Episode 83
A few days later.

“Ian! Ian!”

Ian was reading a book by the fireplace. At hearing Hana’s call, he turned his head and immediately recognized the letter in his hand.

The familiar design and seal—it was from Mereloff.

“Another message from Mereloff?”

“Yes. This time, they insist on an immediate reply. The servant says he’ll be waiting downstairs.”

“It’s only been a week.”

Beric, who had been lazily warming his back by the fire, stood up with a stretch. After all the chaos that day, he’d somehow slipped back into daily life as if nothing had happened. Thankfully, there were no lingering aftereffects or strange symptoms.

‘What on earth is his body made of?’

Ian glanced at Beric as he took the letter. Unaware of the look, Beric hopped down and came close.

“What is it? Read it quickly.”

“All right. But don’t rush me.”

The seal was stamped clearly. The handwriting wasn’t the usual but unfamiliar—meaning the Count of Mereloff himself had penned it. Beric squinted and leaned in, but all he could make out was yellow paper and black letters.

“What does it say?”

“…They want to purchase additional Gula.”

“Figures. Who’d settle for just one? And that was the smallest pouch, wasn’t it?”

“Did the servant who delivered it say anything else?”

“Apparently, there was a break-in at the mansion.”

“A break-in?”

There had been attempts to steal Gula in Bratz before. It was plausible, but given the conversation Ian had with Lady Mereloff, he suspected it might have been her scheme.

“And the servants who delivered the message?”

“They went to the kitchen to ask about the recipe.”

Hana whispered this, and Beric snorted. He used to dismiss the plant as worthless weed, but now it seemed he couldn’t get enough of it. Ian folded the letter in half and placed it on the table.

“Fine. If they want more, we’ll provide it.”

“Shall I prepare the pouches?”

“Yes. But tell them this time, one pouch’s price won’t cut it. We won’t sell for less than fifty gold coins per pouch. And make sure to mention that we’ll provide better quality this time. Since winter’s coming, we have no choice.”

“Understood, Ian.”

“I’ll draft a detailed reply. By the way, where is Romandro?”

“He went out this morning. Should be back soon.”

Ian rummaged through a drawer with his left hand. Inside were records he and Romandro had compiled about Mereloff.

‘How many did Romandro say to request for the re-trade?’

Romandro, the reconstruction expert, had calculated the amount needed based on the size and overall situation of the Mereloff estate.

‘One hundred pouches. Half to plant, half to consume comfortably in the mansion for a month. The planted half will reproduce and be evenly distributed to the estate’s people after a month.’

‘Does anyone in Mereloff know that Gula dies if it’s exposed to frost?’

‘Probably not. Most likely, no one cares enough to know.’

Recalling Romandro’s words, Ian unfolded a fresh sheet and wrote a purchase request for 100 pouches at fifty gold coins each, totaling 5,000 gold coins.

“That’s a lot of pouches. When will they move all that?”

“If this bulk trade goes through, it’ll be the last. Mereloff will be able to cultivate and consume Gula on their own. Of course, after this winter, Gula will be everywhere in Bariel.”

“So, since it’s the last trade, we should either increase the quantity or raise the price. One of the two.”

“Exactly. And judging by the Count’s temperament, he’d prefer buying a large amount at a lower price.”

Romandro’s calculations weren’t nonsense after all. The proposal was based on solid reasoning. If Lady Mereloff pushed gently alongside, it wouldn’t be too difficult.

Ian carefully finished the proposal and handed it to Hana.

“Here you go.”

“Yes, Ian. I’ll deliver it right away.”

“Oh, and give the servant some Gula to snack on during the trip.”

Few besides the Mereloff couple knew the taste of Gula. Those who’ve tasted the fruit tend to get greedy. Hana nodded and asked,

“By the way, will you continue to forbid trade among the estate’s people?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, it’s nothing serious. But the Mereloff estate residents keep requesting to trade, and it’s causing us some headaches.”

Now that they were well-fed and comfortable, they wanted to fill their pockets, not just their warehouses. It must be frustrating to be offered money but unable to sell. Especially with spring coming, there’d be plenty to spend on.

“Hmm.”

Ian nodded in understanding. If the contract with the Count of Mereloff was settled smoothly, opening trade might be acceptable. After all, the ban on private trade was only for this occasion.

If timed right, they could even give the Count a bigger advantage…

“What about selling only roasted Gula?”

“Roasted Gula?”

“Yes. If we roast the Gula seeds before selling, they can’t be planted, only eaten.”

Ian’s eyes widened at Hana’s suggestion. He’d just found a big clue. Smiling, he gently patted her shoulder.

“Got it. Once Romandro returns, we’ll discuss it.”

“Yes! I’ll deliver the letter immediately!”

As Hana left, Beric tilted his head and asked with a serious expression,

“But Ian.”

“Yes?”

“What if Mereloff complains that fifty gold coins is too high and brings soldiers? When it comes to food, there’s no bargaining. If they lose their minds, will it mean another fight?”

