Chapter 425

Timothy stood still, his face hardening—clearly caught off guard by the unexpected response.

He had overlooked something crucial. He was no longer the envoy of Burgos who once frequented the royal palace; now, he was simply a foreigner naturalized in Bariel. From Ian’s perspective, the difference in value between himself and King Damon must be glaringly obvious.

No word had come yet from Burgos. King Damon would serve as the foothold for peace talks and the eventual occupation of Burgos. And compared to that, what was Timothy?

“I….”

He had already handed over all the ledgers he’d brought to Crown Prince Jin. That was his ticket to a new life, and he considered the price paid fair. Yet now, he realized he was left empty-handed.

Timothy pressed his palm to his forehead and sighed deeply. How could he persuade Lord Ian? His heart was full of things he wanted to say—about King Damon, about that face, about grabbing him by the collar—but how could he even be allowed to speak?

“I have received the documents through His Highness Jin.”

“You’ve received them already?”

“Yes. The soldier who delivered them from Clifford must have announced Bariel’s first victory. The contents were quite intriguing.”

Ian motioned for him to sit.

Dust floated lightly in the sunlight, carrying a warmth rather than a stifling heaviness. Ian reached into the boxes brought in and pulled out the copies sent by Jin.

“Is this everything you brought?”

“Yes. All that I gave to Crown Prince Jin.”

Timothy flipped through the papers quickly, recognizing them as copies. He had studied them so thoroughly that even a glance at the words was enough to grasp the full meaning. Then he noticed the last folded page Ian had set aside.

It concerned Rutherford. The Ministry of Magic had no choice but to focus on Idgal, so Ian, as head of the ministry, would be the same.

“I’ve seen Rutherford in person only twice.”

“Is that so? Here in Burgos itself?”

“No. Both times abroad, during my diplomatic duties—pure chance.”

“Chance, huh? Timothy, do you believe in chance?”

Ian smiled. Chance leads to connection, and connection to fate. So, in the end, chance is just another form of destiny, isn’t it?

All those chaotic streets where Ian had found Timothy, the three passes he’d made for him, the ledgers now in Ian’s hands—

Was it all just chance?

“At the time, I dismissed it as coincidence, but now I’m not so sure. It was probably Rutherford’s intention.”

“Rutherford has been mentioned since the palace coup. Marib had linked with him to secure Idgal. Not just Burgos, but there was an attempt to distribute Idgal in Bariel as well. The stormy times back then make it unclear if things went according to his plan.”

Ian tapped the table lightly with his fingertips, then turned his gaze out the window, muttering to himself. Between the old, well-preserved window frames, a leaf was caught.

“Damon and Rutherford made some kind of deal. You know that, right?”

“Yes, I do.”

“You don’t know the details, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“If Damon handed over his siblings to Rutherford, do you have any idea what they might have done? They’re of royal blood, after all. What could they have done with that blood?”

“That was beyond my responsibility.”

Timothy had no reason to lie. He had lost his family and abandoned his country. His only path was Bariel. Why muddy the waters with falsehoods?

Ian smoothed the edge of the documents and asked,

“There’s been no response from Burgos yet. Damon is here, but if the opposition within Burgos seizes power, the war will be over and yet not over. In that case, Timothy, wouldn’t you be able to return home?”

Ian knew the truth: there was no one to succeed Damon in Burgos, and even if there was, it would be limited to local nobles.

They were far more likely to fracture and feud over their own territories than to save the royal family. Supporting Damon had already cost them dearly.

They could hand over the Burgos royal family to Bariel and then declare their territories independent, avoiding responsibility. Otherwise, they’d be dragged under the massive punishment that was Bariel.

“The country may be in turmoil, but the capital Kalamath isn’t all of Burgos.”

“I am already a Bariel citizen. I have no desire to return to Burgos. Or rather, I don’t think I can. If I go back…”

Timothy still couldn’t fully grasp the death of his wife and child. Clinging to the vain hope that they might still be alive somewhere in Burgos, he resolved never to set foot on Burgos soil again.

Ian nodded casually, though inwardly he was concerned. If Timothy returned to Burgos, it could jeopardize Naum’s existence.

The author had to be happy here. He had to find new love, have children, and be remembered with respect by future generations of Naum.

“Do as you wish. Bariel’s citizens have freedom.”

“Please, allow me to meet King Damon.”

“Sir Timothy, I’m pretty sure I asked you this before: why?”

Ian leaned back, crossing his legs. Wasn’t he from the diplomatic corps? For every action, there’s a reaction. Strictly speaking, the report wasn’t meant for Ian but for Jin.

Timothy scratched his head in frustration and sighed.

“I—”

He held nothing in his hands, but this was the work he’d done all his life: exchanging the unseen, making promises, and keeping them.

“I worked at the heart of Burgos’s royal palace. Soon, you’ll be negotiating war terms with them, and I intend to assist in that process.”

“Burgos is the defeated party. There’s no negotiation; they must accept Bariel and Clifford’s demands. So what exactly do you intend to mediate? There are plenty in the palace who speak Burgos’s tongue well.”

“…Isn’t there some difficulty that made you do this?”

“What do you mean?”

“If Clifford had absorbed Burgos’s remnants and marched straight to Kalamath, they would have crushed the defeated kingdom for sure. But you chose to return with the mages. Honestly, I wonder if there’s a special reason.”

The lack of a successor to Damon and the nobles’ potential moves were just guesses.

The soldiers had rallied; if Ian had wished, he could have pushed north and taken full control of Burgos. Even if it meant breaking the flow of battle, there must have been a reason he had to return.

