Episode 57

“What’s the problem?”

“They say adjusting the target is proving difficult.”

“Well, that was expected, wasn’t it?”

“I hoped it wouldn’t be. Looks like we’ll have to settle for the second-best option.”

Everyone, including Kakantir, nodded in agreement. Beric asked again.

“Is there any funding available?”

“Yes. They didn’t give a clear answer, but there is some. I estimate about three thousand gold coins.”

“Wow, damn! That’s insane!”

That amount would cover roughly two months’ worth of support. Even if the palace is helping with reconstruction, solid operating funds are essential for normal management.

“We’ll probably have to meet with Merellof soon, so we should prepare thoroughly.”

“Hmm. Agreed.”

Romandro’s gold, Merellof’s provisions, and Ian as the middleman—if we seize the opportunity, this could turn into a very satisfactory deal.

Kakantir nodded in understanding.

“By the way, this advisor Romandro… he seems genuinely friendly toward us. Do you think so too?”

“Absolutely. Prince Marib sent him to handle the situation, so he’s likely the opposite faction from Gale’s side.”

Molin’s hostility at their first meeting probably played a big part. Since Derga’s betrayal was a joint effort between Molin and Ian, they must have assumed the two were allies.

But judging by the atmosphere, Molin wasn’t just on edge—he seemed ready to tear them apart. Romandro must have guessed that Ian wasn’t aligned with Gale’s faction.

“If we can pull Romandro to our side, everything will go according to plan.”

“Honestly, I’m a bit surprised.”

“Surprised how?”

At Ian’s puzzled question, Kakantir playfully clasped his hand, mimicking Romandro’s earlier reaction.

“To think a magic user would be treated like this in the empire.”

“Well, he’s called the one who resembles the gods most.”

In the borderlands, magic users were often regarded as mythical beings. Kakantir and Nersarn were no exception. Even after seeing Beric, they didn’t fully grasp the immense power magic wielded—the flow of magical energy was like a river feeding into a vast ocean.

“Becoming a governor isn’t truly impossible.”

Ian just smiled. It seemed he only gained full confidence after witnessing Romandro’s reaction firsthand.

“We should drive the wedge in before autumn.”

“I’ll make the preparations.”

“Keep a close watch on Molin and his group.”

“Yes, Kakantir.”

“Beric, you did as instructed, right?”

“Hiding the magic stones? Of course.”

“Good. Everyone, move out.”

At Kakantir’s command, the subordinates silently descended the stairs. Ian returned to Romandro’s room with Beric, and as always, darkness settled over the corridor.

Meanwhile, one floor below.

“Master, what should we do?”

After finishing dinner, Mac and Dego looked toward Molin. Their mentor sat by the window, lost in thought. Mac lit a cigarette and roughly tugged at his hair.

“I just can’t think of any solution.”

“Mac, calm down first.”

“I’m not as composed as you, Dego. Erika—no, it doesn’t matter who—but the lord must be cooperative. Did you see Ian’s attitude earlier?”

Mac’s outburst made Dego sigh deeply. How could they possibly defeat a magic user allied with the Chonryeo tribe? Especially here, in the borderlands, not the capital.

“It would be different if he were friendly toward us…”

“But he’s stiff as a board, sticking close to Romandro…”

He had a good sense of things. Not long after arriving at the mansion, he realized Molin’s group and Romandro were at odds. Whether he knew that Marib and Gale were behind them was uncertain.

“I think it’s better to appoint someone other than Erika as the leader.”

“Who?”

“Remember Hale from the Magic Department? He distinguished himself in the recent Roxan battle. The emperor might grant him a title. How about assigning this territory to him?”

“Hale is a key asset to the palace. The emperor wouldn’t let him take a post in the borderlands, especially after denying his leave. He won’t give him an excuse to leave the capital.”

Mac waved his hand dismissively. The cigarette smoke from his fingertips swirled chaotically.

“And Dego, you know Erika’s personality, right?”

“…I do. Too well.”

“If things go this way, I can’t even imagine how she’ll react.”

Dego silently agreed. Erika was pure determination, rising from commoner to investigation leader. Her loyalty to Lord Gale was less about allegiance and more about the wealth and prestige it brought. Volunteering for this Bratz mission was likely for the same reason.

Swish.

Molin, still staring out the window, approached the table and poured some wine. His voice was heavy, like the night air.

“What if the one blocking your path refuses to move, can’t turn back, and there’s no other way?”

His eyes bore the weight of life’s scars. Taking a sip, he muttered,

“You have no choice but to remove the obstacle.”

“Master.”

“There’s always a way.”

Kill Ian.

For now, it was the surest and cleanest solution. The borderlands made it tricky, but on the other hand, that was a relief. If this were the capital, and he bore the title of mage, it would be much harder to deal with him.

“If a magic user is hostile to us, it’s only right to cut him down before he grows stronger.”

“Exactly. If he grows uncontrollably after becoming a mage, it’ll soon become a burden to Lord Gale.”

All they needed was for Ian to be gone.

Without Ian, the Chonryeo beasts would have no reason to be here, and Romandro would have no power base, rendering him ineffective.

