Episode 61

“…You said you talked about it?”

“Don’t you remember? I said, ‘We’ll use rumors.’”

At Ian’s cryptic remark, Morin recalled the conversation they’d had during their second lunch together.

They had discussed how, if it could solve the famine, any kind of food would be welcome. They even shared ideas on how to distribute it to improve public perception.

“…!”

Could it be that he had this moment in mind all along?

Ian shifted the topic with a calm expression.

“The one gathering the gulla seeds is none other than Romandro, who came down from the royal palace.”

All eyes turned to Romandro.

These were people who served the emperor directly in the palace. If they took the lead in recognizing gulla as food, changing public perception wouldn’t be a problem.

“Let’s sketch out a scenario. The palace has long been researching alternative crops. During their studies, they discovered that while gulla is highly toxic, its seeds are nutritious and tasty. Romandro secured this information early and has been collecting the seeds.”

“Are you sure that’s alright?”

“About what?”

“Well…”

“What does it matter? It’s just talk. The rumors from Bratz don’t reach the palace. They only come through your pens, as you know.”

Romandro scratched his chin awkwardly. As they’d agreed, the report would highlight Ian’s praises but only spread rumors among the local populace.

“Is that all we need? Just rumors?”

“Of course not. We’ll add some research results too. What should we say? That it improves skin and hair, and promotes longevity?”

“Hahaha! That’s ridiculous.”

“Why not? When you want to entice someone, you always exaggerate. And Romandro, Morin, you two should make a point of dining out often—showcasing dishes made with gulla. I’ll take care of the rest.”

At Ian’s words, Morin slammed his hand lightly on the table—a clear refusal.

“That’s nonsense! Using the palace to spread rumors is unthinkable. It concerns His Majesty’s dignity.”

If they spread gulla under the guise of research and problems arose later, wouldn’t people blame the palace? Morin’s reasoning was sound, but Ian didn’t agree.

“…Back then, I thought you saw solving the famine as a leader’s destiny. You wouldn’t oppose it over such trivial reasons.”

“Trivial? How dare you call the palace’s honor trivial!”

“Nothing is trivial when death is at the door!”

It was almost the first time Ian had raised his voice in a heated exchange. Usually, he just smiled and replied lightly. As Morin faltered, opening his mouth, Ian set down his napkin.

“Morin, I think there’s a misunderstanding. I’m not asking for permission.”

A blunt declaration: refusal is refused.

“If you oppose and obstruct, leave the territory immediately. I will order the warriors to escort you out.”

“…How rude!”

“Mac, look at your position clearly. Who’s being rude here?”

Ian had proposed a plan to save the territory and its people, while Morin and his group opposed it simply because they were palace envoys.

Mac’s face flushed deeply at the insult. Though not quite dukes or counts, they were noble-born and had never been treated like this before.

Romandro, who had been quietly listening, stepped in to lighten the mood.

“Ahem. Please calm down. Morin, I’ve tasted it myself, and it’s quite good. The recipes are surprisingly varied, so the dining table will be more colorful.”

Just then, Beric slipped into the dining hall, winking subtly with his left eye—a discreet signal that the mana stones had been retrieved.

“I’ve said all I need to. This is important, and I won’t tolerate any interference.”

“Ian, how dare you be so arrogant!”

“Well then, enjoy your meal. I’m off.”

Ian said this and asked Romandro to handle things from here. Outside in the hallway, Beric handed him a mana stone.

“You sure have a way with words, Ian.”

“What do you mean?”

“You just said ‘I won’t forgive you’ instead of ‘I’ll kill you’ when you meant if they eat like pigs in front of everyone. So refined. So refined.”

Beric clicked his tongue in admiration, and Ian chuckled softly.

They headed to the office that Derga had used. The investigation team had taken all the papers but left the mana solution untouched. Ian poured the solution into a glass bottle and dropped in a mana stone, just as Derga had done.

Plop!

The red gem glowed and began to hum. Ian read through the incoming reports with one ear, while Beric sprawled on the sofa, chewing on some gulla leaves.

It was a rare moment of peace.

[With her personality… if this goes smoothly… I dare not even guess what she’ll do.]

The quiet scratching of Ian’s pen was the only sound amid the three men’s murmurs.

[If the one blocking your path won’t move, you can’t turn back, and there’s no other way… what will you do?]

At that moment, Ian paused his pen. Beric, half-asleep, stopped chewing and raised his head slightly.

“What did you just say, damn it?”

“Shh.”

[You have to remove the obstacle… and move forward.]

[Sir.]

[There’s always a way.]

Ian tapped the table with his pen, amused. Beric came closer, flipped his thumb, and made a throat-slitting gesture.

