Chapter 437
“Your Majesty.”
Ian nodded at Naum’s voice calling him. It was permission to continue speaking. Yet the annex remained silent, and Naum gazed out the window at the nameless flowers drifting apart in the breeze, lost in quiet contemplation.
Ian watched Naum’s back slowly, taking in everything with his eyes. Sometimes, don’t you have moments like this? Nothing particularly special—just an ordinary day—but somehow, you know this moment will linger in your memory, popping up unexpectedly years from now.
Ian knew this was one of those moments. The multicolored petals falling on the wind, and Naum’s silhouette.
“How shall I address you?”
“Your Majesty, how would you like the sentence that remembers you to begin?”
Naum was asking how Ian wished to be described and remembered when, in the distant future, time had faded him into a part of history—how his descendants should recount and judge Ian Verosion.
“Does it even matter? It’s not something I can control.”
“What do you mean? It matters greatly, and it depends entirely on your will, just as it is now. It can be whatever you desire. Setting that aside from your life’s larger story, it will shape the future Bariel pursues. How would you want it recorded?”
Ian hesitated, pondering Naum’s question. It was something he’d never considered before.
His mind was usually occupied with matters like how to carry out the purge of the central nobles, the northern war and the nomads’ migration routes, winter preparations, budget allocations, or the administrative officials lately mired in scandal.
“And you?”
“That phrase?”
“Yes. You will be recorded alongside me in history. Naum, what kind of words would you want to leave behind?”
Ian smiled and deflected the question. It wasn’t something he could answer easily. The words would scatter like dust on his tongue, but if he spoke them now, they might come true. It was like a child given hundreds of candies, unsure which to choose.
Only then did Naum turn to look at Ian.
“Your record comes first. Why do you want to hear mine first?”
“Still, tell me. What kind of Bariel have you experienced, and what kind do you want to build?”
“I…”
Naum lightly traced the windowpane with his fingertip, leaving a faint fingerprint. He seemed a bit shy, furrowing his brow slightly as he smiled.
“I don’t think I can. I cannot speak of another Bariel while your wishes stand.”
Ian’s will might be Naum’s, but Naum’s could never be Ian’s. Ian kept insisting it was fine, urging him to speak quickly, but Naum’s resolve wouldn’t break.
In the end, Ian leaned back on the sofa and slowly rolled beautiful words over his tongue.
The golden age of the great empire Bariel, when all its people smiled and lived full lives. The era of light when Gaia shone brighter than ever—
“Ian ascended the throne as a boy.”
Then, Naum’s cold voice brushed past him.
Startled, Ian turned his head—and the world froze. It wasn’t a metaphor. The flower petals drifting outside the window hung motionless in the air, and Naum’s smiling figure was frozen too. Only his lips moved, grotesquely.
“Ian ascended the throne as a boy.”
“…Naum?”
“And was beheaded before reaching adulthood.”
“Naum!”
“Ian ascended the throne as a boy! And was beheaded before reaching adulthood! Ian ascended the throne as a boy! And was beheaded before reaching adulthood!”
Naum shouted as if the whole world would shatter, and Ian realized blood was seeping from his own neck. He clutched it with both hands, but the red liquid poured through his fingers.
Ian collapsed forward, looking up at Naum. Then Naum transformed into Crony’s form. Crony grabbed his own fallen hair and shook it, leaning close to Ian’s face and asked,
“Ian Verosion. Where is Naum?”
“Ugh!”
Ian woke with a harsh gasp. There could be no worse nightmare. His heart pounded relentlessly, and cold sweat dripped down his skin.
When had he fallen asleep? Ian frowned at the scattered documents disturbed by his movements. Though he knew it was pointless, he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ground himself in reality.
“Haah.”
He would never forget that chilling moment when his neck was cut.
Feeling overly sensitive, Ian shook the wet strands of his hair and reached for the water bottle. It should have been full, but it was empty.
‘Of all times—’
“Is anyone out there?”
He spoke softly, trying to calm his racing heart, but no sound came from outside. Strange. The blanket draped over his shoulders meant someone had been here during the night, so why was the water bottle empty?
“…Is there really no one out there?”
It was eerily quiet. Even the servants who usually opened and closed doors made no sound. Ian’s unease grew.
Had everything stopped, just like in the dream?
Creak!
Thud!
Ian snapped the door open nervously—and was met with a ridiculous scene.
“Everyone…”
“Hey, hey, Ian’s up! Look alive, everyone.”
“Oh? Ian, you don’t look well. You’re sweating a lot. Are you sick? Should I get a doctor—”
“No! Shut up and get in line!”
“Ian! These bastards tied me up so I couldn’t move! But why are you so wet? Did you wash your face inside?”
“If anyone heard this, they’d think you’re the one doing the tying! You sneaky little traitor, trying to back out after agreeing to this! You’re acting like a rat! Should we just exclude Beric? Huh? Huh?!”
“But it’s true they tied me up!”
“That’s because you kept sneaking into the office!”
The earlier silence was completely forgotten in the chaos. Each wore a red headband tied around their forehead, and their wizard robes were worn backward.
