Chapter 119
Chapter 119
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 119
Chapter Title: Barsabe
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When Ian opened his eyes again, the two of them were sprawled out on the ground like starfish. Their faces were a mess of dirt and snow, but their overall condition was even worse. The nosebleeds just wouldn't stop gushing.
"Berik. You okay?"
"Whoa, shit, this hurts. It hurts!"
"Good. You look fine."
"It hurts!"
At least Berik could complain about the pain, but Barsabe could only curl up and groan. It must have been a mistake to release her mana so clumsily. The biggest issue was that all her strength drained out at once, leaving her unable to continue fighting properly.
Ian approached her and subtly checked her condition.
"...Are you crying?"
"Who? Who's crying!"
She was crying. Barsabe was shedding tears of frustration. Her lips were chewed raw as she tried to hold back the sobs, but it wasn't easy. Ian furrowed his brow slightly and asked.
"Petreio's daughter? So it was you lurking around the mansion since yesterday."
"Yeah. So kill me now. Otherwise, someday I'll come after you again..."
Barsabe couldn't finish her sentence. Her father's sudden death was maddening enough, but to fail at even revenge and end up like this—there was no greater humiliation. She was a knight of the Imperial Palace Guard, but it seemed she had hit her limit as a trainee.
"Did Molin tell you that? That I killed Petreio."
Ian immediately figured out who had leaked the information to Barsabe. Molin, the old Imperial Administrative Officer who had survived the border thanks to Gail's protection and climbed up. He might even see him at the New Year's gathering if things went well.
"Molin? That old geezer?"
"Let me be clear: we didn't kill Petreio."
If anything, it was the opposite. They had brought him back to the mansion after he crushed his own face with poison on a silver needle and tried to treat him. It was to extract a confession, but in the end, they bore no responsibility for Petreio's death.
"It was your father who tried to kill us first, and it was your father who chose death to protect his lord and his honor."
"Liar!"
"Why do you think it's a lie?"
"My father, my father..."
"Did you think he wouldn't leave you behind?"
He had struck a nerve. Barsabe sniffled and began shedding tears in earnest. He had been a decent subordinate, and apparently not a bad father either.
"Barsabe. Let me make this clear. If you swear to complete your father's unfinished mission, then killing me would be justified. But if it's revenge for your father, then you're barking up the wrong tree."
Petreio had acted and decided according to his beliefs. What death could be more honorable for a knight than fighting fiercely from one's post? The family's sense of loss was another matter, of course.
"If you're a knight, you can understand Petreio's final moments."
As a knight, or perhaps as one who calls herself a knight.
Barsabe stared blankly at a spot on the ground and sniffled. The saliva sliding down her throat was thick with the taste of blood. Sensing that Barsabe had calmed down, Ian continued.
"By any chance, do you follow Molin?"
"No."
"On your honor as a knight."
"Yes."
If she had affirmed it, he would have killed her.
It would mean Molin had sent an assassin to kill him, confirming the intent to complete Petreio's failed mission. But since she walked a different path...
'She might be a little useful.'
Ian checked his pocket watch and turned to Berik. He was brushing off his ruined clothes and wiping away the blood. With that loud boom, it was only a matter of time before the guards arrived.
"But what Lord Molin told me is true. Ian from the border killed my father."
Barsabe staggered to her feet, still glaring at Ian. But her gaze no longer burned solely with killing intent. It wavered between suspicion and distrust. At the very least, her resolve to kill Ian had vanished.
"...I can see why Petreio would say something like that."
"What? What did he say? What words did my father leave?"
Ian muttered deliberately, dropping the bait. Barsabe took a step forward asking again, but he stepped back the same distance and just smiled.
"Curious?"
He had once probed like that. He had asked Petreio if he wasn't afraid of repercussions if he had family. But he had answered with silence. Now it made sense. With a daughter as spirited as this, he probably had no worries.
"Is that even worth calling words?"
"Then instead of sneaking around after me, come visit the mansion properly with decorum and etiquette. Do that, and I'll hand over your father's ring as well."
Petreio's ring. It had poison on the silver needle, so it was sealed for investigation. If Barsabe saw it, she could tell if it was truly her father's or something Molin had prepared separately for suicide. That could be decisive proof that Molin had tried to kill him.
"Let's go, Berik."
"Huh? Not gonna kill her?"
"No need. You know what kind of mess that would cause here."
With the New Year's gathering approaching, the capital was crawling with forces hostile to Ian. Not just Gail and Molin, but plenty of regular nobles who envied and resented a commoner-born head of house. In a time when he had to watch out even for falling leaves, he couldn't give them any leverage, no matter that she was a spy.
"Barsabe. You've picked a hell of a time for this."
"What if she comes at me again to kill me?"
"Then you'll have your weapon by then, Berik, so it'll be fine."
"Huh? Ahaha! Right, it's different once I have my sword."
Above all, if she truly meant to kill him with all her might, she should have broken in at night and caused chaos.
