Chapter 844
Ian, who had been neatly slicing the steak, suddenly paused. He glanced at the mage with a hint of surprise.
“Taoma?”
“Yes, that’s right, Lord Ian.”
Taoma was the caravan leader and owner of the Flower Pavilion whom they had met in Burgos. Because he lost a drinking bet, he had agreed to purchase Silask at a low price.
Ian wiped his mouth with a napkin and took the letter the mage handed him.
“This is a full dispatch from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to His Majesty. It was shared at the Grand Assembly.”
“The Grand Assembly, huh? How did Akorella do?”
“Well, um… yes, but…”
The mage trailed off, as if holding back a lot. When he was with the emperor, he seemed to keep himself together, but as soon as his superior was out of sight, he turned into a wild, unruly spirit. He sighed deeply and added,
“Minister Tweller’s return schedule has also been arranged.”
“I see.”
Ian responded briefly and unfolded the letter.
—Greetings, this is Taoma. I am currently writing this letter from the Proelka Royal Palace. Thanks to the palace’s consideration, this will be delivered to the Empire via the fastest magical courier…
“So the Proelka Royal Palace is censoring the letter,” Ian muttered.
The mage nodded as he sat across from him.
“There isn’t much information on Proelka, so it’s difficult to grasp the situation. Taoma’s letter is practically all we have.”
—The great leader of Proelka, King Elka, finds the Empire’s trade proposal quite interesting. Silask is a rare flower, but he says they can trade as much as the Empire requests.
“Hmm.”
Ian furrowed his brow slightly.
That was a very telling statement. Bariel and Proelka had no exchanges whatsoever. Yet, to such a party, they were willing to provide the ‘precious’ flower on demand?
“Either Taoma is a skilled negotiator, or he’s trying to drive up the price.”
The latter seemed more likely. If it were the former, Taoma would have surely boasted about his role in the letter. If he had played a good middleman, there would be no reason to hide it—especially for someone born a merchant like Taoma.
—King Elka believes that 1,000 gold coins per Silask root is a fair price.
“Are they out of their minds?”
“Seriously. That’s insane.”
Ian clicked his tongue. The price was absurdly high. Silask was practically worthless in Bariel, except for use in the Great Desert.
‘Since the sealing of the Underworld God and Rutherford’s execution, Silask has essentially lost its value.’
That was from Bariel’s perspective, of course.
‘Roel.’
Ian suddenly thought of Roel, who had left for the Great Desert, and sighed softly. Unlike Bariel, the child probably needed it desperately.
‘For Roel to rebuild the Great Desert and lead safely for a long time, Silask is essential. Without it… the child will eventually meet the same fate as Winchen.’
That child was the only blood relative left from Philia’s body. In fact, considering both Ian’s past and present lives, he was probably the only family he had left. Jin was… a different matter.
Currently, Cheonryeo was on the brink of extinction, and rebuilding would take a long time. Ian smiled faintly, resigned.
“An older brother should at least leave a gift behind.”
Ian stood up as if he had finished eating. He rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a pen and paper.
“What shall we do, Lord Ian? His Majesty said he would provide gold coins if you wish. There’s also payment related to the Hielo territory, and it’s supposedly a reward for your achievements.”
“That’s nonsense.”
Ian frowned slightly and rejected the offer outright. No matter what he wanted, how could he use the royal treasury so arbitrarily?
And 1,000 coins per flower? This was an event worthy of being recorded in history. Ian waved the pen emphatically, signaling ‘don’t even think about it.’
“Tell them absolutely not. His Majesty should lose interest in Silask trading and consider it as if it never happened. This is my personal decision; the palace should not interfere.”
If the palace got involved, the price would only go up, never down. These were the same people who dared to ask for 1,000 coins knowing they were dealing with the Empire.
Ian pondered something, repeatedly crossing out and rewriting as he carefully composed his reply. A mage clearing the dishes noticed and hesitated for a moment.
“Um, Lord Ian.”
“Hmm?”
Ian looked quite pleased as he wrote. The mage, puzzled, asked bluntly.
“By the way, about that oracle…”
“Do not fear the rain.”
At the time, no one understood what it meant, but after regaining his memories, everyone knew it was a prophecy given to Ian.
“What could it mean?”
Ian’s expression grew strange as he thought deeply. He seemed to have an idea but was reluctant to speak.
“Who knows.”
“You’re really something, Lord Ian. You seem good at lying, yet you have no talent for it.”
“Then I guess I just don’t have it.”
Ian replied cheekily and continued writing.
The mage finished clearing the dishes but paused, sensing a presence. He peeked outside the bars but saw nothing unusual.
“Lord Ian, haven’t you felt any strange presence when you’re alone?”
“A presence?”
When alone?
Ian hesitated, unsure. He’d been sleeping a lot and hadn’t done much besides eating and resting, so he hadn’t noticed anything.
“I haven’t.”
“Hmm. Understood.”
“Here’s the reply.”
