Chapter 102
Chapter 102
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 102
Chapter Title: Those Who Left and Those Who Returned
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“Lord Ian.”
As soon as the carriage door opened, Lady Rien greeted him. Dressed in a more vibrant and voluminous gown than usual, she wore a smile more perfect than ever. She extended the back of her hand with poise, and Ian lightly kissed it.
“It’s been a while, Madam. I hope you’ve been well?”
“Of course. Thanks to you. Lord Romandro is doing well too, I trust?”
“Indeed. It’s cold, so please come inside.”
“Look forward to tonight’s banquet. It’s a blessed day for Merelrof, so we’ve prepared diligently.”
Lady Rien led the way into the manor. The corridor gleamed so brightly it was hard to believe it was the same place he’d rushed to upon hearing of the count’s death. Ian received the butler’s greeting as he entered the drawing room.
“First, let’s handle business swiftly.”
The lady smiled as she placed a leather document holder before him.
“Here’s the certificate for 5,000 gold coins as discussed. We’ve also reduced the number of private soldiers to less than half of before, with a pledge to maintain that level.”
“May I review the budget?”
“Certainly. It’s in the next section.”
Ian slowly examined Merelrof’s annual budget. It seemed Romandro’s aides and staff had worked hard on it, but the allocation for maintaining private soldiers next year was neatly halved.
“Didn’t your steward object?”
“Oh my. Worried we’d be accused of selling out the territory?”
“Not worried, just curious.”
Those listening to the casual exchange between Ian and the lady flinched. Romandro’s subordinates exchanged uneasy glances in confusion. Maybe they shouldn’t have stuck around.
“It’s not like we’re diverting the budget to you, Lord Ian. It’ll go back to the territory’s people. We’re covering the gula shortage with it.”
“Ah, I see.”
“If the 5,000 gold reward feels uncomfortable, think of it as from my personal funds.”
“I didn’t say that. It’s a fair exchange.”
At Ian’s words, Romandro pulled a letter for the imperial report from his inner pocket. She picked it up gracefully and read every word with sharp eyes.
Rustle.
“No lies, nothing unnecessary. I like it. Submit it as is. No need for an imperial investigator, right?”
It detailed the count’s death and succession process thoroughly, but omitted anything extraneous.
Such as the slave’s relationship with the lady, the slave’s punishment, or the timing of Dive’s departure from Merelrof.
“Assuming no issues. Then I’ll affix my seal.”
“Yes. Could you prepare it?”
Romandro signed boldly, applied sealing wax, and stamped it with her official seal.
“I’m truly glad to have such good neighbors. The people of Merelrof—”
“Bratz. Not for long.”
“My apologies. I’ll be careful. Anyway. The people of Merelrof are grateful to receive gula and other foodstuffs from you.”
“That’s fortunate. Winter is cold; we must share warmth.”
“Now, finally.”
Ian and Lady Rien concluded by signing a priority negotiation right for all trade matters. Details had been pre-arranged, so things wrapped up quickly.
“Something this simple, and my husband spent all day buried in parchment?”
The lady muttered as she set down the ink-stained pen. What she’d once seen as meticulous now struck her as nitpicky and inefficient.
“And Master Dive?”
“In the annex. Time to send him off soon.”
Lady Rien’s smile was flawless. How joyful to fully expel Dive from Merelrof. Ian checked his watch too.
“You’ve chosen the caravan?”
“The Cheal Merchant Group. Things always fall into place with them. Not just the price, but their reliability and skill made them the choice.”
“Who’s the Merelrof representative?”
Lady Rien’s eyes curved further at Ian’s question. An inscrutable gaze—calm yet faintly annoyed, perhaps a touch sad.
“Five private soldiers, two junior aides, and Clark. Everyone but Clark will return after seeing Master Dive off in Hawan Kingdom.”
As expected.
It was a way to protect and make full use of Clark. Ian nodded approvingly.
“Since you selected them, Madam, I’m sure they’ll manage. Just please confirm no disruptions. Frankly, we’re taking a risk too.”
“No worries there. They’re all highly capable.”
Especially Clark, bound by blind faith and love. The moment they fabricated proof of Dive reaching Tollun, Clark would surely end him.
“Very well. Shall we see Master Dive off?”
“Butler. Is the carriage ready?”
“Yes. Ready to go now.”
At Butler Samen’s words, they rose and headed to the main gate. Dive, cloaked in a winter robe with shackles beneath, spotted Ian and the lady and began shouting excitedly.
“You vile wretches!”
The shackles were to keep him subdued for any onlookers.
“Master Dive. Blessings on your long journey.”
“Demon bitch! You think you’ll get away with this?”
