Chapter 445

Ian fiddled with his cuffs and tilted his head slightly, causing his bangs to fall out of place. If a servant had helped him, they’d be perfectly neat, but having dressed himself alone, the result was rather sloppy.

He blew lightly on his bangs. At an official meeting—especially for someone holding a ministerial post—wearing one’s hair down wasn’t exactly appropriate. Even considering he hadn’t yet come of age.

“…Beric.”

“No way. I don’t care about anything else, but this isn’t my job. I don’t even comb my own hair, how am I supposed to fix yours?”

“It’s just pinning it back.”

“Exactly. If I mess with it, you’ll end up with half your hair torn out. You want to sit through the meeting with patchy bangs?”

Beric, perched on the back of the sofa, crossed his arms in an X. Better to run around and rough it out than get scolded for botching a hairstyle he’d never done before.

Ian gestured toward his grooming kit as if to say it was fine.

“I won’t scold you.”

“No, it’s not you I’m worried about—it’s those idiots outside making a fuss. Just leave it down. So what? It looks nice, flowing gently.”

“Who goes to an official meeting with their hair down?”

“Seriously, you’re always going on about quitting the minister’s post, but now you’re worried about your hair? Stop talking nonsense!”

“I know what’s going on outside. Bring in a servant.”

“……”

Ian gave a low command, but there was no sign of movement outside. They were listening to everything, yet doing nothing. If he flung the door open, he was sure they’d be startled and run off.

Resigned, Ian gave up on fixing his hair and picked up his jacket. Straightening his clothes, he flipped through the documents in front of him. His hands moved busily, but his eyes never left the text.

How long had it been? Just as Ian decided it was time to leave and closed the folder—

Bang!

“Ah! You scared me!”

“Ian! Huff, huff!”

“What’s going on? Romandro, why are you here?”

Romandro burst in, his hair oddly tousled to one side, his shirt untidy and sticking out, and his shoes scuffed and hastily put on. It was clear he’d rushed over.

He collapsed forward, catching his breath, while Ian watched the backs of the mages visible through the door crack.

“Beric was right. You should be with the child. Why are you here?”

“No… huff, huff… wasn’t today the first inter-nation negotiation? I couldn’t assist Ian properly at the grand assembly, so this time, I must! I mean, I want to help properly.”

“…There’s no need. Just handling approvals at home is enough help.”

Ian replied as if to say he understood. The mages had summoned Romandro because last time, no one was there to stop Ian’s outburst. This time, they wanted Romandro to accompany him to prevent any accidents.

Romandro wiped the sweat dripping from his chin, placed a hand on his waist, and caught his breath.

“That’s not an option! To feed and clothe our child until adulthood, I have to work hard. I know it’s a busy time, but I’m grateful you’re making accommodations.”

“How is Viviana? Is she well?”

“Oh, she’s so healthy it’s almost a problem. She’s just adorable.”

“That’s a relief. And it’s not a favor. Romandro, it’s your right to be here.”

“Enough. How could I stand by and watch my superior leave looking like this? Come on, this way.”

Romandro sat Ian in front of a mirror, and Beric’s eyes rolled as he followed the scene. Running off at the mages’ call after badmouthing Ian—he just didn’t get it. A presence that seemed helpful but wasn’t quite.

Beric narrowed his eyes, and Romandro scowled, nodding.

“Beric, stop lounging around and get some gloves from the drawer.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Ian, just sweep your hair all back, right?”

“Yes, please.”

Romandro, as if grooming his own hair, expertly tidied Ian’s. Ian closed his eyes lightly, clearly pleased, and Romandro glanced at him through the mirror.

“I’m handling work from home, but I’d like you to explain a bit more.”

“Hmm. There’s not much you need to know. Except for the northern forces, everyone’s arrived. Prince Noah is under a curse, King Eriphoni is at odds with the Luswena mages, and Burgos is…”

Ian’s eyes flickered open slightly. He suddenly recalled the woman who was the Burgos delegation’s representative. Nothing special—she’d been given quarters in the palace like the others and was quietly preparing for negotiations, as he’d been recently informed.

“There wasn’t a single noble among Burgos’s delegation.”

“No nobles? None at all?”

“There was one official from the provinces, probably from the Bariel borderlands, acting as a guide and escort.”

The absence of any nobles spoke volumes. It meant most of the current dynasty’s supporters had scattered, and the capital was in turmoil due to power struggles.

They couldn’t afford to let their guard down for even a moment. No one in their right mind would dare journey to Bariel. The moment they turned their back, they’d be devoured. What good was guarding a collapsing dynasty’s last moments? Burgos was on the path to ruin.

“Then the origin of the delegation is important. The faction sending the official delegation is practically the next dynasty, right? As a vassal of Bariel, they’d be the direct line of communication.”