“Yes, I will deliver it to His Majesty. Please rest. Everyone’s in a frenzy setting up portal spells for Minister Tweller’s return. Later, Lord Ian, you might be summoned to the Magic Department. No one else can calculate a portal straight to Toorun besides you.”
“It’s about time I learned to do it myself. How about memorizing the spell?”
“You sound like you’re talking about learning to ride a bike. Most will probably never manage it without you.”
The mage sniffled. The thought of a future without Ian suddenly hit him hard.
Ian smiled faintly, as if to say ‘here we go again,’ and patted the mage’s shoulder.
“Go ahead. I’ll be resting.”
“Oh, what about the cake?”
“I’m done with that.”
He had eaten it so often it had lost its appeal. When Ian firmly declined, the mage bowed and left the dungeon.
Creak.
Meanwhile, someone was watching the mage leave the prison—it was Minister Raiven.
He cautiously looked around and descended the stairs.
‘Is it true that Ian Hielo is living comfortably inside the prison? No way. Even if he’s from the Magic Department, he’s still a traitor.’
The guards had passed the word to Count Charlotte, who relayed it to their influential noble. Ian’s punishment was closely tied to their own survival, so seeing it with their own eyes was crucial.
Tap.
Raiven moved silently, scanning the building, then fixed his gaze on the room at the end of the corridor. Could Ian Hielo really be there?
“Oh, Lord Ian!”
Just then, the mage who had gone outside returned, calling out. Raiven hid in a corner, covering his mouth. The mage leaned casually against the bars and asked,
“So, if not cake, what would you like to eat?”
“I’m fine.”
“Oh, you’re eating less and less. Got it! I’ll be back soon!”
The mage bowed and left again. Raiven only managed to leave the spot long after. The prison was quiet except for Ian’s soft breathing.
Bang!
“It’s true! It really is true!”
Raiven burst in, agitated. The officials waiting for him stood up reflexively and hurried over.
“Are you saying Ian Hielo is really being treated well inside the prison?”
“Yes! Count Charlotte was right. I saw it with my own eyes.”
“This is unbelievable…”
The officials murmured in disbelief. At first, they thought it impossible, but this absurd situation was happening right under the palace’s nose.
“Given the strong ties between the Magic Department and Ian Hielo, it’s probably preferential treatment.”
“Preferential treatment? Showing favor to a traitor in prison means they still support Ian Hielo. The Magic Department should be on high alert!”
“Didn’t the Grand Assembly and His Majesty seem aligned recently? Then treating Minister Ian well might also be His Majesty’s will.”
“The Magic Department wouldn’t dare do this without His Majesty’s consent.”
“Then what happens now?”
His Majesty was currently tightening his grip on the nobles and officials, using the rebellion as leverage. Once the nobles were dealt with, it would be their turn.
To break through this, they had to prove the rebellion was meaningless. And the proof would be…
“The way His Majesty and the Magic Department treat Lord Ian. Let’s gather people. This is our last spark. Even the central nobles, who are on the brink of death, will surely join us. We can raise our voices.”
During the investigation into Ian Hielo, they planned to nitpick over whether he had been mistreated or subjected to unnecessary measures. A rumor spreading through the palace would be enough.
If they officially lodged a complaint with the Ministry of Magic over this, the Ministry would surely deny it. Of course, they had a way to get around that.
“If they deny it, we can request to transfer the person in charge or have joint supervision. That way, the Ministry’s and His Majesty’s reactions might reveal more of the truth.”
“Or better yet, we could just bring Ian Hielo over to our side. After all, isn’t he the root of all this trouble? If we can get him talking, we might find a breakthrough.”
“He’s not exactly the type to be easily persuaded, but still, it’s better than doing nothing. Let’s go for it!”
“Yes, if he gets dismissed like this, we’re all doomed!”
“Whether we die this way or that, at least we’ll have done what we could.”
The officials steeled themselves and left the meeting room. Outside, it was dim, and they hurried along, unaware of the shadow that remained fixed in place—the shadow of Minister Rayven, unmoving.
The empty conference room. The shadow, once a blot on the floor, began to stir.
Softly, it slipped away, moving stealthily toward the Ministry of Magic. Soon, it appeared outside the minister’s office.
Knock knock.
“Don’t come in!”
“It’s Nabu…”
“Nabu? What, like a nobody?”
“Nabu-silata-kurani-tu…”
Acorella, puzzled by the strange words, flung the door open herself. There stood Nabu, wearing a grimy mask, awkwardly smiling up at her.
“Oh, it’s you, Bag.”
“That’s harsh…”
“What’s wrong? Anything happen? Did you move all the magic stones?”
Nabu was in charge of the magic stones under the Ministry’s Magic Stone Management Department. His ability to use shadows to store and transport objects was perfect for moving and storing the heavy, cumbersome, and numerous magic stones.
“Or, well, have you heard anything?”
He had a second secret mission: to roam the palace and eavesdrop on the officials’ secrets.
“Yes, I have.”
“What is it?”
Nabu nodded slightly and relayed the message to Acorella, whose eyes sparkled with interest.
“It seems Ian was caught eating cake in the underground prison…”