Episode 63
“Alright. Let’s take a look.”
Romandro scratched his nose as he reviewed the documents. Sitting across from him were Ian and Kakantir, both leafing through papers alongside him. They were holding their end-of-day meeting after dinner.
Romandro turned to Ian and asked, “Is there nothing inside Gilsam Village that needs rebuilding?”
“No, sir. During the battle, the bridge was cut first, isolating the village, so it suffered no damage. The bridge reconstruction is underway, and once that’s done, the work will be nearly complete.”
“Good. Then we can start scaling back orders for the quarry.”
Romandro felt a sense of relief, as if they’d cleared a major hurdle in erasing the scars of war from the Bratz territory. He took a sip of wine and continued.
“How’s the Gula supply?”
“It should be safe to start soon. The supplies we sent ahead are spreading rapidly among the locals. It’d be best to announce it before it reaches Merelrof.”
“I see. Are you heading out again today?”
“Just for about three more days.”
“Working day and night, huh? They say magic users have exceptional talent, but I guess your stamina is one of them.”
Ian laughed in surprise at the unexpected compliment. Back when they first arrived in Bratz, Ian would collapse after even a short outing. But now, traveling across the great desert seemed to be toughening him up.
“Let me double-check the details. Hmm… Gula cultivation, distribution, and consumption within the Bratz territory are free, but all trade with outsiders must go through the manor.”
More precisely, through the Imperial Court’s advisors—namely, Ian himself.
Given Gula’s nature, this winter would likely be the first and last time Bratz monopolizes it. Since it’s a fast-growing, common crop, once awareness improves, it’ll quickly be consumed throughout Bariel.
Romandro muttered thoughtfully as he reread the clause.
“Should we add a condition about Merelrof…”
“That’s not a good idea. It’d give them an excuse. Right now, we’re at a disadvantage.”
“Hmm. Though technically, they started first.”
“The ones who strike first usually forget about it.”
“True enough. And the fines related to this…”
As they hashed out the details, the moon rose high overhead. Ian glanced at his watch and nodded.
“This should be sufficient. Any other comments? Ah, Nersarn.”
At Ian’s prompt, Nersarn, who had been quietly standing behind Kakantir throughout the meeting, raised his hand.
“We’ve received word from the Great Desert.”
“The Great Desert?”
“The chieftain’s health has worsened again.”
Ian had once saved the old man’s life with Silask, so hearing this was troubling. They had hoped the recovery was steady, but it seemed death was relentless.
“So, we’ve decided to use all remaining Silask.”
“Goodness.”
“Even if we plant more, we don’t know how to cultivate it or how long it will take without proper information.”
“Wait a moment. Can I get involved here? Who’s the chieftain, and what exactly is Silask?”
Romandro, who had been quietly listening, raised his hand. He was unfamiliar with everything—especially the name Silask, which he’d never heard before.
Ian gave a brief explanation.
“…To cure the gypsy’s illness, we needed a red flower called Silask, and by chance, I had some. The Cheollyeo tribe used one to survive the crisis, and we debated whether to plant the other for future generations or give it to Chief Winchen. That’s the decision we’ve made.”
“Silask? Never heard of it.”
“Really? It’s a red flower that never withers once it blooms.”
If even an advisor from the Imperial Court didn’t know it, that said a lot. Even Ian, who had been an emperor in his past life, found it unfamiliar—so it was probably rare in Bariel.
“Our decision was largely influenced by Bratz’s current situation. You’re familiar with our funeral customs, right?”
“Yes, I am.”
When a chieftain or tribal leader dies, the entire clan goes into seclusion for a year. If a family member dies, only that family does so, but a leader is everyone’s family. Especially someone like Winchen, who held the position for so long…
“Romandro.”
“Hmm?”
Ian tapped the table gently and called him over. It was time to speak plainly, without beating around the bush.
“Have you received any response to the report sent to the Imperial Court?”
“No, not a single one yet.”
“I’m asking about a reply from His Highness Prince Marib.”
They all knew Ian was sending dispatches daily. The First Prince was clearly keeping an eye on the Molin faction, just as he was watching the Second Prince Gale. No one believed he cared only about rebuilding Bratz.
“…Only once.”
“May I ask what it was?”
“Nothing much. Just instructions to report the territory’s situation thoroughly, and…”
Romandro glanced at Ian.
“Because you’re a magic user, they told me to keep a close watch. That’s all. Nothing special.”
From Ian’s perspective, the Magic Department was a core part of Gale’s faction. After the failed rebellion, many rare magicians were purged. So Ian’s status as a magic user might be a problem for Marib. Marib probably saw Ian as aligned with Gale.
“Advisor, as you can see, I’m not on good terms with the Molin faction.”
“Hmm. Yes, I understand. It shows. Ha ha.”
Romandro gave an awkward smile and took another sip of wine. Ian seemed a bit nervous about what he was about to say.
“His Highness Prince Marib likely wants to appoint a new lord of Bratz who has no ties to the Molin faction. Is that correct?”
