Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor [EN]: Chapter 7

‘Ian. My little one. Ahem.’ The tutor cleared his throat and then glanced at Ian. The illegitimate child who received this letter was illiterate, so he must have asked someone else to read it for him. The most natural choice was the tutor. Ian propped his chin up, his clear eyes sparkling. ‘Please continue reading, teacher.’ ‘Are you doing well there? Your mother is comfortable thanks to Count Derga. I’m happy every day because I don’t have to work. You too, should devote yourself to learning with gratitude to the Count. Chel is your half-brother, but don’t forget that you must serve him. Consider it an honor to be a symbol of reconciliation. Above all, build a strong relationship with the Cheonryeo tribe. You and the young master are the hope for generations to come.’ The tutor, reciting the letter, glanced at Ian. ‘And there’s one request.’ Yes. And the main point of the problem. ‘I hear that the Cheonryeo tribe smokes something called gurute leaves instead of cigars. Your mother would like to try it once. Next year, when you come for your birthday, could you secretly get me some seeds?’ Gurute leaves were a kind of stimulant used by the Cheonryeo tribe. They would chew it or roll the leaves and smoke them. It was a secret of the Cheonryeo tribe, and it was not even known exactly what kind of plant it was or how it was made. One thing was certain: they would bite on a leaf each when they went into battle. ‘And the flower has bloomed in the pot you cherished. If you cross the border, I won’t be able to see you anymore.’ ‘…Hmm.’ ‘The last line says this: If this letter reaches you, please write down a verse of the song your mother often sang to you. I love you always. My son.’ Presumably, the dried flower petals in the pouch were the real gift from his mother. Also, only the last paragraph would be the real content of the letter. She had used her brain in her own way. By requesting a code, she forced the Count to deliver the letter and send a reply. ‘It seems like my mother mixed in a request to smuggle gurute leaves while sending the letter…’ What was puzzling was Derga’s approach. Why was he trying to entice Ian with such a complicated method? If he just ordered him by holding his mother’s life hostage, as he had done so far, Ian would comply. There was no reason to go around like this. ‘Ian?’ ‘Yes. Teacher. Thank you. Please keep the contents of today’s letter a secret.’ ‘Of course.’ There must be more to Derga’s hidden intentions. Ian was determined to find out. The tutor took out a clean piece of parchment and asked. ‘Will you write a reply today?’ ‘No. I have too much to say, so I need to organize my thoughts. I’ll ask you next time.’ ‘Is that so? Your mother will be waiting.’ He was urging him. But even if he wanted to write, he didn’t know the lyrics, so it was difficult. ‘If I write the wrong lyrics, my mother will be in an uproar. She’ll know something happened to me.’ The shackles were also a means of protecting Ian while binding him. What if his mother misunderstood and committed suicide? There was no way to predict how Derga would try to trap Ian. ‘At worst, I could be confined until the day of the reconciliation ceremony.’ It would be best to meet her in person. Fortunately, tomorrow was the luncheon with Molin. If he used it well, he could get a chance to go outside the mansion and find out Derga’s intentions. * * * ‘Oh, Lord Molin.’ ‘It’s been a week, Count Derga.’ As arranged, Molin visited the mansion with his entourage. There were two young and cheerful-looking men, who were clearly Molin’s juniors whom he was leading in the central administration. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Count.’ ‘Thank you very much for the luncheon invitation.’ The men, who introduced themselves as Mac and Degore, kissed the back of the Countess’s hand. Countess Mary smiled gracefully and brought her son, Chel, forward. ‘I hope you have a pleasant time.’ ‘Ah. Is this young master Chel? Then this must be?’ In fact, there was no need to be confused. As he had heard, Ian had brilliant golden hair like sunlight. It was just a formality to show courtesy. ‘I’m Ian.’ ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve been wanting to see you after hearing about you.’ ‘Call me Mac, young master.’ Chel looked displeased at being called by the same title as Ian. But what could he do? He couldn’t complain in front of the adults and Ian. Chel just stuck close to his mother and walked into the garden. ‘As expected of the Bratz Count’s residence. The garden is very beautiful.’ ‘To hear such praise from someone from the capital. It seems I’m lucky today.’ Small talk that seemed to measure each other’s dignity was exchanged. There was no bad intention. It was a natural and habitual habit, as nobles usually did. ‘Master. I will bring in the pre-meal food.’ ‘Yes.’ At the butler’s signal, the servants brought in the trolleys. ‘What would you like for the aperitif?’ ‘Since the weather is clear, I’ll have sherry.’ ‘What about young master Ian?’ At Mac’s kind question, Ian almost asked for the same thing without thinking. Sherry was white wine. He was at an ambiguous age to drink alcohol. He smiled brightly and asked for a fruit drink. ‘You look much better than last week.’ Molin smiled kindly as he wiped his hands. Although he was bound as a sacrifice for reconciliation, Ian looked fresh to the old man. ‘I guess it’s because I was looking forward to today.’ ‘Haha. Is that so?’ ‘Actually, I had a lot of questions about the capital. Last time, I only talked about myself, so I was a bit disappointed. Isn’t that right, Father?’ At Ian’s smooth words, Derga cleared his throat and stroked his beard. In the meantime, the servants set up the pre-meal drinks and simple salads. ‘Yes. What are you so curious about? Actually, the way people live is all the same, even in the capital. I’m glad I brought Mac and Degore today. I’m old, so I don’t know much about the young people’s affairs.’ Ian started with trivial things. What do students in the capital study, how do they spend their leisure time, have they really seen a wizard, and so on. When he talked about wizards, Molin and Mac and Degore’s eyes sparkled. ‘I’m especially curious about what you usually eat in the capital.’ ‘It’s not like the capital is special and abundant. All the specialties from the territories go to the imperial palace. Above all, there is almost no farmland in the center.’ ‘There would be no other way than what the merchants distribute.’ ‘That’s right. So, the famine in the capital comes from the dryness of the wallet, not the dryness of the land. Adjusting the appropriate supply and demand is one of the roles of the imperial palace.’ Unlike Chel, who just rolled his eyes and pretended to know, Ian led the conversation with ease. Mac and Degore exchanged meaningful glances. ‘He’s quite intelligent for a commoner’s illegitimate child.’ His insightful perception and unchildlike concentration were unusual. Ian leisurely cut his steak and added. ‘Food is the most basic of basics, so there should always be a large supply. It would be great if we could discover new foods.’ It was an unforced remark. A light remark like talking about the weather. The adults all focused on Ian’s words. Derga and the Countess wondered why he was so talkative today, and the guests seemed interested. Especially Lord Molin. ‘New food. I’m curious about Ian’s insight.’ ‘It’s not really an insight. What was thought to be inedible may turn out to be a valuable ingredient.’ ‘Ahaha. Could such a dream-like thing happen?’ ‘You never know. The hungry will eat anything to survive. If you look closely, you might find something good.’ He had no intention of telling them about Gula right now. He planned to remain silent until the right opportunity came, but he thought it would be okay to drop a hint. Then Mac added as if he had thought of something. ‘Come to think of it, I heard that they make stew with seafood shells in the slums. It’s surprisingly delicious. Have you ever had it, Ian?’ It was the first sharp question in a conversation that had been full of goodwill. Ian, who was poor and lived in the red-light district. He could be called the poorest of the poor. ‘He’s surprisingly sharp.’ Ian suppressed a laugh inside. The center and the border were in a relationship of mutual checks and balances. The imperial palace was tacitly allowing Ian to be sent instead of Chel. But what if Ian’s qualifications were questioned after he went to the Cheonryeo tribe? What if that caused a loss to Bariel? They would have a pretext to effectively pressure the border. Therefore, the intention of the question was just one thing. ‘Ian. Are you from the slums?’ To make him confirm the origin of the illegitimate child, which had been laundered as if they were covering their eyes. Since three central officials had heard it at the same time, there would be no more certain testimony than that. ‘Ian? Lord Mac is asking you.’ The Countess urged him with a smile. She didn’t seem to know what kind of political intentions were being exchanged in a single word. Of course, Chel was the same. ‘I don’t think I have-‘ ‘Chel!’ As Chel was about to blurt out something, Derga quickly rebuked him. Clang. Startled, he dropped his fork. But Derga, with a nonchalant expression, disciplined his son. ‘Lord Mac asked Ian a question. It’s not polite to interrupt. Be careful.’ It meant to shut up. Chel looked tearful and bit his lip, and Mary grabbed her son’s hand under the tablecloth. The look in her eyes as she looked at her husband was quite sharp. It wasn’t that big of a mistake, so why was he shouting so much? Wasn’t her son already discouraged after making a mistake last week! ‘I haven’t eaten it.’ ‘Is that so?’ Ian put down his knife and answered firmly. For now. It was better to show an obedient attitude next to Count Derga. ‘Although I grew up outside the mansion, my father always took good care of me. I am a proud member of the Bratz family, no matter what anyone says.’ ‘Oh ho. That’s certainly true.’ It was a funny situation where everyone knew it was a lie, but they pretended not to know. Molin smiled very satisfied. He was impressed by how well he had seen through the unexpected attack. ‘For that reason, I haven’t eaten it, but I would like to try it if I have the chance.’ Derga frowned, but he didn’t say anything. Ian’s answer was clear and the flow was quite natural. ‘Is that so?’ ‘Actually, where is the distinction between the noble and the humble when it comes to what comes from nature? If it can relieve hunger, isn’t that something to be grateful for in itself? Besides, I heard it’s a delicacy.’ At that moment, Molin felt a sense of déjà vu at Ian’s answer. It was definitely an argument he had heard somewhere…. ‘You’re saying the same thing as His Highness the Prince.’ Degore scratched the itchy part. ‘The Prince? Who is it?’ Based on Ian’s era, the current emperor had to go up several generations. And there were quite a few princes? Usually, they had more than ten children. In short, even Ian, who was the emperor, didn’t know who the prince was 100 years ago. ‘I’m talking about the Second Prince Gail. He said that very calmly while talking about street food with the nobles. Haha.’ They couldn’t say anything in front of him, but they must have been gossiping about him behind his back. Saying that a prince of a country was talking without manners. Anyway, the Second Prince Gail. It was very familiar, as if he had heard it somewhere…. ‘You two would get along well if you met.’ ‘How dare Ian do that?’ ‘No. I think it’s a great opinion.’ Degore laughed and waved his hand at Derga’s face-saving remark. He was sincere. In an era where tens of thousands of people die of starvation every year, what does it matter if it’s street food? Living is the priority. ‘Face is a scary thing. Even if it’s street food, it has value, so it’s being consumed.’ ‘That’s right. But the reality is even more grim. Even commoners don’t even look at the food that the lowborn eat.’ The Countess interrupted at Mac and Degore’s lament. ‘Even if a new crop is discovered, it will take a long time to distribute it, right?’ It was not a bad topic, but the context was wrong. Ian shook his head without realizing it. ‘No, Mother. Actually, distribution is not the problem.’ ‘Is that so? Ian, it seems you have an opinion.’ Molin’s tone was testing. Ian smiled as if to say, ‘Why are you doing this when you know everything?’