Chapter 555
“Sigh…”
The quiet imperial palace office.
The clerks stamping documents all glanced discreetly at Romandro. He rested his chin on his hand, clicking his pen absently, his mind only half present.
“Ugh…”
“Um, Lord Romandro?”
“Hm? What is it? Already done?”
“No, it’s not that… the floor is starting to cave in. Is something wrong? You’ve taken a break a dozen times in a row just now.”
The moment Romandro heard that, his eyes welled up, and with a heavy thud, he collapsed face-down onto the desk. The staff finally set down their stamps and turned their chairs toward him.
“Nooo!”
“Yes, yes, what’s the matter?”
“It’s been nearly ten days since everyone left, and there’s been no word at all! Even if the little troublemaker pup is out of touch, Ian—no, the Minister—should have sent some message, right? Huh?”
“Oh.”
So that’s all it was.
Everyone straightened their chairs, and only the closest clerk offered some comfort, patting Romandro’s shoulder.
“Um, Lord Romandro. You did receive the dispatch ordering the relocation of the Dera tribe now that the army has reached Raja Mountain, right?”
“That’s a different matter!”
“No news is good news. Once they cross the border, more dispatches will come. Don’t worry.”
Sniff “Huh… sob…”
Honestly, if it were anyone else, who would care about the Minister of Magic? He’s someone who survived the Abyss itself—what’s a little war to him? The clerk swallowed the words rising in his throat and forced a smile.
Bang!
At that moment, an imperial palace staff member hurried in, glancing around anxiously before spotting Romandro.
“Lord Romandro! Are you here?”
“Hmm? Yes, I’m here.”
“The Minister of Magic sent a message. A separate dispatch was just sent to the Prime Minister as well. There’s trouble in the northern rift zone. The fissure widened, and monsters flooded in, but thankfully the palace guard repelled them.”
“What? Monsters flooding in? Up north?”
“The Atan tribe, the root of the disaster, has been wiped out. The scouting party is surveying nearby, but since they must rejoin the main force, they’re requesting reinforcements from the palace. The last page is an order for you alone to review.”
“Hand it over!”
As Romandro read the letter, the staff grew tense. Monsters during wartime? An emergency meeting was needed.
“Is the Prime Minister confirming the details?”
“Yes. An official notice will be issued soon.”
“Good heavens, monsters suddenly appearing there… Wait! What about the vanguard?”
“We don’t know yet. It’s expected there might be trouble.”
“Oh dear. Everyone, keep this under wraps. There’s no benefit in the empire’s citizens finding out.”
“Of course. Understanding the situation is our priority.”
Everyone bustled about, but Romandro stood still, reading Ian’s letter carefully. Then, suddenly, he dashed out.
“Lord Romandro! Wait! The approvals are almost done!”
“Send it to the Ministry of Magic! Please!”
Pat-pat-pat!
The time had come. Without hesitation, Romandro ran toward the carriage, urging the driver.
“To the Mage Tower! Head to the Mage Tower!”
“You mean where King Damon is?”
“Yes, yes. And you! Contact Timothy. Here’s the address.”
Romandro recited the address fluently, as if memorized. The attendant took the paper and asked curiously,
“Timothy, you say?”
“Yeah, the man who was in charge of the annex construction but quit last year. The one with that rough, rugged face and big build!”
“Ah, understood.”
The driver cracked the whip sharply, and Romandro kept reviewing Ian’s urgent requests.
—Lord Romandro, I hope you are well.
There was trouble at the northern rift, but thankfully it was contained, and we are advancing north.
Do you recall what I told you before? About King Damon’s fate? He wishes to die by his own hand because he is preparing for his next life.
Neither His Majesty nor I, nor anyone in this world, wishes Bariel to be endangered. Therefore, until the secret of reincarnation is uncovered, we must keep him alive. To do so, you must be vigilant against any moves from Burgos. Beyond Damon’s personal matters, his existence is the reason for the royalist faction and the pillar holding up the current Burgos crisis…
Romandro wiped cold sweat from his brow and turned the page.
—There may be assassination attempts. Internal traitors might try, or assassins could be sent. The crucial point is that this must never be revealed outside.
His Majesty the Emperor and close aides are all involved. Keep this quiet. If word leaks, the empire’s people will panic, and the enemy will grow bolder…
“Hey, can’t you go any faster?”
“Yes, understood. Let’s go!”
—Protect King Damon secretly. At least until Bariel captures Burgos.
Timothy is a suitable ally. He has connections both inside and outside the palace, is from Burgos, hostile to Damon, and strong…
“We’re almost there, Lord Romandro.”
“Good. Stay here. If anything feels off, call me immediately!”
“What do you mean ‘off’?”
“Just—if you sense something unusual, don’t stay still!”
“Yes, yes, understood.”
Why is he acting like that? The driver nodded, puzzled.
As Romandro climbed the tower, he scrutinized every soldier’s face carefully. There might be a traitor among them!
“Are you Lord Romandro?”
“You! How do you know me?”
“Of course I know. This is the Mage Tower, and you’re the Ministry of Magic’s aide.”
“Ahem. No problems?”
“Yes, it’s been very quiet for days.”
“You’re still alive, right?”
