Episode 38

“Did you hear that too?”

“That was from Ian’s barracks, right?”

Two or three members of the Cheonryeo tribe, awakened by the noise, hurriedly dressed and stepped outside. It wasn’t a false alarm. They rushed toward where Ian and Beric were, quickly checking the half-open entrance.

“Ian? Are you alright?”

“Is there a problem? Beric, he’s not dead, is he?”

The sight that greeted them as they stepped inside was startling. An unknown man lay sprawled on the floor, while Ian clutched the reddened back of his neck, coughing harshly.

“Cough, cough!”

“I-Ian? What happened?”

“That guy… that guy tried to kill me… I had to subdue him…”

Only then did they notice the broken dagger shards scattered on the floor. They immediately informed those outside and bound the man’s arms and legs.

“What happened here?”

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

“That’s one thing, but how did you manage to take him down? Ian, you haven’t even trained for combat.”

“…Somehow, it just happened.”

Ian rubbed his neck awkwardly, clearly reluctant to explain. Soon, the entire tribe was awake. Kakan appeared as well, dressed lightly in just his lower garments.

“What’s all this commotion? Someone attacked Lord Ian?”

“Kakan! It’s this guy. He was passed out like this when we found him.”

“An idiot? What kind of man is he?”

“Exactly…”

“Who is he? Can’t see his face.”

The question was innocent, without malice.

Honestly, judging by combat ability, even a child from the Cheonryeo tribe could have subdued Ian in an instant. So how had this big guy been knocked out?

“Remove his mask.”

Though flustered by the unprecedented situation, Kakan carefully examined Ian’s condition. Fortunately, there were no serious injuries.

From now on, whether in battle or otherwise, they vowed to treat Ian as a guest. Nothing would be more dishonorable than an incident like this.

Swish.

“Gasp!”

When a subordinate removed the mask, everyone covered their mouths in shock.

It was Bumat. The cousin of Nersarn’s second stepmother and the chief in charge of food supplies. Ian recognized him immediately—the same man who had stared intently at him during the return ceremony. He had left a lingering unease.

“…Move Bumat. We’ll interrogate him at first light.”

At Kakan’s command, three men dragged Bumat out. The tribe leader, about to leave with Ian, glanced back.

It was none other than Bumat—a warrior counted among the tribe’s strongest. To face him without a single scratch, only faltering… it was unbelievable.

“Lord Ian, is it true you subdued Bumat?”

“Somehow, yes. That seems to be the case.”

“In the Empire…”

Kakan’s gaze flicked toward Beric. Now he was starting to understand.

“They call those who perform miracles ‘mages,’ don’t they?”

“I won’t lie here in the Great Desert.”

“So you’re avoiding the question.”

“I’ll explain when the time is right, back in Bariel. The meaning of my existence is something you wouldn’t easily understand now, given how differently I’ve lived.”

Within the Empire, the status of magic users—mages—was well known. No matter how lowly the bloodline, they were qualified to serve as the backbone of the imperial palace. That was the social power of magic.

“Right. But for now, internal matters take priority. Rest up. If there’s any problem, don’t hesitate to say so.”

“Thank you.”

Kakan smiled lightly, as if hopeful, and left the barracks. Amid the settling commotion, Beric lay with his mouth agape, still asleep.

“Grrk.”

“Haa.”

Judging by the loud snoring, he was recovering. Considering the hole in his side, he looked surprisingly well.

Only then did Ian notice fresh gourd leaves on the table. He burned a few in the lamp’s flame, then dried some to place under Beric’s nose.

---

Swish!

As dawn broke, Kakan’s men poured sand over Bumat’s face. Usually, water would be used, but here, in the heart of the Great Desert, sand was the only option. Ian felt a strange stinging on his own cheek.

“Keep pouring until he regains consciousness.”

“Yes, Kakan.”

The sand piled up endlessly, reaching Bumat’s chest. Only then did he flinch and begin to come to.

Kakan’s sharp gaze studied him carefully.

“Bumat.”

“Ah…”

Bound and propped up, Bumat twisted his body, then lifted his head with a look of grievance.

“Bumat, did you attack Lord Ian at dawn?”

Bumat hesitated. Humans could lie with their tongues, but they had Winchen. Kakan would surely discern truth from falsehood through interrogation.

“Kakan, please untie me first…”

“Answer. If you lie, I’ll cut off your fingers.”

Cold and unwavering. Bumat bit his lip, unable to move, and finally lowered his head to the floor.

“…”

“Choosing silence?”

Damn it. This was an opponent he could kill with one hand, yet somehow it had come to this.

But there was still a chance. If the motive wasn’t revealed, Bumat would only be punished for attacking Ian.

Even if it meant losing his own right arm. Better than death.

“Are you serious?”