Ian rubbed his chin with his fingertips and smiled faintly.

“Yes. The king you served before caused quite a stir.”

No one but the crown prince knew about the palace’s fractures. Timothy had only analyzed Ian’s movements and grown suspicious.

‘Naum, it seems Timothy is as clever as you said.’

“A stir?”

“It will be discussed at the conference. Anyway, to be clear, I cannot allow you to meet Damon. In exchange, Damon has released some information.”

“Lord Ian! I beg you, please!”

“Calm yourself. There’s plenty of time. We’ve just arrived.”

As Timothy took a desperate step forward, Ian raised his hand firmly to stop him.

“Damon’s interrogation comes first. We’ll use the truth serum, but there’s no data on overdosing in ordinary people. We must get his full cooperation. If I arrange a meeting with you now, Damon would be delighted. Wouldn’t he?”

“……”

“When the interrogation is complete and we’ve heard Burgos’s official stance, His Highness Jin will decide Damon’s fate. Somewhere in the meantime, time will be made for you. Surely, Damon’s remaining life won’t be free of resentment from a former subordinate.”

With a soft rustle, Ian gathered the documents, signaling Timothy to be patient. Though a bit dusty, Romandro had kept the desk tidy in Ian’s absence. Everything was neatly arranged under familiar hands.

“Please. I implore you.”

“And Sir Timothy, while I’m glad you wish to attend talks with Burgos on Bariel’s behalf, isn’t that your duty?”

“Do you want something else?”

Timothy quickly caught Ian’s meaning: don’t act as if you’re doing me a favor while expecting payment.

And in the end, it was for Crown Prince Jin and the great empire of Bariel. Since he was facing Ian now, Timothy had to give him what he wanted—if it was within his power.

“What I want…”

What could a young, handsome mage who rose to minister at such a young age possibly desire? Timothy couldn’t picture it.

Humans all have desires—money, honor, power, pleasures of all kinds. Most fall into these categories, but Ian was different.

Because he had everything? No.

‘Because he was empty.’

Like a wandering sage who cannot find truth on earth, Ian’s desires were hollow. They could only be fulfilled elsewhere, not here.

Suddenly, Timothy understood why he always felt strange around Ian. Could someone without desire truly hold power in the palace? Unless born with the dignity of a leader—

“Sir Timothy.”

Timothy cleared away the tangled thoughts swirling in his mind in an instant and lifted his head. Ian must have been watching him all along. He raised an eyebrow, curious about what Timothy was thinking.

“No, it’s nothing. I apologize.”

“Later, when the time is right… If Damon arranges a meeting, there’s something I’d like to entrust to you.”

“What sort of task?”

“We’re moving forward with constructing an annex for the Magic Department. You were in charge of the import of the magical stones from Burgos, right? I’d like you to continue assisting us with that.”

“An annex for the Magic Department?”

Timothy recalled how he had opposed it before, fearing the Magic Department’s growing power. But now, there was no real force to challenge it. Half of the Imperial Defense Department had splintered off under Volv’s leadership, which only strengthened the prince’s position.

The Magic Department’s contributions during the war couldn’t be ignored either. And since the funds came directly from Ian’s personal coffers, there was no real reason to object.

“Exactly. The Magic Department annex. I want a small reading nook at the far end of the corridor. A big glass window that looks out over the courtyard, capturing the four seasons like a painting.”

“I’m not an architect, though.”

“You’ll start by managing the magical stones from Burgos. And from what I’ve seen, I think you’d be quite good at building.”

Timothy looked down at his hands, puzzled. What was he basing that on? Was it because of his size?

Just then, the door swung open abruptly.

Acorella burst in, clutching a stack of reports in both hands, shaking them excitedly.

“Ian! Let’s head down to the basement!”

“Right. Are you still working on the Siltham potion?”

“Since the ingredients are different, the color alone is completely different. It’s perfect. It’s lethal! Yes!”

Acorella gave a thumbs-up and hurried ahead, urging them to follow.

Ian brushed past Timothy, gripping his shoulder firmly. There was so much unspoken meaning in that gesture it was hard to tell what he intended—was it encouragement? A warning?

Timothy slumped slightly on the armrest of the sofa, pressing his forehead. The enemy who had killed his wife and child was somewhere beneath this very floor, and yet he was powerless to act. How pitiful he felt.

Tap, tap, tap.

“Guard King Damon’s quarters with utmost vigilance.”

“Of course. He’s the king, after all. Don’t worry. No one but a mage can even get down to the basement.”

Ian followed Acorella down into the dimly lit cellar. At the far end, faint light flickered over a gathering of figures—mages and officials dispatched from other departments.

“Ah, Ian.”

“We’re about to begin the interrogation. Which departments are you from?”

“Foreign Affairs and Administration.”

“Wait in the back.”

“Yes.”

Ian pulled a chair up in front of Damon, who was bound in chains. He crossed his legs casually. That was the signal for the clerk to pick up his pen, and the mages pricked up their ears.

“Very well, His Highness Damon of the Kingdom of Burgos. This will be your first interrogation here in Bariel. I suggest you answer carefully. Afterward, we will use the Siltham potion to verify whether your words are true or false. If the people of Burgos learn that their king, who abandoned his country, has been lying abroad, it will be a great tragedy.”

Ian’s words were carefully veiled threats—if Damon didn’t cooperate, it would only bring harm to Burgos.

With a soft rustle, Ian took the report and smiled faintly at Damon.

“Shall we begin?”