Beric’s eyes sparkled as he spoke. It seemed he was itching for another battle as soon as his wounds healed.

“You sound excited.”

“No, I’m terrified! My heart’s pounding. Or maybe it’s more like fluttering?”

Beric chuckled lowly, inhaling deeply from his burnt tobacco leaf. He looked like a well-fed predator, warm and satisfied.

“Beasts and humans have many differences, but one thing’s certain.”

“What’s that?”

“Even when they attack, they instinctively know their limits. They know where to draw the line. Both animals and humans value their lives.”

“Hahaha! True! I’m holding the line here. Ha! Who’d dare charge in? We still have some elite warriors left. Ha ha ha!”

Beric laughed uproariously, kicking the cushion with his foot, clearly proud of himself. He looked so pleased that Ian didn’t bother to correct him…

‘What I mean is the center. The center, Beric.’

Ian was referring to the Imperial Palace.

A noble waiting for the emperor and advisors to grant a family name. Attacking Bratz now would be a perfect setup for misunderstandings—that Mereloff was trying to expand influence by crushing the central power and absorbing Bratz.

‘If they mess with us, it’s an easy excuse. Everyone saw how the central army crushed Derga and the Bratz family. They’ll consciously avoid that.’

Bang!

Ian slammed the drawer shut, settled back down, and picked up his book. The reply would probably come late today or by tomorrow at the latest. He suspected the Count of Mereloff himself would be the one to act, not just a servant.

Knock knock.

“Well, well! Sir Ian, you’re back.”

“You’re here. I heard you went out.”

“I was buying gifts for my wife and baby.”

Romandro entered cheerfully, hands full of packages. Beric still glanced nervously whenever they met, probably because of his earlier prank.

“Romandro, I told you I’m fine.”

“Who said otherwise? You just always have that deadpan look.”

“Eh? Really? Ian, do my eyes look like that?”

“Sometimes you do seem a bit off.”

“Maybe the Count of Mereloff’s bad temper is due to the medicine?”

“Doubt it. His wife was waiting for winter. This is probably just the beginning.”

A hallucinogenic anesthetic that slowly suffocates over a month. Romandro shook his head in disgust.

“Is it because it’s the borderlands? Quite a bold woman.”

“It means she’s desperate.”

Beric examined Romandro’s gifts and asked,

“Does the central government do things like this?”

“Central? Even more so!”

“Then why call it the ‘borderlands’?”

The central region gathered over half the nobles. It was the heart of the social scene, where scandals erupted daily. Romandro twirled his mustache and muttered,

“Still, these days, everyone prefers to do it in private—at villas or masked balls. Gale the Second Prince once…”

Ian urged him to continue, and Romandro smiled sheepishly.

“I found myself flinching without even realizing it. You can’t even dare to mention this at court. There are just too many eyes and ears around, and the risk of rumors twisting the truth is high.”

“I understand.”

Factionalism is fiercest in places like this. It wasn’t easy for Romandro, a subordinate of the First Prince Marib, to bring up a name like that.

“Anyway, His Highness Gale—when was it? Last year, I think?—he caused quite a bloodbath at the party hosted by the duke’s nephew.”

“A bloodbath?”

For a prince without the status of heir, maintaining power meant first and foremost building connections among the nobility. Each one of them was a source of strength. And yet, he caused a riot at the duke’s nephew’s party?

The same man who would later go so far as to incite rebellion, driven by his hunger for power?

“He was high on drugs and slaughtered all the slaves of those who couldn’t tell reality from hallucination.”

“Is that even possible?”

“It was. Because he did it. Haven’t you heard? Even out here on the frontier, the stories get around.”

No matter how much the world turns upside down, there are always those who live outside it. Ian was one of them at the time. What difference did it make if the emperor changed? He was too busy just trying to survive.

“Of course, the noble families were in an uproar. After all, those were their properties. Drugs were illegal, sure, but everyone did them openly. And more than that, if the royal family acted like that toward the nobles, it was basically a show of force.”

“How did they handle it?”

“Money.”

“Excuse me?”

“They bought new slaves to replace every one that was killed.”

“That’s insane.”

While Beric muttered in disgust, Ian was too stunned to speak. Romandro, noticing this, sighed deeply and gave a faint smile.

“Truth be told, I served close to Prince Marib for a time, but His Highness Gale was no ordinary man.”

Slaves were, after all, property to be bought and sold. As long as compensation was made, there was no real problem. The key point was that these were slaves given by Gale himself.

“Truly remarkable in every way.”

“Actually, from that moment on, Gale’s following grew significantly. Rumor has it that Wesley, head of the Magic Department, financed the whole thing, which only solidified his faction further.”

“What? How does that increase his power? If it were me, I’d call him crazy and throw down right then and there.”

“Beric, be grateful we’re out here on the frontier. The palace has ears even in the portraits.”

“Then explain it to me.”

Beric scratched his ear, and Ian sighed before breaking it down. To put it bluntly, even Ian, who had been emperor, would call it an astoundingly perfect political move.