Episode 24

“W-what in the world? What’s the Chŏnryŏ tribe doing here…?”

Ian was just as puzzled. How on earth had the Chŏnryŏ tribe made it all the way here? Their encampment was a full three days’ ride from the Bratz territory. There was no way they’d come for something trivial.

‘This must be an unexpected visit.’

If it had been a scheduled meeting, Haena would have known—she’d have been busy preparing for guests since the day before.

Ian caught the Chŏnryŏ tribe’s gaze fixed on him.

“They’re looking this way.”

“Ugh…”

Beric groaned from behind, clearly struggling. The group whispered among themselves before splitting into two. The apparent leader passed through the main gate toward the manor, while the others approached Ian.

“They’re coming! They’re coming this way!”

Anyone from the Bratz territory would have reacted like Haena—uneasy and on edge.

They were longtime enemies, barely holding a fragile truce; mysterious outsiders wielding transcendent power, barbarians all. Their expressions betrayed a mix of confusion, fear, and excitement.

“Haena, there’s no need to panic.”

“But they’re Chŏnryŏ! And why are their birds so huge?”

“They made it here without any trouble. They don’t mean harm.”

As Ian tried to calm Haena, the Chŏnryŏ man scrutinized him closely.

“Excuse me.”

The man stepped closer, looking down at Ian from atop Kusile. His sharp, single-lidded eyes were intimidating. They examined Ian’s hair and facial features with relentless focus.

“You are Ian, the second heir of Count Bratz?”

“That’s correct. And who might you be?”

Haena quietly slipped behind Ian. Despite being from the frontier, she spoke Bariel fluently.

“I come from the Chŏnryŏ tribe with an urgent message. I must see the Count. It would be best if I could go with you now.”

An urgent message, huh.

Since he was being asked to accompany them, it was likely about the peace talks. Ian gave Haena a subtle nod.

“Beric, once training is over, bring some fruit and cold water.”

Beric’s face immediately twisted in frustration—he was being told to keep training even if Ian wasn’t around.

“Ian! Ian!”

As expected, servants burst out from the main building, calling for Ian. He left the Chŏnryŏ behind and headed up to Derga’s office. The atmosphere was tense, and the steward looked uneasy, hands clasped awkwardly.

“Father, did you call?”

“Come closer.”

The leader who had entered earlier sat on the sofa. Thick scars covered his neck and shoulders.

Derga smiled warmly, gripping Ian’s shoulder.

“Ian, let me introduce you. This is Nersarn, envoy of the Chŏnryŏ tribe. He’s the younger brother of Chief Kakantir.”

The Count’s grip tightened—a silent warning to stay alert. Everything they’d done so far had been practice for this moment.

“It’s an honor to meet you. I am Ian Bratz.”

Nersarn’s dark eyes scanned Ian up and down before he clasped his hands in a prayer-like gesture—a Chŏnryŏ custom.

“I am Nersarn of the Balamei kin.”

“What brings you here?”

Derga, clearly suspicious, cut in quickly. Though tea hadn’t even been served, Nersarn didn’t hesitate.

“We need to coordinate the peace ceremony.”

Straight to the point. Their bluntness was typical, but it also meant the situation was urgent.

“Chief Winchen’s health has suddenly worsened. She’s elderly and had chronic ailments, but this is the first time she’s been bedridden. Only the gods know what lies ahead, so we want to prepare as much as possible.”

The Chŏnryŏ have a strict funeral custom: when a family member dies, they seclude themselves for a year to pray for their soul’s rest. When a chief dies, the entire tribe must join.

Until now, chiefs had died in rebellions, so those ousted never received such honors—only their families held ceremonies.

But Chief Winchen?

Even Derga didn’t know when her line began; she was the root of the Chŏnryŏ tribe. If the tribe secluded themselves, the peace ceremony would be impossible. That’s why they’d rushed here to reschedule.

‘Considering they’re in enemy territory, it makes sense the chief’s sibling would come.’

“You want to move the date earlier?”

“Yes.”

Chief Winchen was a gypsy who could discern lies. Since a new peace offering was joining the community, she wanted to test Ian’s sincerity.

“So, we ask for your understanding, Count and Ian. Please see this as a gesture for peace.”

Though polite, the tone was ambiguous—refusal meant no peace, and instead, the scent of blood would return. It was a veiled threat.

Derga cleared his throat, masking his displeasure.

“There’s only a month and a few days left. How much earlier do you want?”

“As soon as possible, with the ceremony simplified.”

Nersarn added that even this coming weekend would work.

The Count chose silence over an answer. This was troublesome—Molin Kyung needed to be sent to the capital immediately for the registration process.

‘If we can’t meet the deadline… there’s no choice.’

They’d have to make peace first.

The registration was just paperwork, unrelated to the Chŏnryŏ. They’d be more interested in whether Ian carried Derga’s blood than in hundreds of documents. They’d trust Winchen’s word above all.

“…You’re not too tired after traveling all this way?”

“I’m fine. This much is nothing.”

“Maybe you, but not Kusile.”

Returning to the Great Desert meant braving sandstorms again. The journey would be exhausting for Kusile.

“Stay here tonight and leave tomorrow morning.”

That was Derga’s way of saying they’d give an answer then. It was best to discuss with Molin Kyung before setting a date.

Nersarn’s brow twitched slightly at the hesitation, but he said no more.

“…Thank you for your kindness.”