“Obviously.”
The soldiers wondered what kind of conversation this was. If King Damon had died, they would have reported immediately.
Romandro narrowed his eyes and passed by them, soon reaching the chamber where Damon was held.
Creak.
The double iron door opened as Romandro stepped inside. Damon turned his head to look at him.
‘Still intact.’
Romandro pulled a chair and sat before him, intending to wait for Timothy.
Damon watched his back quietly and smiled faintly. Since the war began, he’d wondered what would become of him—
‘Finally.’
Finally, he would see the end.
Damon clasped his restless fingers together and stared straight ahead, as if ready for the blade at his throat at any moment.
The sky was just beginning to brighten with dawn.
Ian had risen early and was surveying outside. The long-burned-out firewood lay scattered here and there. Unlike most of Bariel’s people still asleep, the Astanians were already awake, starting their day.
“You’re up, Ian.”
“They’re all early risers.”
“Not because they’re diligent. As shamans, they often need the dawn’s energy.”
He muttered something repeatedly with a peculiar hand gesture. Hasha, who was praying among them, noticed Ian and smiled.
“Sir Ian, have you been coughing?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Are you well?”
“Look at this. These are my family, and there are no Bariel watchers here. You’re my close friend—how could you be like this?”
To the Astanians, Ian was not just Bariel’s Minister of Magic but also Hasha’s imperial friend. A bond forged through special ties.
Ian smiled in return and perched opposite him.
“Yes, Hasha. I heard you wanted a private meeting yesterday. Sorry for the delay; I couldn’t make it then.”
“Of course. Were you busy?”
“Thank you. So, what is it?”
“It’s about something to discuss. Among the northern minority tribes, only Astana stands with Bariel, as you well know.”
“Of course. His Majesty is pleased, and all the glory of this war will be yours.”
Hasha lowered his gaze briefly, then spoke cautiously.
“We know our role in the war against Burgos. But I want to discuss what comes after.”
“Specifically?”
“When the war expands to Toorun. By then, all northern tribes except Astana will be nearly wiped out. Astana should focus less on fighting and more on consolidating and absorbing them.”
He meant there was no need to continue a draining war. Toorun was beyond Astana’s capacity, so better to unify the north with that strength.
“I’m telling you this before His Majesty because I want to hear Bariel’s stance indirectly, and because I trust you. After Burgos falls, Astana will follow its own path.”
Ian pondered for a moment.
As Astana’s king, this was a natural decision. But as Bariel’s minister, he had to carefully consider how their defection would impact the empire.
“And after unifying the north?”
“Then, stabilizing the country comes first.”
“What if we consider handing over the other northern shamans instead of Astana?”
“That’s not a bad idea, but I can’t be sure what decisions will be made for unification yet. That’s all I wanted to say.”
Some factions would inevitably be excluded during unification. Those would be captured and relegated to the lowest social class. Hasha’s suggestion was to hand them over to Bariel instead.
But Hasha offered no assurances.
“For now, I understand Astana’s intentions clearly.”
“Let me be clear—Astana will always be Bariel’s ally.”
“Of course. I have no doubt about that. Still, when you relay this to His Majesty, it would be best if we could find a compromise that satisfies everyone. That way, I can also support Astana.”
Hasha slowly embraced Ian. The soft, warm touch was vivid in his memory, but now it was the cold body of an old man.
Ian suddenly felt as if Hasha’s time was slipping away too quickly.
“Thank you for saying that.”
Thud.
Vrrrmmm.
At that moment, a faint vibration echoed.
Ian and the Astanians turned their heads simultaneously. In the distance, with the rising sun behind it, something was charging toward them.
“What’s that?”
“A golem!”
Swish.
At the sorcerer’s gesture, the golem neatly spread its hands and lowered itself. As its master climbed aboard, the golem raised its arms with all its might, gaining altitude.
“What do you see?”
“Wait, hold on. Those guys—”
The hesitant reaction of the sorcerers made Ian realize immediately.
“The situation on Burgos’s side is already unstable due to civil war. Even if they face Bariel, they’d prefer to clash outside the borders rather than within.”
“Are those sorcerers from Burgos?”
“Looks like it! The Natan and Megetu tribes!”
“On the opposite side, the Engzargal tribe is approaching!”
The northern tribes allied with Burgos, excluding Astana, were gathering—marching into Astana’s territory, not Burgos’s.
“Sound the horn.”
Bwooo—
Bwooo—
At Ian’s command, the sentries blew their buffalo horn trumpets.
Just then, Beric, who had woken up hungry, staggered out of his tent.
“Ugh, what now? What’s going on this early?”
“An attack from another tribe!”
“Ah, damn it. Getting to Burgos is already a pain in the ass. It’s right nearby, they say? Every damn step’s a struggle! That Rutherford bastard—should shave his head bald!”
Beric stretched and grumbled, and Ian tossed him a coat.
“Life’s always tough once you leave home, Beric. If your wounds haven’t healed, stay back.”
“What if they have?”
“Even then, stay back.”
This was a place where they didn’t have to worry about cracks or fractures. Ian gave a nod to the Astanians and began walking slowly toward the rising sun.
“We’re almost there, but we can’t afford to delay.”