“But there’s something odd.”

“What is it?”

“The female delegation leader’s background is unclear.”

“Huh? What about her?”

“Official records list her status, but there are many suspicious inconsistencies. The guards’ interrogations didn’t match the records. It was corrected as a simple mistake, but since it was reported, even the guards found it strange.”

Rustle.

Romandro picked up a document while smoothing Ian’s hair. The woman at the top of the delegation list—he thought over her name carefully but nothing stood out.

“Well, when a country’s in chaos, inexperienced newcomers sometimes get important roles. What does it matter where an official delegate comes from? What we should focus on is their stance. What did they say about King Damon?”

“They’re holding back, saying they’ll speak during negotiations.”

“Have they met with Damon?”

“Only the delegation leader had the authority for a one-on-one meeting. Nothing special—just exchanged pleasantries.”

“Hard to tell. If they were abandoning Damon, they wouldn’t bother meeting.”

“That’s what puzzles me. But I don’t think they intend to continue the Rankvis dynasty. We’ll have to hear their official position during talks.”

Ian confirmed through guards and secretaries that there were no secret signals or covert messages between the two. Other ministers in the palace would have verified this as well.

Since Burgos’s stance would affect policy details, it was natural to watch the delegation closely. Even if Bariel was the predator and Burgos the prey, that attitude never changed. The stronger the beast, the less chance it gives its prey.

“All right, that’s enough.”

Romandro resumed grooming Ian’s hair, tapping it lightly with his fingertips. Ian tilted his head to check if it stayed neat.

“Thank you.”

“No need. Between us… Now, shall we get going? Is that all the paperwork?”

“There’s a bit more, but I already sent it ahead to the conference room through Beric.”

“Good. Oh, but what about the rest?”

“The rest?”

“The northern forces. You said they haven’t arrived yet. It’s fine to negotiate without them, but if everything’s settled and they suddenly show up with demands, that’d be a problem. Have you heard how far along they are?”

“Ah…”

In truth, Bariel didn’t care much whether they attended. The Atan tribe might help with the rift, directly or indirectly.

But strictly speaking, that was Clifford’s job to handle.

“Bariel is focused on strengthening control over Burgos and Luswena, so they probably won’t pay much attention. They’re short on manpower anyway. Hasha occasionally received letters, but nothing recent.”

“Is that so?”

“Still, they wouldn’t just skip without a reason. They’re all leaders of their factions, and understanding the situation is crucial. Especially Efdiram…”

Ian turned to look at Beric, who was standing there dumbfounded. The leather gloves he’d pulled on were stretched tight.

“She’ll definitely come.”

“Why are you looking at me when you say that?”

“Because she’s like you, Beric. If you treat her like you do, the answer’s obvious.”

“Did you just insult me?”

“Not at all. That was a compliment.”

Once someone sets their mind to a path, they push through to the end. They don’t get distracted by side issues, seeing only what’s in front of them. Their depth is transparent, so you can guess, but it’s surprisingly deep—too deep for just anyone to step into.

Ian smiled faintly and nodded at Berrick—a signal to lead the way and open the office door.

“Let’s go. We’re going to be late.”

“There’s still plenty of time,” Berrick replied.

Creak.

As the door swung open, a line of resolute mages stood waiting to greet Ian. Their eyes burned with determination. Romandro, feeling uneasy, slipped behind Ian and took a steadying breath.

But Ian strode out of the office as if nothing was amiss, moving straight toward them.

“You were all here, yet no one answered when called. Do you want your superior to appear at an official gathering looking disheveled?”

“Oh, no, that’s not it!”

“…Everyone, lower the cloth from your heads down to your necks. We must meet His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince Jin. Except for His Majesty the Emperor, no one may wear anything on their head.”

“Ah, yes, sir.”

“Ian! If you speak alone again during this negotiation, we’re really going to lose it. Got it?”

“I—I won’t just stand by! Really!”

Following Ian’s orders, the mages lowered the red cloth from their heads to their necks, then whispered to Romandro, who stood behind them.

‘Please keep Ian in check!’

‘Understood. Don’t worry, just ease up on the intensity in your eyes!’

‘No way. This is a matter of resolve!’

‘Good grief. Such a fuss…’

They smiled awkwardly, thinking they were speaking in secret, though their lips moved clearly enough.

Ian cut through the group of mages and said, “Let’s go.”

“Yes, Ian!”

Clack, clack!

A dozen or so mages followed the young minister, all with red cloths tied around their necks—like a mark identifying them as Ian’s people. Berrick, clutching a stack of documents under his arm, fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a scrap of cloth, wrapping it around his neck.

“I’m coming too!”

Waving a red cloth the same color as his hair, Berrick pushed his way through the mages.