Erika was too afraid for her life to act, but for Molin, failure was worse than death. He couldn’t tolerate a lowborn bastard threatening the great Lord Gale’s legacy.

“We’ll stay here for a few days and observe the situation.”

“Yes, master.”

They planned to watch for an opening.

As soon as Molin’s group arrived at the mansion, they washed away their words with wine, as if hoping to erase them.

Unaware that beneath the bed lay a red brooch—the magic stone.

---

A clear, cloudless morning.

A long procession from the Bratz territory passed through the forest. Ian, Beric, Romandro, his men, and even Chonryeo warriors formed the group.

Romandro muttered, gazing out the window.

“The distance is farther than I thought.”

“Once we get through the forest, it’s close.”

“Does your territory border the Great Desert?”

“Merellof… it does touch the desert in places, but it’s mostly unaffected. It’s closest to the Hawan Kingdom to the east.”

“Ah, right. The Hawan Kingdom is this way.”

Friendly with Bariel and enjoying active trade, Merellof profited greatly as a trading hub between the two nations. Mary obtained fabrics from the east through Lady Merellof.

“Stop. Where are you from?”

“The advisor came from the Bratz territory.”

The gatekeeper checked the coachman’s pass and opened the way. Inside, the place resembled Bratz but bore many exotic marks. Just as Bratz was influenced by the Great Desert and the Chonryeo tribe, this place showed the Hawan Kingdom’s influence.

“You haven’t maintained continuous contact?”

“Not since Derga’s time, but after the investigation team arrived, the gates were locked. Given the circumstances, it was best to avoid entanglement.”

However, after Erika stepped down and Ian took charge, letters had already been sent. Routine inquiries to confirm the situation: whether Derga was truly dead, if the Chonryeo had taken over the territory, and so on. It was natural for neighbors to know these things, but…

‘If the palace hadn’t sent an advisor, they might have been a nuisance.’

Expanding power in borderlands usually meant swallowing neighbors whole. They must have been waiting for an opportunity, but the palace’s advisor arrival clearly unsettled them.

Creak.

The carriage procession finally arrived at the mansion. The coachman opened the door, and the advisor stepped out, surveying the surroundings. Unlike the quiet Bratz, the landscaping here was refined and luxurious.

“Are you Advisor Romandro?”

“Yes.”

“Please come inside. The count is waiting.”

A grizzled butler politely led them in. Romandro glanced briefly at the Chonryeo warriors trailing behind but said nothing.

“Advisor Romandro?”

“Greetings, Count Carlo Merellof.”

“Welcome.”

In the parlor sat a very thin middle-aged man. His complexion was pale and rigid, like tree bark. He exhaled cigarette smoke and looked Ian over.

“So, you’re Ian.”

His cold gaze seemed to pierce right through him, carrying a subtle arrogance.

“I’m honored to meet you, Count Merellof.”

“You don’t resemble Derga in the slightest.”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

“…Please, have a seat.”

Seated around the large round table were Mereloff, Romandro, and Ian. The count offered them tea before getting straight to the point.

“So, you’re here seeking food supplies.”

“That’s right. Our lands are barren as it is, and with next month’s provisions already uncertain, we hoped to ask our neighbors in Mereloff for assistance.”

“Is everything else in order, then?”

“Surprisingly, the recovery has been steady. If we can secure just a couple of months’ worth of supplies, we expect to return to normal around winter.”

Count Mereloff tapped his fingers lightly on the table, clearly deep in thought. After a moment, he nodded and gave an order to his steward.

“Bring the prepared documents.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I’ve given this some thought since receiving your letter. We can’t turn a blind eye to the suffering of our neighbors, but at the same time, it’s not as if I can sacrifice my own lands to save others.”

Had it not been for the palace advisor’s involvement, Ian likely wouldn’t have even been granted a chance to negotiate. It was obvious he lacked funds, and as he himself said, his priority was his own territory, not the neighbors’.

“We’ve compiled a list of what we can offer, along with the prices.”

Romandro’s brow furrowed as he scanned the papers. The staples—wheat and corn—were missing, and the few supplementary items listed were priced at more than five times the usual market rate.

“Um, Count Mereloff?”

“Yes, advisor?”

Romandro called out, clearly taken aback, but the count remained unfazed. Though he had agreed to the deal at the advisor’s request, his reluctance was unmistakable.

Fidgeting with the edge of the documents, Romandro caught Ian’s eye and silently asked for his understanding.

“May we have a moment to discuss this among ourselves?”

“Oh! Ha ha ha! ‘Among ourselves,’ you say?”

The ‘we’ Romandro referred to included Ian, which Mereloff immediately noticed. For the first time, the count burst into hearty laughter. The idea of a lowborn palace advisor sitting down for talks with a minor noble was, to him, utterly ridiculous.

“People from the capital really are something else.”

It was a blatant slight, but Ian didn’t flinch. He simply studied the numbers, lost in thought.

Mereloff, though a border count, was a man fattened by sweet trade deals. He had the confidence to play hardball—and Ian had expected as much.

“Thank you for your kind words.”

Ian smirked quietly and turned away.

No matter how loud the laughter, it always dies down eventually.