Episode 9

“We can use rumors.”

“Rumors?”

Ian glanced briefly at Mollin, as if to say, “I’m about to give you the answer you want—listen carefully.”

“To be precise, rumors that fulfill desires. Like, if you eat this, your skin becomes smooth, your hair shiny and thick. Or it helps with weight loss or gain. Or it’s effective for pregnancy. If you spread that kind of talk, everyone—men and women alike—will be desperate to try it.”

This was actually a common tactic used by the Central Office. A simple yet effective way to shape public opinion and restore market balance.

“Interesting. But the citizens of the palace are sharp and clever. Such baseless rumors would be quickly exposed. What then?”

Mac asked, sipping his sherry. But that wasn’t a problem either.

“You set up guards.”

Ian raised his index and middle fingers on the table to mimic a person’s legs, then made a slow circle near the dishes.

“You put up elaborate defenses, but leave a small, careless gap. It’s human nature to covet precious things. Even if the guards are useless, people will risk stealing out of greed. They’ll wonder why such high-ranking officials guard something day and night. By the time they realize, it’s too late to stop it, and everyone will have naturally come into contact with it. But—”

“But?”

“These are just side issues. The real question is whether a substitute product can be created.”

Mollin, Mac, and Dergor felt a spark of static in their minds. This was the Central Office, where the empire’s sharpest minds gathered. They had seen it all.

While scholars might have expected such an answer, none had ever seen a barely grown child respond so cleverly—especially one who had only recently wandered the red-light district.

Only now did the three men realize the question they should have asked first.

“First, is it even acceptable for the second prince to cross the border?”

They had overlooked it. Or rather, been arrogant—assuming a bastard from the slums would naturally be inferior.

Whether Ian knew this or not, he smiled brightly and brought a piece of steak to his mouth.

“It really is delicious.”

“Y-yes. The weather must be making it taste better.”

What had started as a light luncheon had shifted in tone. Ian sensed all eyes on him.

“That’s enough about Gula for now.”

It was time to get serious. Ian wanted to investigate why Dergor had been scheming through letters, and whether there was any chance to slip out of the mansion.

“Do you enjoy writing, Ian?”

The conversation resumed. Mac asked Ian, but his gaze naturally shifted toward the countess and Chel. Even though they had come to see Ian, it would be rude to focus the conversation too much on one person.

“I heard the countess is quite accomplished in literature. I imagine your children are exceptional as well.”

“Oh my, you flatter me. I only write short pieces. But Mac, I hear you’ve authored two books? It’s embarrassing to receive praise from someone like you.”

Her playful banter was interrupted by Dergor.

“Countess, no need for modesty. From what I’ve seen, Mac is much better at letter writing than books. Anyone who receives his letters bursts into tears and declares their love.”

“Dergor! That’s quite the joke.”

“Ha ha! Ian, you should ask Mac to write your letters. He’s very useful.”

His playful wink was amusing. The countess laughed heartily, but Dergor’s expression darkened. The topic clearly made him uncomfortable.

“The Chenryo tribe requested your handwritten letters.”

The timing was uncanny, as if they knew Ian would need to write.

Did they know? And if so, how?

Dergor sipped his wine and played his hand.

“I’ve already received a message from the Chenryo tribe.”

“Oh? Really?”

“They asked for Ian’s handwritten letters regularly.”

Dergor chose his next words carefully.

“Since we’re going to use the homogeneity verification potion anyway, I don’t see what the worry is. Those barbarians are like beasts—impossible to understand.”

Mac smiled and supported Dergor.

“Beasts are always wary of the world. That’s their way of life. They only recognize order through strength. It’s common for a chieftain you meet in spring to be replaced by autumn.”

A community ruled solely by strength. The chieftain had to accept duels at any time, and only death could bring peace.

“If they weren’t like that, Bariel would be even more troublesome.”

Thankfully, they controlled their population among themselves. Ian asked, curious.

“Then is the current Chenryo chieftain a rival to the tribe leader? Or subordinate?”

The Chenryo tribe had been decimated before Ian’s ascension, so their status was low. Occasionally, desert travelers went missing, and it was assumed to be either sandstorms or the Chenryo’s doing.

So Ian’s knowledge was fragmentary and basic.

Mac shook his head.

“No, neither. The tribe leader is an old woman named Winchen, so old her age is unknown. While the chieftain changes frequently, she has held her position for a long time.”

