Episode 695

The gallery owner stared at Ian with his eyes half glazed over.

His features were exotic, and he was fairly large in build, sporting a tightly braided beard that gave him a distinctive look. One thing was certain—he was not from Burgos.

Ian pulled up a chair and sat down in front of him, smiling. Even so, there was something faintly familiar about the man’s scent. Ian was sure he’d encountered it somewhere before, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“Ah.”

On the other hand, the gallery owner seemed to recognize Ian immediately. Raising his glass, he flicked his fingers in greeting.

“You’re the Minister of Magic from Bariel, aren’t you?”

“You don’t look like you’re from Bariel, but it’s impressive that you know me.”

“Oh, nonsense! If you don’t know the Minister of Magic in Gaia, you must be the biggest fool around.”

Ian thought to himself, the owner didn’t seem to recognize him at all. Maybe he was too drunk to notice the commotion earlier? Ian studied the man carefully. There was no hint of hostility or malice—just the behavior of someone clearly intoxicated.

“That might be a bit much.”

“Nonsense! It means you’re a fool! No interest in politics, economics, or even aesthetics—there’s nothing more to say. I’m not just saying this because you’re the minister! If anyone doesn’t know Ian Hielo, the minister, we report them to the guards immediately. So, how about a drink?”

The man babbled on—whether it was the alcohol or his natural talkativeness, Ian couldn’t tell. He gently tapped the rim of his glass with a fingertip and politely declined.

“No, thank you. I can’t drink.”

“Ah, that’s no excuse!”

“The owner’s rules say otherwise.”

The gallery owner craned his neck toward the entrance, peering out. He was chatting nonstop with Beric, who was holding a broom.

Then, suddenly, Ian noticed something—half a dozen people sitting in a corner, watching them intently. Ian gestured to the owner, signaling him not to worry.

“They’re my people.”

“Well, well, your parents must have had a good marriage. Wait a minute—did the Minister of Magic have siblings?”

Ian’s life story, starting from his humble beginnings as a lowly servant, was now common knowledge even among the street kids.

The gallery owner twisted his beard and trailed off, so Ian took his bottle and poured him a drink. They couldn’t exactly drink together, but at least he could refill the glass.

“Looks like you’re having a good time, so let’s get to the point.”

“Sure, sure. I’m relaxed. The night is long, and the drinks are plenty.”

“You must know that magic stone paintings have been found in the gallery.”

“Of course. We spent quite a bit fixing broken doors and windows because of them. Ha ha!”

“I heard that ten years ago, you supplied paintings to the Burgos royal palace. Does that mean magic stone paintings are circulating there as well? If so, how many, and where are they being transported?”

His tone was polite, but there was an unmistakable pressure behind it. If Ian spoke carelessly or showed disrespect, his life could become very difficult, very quickly.

The gallery owner took a sip and began chewing thoughtfully. His brain was clearly working through the question.

“More than anything, I want to understand the overall distribution system of these magic stone paintings. Even though there aren’t many mages outside Bariel, they’re widely used elsewhere.”

In the imperial palace, they were only used secretly through the emperor’s private channels. But Rutherford had been using them a decade ago, and now even common merchant guilds like Valijuad had adopted them widely.

The gallery owner chuckled and swallowed his drink.

“Well, I can answer that. As you said, it’s because there are no mages.”

If mages existed, why bother with magic stone paintings? They could simply teleport or conceal themselves with magic.

The reason places outside Bariel embraced these paintings so quickly and enthusiastically was precisely because they lacked mages.

“It’s true we supplied paintings to the Burgos royal palace. But we never had painters in the gallery itself. We just selected works that appeared from somewhere and proposed them to the palace. Luckily, the pieces matched King Damon’s tastes fairly well.”

He slid his hand into his inner pocket, and the mages watching from a distance all narrowed their eyes, on high alert. Who knew what might come out of his pocket!

But disappointingly, he pulled out a business card.

“As you can see, there’s no reason to stay in a ruined country. I’m a merchant who travels around selling goods through paintings. If you ever need anything, just let me know. It’d be nice to have business with the imperial palace—it’d make life easier.”

The gallery owner’s name was Taoma.

Ian examined the square, neatly made card. It had a unique texture, symbolizing the man’s identity. Holding something rare that few could see—even Ian, the emperor of Bariel, wouldn’t know what it was. The card’s presence was impressive.

“So, you want to do business with the imperial palace?”

“Of course. It’s every merchant’s dream.”

“That dream’s usually only had by those with either a strong conscience or none at all.”

“Merchants are usually one or the other. They just change depending on who they’re dealing with.”

Despite his rough appearance, the man was eloquent. Ian nodded in understanding.

“And you, Taoma?”

“Me? Ha ha! Well, you’ll have to find out for yourself.”

“To bow before His Majesty the Emperor, you’d have to lay down everything you’re carrying on your back.”

It was a warning: if he had ever distributed magic stone paintings in Bariel, it would be best to find and confiscate them. Anything that undermined the border’s significance should be destroyed, along with those who distributed it.

Taoma just shrugged repeatedly.

“No one knows what I’m carrying. Not even you, Minister Ian, sitting right here.”

With a flourish, Taoma raised Ian’s empty glass and downed his drink in one gulp. The mages leaned forward, half pulling back their legs, ready to spring if anything suspicious happened.

