Episode 243

Viviana, who had been caring for Romandro, came to the study after hearing news about Ian. Despite the severe blood loss, he had regained consciousness earlier than expected, and the soft murmur of relieved mages coming and going filled the room.

Carrying a tray with warm tea, she rounded the corner and stopped in front of a half-open door, where Philia was standing. Startled, Viviana called out to her.

“Madam?”

“Oh, hello.”

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you going in?”

“I heard he woke up, and I saw him talking with the mages for a moment. I’m just waiting here in case I might disturb them.”

Philia smiled gently, fidgeting with her fingertips. On the windowsill in the hallway sat a bowl of barley porridge, now cold—no telling how long it had been there.

“When Ian was little, whenever he was sick, he always wanted barley porridge. The palace is full of delicacies, so I doubt he’d eat this now.”

“The food we remember from childhood is often what comforts us in the hardest times. Madam, don’t worry—please come in with me.”

“Oh? Shall I? Haha, I’d like that.”

Oh, such a wildflower of a person. Viviana smiled tenderly at Philia’s joyful expression. How could someone who looked so much like Ian in features be so delicate in spirit? Opening the door, Viviana led the way, and Philia shyly nodded.

Creak.

“Ian?”

Viviana made a sound to announce her presence but stopped short. The small bedroom door in the study was wide open, revealing Ian clearly. He was buried in soft pillows and cushions, flipping through reports.

Slide.

“Madam, how is Lord Romandro?”

“Ahhh! What on earth are you doing?!”

Viviana couldn’t hide her shock. After losing so much blood, and now—immediately back to work? Ian must be mad, or she must be seeing things.

Hale, who was nearby infusing magical energy, turned around in surprise.

“Madam, are you alright?”

“Al-alright? Of course not! Ian, what kind of scene is this? Have you never heard of absolute rest? Who in their right mind hands you reports the moment you open your eyes? Huh?”

Hale quickly adopted a stern expression and clamped his mouth shut. Seeing Viviana’s disbelief, Ian waved the reports in the air, trying to calm her.

“I’m not lying down?”

“Just lying down doesn’t mean everything’s fine!”

Why on earth does the Magic Department even have a bed tray?

Whether Ian knew Viviana’s thoughts or not, he tapped the wooden desk with satisfaction. Everything was soft and perfectly angled; all he had to do was move his wrist. As he leisurely lifted his head, Viviana pressed her palm to her forehead.

“And Lord Romandro?”

“…Not yet, but he’s improved enough to get up and eat.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I may have the help of mages, but your husband has to overcome this entirely on his own.”

Slide.

Ian flipped another page of the report. Though exhaustion was evident, his gaze remained steady. He flicked his fingers, signaling Hale to keep channeling magic.

“Oh, and Madam Philia, please come in. It’s alright.”

Viviana turned sharply, startled. Philia, having fainted upon entering the study earlier, hesitated at the threshold. Ian glanced over and called softly.

“Mother?”

“Ian.”

She appeared timid, holding the tray. Seeing this, Ian sank deeper into the cushions and smiled gently. This was the son who had once teetered on the edge of death, drenched in blood. This small smile was a quiet reassurance.

“You must have been worried.”

“I brought barley porridge.”

“Thank you. I was just getting hungry.”

Hale frowned. Ian had refused all food brought up from the kitchen, claiming extreme fatigue and lack of appetite. Besides, he said being full made it harder to sleep, so he was relying solely on magic to replenish his energy.

“Though I still feel dizzy, so I’ll eat it later.”

Of course—he wouldn’t eat it now. Hale nodded briefly and focused on channeling magic.

Buzz. Buzz.

“Yes, it would be better warmed up.”

“Right. I’ll have the servants do that.”

Philia glanced at Ian with a look full of emotion. Seeing him buried in cushions reminded her vividly of her son as a child.

Ah, he was truly adorable.

He’s still cute now, but back then…

“Mother, are you alright?”

“Oh, no. I have something else to give you.”

Snapping out of her thoughts, Philia waved her hand and hurriedly pulled out some crumpled, food-stained notes from her pocket. Ian didn’t recognize them at first but soon let out a short, wry laugh.

“A gift from His Majesty Gale.”

A contact from a traitor using rumors of exile. Ian hadn’t expected him to cooperate and gather evidence. He had been wondering how to handle this later, but now things would be much easier.

“Though one of the papers His Majesty burned. I tried to save at least half, but it turned to ashes.”

“That’s alright. Thank you, Mother.”

Philia beamed at Ian’s gratitude, pride radiating from her smile.

This was less a favor to Ian and more a token left for Philia, who had faithfully shared meals with him.

“Let’s see.”

Ian flipped through the papers, checking the contents. Some had names written clearly, others didn’t. The handwriting was distinct enough to make comparison straightforward.

“…Hale.”

“Yes, Ian. I’m still channeling magic.”

“Over there, from the left side of the bookshelf, two compartments in—that’s where the important reports are kept. Check the lists and bring me the reports each person submitted. Then summon Dainels, Brennan, and Patrick. Also, call the palace’s handwriting experts. Usually, two or three are on duty; at least one should be here.”

Hale hesitated at the flood of orders but rose immediately without question and called the subordinates outside the study. While they busied themselves, Ian kept flipping through the reports without pause.