“I see. That means…”

Ian murmured, surprised.

“She must be the spiritual pillar of the Chenryo.”

Exactly. Mac’s approving gaze didn’t fade.

“I’ve heard the whole tribe believes she’s touched by the heavens. She has very special abilities.”

“Abilities? I thought they despised magic.”

“It’s hard to call it magic. It’s more like a gypsy’s gift. She’s blind but can discern truth and lies by voice.”

Ian gently furrowed his brows.

“A blind tribe leader who sees the truth.”

Now he understood Dergor’s true intentions.

Gulut leaves were definitely a rare commodity—impossible to import by any means. If Ian smuggled them properly, it would be a huge advantage. After all, it was a plant the Chenryo always took into battle.

Whether to boost Baratz’s military power or weaken the Chenryo’s fighting ability, it would tilt the odds in Baratz’s favor.

But what if they were caught?

Ian would be interrogated by the tribe leader. He would confess it was purely for his mother’s sake. If the Chenryo protested, Baratz would respond with Ian and his mother’s deaths as an apology. Since it had nothing to do with the count, a suitable consolation would suffice.

“What are the chances the Chenryo would use this as a pretext to declare war?”

Still slim. For now.

Baratz’s destruction would come in the next generation. There would be a reason for that. A full-scale war now would be impossible.

“You must have heard about the tribe leader, Count Dergor?”

“Yes, well, I’ve never actually seen her myself.”

Dergor cleared his throat and glanced at the boy.

‘How does he know so much?’

The tutor had reported Ian as dull-witted, but his occasional flashes of brilliance were suspicious. No one could guess what was going on inside that small head.

“The more I hear, the more fascinating this tribe becomes.”

Ian noticed Dergor’s gaze and smiled brightly, leaving no room for suspicion. As Ian continued cutting his food naturally, Dergor soon withdrew his doubtful look.

But what to do now?

Dergor’s intentions were clear. If Ian faced the tribe leader, everything would be exposed.

‘Well, I have no plans to do that.’

After that, the conversation drifted into meaningless chatter, carried away by the breeze. Laughter erupted around Mac, Dergor, and the countess.

“So, the second prince Gale said, ‘Put that arrogant brat in the pigsty immediately!’”

“Oh my! Did he really say that?”

“Yes, he’s quite aggressive.”

“Oh ho ho! How dreadful!”

Suddenly, Ian turned his head in puzzlement.

Mollin, Mac, and Dergor were officials dispatched from the Central Office. All public servants served the emperor and the official heir. For them to be away from the capital for months was significant.

Either they had the emperor’s trust for an important matter, or they had been sidelined from key positions.

Dergor, unfamiliar with the capital’s affairs, had no way of knowing, but Ian’s instincts tingled.

“Why do they keep mentioning the second prince?”

The official heir was the first prince, so naturally their lord should be the first prince.

Of course, other princes had followers, but mostly those far from the center of power.

Yet the three men kept talking only about Gale, the second prince.

“Ian, what are you thinking about?”

“Nothing. I just find your stories interesting and wanted to keep listening.”

“Is that so? I misjudged you. Your face is so serious. Ha ha.”

Mollin subtly drew Ian’s attention. Though smiling, his eyes examined the boy sharply and persistently.

That day, when they first dined together, were those golden eyes a mere illusion? Magic users were said to have intellect far beyond ordinary people. Could it be…

“Count Dergor.”

Mollin wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin and spoke. As if on cue, Mac and D’Gore fell silent.

“I’ve felt this before, but I must say, Lord Ian’s knowledge never ceases to amaze me. It’s surely thanks to the excellent education provided by the Count and Countess.”

“You flatter me,” Ian replied modestly.

“That said, I have a small request to make.”

At those words, Derga took a cautious sip of his wine, a flicker of unease crossing his eyes.

That sly old fox—how many times had he been put in a bind by a ‘small request’?

A brief silence settled as Derga searched for a response. Ian seized the moment without hesitation.

“Would you care to see my room?”

He asked with a playful glint in his eye.

Though the phrasing was uncharacteristically informal for a noble, it was the innocent mischief of a well-mannered child. To scold him seriously would be unseemly. Lady Mary, however, seemed barely able to resist glaring at the back of Ian’s head.

“That would be delightful, but this time, it’s something else entirely.”

All eyes in the family, including Count Derga, fixed on Mollin’s lips. Only Mac and D’Gore remained composed, as if they had anticipated this.