Chapter 430
“They’re saying Ian has ties to the royal family?”
Philia’s eyes went wide in disbelief. Then, without meaning to, a laugh escaped her lips—a bitter chuckle born of sheer absurdity. Confusion and incredulity mingled clearly on her face.
Beric munched on a handful of sugar candies, watching her reaction closely. Judging by her response, it was indeed just a baseless rumor.
“That can’t be true, right?”
“I honestly have no idea where that even came from.”
“Maybe it’s because Ian’s just too impressive.”
“Ian’s not blue-eyed, he has green eyes, and besides, he looks exactly like me. Before he went to the Great Desert as part of the peace treaty, Derga tested Ian’s bloodline. I remember something about needing royal approval for his induction.”
“Really? That chubby old man sure came prepared.”
“Of course. He was thorough. At first, I hid Ian away tightly, insisting he wasn’t Derga’s child—that someone must have misunderstood.”
“Where’s the bloodline test kept?”
“I think the Cheonryeo tribe in the Great Desert has it. I should inform Lord Nersarn. Since it only reacts to blood relatives, if I get tested too, any doubts about the lineage will be cleared.”
“Hmm. Actually, no need. I don’t think you or Ian need to prove anything. Your looks speak for themselves. What Lord Romandro’s worried about is…”
Crunch, crunch. Beric chewed the melting sugar candy on his tongue and muttered,
“It’s about you, Philia.”
“Me? Why?”
“Derga’s a noble, so he’s certain about bloodlines. But what if it turns out your parents—or even their generation—were connected to the royal family?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
Philia raised an eyebrow, genuinely questioning the claim. Though she was practically an orphan, she remembered her parents clearly.
She could still feel the soft touch of their pale cheeks, their worried sighs. They had nothing, living like ghosts in the wind, but they left her with golden hair and apologized for it.
In the dead of winter, her father went out searching for food and never returned. The following spring, her mother drowned in a thawed lake. Since then, Philia had mostly been alone, but those childhood memories remained vivid in her heart.
“That can’t be.”
“Good. That’s settled then. Lord Romandro says to keep living as usual, but don’t be too shocked if anything happens.”
Beric finished off the last of the candies and stood up.
“There should be records of the bloodline test in the royal palace. I’ll get them to you. Keep yourself warm and take care.”
“Wait, can I come too?”
“Huh? I just told you to keep things normal.”
“I want to see Ian. After everything he’s been through on the battlefield, this happening right after… it’s too cruel. The palace may be like that, but I want to hold Ian like I held you, Beric.”
Tears welled up in Philia’s eyes, and Beric took a step back with a groan. He quickly glanced around, making sure Nersarn wasn’t watching.
As far as Beric knew, nothing was as troublesome and powerful as Philia’s tears—they could melt even Nersarn and Ian like sugar. Who was he to resist?
Scratching his head nervously, Beric paced back and forth.
“Ah, no, this really isn’t good.”
“Just go see him for a moment, Beric.”
“Ian’s insanely busy.”
“Even just from afar. How can a mother stand by when her son has survived death?”
“If Lord Romandro finds out, he’ll say you were being stubborn.”
“Of course. I’m making Beric do this.”
“Grab your coat. Let’s go.”
“Thanks.”
Philia kissed Beric’s cheek in thanks and moved quickly. Just as she was about to head upstairs—
Ding!
“Ahhh! My lady!”
Crash! Bang!
A scream came from the inner room. Startled, Philia spun around, and Beric instinctively drew his sword and rushed inside. Nersarn and the Cheonryeo tribe warriors training in the backyard reacted just as swiftly. The house had to be the safest place of all.
“What’s going on? Why!?”
“Beric!”
Philia, who had noticed the situation first, turned and blocked Beric’s way. Moans of pain came from Viviana inside.
“Don’t go in. We need a midwife.”
“A midwife?”
“The baby’s coming. There’s an old midwife next door. Lord Nersarn!”
“Right, Philia! I’ll go get her!”
“We should inform Lord Romandro too.”
“Wasn’t Beric about to go to the palace? Hurry and bring Lord Romandro here. Now!”
While Beric stood frozen in shock, the warriors moved with practiced ease. All the children in the tribe had been born this way.
Beric looked back at Philia amid the warriors’ urging.
“Philia! You were going to see Ian, right?”
“How can I leave Viviana like this? When Lord Romandro arrives, I’ll go with him. Beric! Hurry and tell Lord Romandro! As fast as you can!”
“Ah, geez. What a mess.”
Beric shook his head and ran toward the carriage. The dozing coachman noticed the commotion inside the house and wiped the drool from his mouth.