“It’s nothing. That’s what friends and allies do. Steward! Prepare rooms for our guests!”

The steward, waiting outside, hurried in to escort them. After Nersarn and his men left the office, Ian looked back at Derga, who was nervously biting his nails, lost in thought.

‘Is it really worth worrying over? Surprising.’

The registration certificate could only be issued by the royal palace, so even if they applied now, it would take time. Since the Chŏnryŏ had changed the date first, it was fine to give it to them later.

Preparations for the peace ceremony had just begun. The key was the agreement itself, so if both sides agreed, it could happen as soon as the weekend, just as Nersarn said.

‘They don’t seem to want anything extra.’

There was no room for negotiation. The list of exchanges was set, and once Winchen died, who knew what would happen to the peace talks? From Derga’s perspective, cooperating fully was the best move. It would give them the upper hand in future dealings.

“Father?”

Ian called out. Derga’s nail-biting had worsened. It was more curiosity than concern. The Count snapped back to reality.

“…You haven’t left yet?”

“I was wondering if I should attend to the guests.”

You’d need a signal to leave.

Derga waved his hand dismissively, meaning to avoid unnecessary trouble and stay in his room.

“Nersarn is the chief’s beloved brother. He’s no fool—don’t treat him carelessly.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Is anyone outside?”

“No, my lord.”

“Prepare the carriage! Hurry!”

Derga grabbed his coat and shouted, likely to share the news with Molin Kyung.

Ian turned, glancing at the office door. The makeshift bedroom was still firmly locked. With the aide position vacant, things must be chaotic.

‘What perfect timing.’

If they’d delayed any longer, Molin Kyung might have returned to the capital without the petition. It felt like divine protection.

Ian smiled faintly as he stepped outside, spotting Beric sprawled on the ground. Haena was fanning him diligently.

“Young master! Are you done with your business? What’s going on?”

“Nothing much. The peace ceremony date might change. Have you finished touring the garden?”

“Can’t you tell? I’m dying here, damn it! Ugh…”

“Those Chŏnryŏ won’t stay long in the mansion, right? The steward just showed them to the annex.”

Haena kept fanning without pause, chattering away. They couldn’t leave strangers in the main building, especially after recent incidents in the office. The annex had plenty of guest rooms—probably assigned to the Chŏnryŏ upstairs.

‘The guards will be ruthless.’

Soldiers would stand watch all night, surrounding the building. Still, if Ian wanted, he could contact them. After all, they were the ‘peace partners.’ They couldn’t station guards right outside the door.

“Should I ask the steward to switch rooms just for today?”

Haena asked anxiously, uneasy about sharing a building with the Chŏnryŏ. Ian shook his head with a smile.

“It’s fine. They’ll be staying with me from now on. Beric, pull yourself together and follow me. Haena, get back to your duties.”

At the firm command, Berrick staggered to his feet. Ian, who had been watching quietly, grasped his forehead and channeled magic into him.

Zzzzz—

“Focus, will you?”

“Damn it. First the sickness, then the cure…”

“Think of it as the carrot and the stick.”

“Pfft!” Berrick spat bitterly but finally managed to take a step forward. His gait gradually steadied. As they entered the annex, the uneasy murmurs of the servants drifted to their ears.

“Did you see that? He’s way bigger than I expected!”

“No wonder a dozen soldiers couldn’t take him down. He’s like some kind of beast.”

“I wonder what they’ll serve him? The butler didn’t say much.”

“Since he’s from a barbarian tribe, maybe raw meat will do. He’ll eat it on his own.”

Ignorant or malicious?

Ian clicked his tongue and made his presence known. The servants greeted him without much surprise.

‘Ignorant, indeed.’

“The guest has arrived, right?”

“There was no suitable room, so we put him upstairs from the young master. He’ll sleep in the main house tonight.”

“Should we set up a night watch?”

“Make sure the door is locked tight before he goes to bed!”

Ian tried to ignore their chatter and gave his orders.

“Enough. Prepare some light refreshments and wine with care. This isn’t a full meal, so don’t bother the butler about it.”

He hadn’t even had a chance to offer a cup of tea in his study, having been swept in like a gust of wind. After days of travel, it was unthinkable for a noble to treat a guest so poorly. Derga had insisted no visitors were allowed, but Ian had no intention of following that.

Knock, knock.

“Ian Bratz. Excuse me.”

“…Come in.”

The servants entered with trays in hand, standing stiffly as if they were beasts trapped in a cage. Hesitantly, they set the food on the table.

“You must be hungry after your long journey. Please, have something to eat. It’s a sudden visit, so preparations are a bit slow. We ask for your understanding.”

At Ian’s greeting, Nersarn stepped closer, looking down at him as if he were some strange creature. Each regarded the other as an unfamiliar beast.

“When I saw you earlier, I was puzzled—you don’t resemble the count at all. I wondered how the great empire’s nobles could be so different in blood.”

The leader’s blunt joke drew laughter from his men. Nersarn turned his head sharply and signaled them to bring the food.

“But now that I look again, you certainly are a noble.”

Whether it was a compliment or not, respectful or not, the subtle tone lingered. Nersarn smiled and added,

“That’s praise, Young Master Ian.”

If Derga held the leash, these men held swords to their throats. Yet…

‘Your swords will soon be mine.’

Ian met Nersarn’s gaze with a bright smile, then calmly stepped forward.