“You’re saying you want to kill me?”

“Ah, yes. Well, it’s not a bad option.”

Ian considered it a choice he’d make if he were in their position. The best option would be to give up the Bratz territory, but letting go of a place he’d worked on for months was harder than cutting off his own breath.

Besides, thinking about the future, it was the safest move.

“What’ll it be? Cut him down?”

Beric calmly drew his sword sheath, as if plucking a wildflower.

‘Looks like he’s been waiting for the chance…’

Unfortunately, Ian had rarely been alone while working. Beric was always nearby, and his sleep schedule was erratic, so he only napped briefly during the day.

“Cut? Or not?”

“Not. Wait. This is too flimsy to be evidence. If I’d known, I’d have given him a harder time earlier.”

Ian smiled and pulled out another mana stone. The faces of Morin and his group in the dining hall came vividly to mind—their anger steeped in shame and humiliation.

They might even send an assassin tonight.

“What’s so funny?”

“Ah, nothing… just old memories.”

Though brief, the emperor was still the emperor.

He could confidently say he knew better than anyone how dark the chambers were at night, the sound of a venomous scorpion climbing the curtains, and the look in the eyes of a dagger-wielding intruder.

“Beric, you need to stay sharp.”

“I’m always sharp.”

“A little more. Wide awake.”

Ian tapped Beric’s cheek, asking him to keep the guard tight. Of course, he also reminded him to keep an eye and ear on Morin’s group.

---

Not far from the mansion, Romandro was inspecting the reconstruction progress with his subordinates. The sun was high, and one of them cautiously suggested lunch.

“Let’s call it a morning’s work.”

“Sounds good.”

“Romandro! What about the remaining oak wood?”

“Line it up and move it to the entrance of Gilsam Village. Didn’t they say the suspension bridge was broken? We’ll build a proper bridge there and use the wood.”

“Yes, understood.”

“Romandro!”

“Wait a moment. Shouldn’t we eat first?”

“Sorry, but it’s urgent. About that huge rock you told us to clear—it’s the grave of Iza Abi.”

“What? Damn it.”

Romandro grabbed his head and motioned for the subordinate to lead the way. He had a feeling he’d miss lunch. He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a handful of something, tossing it into his mouth.

“Did you see that?”

The villagers watching from a distance whispered among themselves.

“He always pulls something out of his pocket while working.”

“Yeah. And he never tells us what it is when we ask.”

“Tsk, tsk. Haven’t you heard?”

One man butted in knowingly.

“Those are gulla seeds. Gulla seeds.”

“Ugh? What nonsense. Why would the advisor have those?”

“Don’t you know? Didn’t they buy gulla at the mansion last time?”

“That’s right.”

The recruitment period was over, so they weren’t accepting more, but even if they did, there was no way to get more seeds. The gulla plants around had all withered. No matter how deep into the forest they went, not a single gulla leaf was in sight.

“Actually, Romandro plans to eat them himself!”

“Crazy! That’s ridiculous even to joke about!”

“No, it’s true. We’re on the frontier, so the news is slow. But people in the capital already eat gulla seeds like peanuts.”

“Isn’t he crazy from eating gulla? Looks like his head’s spinning from the poison.”

“Gulla’s poisonous on the outside, but the seeds taste great. They say it makes your skin firm and bright. People in the capital can’t get enough of it!”

“Alright, that’s enough,” one of the gathered people said, tilting their head in confusion.

“Really?”

“If you don’t believe me, go ask the advisor yourself. Ask what it is that they’re stuffing into their pockets. They’ll never tell you. They’re too busy eating to bother explaining.”

“So you’re saying they spent that money just to collect gulla?”

“Or maybe there’s some other reason? Have you ever seen the higher-ups waste money like that?”

Everyone shook their heads at the man’s words. When it came to money, those people sucked it dry without leaving a drop. There was no way they’d waste it like that. There had to be a good reason.

“So you’re saying Ian wasn’t trying to sell out to the Cheonryeo tribe?”

“That’s ridiculous! The Cheonryeo won’t even be able to stay here soon—it’s getting too cold. Most of them have already left, along with their chief and Ner. Only Ner and a few others remain. And I heard their chief is on his last legs.”

The rumors spread from mouth to mouth, growing bigger with each retelling. Ian, who had secretly planted eyes and ears everywhere, finally nodded once the ‘right’ rumor had circulated.

“Did you hear? They say the emperor eats it for immortality. What a load of nonsense.”

“Ha! So what if it’s nonsense? Whether it’s true or not, it doesn’t matter. That’s enough. Beric, let’s start preparing for the next step.”

Judging that everyone’s curiosity about the gulla had reached its peak, Ian moved on to the next phase.