“Kakan, if you still consider me family, don’t ask any more. Take my arm. Ian used a strange power. His eyes turned golden, the air condensed and exploded in an instant. He’s definitely suspicious.”

Kakan stared silently at Bumat. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, but only for a fleeting moment.

“You’re telling us what we didn’t ask. Bumat, do you realize how pathetic you look right now?”

Buried in sand before the entire tribe, rambling on. A warrior who valued honor and glory would have bitten his tongue and died.

Bumat’s face flushed red with humiliation. Ian, watching quietly, raised his hand.

“May I testify?”

“Speak.”

“He definitely mentioned Derga.”

If Bumat was willing to sacrifice an arm to keep a secret, there was something worse hidden behind it. Ian’s words stirred unrest among the tribe.

“I called what I proposed to Kakan a scheme, and it seemed like an attempt to stop him. So there must be some connection with Derga…”

Ian trailed off, as if recalling something. Kakan patiently waited, while Bumat swallowed hard.

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

The day Ian sneaked into the office to steal the seal, he had found a letter written in Cheonryeo language in a drawer. He didn’t remember the details clearly, but…

“I once saw a letter on Derga’s desk asking, ‘Who will succeed the tribe leader?’ Bumat, was that from you?”

All eyes turned to the kneeling Bumat. He glared fiercely at Ian, then took a deep breath and bit his tongue.

“Stop him!”

From the moment Derga’s name was mentioned, there was no time left for an honorable warrior’s death. The guards quickly pressed their fingers against Bumat’s tongue and stuffed cloth into his mouth.

“Mmm! Mmm-mmm!”

“Bumat! Is it true?”

“Don’t make me talk! Stuff more cloth in!”

“Damn it, what the hell is going on…”

The tribe’s faces twisted with shock and betrayal. Ian cautiously but confidently speculated.

This was something he had seen countless times in the imperial palace.

“The worsening health of Chief Winchen might be connected to Bumat. Isn’t he in charge of food supplies?”

Killing Winchen and replacing the tribe leader… If such a thing had happened, Bumat was a prime suspect.

“I don’t know the details of his collusion with Derga, but likely Bumat was promised the glory of leadership, while Derga gained economic benefits.”

Kakan remained silent, staring at Bumat. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts. Then he stood and grabbed Bumat by the hair, dragging him roughly.

“…No one is to enter.”

They headed toward Winchen’s barracks.

The subordinates watched tensely as the two disappeared inside. The wait felt like an hour stretched into a minute.

When Kakan finally emerged, he was drenched in blood, holding Bumat’s severed head.

“Throw him into the desert. Bring his family here as well.”

“…Yes, Kakan.”

Denying a proper funeral and feeding him to beasts was a declaration of treason. As Kakan tossed Bumat’s head aside, tribe members spat as they passed.

“Lord Ian, a moment.”

At Kakan’s summons, Ian moved closer. Kakan wiped his face and hands with a water cloth handed by Nersarn, muttering,

“We’ll need to revise our plans.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our role was simply to support your safe entry into Bratz and help you establish your position.”

Direct confrontation with the central army was too risky. But now, with things as they are, the Cheonryeo tribe has no choice but to fully engage in this fight.

“We will reap the hidden fruits of Derga’s schemes.”

“I see.”

How dare they pretend to make peace with the Kakantir while secretly deceiving them, conspiring with their families, and attempting to kill Winchen, their spiritual leader. This was a far graver offense than smuggling Gurut leaves.

Ian paused for a moment, then nodded thoughtfully.

“I understand, but it might be difficult.”

“Why is that?”

“Because Derga’s crime is ‘treason.’ The imperial investigation team rushed here after two weeks to deal with him, but if the border tribes handle it first, it would make their position rather awkward.”

The execution of a traitor is a grand, brutal, and solemn affair. Derga’s death is the highlight of the festival, and they wouldn’t want to hand that moment over to some border tribe.

“Still, I want to be the one to kill Derga myself.”

“…It’s not impossible, but there are complications.”

Kakantir’s resolve was unwavering.

“As originally planned, I need to take control of the Bratz territory. More precisely, to do so officially. That way, I can participate in the execution ceremony and, honoring the will of the Cheonryeo tribe, offer my support.”

“So, in any case, we’re here to help you.”

“You flatter me. I’m the one asking for help.”

Kakantir smiled at Ian’s easy charm—not a smile of amusement, but one filled with anticipation for what lay ahead.

“Good. Let’s do it.”

“Demosha.”

“Demosha.”

Ian and Kakantir bumped fists. Just then, a medic approached and called out to Ian.

“Beric has regained consciousness.”

“…Already?”

“He’s only just come to, though.”

“…I see.”

Ian caught the subtle nuance in the medic’s words and nodded knowingly.