“…There are circumstances among the higher-ups.”
“I share that view, Advisor.”
“I had a feeling as much.”
“Since you guessed it, I’ll be frank. Romandro, I know you want to return to the capital. If a new lord is appointed quickly, it’ll be good for you as well.”
“Ian…”
“Please recommend me as the lord.”
Though the appointment is the emperor’s prerogative, the First Prince’s recommendation carries great weight. No matter the blood of a criminal flowing through me, as long as I’m a magic user, restrictions are pointless. For Bariel’s progress, someone has to hold me back.
“Otherwise, I’ll have to return to the Great Desert. The new lord won’t leave me, a descendant of the previous family, alone. And the Imperial Court will try to monopolize my abilities by keeping me as a slave.”
“That may be true, but…”
“This is the only way to ensure my safety and Bratz’s peace. The public sentiment the Court has been managing aligns with no one better than me.”
Not only that, but the reports I’ve submitted show remarkable competence. Discovering Gula alone is enough to justify this border lordship.
Of course, it hasn’t come to that yet.
Romandro pulled out a cigarette, as if making up his mind.
“Alright. I’ll be honest.”
“Please.”
“His Highness Prince Marib doesn’t understand your relationship with the Molin faction.”
From an outsider’s perspective, Ian had betrayed his own father through Molin, which led to the current situation. He’d essentially paved the way for a Molin-affiliated lord.
And as a magic user, if he entered the Imperial Court, he’d likely be assigned to the Magic Department. It was an open secret that Wesley, the head of the Magic Department, was Gale’s ally.
No matter how you looked at it, Ian fit well with Gale’s faction.
“If that’s the case, I’ll prove it.”
“How?”
“I’ll meet with His Highness Prince Marib in person and explain. No matter how detailed the written report, some things can’t be conveyed on paper. But I can prove right now that the Molin faction and I stand on truly opposing sides.”
By dying.
Reading the calm determination in Ian’s eyes, Romandro felt a chill run down his spine. No words were spoken, yet the tension was palpable.
“I’ll relay that to His Highness Prince Marib.”
“Thank you.”
Romandro secretly knew Ian was the right man for the job. But given his background and the situation, he hadn’t dared to say so.
Besides, speaking up meant throwing himself into the unpredictable whirlpool of politics. Romandro just wanted to finish the reconstruction quickly and return to his family in the capital.
To the home where his beautiful wife awaited.
“Well then, that’s enough for today.”
“Since we’re on the subject, may I ask one more favor?”
“What is it?”
“Could you find out if there’s a merchant guild in the capital that deals with Silask?”
The imperial capital was the center of the world. Surely, if they sought information, they’d find something. Romandro nodded readily, as it wasn’t a difficult request.
“Understood. I’ll look into it.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s late. You should get some rest.”
“Thank you for your hard work. See you tomorrow.”
Creak.
Romandro and Nersarn tidied up and left the meeting room. Ian rubbed his stiff shoulders and called out to Beric outside.
“Beric, let’s head out early and come back early today.”
“Tired?”
“Yeah. My eyes keep closing—I can’t keep this up.”
Ian smiled, draped his hood over his shoulders, and extinguished all the lamps in the room. That night, the sky was pitch black, not even the moon showing.
“Ian has arrived!”
“Shh! Keep your voice down.”
“Ian, we’ve been waiting for you.”
“None of you went to sleep, huh?”
“Of course. By the way, yesterday was the first time I tried roasting seeds. They were really delicious!”
The rumor that Ian was handing out roasted seeds in the middle of the night had already spread like wildfire. Everyone pretended to be asleep, locking their doors, but the moment they heard footsteps, they’d rush out to greet him. The whole scene felt charged with excitement—like a secret festival held in defiance of the rules.
“What should we do? I don’t have much prepared tonight.”
“Already? I only managed to get a handful…”
“I’ll bring more tomorrow, I promise.”
“Don’t make things difficult for Ian! He’s already risking it, sneaking around to help us while avoiding those palace guards!”
“Hey, you little rascal. Those palace guards might hear you. Keep your voice down.”
Amid all the commotion, no one seemed to find it strange that the guards hadn’t shown up. In fact, it was as if they hadn’t even thought about it—too caught up in the joy that Gula’s gifts brought them.
“You have to give me some first tomorrow, okay?”
“Got it. Now go get some rest.”
Beric shook out the sack he’d been carrying, signaling that Gula’s supplies had run dry. The villagers, disappointed, began to disperse one by one, and Ian turned to leave as well.
Step, step.
Once they were out of the alley, only the sound of their footsteps remained. Maybe because he was more tired than usual, Ian walked silently until he noticed Beric had stopped.
“Not going?”
“Ian.”
Beric raised his eyebrows with a sly grin—three quick flicks. Their eyes met, catching the cool night breeze. Ian pulled back his hood and smiled faintly.
“Let’s go.”
Behind them, the sound of three more footsteps followed.
Ian pretended not to notice and kept walking ahead, while Beric swung his arm openly, as if to show he was unarmed.