Beric climbed aboard without hesitation, opened the window by the coachman’s side, and waved his coat collar vigorously.
“Go! The baby’s coming!”
“A baby?”
“Hurry!”
“Y-yes, understood.”
The carriage sped around the corner and disappeared. Soon after, the warriors burst back into the house carrying an elderly woman.
“Ian.”
Romandro reached out with a trembling hand, trying to approach Ian.
In his grip was Damon’s hair, soaked in sticky blood that seemed endless. Even if Damon were dying, it wouldn’t be surprising.
But Ian shook his head, stopping Romandro from coming closer.
“Do not come.”
“Ian, why? King Damon is still officially the ruler of Burgos and a key hostage in negotiations. More importantly, he must be presented as a witness at the upcoming tournament. How can you show him like this, covered in blood?”
Something had clearly gone wrong during the interrogation. Whether intentional or not, Ian’s stance meant he was inevitably implicated.
The scribes clutched their documents tightly, pressed against the wall, pale and speechless—clearly shocked.
“Ian, put down that hair. The mages will be here soon. You can’t show them this. Scribes, calm yourselves and breathe. Whatever happened—”
“Ian did it!”
“What?”
“When King Damon tried to speak, Ian suddenly attacked him! At the same time, an explosion occurred. Ian must have used magic!”
The scribes clustered together, shouting their accusations. Ian stood silently, scanning the floor as if searching for something.
“No, you don’t know Ian. He’s not the type to act on emotion. There must be some misunderstanding.”
“You weren’t there. How can you judge? We all saw it!”
“Yes! Ian, this will be reported to the royal family before it’s even recorded. When asked about King Damon’s condition at the tournament, we will tell exactly what we saw and experienced.”
The scribes shouted at Ian, veins bulging. Then they hurriedly tried to leave the basement.
Romandro blocked their way, raising his voice so the mages waiting outside could hear.
“Hey! How can you leave like this and disgrace our minister? We must share details and clear up any misunderstandings. I’m sorry, scribes, but you cannot leave before I understand the situation. The mages outside won’t allow it either!”
“What…! Hah!”
“See? You hear that?”
At that moment, Ian set Damon’s unconscious head down on the floor and stepped closer to the scribes, shoulders tense.
With a calm expression, Ian slowly bent down. Amid the thick smoke, he picked something up.
“Ian, what is that…?”
“Call the healing mages and a doctor.”
Gasp!
It was a piece of tongue. Romandro recoiled in horror and lunged toward the scribes, who clung to each other, staring at Ian with fear and shock.
“There will be severe bleeding, Lord Romandro.”
“Ah, ah! Th-that—”
“I didn’t do this.”
With a soft thud, Ian tossed the tongue piece onto the table and pulled out a handkerchief. Strange markings were drawn on the back of the tongue. Having worked closely with mages, Romandro recognized the pattern—it resembled a magic circle.
“So you had a magic circle hidden away. A device that explodes if certain things are mentioned. It’s the same principle as why the pendant reacted to Rutherford.”
“W-what? Are you saying this is Damon’s tongue?”
“Better to give up flesh than bone, wouldn’t you agree?”
It happened in an instant. Just as Ian was about to ask Damon a question, a strange magical energy was sensed.
Reacting on instinct to prevent the explosion, Ian grabbed Damon’s face. Instead of his entire head being blown off, Damon managed to survive by losing part of his tongue.
Ian looked down quietly at Damon’s trembling shoulder as he collapsed to the floor.
“W-what question did you ask to trigger that? If there’s magic involved, that means a mage is connected to this.”
“Everyone is close to Rutherford.”
The fact that young Ian, a bastard child, had been bound only by a contract spell and then abandoned meant that at the time, they didn’t immediately need a mage’s power. In other words, there were mages under Damon’s command ready to be called upon. They existed then, so there’s no way they don’t exist now.
“So, what exactly did you ask?”
“…King Damon once said this: Rutherford is the one who communicates with the gods to govern the world. That’s why I was curious.”
What on earth had Rutherford done to earn such words from King Damon?
Damon was arrogant, proud, and a royal descendant through and through. And wasn’t he living a second life? For someone like him to speak of Rutherford that way, it was only natural to be curious.
“Those connected to the gods usually possess mysterious powers, so I asked if Rutherford was a mage. He answered no, quite clearly.”
“H-he answered clearly? Then why did this happen?”
“He hesitated for a long time over whether he was ‘a mage or not.’”
Romandro frowned at Ian’s words, unable to grasp their meaning.
“It wasn’t King Damon’s voice, but I’m certain of the answer I heard. Rutherford was ‘once a mage.’”