Chapter 183

The emperor’s personal physician carefully lifted his stethoscope. The body was so cold it hardly seemed human. Though wrapped in a warm, damp cloth, the blotches of bloodstains only deepened the grimness of the emperor’s condition.

A faint breath escaped when the doctor placed his hand beneath the emperor’s nose—barely perceptible, almost imperceptible. Despite the thick quilt covering him, the warmth that should have been there was absent. Ian and Beols stood back at a distance, silently watching.

“How is he?”

“H-he is… alive, yes.”

“And if we thaw him, can he be treated?”

“That’s the problem…”

A wound on the emperor’s side stood out starkly. A young, healthy man might have survived, but the emperor was old and frail; even a winter cold could be fatal.

The physician wiped cold sweat from his brow and shook his head.

“I cannot guarantee anything. I’m sorry.”

Tears welled in the doctor’s eyes as he gazed at the sleeping emperor. Magic would be no different—he was in no condition to receive even healing spells. Ian swallowed hard and nodded.

“You must keep the emperor’s condition absolutely confidential. If rumors spread, you will be held responsible.”

“Do not worry. If this is His Majesty’s will, I will uphold it to the end.”

The emperor could no longer appear in public. In these chaotic times, the physician was brought in to safeguard the emperor’s well-being and quell any doubts. His testimony would help ease the palace’s unrest.

Click.

As the doctor left, Beols placed a familiar seal before Ian—the very one the emperor had stamped on his final message. It was also the seal Ian remembered from later generations.

“For now, you will handle affairs with this personal seal. Please deliver it to the Prime Minister.”

Ian’s own seal was worn and scratched, but this one gleamed freshly gilded. It had been his for three years in the past, yet holding it now felt strange.

“So this is what I’ll keep using.”

Until the emperor officially passed, the seal would remain in use for quite some time. Even when a new emperor ascended, continuing to use the predecessor’s seal was more legitimate than carving a new one. That was how the tradition had been passed down to Ian.

“And you, Beols?”

“I will stay here with His Majesty today.”

His voice carried the weight of a commander’s guilt for failing to protect his lord.

“Unlike yesterday, today I will not leave his side.”

“When the date for the heir’s discussion is set, I will relay the message.”

Night had already fallen.

Though darkness was thick, the glow of mages’ lights illuminated the surroundings—the light used to burn the bodies. The stench was gone; the traces of those who had joined the rebellion were vanishing from Bariel, wiped away as if they had never existed.

“Wipe up the blood! Send more people here.”

“Sorry, we’re short-handed too.”

“Beric, help me move this!”

“Nakina! I need escort magic!”

Under the command of their respective captains, the mages worked in unison to clean up. Romandro, shaking a report and shouting orders, spotted Ian and hurried over.

“The captain of the royal guard, Jarrett, the Prime Minister, the Deputy Minister of Legislation, the Chief Administrator, and the head judge have all arrived. It seems best to head straight to the main conference hall.”

As Ian passed, the mages and palace staff bowed their heads in greeting. It would take at least three or four months to fully clean up the day’s chaos. The damaged buildings were the biggest problem.

“Is palace access still being controlled?”

“Yes, only high-ranking officials are allowed in. Supplies like food, medicine, and materials are sufficient until tomorrow; after that, deliveries can resume.”

“Notify them that once inside, no one can leave. Or assign personnel to the gates to escort and transport goods directly. Nakina can handle the escort magic.”

“Nakina’s been swamped, but I’ll reassess tomorrow.”

Though the gates were open, only officials were permitted entry; the general populace remained restricted. The palace symbolized Bariel itself—a place that must always be remembered as perfect and noble, not one stained with blood and corpses.

“Be thorough. Even those who survived here cannot leave until the palace is fully secured.”

“Understood. Orders have been given.”

“…Should we send a message to Viviana?”

Ian asked quietly as he descended the stairs. The woman, pregnant, was surely worried after losing contact once he entered the palace. Romandro hesitated briefly but then closed his eyes tightly and refused.

“No exceptions. Not a single bird may leave the palace.”

A satisfied smile flickered across Ian’s lips as he walked ahead. No one saw it in the darkness of night.

“And Gale?”

“Still being searched for.”

Gale had hidden somewhere in the palace. With the emperor’s message delivered and Marib captured, there was nothing more he could do. Akorella was using a magical powder map to track Gale’s faction; they expected to capture him before dawn.

Neigh!

Ian spurred his horse toward the main conference hall—the very place where Marib and Gale had first clashed. The officials’ carriages were tangled in disarray.

“Lord Ian!”

“Lord Ian!”

“What on earth happened here?”

“And His Majesty? The emperor?”

The atmosphere was tense and unsettled. Perhaps because the signs of Marib and Gale’s fight were still evident. The officials sat perched on tables instead of chairs, chain-smoking cigarettes. There were no reports, despite the gravity of the meeting.