“Ian, are you really going to keep working?”

“Y-yes. Ian, you lost too much blood…”

“I’ll finish the urgent tasks first, then rest again. Everything has its timing.”

With Arsen dealt with, the pests clinging around him were scattering in confusion. If they weren’t caught now, they’d escape, lay eggs, and gnaw away in hiding, only to resurface later.

“So this was what His Majesty meant.”

The strategy meeting wasn’t recorded, so Hale’s face-to-face report was Ian’s only source. How to record Gale’s death in history, what to do with the fallen, and so on.

But the question of whether the indictment was valid was separate from Arsen’s case, so it could be documented in this report.

“Yes. Well done.”

Ian smiled unconsciously. The bureaucrat had made excellent use of the gathering, even recording the order of votes—a clear sign of aggressive intent to build power.

Viviana and Philia exchanged puzzled glances as Ian read the reports with the amusement of someone enjoying a novel.

Knock knock.

A mage announced from outside.

“Ian, the Prime Minister has arrived.”

“The Prime Minister? Bring him in.”

The two women urged Ian to rest and stepped outside. Soon, the Prime Minister arrived with his aides. His graying hair looked even whiter, and his wrinkles seemed deeper.

“Must have been a tough time at the conference.”

“Good day, Prime Minister.”

The Prime Minister seemed momentarily taken aback seeing Ian buried in cushions but gestured for him to stay lying down and pulled a chair close to the bed.

“Keep resting. How are you feeling?”

“Thank you. As you can see, I’m fine.”

“Good. That’s a relief.”

He spoke after noticing the reports in Ian’s hand. Ian straightened up slightly and adjusted his pen, beginning to write down the names of the mages.

“The Magic Department is currently rooting out traitors.”

“Traitors? What do you mean?”

“I can’t go into details, but many are likely connected to Hyman. Their collusion contributed to the Arsen incident, so as head of the Magic Department, I believe appropriate punishment is necessary.”

Even outside the Magic Department, no superior would ignore subordinates colluding with the enemy. But given the circumstances, the Prime Minister expressed concern.

“What kind of punishment? The Magic Department is short-staffed. Every single person is precious. This isn’t just a Magic Department issue—it’s a problem for the entire empire.”

“If any of the deceased are found to be traitors, we will link their deaths to Duke Gale’s and record them as crimes of treason. Those who are not will be demoted and their ranks fixed accordingly.”

Executing them outright would be excessive given their value as talented individuals, but sending them to the frontier or abroad is far too risky. How can we be sure what the mages might be plotting in secret, or who they might be colluding with?

The reason the Empire’s mages are gathered in the capital isn’t just because their numbers are few—it’s also the palace’s deliberate strategy to keep them under effective control.

“Demote their ranks, then. Quintana will be pleased.”

Cutting their pay, stripping their privileges, and the scorn they’ll face from returning comrades—people don’t change. It’s better to just toss them to the bottom of the barrel.

“And I’ve heard that Duke Haiman and his key supporters are currently detained. Under charges of lèse-majesté and disturbing the peace, the maximum detention is three days, right? Do you think their trial will be scheduled before then?”

“Hm. The judiciary is trying to cooperate as much as possible. But there’s been public uproar over the judiciary’s collective absences when the magic department filed their complaint. It’s almost certain that Haiman’s influence was at play.”

In truth, the judiciary was rattled to their core. They were regarded as paragons of integrity, yet Haiman’s reach had subtly infiltrated them—and it seemed to have worked quite effectively. The atmosphere was tense, filled with suspicion.

Click.

Ian muttered slowly, reading the words aloud.

“More than anything else…”

“Yes?”

“We need to focus on reclaiming the assets of the central nobility, including the Haiman family, back into the treasury. That will be the driving force to move everyone. Thoroughly investigate the duchess and their children as well.”

Each palace department was counting on the increased state budget this would secure, which was a major reason for their cooperation with the magic department. The nobles opposed to Haiman felt the same. Serro, for instance, likely aims to exploit the division of Haiman’s wealth to advance his own position.

“If the charge of treason holds, the family will be annihilated, so reclaiming their assets is natural. But if any complications arise before then, it would be problematic. Isn’t the duchess from Luswena?”

“Ah, yes. Ian, that’s why I stopped by. A delegation from Luswena arrived, and it seems Haiman summoned them.”

“Is that so?”

“They were supposed to leave the palace this morning, but all of them fell seriously ill with stomach troubles.”

The prime minister knew this was intentional. However, the tea served by the palace was the source of their illness, and the delegation wasn’t asking for anything else—just a few more days to rest. It was difficult to turn away a foreign delegation so harshly. Truly a delicate situation.

Ian raised an eyebrow and muttered.

“…Hmm. They’re making things difficult for themselves.”

He scribbled something with his pen—orders for the next steps.

“Prime Minister, suppressing Haiman and the central nobility is the foundation for strengthening imperial authority. This is the path toward becoming a great power.”

“I agree completely.”

Strengthening the emperor’s authority would naturally diminish the prime minister’s own power. Yet he agreed without hesitation. It seemed the emperor had entrusted the prime minister’s position to someone truly capable.

“It’s time for a purge.”

The prime minister nodded and accepted Ian’s report.

“And once this is complete, we will proceed with the official appointment ceremony for our Duke Jin’s successor.”