Ian crossed his arms, utterly baffled by the commotion. Leaning against the wall, the wizards hesitated before revealing signs hidden behind their backs. They glanced nervously at each other, as if unsure if this was allowed.
“We, we’re actively expressing our opinions to Ian!”
“Where’s Hale? While all this is going on, what is he doing?”
“He went to the backyard to make signboards.”
“…This is maddening.”
“Ian came out earlier than expected. Can we continue?”
Ian gave a slight nod, as if to say, ‘Go ahead.’ This wasn’t a spontaneous gathering. A protest inside the palace? Ian was speechless. He never imagined he’d see something like this.
“Ian!”
“…What?”
“This is a solidarity movement for the rights and advancement of wizards. We call it the MaMaYeon for short.”
“Quite the colorful nonsense you’re up to.”
“Ian! Doesn’t the name sound weird? By the way, I was against it.”
“Beric was the first to sign.”
A wizard slid a petition toward Ian. At the top was a drawing that looked like a slab of beef—Beric’s handiwork, who found drawing easier than writing.
Ian confirmed all the signatures from the magic department were there and shrugged. Now, he wanted to know what exactly they were demanding.
“Among civil servants of the same rank, is there anyone treated as well as wizards? I understand wage negotiations happen every year at the start.”
The very idea of ‘improving treatment’ was laughable. Ian shook the paper slowly, and the wizards clenched their fists.
“Wages, whatever! We don’t care!”
“We don’t care!”
“We don’t care! I want meat! They keep cutting my pay, and I get nothing!”
“For critical matters like the rift investigation, please proceed not only with Ian’s unilateral decisions but also by considering our opinions!”
Ian furrowed his brow, confused.
“I already heard your opinions. You said you’d volunteer.”
“You say you want volunteers, but no one’s coming forward! Otherwise, you wouldn’t say you’re going yourself! Rumors are already spreading in the palace that Ian will personally go to the rift. You don’t waste a single breath, so if this isn’t intentional, what is? Explain yourself!”
“Explain!”
“Do whatever you want! I just want meat!”
The wizards’ demands came fast and furious, and Ian ran a hand through his hair.
They weren’t entirely wrong. Like Jin, who worried about the magic department’s manpower loss, Ian didn’t think many Bariel wizards were needed for the rift investigation. He believed it could be handled sufficiently by Luswena and northern volunteers.
Of course, assuming he was at the center of it all.
“So, what exactly do you want? Wearing red headbands inside the palace without fear?”
Ian clicked his tongue and reached to remove the headband from the wizard closest to him.
But the wizard firmly refused with a hand gesture, leaning back slightly.
“We won’t move a step from the main hall, just for you, Ian.”
“Yes. We’re on strike. We’re not doing any Ministry work at all. You probably won’t even see a servant bring you water.”
“Is that why the water bottle’s empty?”
“Who knows? Anyway, our demands still stand! First, that our opinions be heard. And second, no resignations!”
“No resignations!”
“If Ian leaves, who’s going to run the Ministry? There are already so many wizards injured from the war. Now more than ever, you need to hold the fort firmly! If not Ian, then there’s only Captain Hale or Captain Akorella—are you planning to get rid of all of us?”
“Oppose Akorella’s appointment!”
When Beric shouted that, everyone gasped sharply and took a step back. They’d never heard a slogan like that before.
Ian pressed his fingers to his forehead. These rebels had lost all their bite. They were a ragtag bunch—wizards who only knew how to cast spells but couldn’t organize for anything. Ian remembered those who had tied red cloths around their heads back when he was emperor, fighting for their lands’ independence and to make their grievances known. With a gesture refusing their refusal, he finally snatched a headband off one of them.
“Doesn’t everyone know I was involved in Idgal’s invention?”
How could someone who threatened the safety of wizards still sit as Minister of Magic?
“My stepping down is for everyone’s good.”
“Ahhh! That violates the first demand! Hear our opinions! If it’s for everyone’s good, then listen to what everyone thinks!”
The wizards crossed their arms tightly and filled the hallway without leaving a gap. Judging by their coordination, they must have practiced.
“You won’t be leaving otherwise.”
“Better to just kill us—! No, don’t kill us, just step on us and move along!”
“Soon, delegations from Clipford and other countries will arrive. What do you think they’ll say when they see wizards acting like this? Huh?”
Since they didn’t seem worried about the royal family’s reputation, it was likely Jin already knew. After all, no matter how clueless wizards were about the world, they couldn’t be unaware of what the red headbands symbolized.
Wait, hold on.
“Ah.”
“Why? Are you finally ready to talk?”
Ian muttered softly, as if struck by a sudden realization. Maybe they didn’t know. After all, a hundred years separated Ian’s era from this place.
“Did you inform Clipford and the other countries about the delegation schedule?”
“Want to know? You probably don’t, since you have no servants to pass on your orders. Curious, aren’t you?”
The wizards’ eyes gleamed sharply as they tightened their arms even more. This was a threat that would hit Ian where it hurt.
“If you want to work, come to an agreement with the ‘Mama Yeon’!”