“Everyone, please sit.”

“Um, Lord Ian…”

“I heard Gale hasn’t been caught yet.”

“Maintain your composure and sit. This will be a long discussion. Now more than ever, you must stay calm and focused. That is why His Majesty placed you all here.”

A pointed reminder to do their duty. Normally they enjoyed comfortable salaries, but in times like this, they had to prove their worth.

Ian scolded firmly and sat first. The officials cleared their throats and smoothed their beards.

“Sit down.”

At that moment, someone pulled a chair forward. Quintana, the Deputy Minister of Finance within the administration, stepped up. Her brown hair was tied back, and her sharp eyes scanned the room.

“I said, sit.”

“Ahem. Yes, we will.”

“Sit down. Since this will be a long talk.”

Though the emperor was head of the administration, Quintana’s authority over finance was nearly ministerial. She was responsible for the budget and taxes.

“I trust you have a rough idea of the situation, so I will share the results. First, the emperor is safe.”

Several officials exhaled in relief. Quintana’s cold, stern expression softened briefly.

“However, the shock caused him to collapse. He cannot be seen directly, so the Prime Minister will handle affairs for the time being.”

Ian slid the seal Beols had handed him across the table to the Prime Minister, who looked down at it with a puzzled expression.

“And the official seal?”

“It’s missing—lost during Prince Marib’s coup attempt. Marib is currently imprisoned in the magic department’s underground prison. He is unharmed, so there is no problem holding a swift trial. The palace court.”

At Ian’s summons, an elderly man lifted his head slightly.

“Prepare the trial to strip the prince of his title as soon as possible. The mages will finish clearing the bodies outside the damaged buildings before dawn. Romandro.”

Romandro, standing behind, handed Ian a sheet of paper densely packed with long names. Ian took a moment to wet his throat, then slowly read through it.

“Kasper, Reinus, Aberkin from the judiciary; Castesro, Lennart, Michiel from legislation; Taiha, Serrano, Klein, Clemens from the imperial defense department…”

The list named those who had conspired with Marib and Gale to disrupt the palace. Following were the names of the nobles who had joined them.

Thud.

“That concludes the list of palace traitors.”

A heavy silence fell. This was like cutting away more than half of Bariel’s military strength. Ian set the paper down gently and swallowed.

“There are too many to hold individual investigations and trials. Each department will be responsible for rooting out and punishing traitors. Vacant positions will be filled by subordinates to ensure no disruption in work. For key posts like ministers, temporary authority will be granted.”

“Lord Ian, isn’t this number too large? This will paralyze our operations.”

“Exactly. If this continues, the current chaos will persist. Executing all traitors…”

Bang!

It was Quintana. She slammed an ashtray down and furrowed her brow deeply.

“Spare a traitor, and you nurture a worm that eats the country from within. Spare a traitor, and you yourself are a traitor.”

Her fierce warning silenced the officials. Outside, the scent of blood still hung heavy. Even if their own blood mixed with it, who would care?

Ian nodded and tapped the documents on the table.

“Proceed accordingly.”

“I agree. Prince Marib directly threatened His Majesty the Emperor, and Prince Gale gathered nobles to amass unauthorized forces—there’s no excuse for either.”

“B-but then our department—ugh, we’re short-staffed.”

“Sir Ian, your aide—could you provide us with more names?”

“Yes. Here you go. I’ve prepared a generous list; please distribute as needed.”

Romandro quickly handed out the documents, nodding as he did. Quintana struck a match to his cigarette and raised his hand.

“The palace intends to handle the internal chaos, but what about the outside? If the nobles fall, next year’s taxes won’t be collected. And more importantly, I’ve heard the Haiman family is involved in this mess.”

The Haiman family—the ones managing Bariel’s finances. Without them, all of Bariel’s transactions could grind to a halt. Unlike the deaths inside the palace, this could trigger an even greater upheaval.

But Ian was resolute.

“No exceptions. This was a rebellion that risked lives; they must pay the price. However, given the gravity of the situation, I will take charge personally.”

“Yourself?”

Quintana’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Facing these difficult nobles head-on? He was all for it, hands down. The bureaucrats exchanged awkward smiles and nodded repeatedly.

“W-we can trust Sir Ian with this. Absolutely.”

“Exactly. Isn’t he the Minister of Magic?”

Difficult as it was, resolving this would solidify his position. For the future of Jin, for the peaceful Bariel that a just and strong emperor would bring—this was Ian’s duty.

“Then, let’s see. Preparing the trial is one thing, but what about the next heir? If the emperor has stepped down or passed, securing the succession quickly would be the stable choice.”

At the official’s question, everyone’s eyes darted around nervously. There weren’t many options: Jin or Arsen, Arsen or Jin. No one dared speak first, and an uneasy silence settled. All eyes naturally turned to Ian.

Screeeech!

The conference room door burst open urgently—Dillaina had arrived.