“Show me what you’re carrying on your back.”

“Hmm. Actually, this is a family business. It’s been passed down since my great-great-grandfather’s time. If I may be so bold, there’s probably no land my family hasn’t set foot on.”

“And?”

“Judging by your concern, you’re worried about the magic stone paintings, aren’t you?”

With a flourish, Taoma clapped his hands together and made a gesture like opening a book.

Ian immediately understood.

“A ledger.”

So he was offering to sell information about the magic stone paintings he’d distributed? Ian frowned. It sounded like a bluff.

“Seems impossible.”

“Making the impossible possible—that’s the only magic I can wield. Ha ha! That was a good line, wasn’t it?”

Ian crossed his arms and studied Taoma calmly. Was he lying? Or was this some kind of trap? Or maybe just a way to get out of here?

“Not impressed?”

“If I wasn’t interested, I’d have refused outright.”

“Well, that’s true. Building trust over time could lead to better and more enjoyable things.”

Of course, Ian didn’t believe a single ledger could control all the magic stone paintings. That was impossible. But—

“If we know where they’re bought and sold, we can track and recover some of the paintings and identify the bad actors.”

Ordinary citizens wouldn’t buy magic stone paintings. If they did, there had to be someone behind it—hidden individuals, or perhaps large groups like the Valijuad guild or Toorun.

Either way, having the ledger would simplify the investigation immensely, which would be an enormous advantage for Bariel.

“And honestly!”

Bang!

Taoma slammed his glass down roughly. The mages bared their teeth, scowling fiercely. Who did this guy think he was, showing off in front of them? They wanted to see what real power looked like!

“Thanks to our gallery, Hielo is still alive.”

If not for the gallery’s paintings, the Valijuad guild wouldn’t have learned about Hielo’s emergency so quickly. The forbidden mage and Luswena would have crossed the border and advanced, and the Bariel main force heading to Toorun would have had to turn back.

Ian raised an eyebrow.

“How did you know that?”

“Information is my lifeline. The painting the Valijuad guild used was actually hanging in the gallery all along. The owner must have changed, because the guild leader asked to rent the space annually for a fixed fee.”

There was no reason to refuse. The gallery was unused space, and the Valijuad guild needed a safe, stable location.

“If you look at the ledger, you’ll find out who the original owners are.”

“So you’re both negotiating and soliciting business at the same time.”

“In a busy world, that’s why we have two arms.”

“Alright. What’s your price?”

Making contact with the imperial palace was a bonus. Merchants never work for free. Taoma thought for a moment, then gestured to his empty glass.

“First, let’s get properly drunk, then we’ll do the math.”

“What if you miscount and I end up losing out?”

“That’s part of my skill. But sometimes, miscounting might work in my favor.”

It was ridiculous, but Ian figured that was just Taoma’s way of doing business.

Ian fiddled with his empty glass and turned his head toward the entrance. Before he knew it, the tavern owner was watching him, wearing an expression that seemed to say, “What on earth could the Minister of Magic possibly have to talk about with a tavern keeper?”

“Hey, landlord.”

Ian lifted his glass, and the owner jumped, shaking his head vigorously.

“Please, drink up! Have as much as you like! I’m no one to judge the Minister of Magic’s work, haha.”

“Well then, don’t mind if I do. Pour me a drink.”

“Iaaan! You’re drinking?”

“Ian-nim! Are you really going to drink?!”

Beric and the other wizards gasped in unison and rushed over. They’d seen Ian have a glass of wine now and then, but never drinking like this—especially with strangers at a place like this.

Ian waved it off casually.

“Isn’t today a day off?”

“Ah, well, yes, but…”

“If you’re drinking, then I want one too! Landlord! Another round!”

“Me too! Me too!”

Beric and the wizards squeezed into the empty seats.

Ian glanced at Taoma, silently asking if he was okay with this. Taoma just laughed heartily, clearly enjoying himself. After all, drinking was sweeter when shared with more people.

“Alright then. Whoever stays sharpest till the end gets to pay the bill! Ha! This’ll be fun, really fun!”

“Bring it on!”

“No excuses about snacks. No cutting corners on the drinks.”

“Is that even something you need to say? Don’t waste your breath.”

“Wet those glasses, wet ‘em good. Ian-nim, if we win this, it’s a real win, right?”

The beer poured to the brim sloshed over the sides. As Taoma, Beric, and the wizards raised their glasses, Ian gripped the handle too.

Clink!

The glasses collided with a sharp ring, and everyone tilted their heads back, downing their drinks in one go.

Ian watched quietly for a moment, then pretended to drink before smoothly pouring the alcohol down his back.

“Ugh! That’s delicious!”

“Next round! One more!”

Taoma, already pleasantly tipsy, didn’t notice the trick. Beric was too busy marveling at the taste, and the wizards were too stunned by the icy coldness to open their eyes.

Clink!

One drink, two drinks, three drinks… empty barrels piled up, and the scent of alcohol thickened. The landlord discreetly wiped the soaked floor as it grew slick.

Then Beric suddenly paused.

“Hey, Ian—”

“Hm?”

…Did he catch on to the fact Ian was dumping the drinks? Ian answered smoothly, signaling with his eyes not to let Taoma catch on.

But Beric’s words were something else entirely.

“Don’t you smell something? Like Silask?”