there was still room left. If the motive wasn’t revealed, he would only be punished for attacking Ian.

Even if it was Bumart’s own right arm, wouldn’t it be better than dying?

“Is that your true feeling?”

“Kakan, if you still consider me family, please don’t ask further and just take my arm. Ian, that fellow, used a strange power. His eyes turned gold, the air condensed and exploded momentarily; he is clearly suspicious.”

Kakanthir stared down at Bumart. There was a murmur, but it was only for a fleeting moment.

“You’re saying things I didn’t ask. Bumart, do you know how pathetic you look right now?”

Buried in the sand, rambling in front of the entire clan. If he were a warrior who valued honor and glory, he would have bitten his tongue and died.

Bumart’s face flushed red with humiliation. Ian, who had been watching quietly, raised his hand.

“May I testify?”

“Speak.”

“He clearly mentioned Derga’s name.”

If giving up an arm could conceal a secret, it meant something more was hidden behind it. Ian’s statement caused a stir among the crowd.

“He called what I proposed to Kakan a scheme, and he seemed to be trying to stop him, so it seems he has some sort of connection with Derga…”

Ian trailed off as if he had just remembered something. Kakanthir waited patiently for him, while Bumart could only gulp.

“Bumart, have you ever sent a letter to Derga?”

On the day Ian sneaked into the office to steal the seal, didn’t he find a letter written in Cheonryeo language [a language of the Cheonryeo tribe] in the drawer? He didn’t remember it clearly, but…

“I saw a letter on Derga’s desk that said, ‘Who will be the next after the tribal chief?’ Bumart, was that you?”

All eyes turned to Bumart, who was kneeling. He glared at Ian with a stiff face, then took a deep breath and bit his tongue.

“Stop him!”

From the moment Derga’s name was mentioned, the time to choose an honorable death as a warrior had passed. His subordinates quickly pressed his tongue with their fingers and stuffed a cloth into his mouth.

“Ugh! Ugh!”

“Bumart! Is it the truth?”

“Don’t let him speak! Stuff more cloth in!”

“Damn it, what the hell is going on…”

The clan members’ faces were distorted with shock and betrayal. Ian carefully, but confidently, made a guess.

These were common occurrences in the Imperial Palace.

“It’s possible that Chief Winchen’s deteriorating health is related to Bumart. Wasn’t he in charge of food supplies?”

To kill Winchen and replace him as the tribal chief… If such a thing happened, Bumart would certainly be a strong candidate.

“I don’t know the details of his collusion with Derga, but perhaps Bumart was promised the glory of becoming the chief, and Derga was promised economic benefits.”

Kakanthir was silent, staring at Bumart. He seemed to be organizing his thoughts for a moment. He then stood up, grabbed Bumart by the hair, and dragged him away.

“…No one touch him.”

He was heading towards Winchen’s tent.

The subordinates watched the two men disappear inside, tense. The wait felt like an hour, though it was only a minute.

When Kakanthir came out, he was covered in blood, and Bumart’s head was in his hand.

“Throw him in the desert, and bring Bumart’s family as well.”

“…Yes, Kakan.”

To throw him to the beasts without a funeral was to declare him a traitor. As Kakan threw Bumart’s head, the clan members passed by and spat on it.

“Sir Ian, a moment.”

At Kakanthir’s call, Ian moved to another spot. He wiped his face and hands with a wet towel that Nersarn handed him, and muttered.

“We need to revise the schedule a bit.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our job was simply to support you when you safely entered Bratz and established your position.”

Directly confronting the Central Army was risky. But now that things had turned out this way, the Cheonryeo tribe had no choice but to get involved in their fight.

“We will take down Derga’s hidden forces.”

“Ah.”

To dare to deceive Kakanthir by pretending to make peace, and to collude with their family to kill their spiritual pillar, Winchen. It was an enormous act, incomparable to the smuggling of Gurut leaves.

Ian pondered for a moment and nodded.

“I understand, but it might be difficult.”

“Why is that?”

“Because Derga’s crime is ‘treason.’ The Imperial Palace investigation team has been rushing for fifteen days to punish him, but if a foreign force from the border deals with him first, their position will be quite awkward.”

The execution of a traitor was more splendid, cruel, and solemn. The highlight of the festival was Derga’s death, and they couldn’t hand that over to a border tribe.

“Even so, we, I, must kill Derga myself.”

“…Well, there is a way.”

Kakanthir’s will seemed too firm.

“As originally planned, I will take over the Bratz territory. ‘Officially,’ to be precise. If that happens, I can be involved in the execution and provide assistance in accordance with the will of the Cheonryeo tribe.”

“So, we have to help you anyway.”

“You are too kind. I am the one asking for help.”

Kakanthir’s lips curved up at Ian’s easygoing words. It wasn’t a smile of pleasure, but a smile of anticipation for the future.

“Good. Let’s do it.”

“Demosha [a term of agreement].”

“Demosha.”

Ian and Kakanthir exchanged a fist bump. At that moment, a physician approached and called Ian.

“Berik has regained consciousness.”

“…Already?”

“Only his mind, somehow he regained it.”

“…Ah.”

Ian noticed the subtle ambiguity and nodded.