“Of course. I’ll eat well and live well, so I hope you do the same. It’d be great if our paths never cross again.”
Lady Rien smiled elegantly while spewing utterly inelegant words. Madwoman, lunatic, loose screw, and worse. Dive hurled raw abuse, then glared at Ian.
“You too, Ian! You dare touch House Merelrof and survive? The underworld gods’ curse will strike you down!”
Ian ignored him completely, inspecting the departing private soldiers and aides. He checked for anything missing for the long trip and reminded them not to worry about bandits crossing the mountains.
Clank.
Then, footsteps from behind. Clark, shackles removed and in dry clothes, rubbing his bruised wrists, shouldered a large travel pack.
“Ready?”
“…Yes.”
The lady asked without meeting his eyes. To a stranger, it would seem utterly cold, like addressing a total unknown.
“Then depart.”
That pack no doubt held the generous travel funds Lady Rien had prepared. They boarded, and as Clark moved to close the door.
“…I’ll be off.”
He said it to the lady, then shut the door. She turned away without reply, waving only at the now-howling Dive.
“Farewell. See you in hell.”
“Hyah! Let’s go!”
Neigh!
With the horses’ cries, the carriage sped away from Merelrof manor. The lady watched the receding figure for a long while before spinning around.
“Well then.”
She met eyes with Ian, Romandro—especially his subordinates—and smiled.
“Shall we dine? Won’t Lord Romandro’s men be seeing much of Merelrof from now on?”
“Yes. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Madam.”
“The pleasure’s mine. Please help us often.”
Ian blankly stared at the black ribbons fluttering across the territory. He thought that if his former body had died, such ribbons would drape all of Bariel. As the lady ushered guests inside, she called to him.
“Lord Ian? Coming in? It’s cold.”
“Madam. What of the count’s funeral?”
The lady sparkled with a smile, saying nothing.
As if to say, you already know—why ask?
* * *
Neigh!
On the road back to the territory from Merelrof. Ian’s head spun from the grape wine at the banquet.
“Ian, you alright?”
“…Lord Romandro’s face is redder.”
“Ahaha. Truth is, I see two of you.”
“That’s the third time you’ve said that.”
“Is it? Guess I’m drunk. But… want to hear something funny? I see two of you.”
“…….”
In high spirits, Romandro lightly teased. The lady, seemingly a walking wine barrel, had drunk alongside yet remained perfectly sober as she saw them off.
Creak!
“Lord Ian. We’ve arrived.”
“Ah, good work. Rest up.”
The coachman opened the door, and Ian stumbled out. No sooner had he staggered than screams erupted behind.
“Good heavens, Lord Ian!”
“Huh?”
Ian turned to see laborers shifting leather sacks approach worriedly.
“Oh dear, we heard you were hurt, but you can’t even walk. Are you alright?”
“You must have a fever. Your face is flushed.”
“It’s cold—hurry inside.”
Hurt? Who?
As Ian blinked in confusion, the laborers bowed and vanished. Probably heading home late. Ian rubbed his nape puzzledly, muttering.
“What’s that about?”
Anyway, what were all those odds and ends piled by the door? As Ian entered, servants took his coat.
“Welcome back?”
“Yes. What’s all that?”
“Word spread you’re unwell, my lord, so territory folk sent these. Tonics arrived all afternoon.”
Just like before. When news of the assassin spread, hadn’t locals come to console him? He didn’t know the rumor now, but their sentiments remained, drawing a smile.
“Thought winter meant shortages, but they scraped together somehow.”
Dried flowers, cute painted eggs, jerked meat, heirloom jam jars—humble gifts brimming with warmth. Ian smiled, instructing a servant.
“Organize and move to my bedroom.”
“Yes, my lord. And a guest awaits.”
“A guest? Who?”
No one expected. As Ian wondered aloud, Berik called from the railing.
“Ian, you’re late.”
“Berik. Eaten?”
“Yeah. Philia’s here.”
“Huh?”
A woman peeked beside him. Gold hair and green eyes just like Ian’s. Tempered by mountain life, she now radiated sturdier, healthier beauty.
“Ian.”
She beamed, then emotion surged at her son’s face after so long. Chicken-tear drops fell to Ian’s cheek.
“Ian. Who’s this?”
Romandro, entering behind, rubbed cold hands curiously. When first arriving at Bratz, Ian had hidden Phlia’s existence from all. To avoid any discord with the Cheonryeo Tribe alliance.
But Romandro from the palace knew Ian’s circumstances, and the time when her mere existence worried had passed.
“Lord Romandro. Allow introductions.”
Ian silently decided to thank the woman who’d gathered gula in the mountains while waiting.
“My mother.”