But Barsabe hadn't. At least it showed her intent not to involve innocents.
"Besides, if you kill me, you won't know where your father's sole keepsake is, right? Isn't that a problem, Barsabe?"
Ian emphasized it in case she hadn't caught on. Without waiting for a reply, he hurried out of the alley. The nearest guards would arrive any moment.
Clatter clatter!
"This way!"
"This way!"
Sure enough, as they exited the alley, he caught sight of guards rushing into the opposite side. They would comb the area to find the source of the boom.
"Good work, Berik. Let's get out of here quick."
"Ian, I'm cold. Hungry. Sleepy."
"You've got all the makings of a beggar."
"Who's fault is that!"
Ian nodded for Berik to hurry and follow. Passersby flinched at the sight of blood-soaked Berik but soon gave them a wide berth.
Berik scooped up snow from a pile in the alley corner and scrubbed his face furiously.
"Just wiping off the blood? Buy me meat later. Got it?"
"Got it. Let's go change clothes too. Better just toss those."
They were already rags, and the bare-handed fight had made them even more tattered. Ian quickened his pace toward the tailor where Romandro was waiting and arrived within minutes.
Ding.
A clear bell rang, and warm air wafted out, laced with sweet perfume. Romandro, sipping tea at a table, turned instinctively and nearly fainted.
"Good heavens!"
"Sorry we're a bit late."
"No, Berik. Did you roll in a sewer? You look like absolute hell!"
Unlike Ian, whose hair was just windswept from running, Berik truly looked like he'd tumbled out of a gutter, as Romandro put it. Even Vivianna gaped in shock. The tailor madam glanced at Romandro, her eyes questioning if this was really a customer.
"There were circumstances. Madam Vivianna, did you look over the clothes?"
"Oh, yes, yes. We just finished picking the designs. Apparently, the trend in men's formalwear is slightly loose lines in bright colors. With a light tesl accessory, right, Madam?"
"Ah, yes. My apologies. One moment."
Prodded by the lady, the madam snapped to attention and brought out a line of mannequins. They all looked the same to Berik, but Ian examined each one meticulously.
"Bright colors are in vogue, but Berik wears clothes hard, so something dark for him. White for me. I like this design."
"Excellent taste."
The madam smiled in satisfaction and bowed at Ian's choice. It wasn't flattery; he had picked the shop's bestseller, which also happened to use the priciest fabric.
"And for the dinner?"
"This line over here."
"Hm, anything else?"
Vivianna sipped her tea, watching Ian. No prejudice, but his behavior was oddly refined given the circumstances. Ian, whose stage had been the border desert, picked clothes more naturally than the young nobles renowned in high society.
"This one and this? What's the difference?"
Berik's reaction seemed more natural, honestly. Ian's skill in comparing button shapes or linings was impressive. She had offered to help, but there was nothing for her to do.
"Fine. We'll go with these."
Ian matched tops, bottoms, coats, shoes, and gloves into full sets, then glanced at Berik. It didn't quite suit him, but it would do for entering the palace.
"Thank you. That comes to five gold coins total."
Considering a commoner's monthly income was one gold coin, it was staggering. Berik's jaw dropped, but Ian elegantly wrote a check and nodded. As Romandro, who had been watching, stood to add something—
Swish.
Ian wrote for eight gold coins. A tip for the fitting assistance and a bit of showmanship. This was a tailor frequented by central nobles; once they left, the madam would surely gossip about Ian to others.
"Take good care of the tailoring."
"Of course. Leave it to us."
This planted a favorable impression while showing off his wealth and spending like a true noble. Better a parvenu than a bumpkin border hick among the nobility.
"Well done."
Romandro had risen to suggest the same. Seeing Ian handle it smoothly, he subtly gave a thumbs-up. Ian turned to Berik, who was awkwardly checking himself in the mirror.
"Berik. Give that back to the madam and change into new clothes. We need to circle the shopping district and pick up your sword."
"Can't I wear this out? Master?"
"No. You can't."
"Aww. The New Year's thing isn't till when? This is really cool. I like it."
He stuck to the mirror, admiring himself nonstop, so Ian exchanged amused glances with Romandro and chuckled. That was when—
Boom!
"Huh? Again? What exploded now!"
A loud boom from outside had Berik reflexively shoving his head to the window. But Romandro and Vivianna stayed calm; it was fireworks signaling the start of the imminent palace New Year's gathering.
"Knight, don't be so startled. It's the palace signal for the New Year's period. Look up at the sky. Pollen-like sparkles will fall like snowflakes soon—it's beautiful."
At Vivianna's words, Ian joined Berik at the window and looked up. So even in the Bariel Empire a century ago, they had an opening like this.
"Whoa! For real!"
Myriad pollen-like sparkles adorned the blue sky. Gold, soft pink, and white glimmers rained down like stars. Only then did Ian realize why his era lacked this.
'Magic, huh.'
With mages greatly reduced, they couldn't do this. It was the true light heralding the New Year's start.
Boom!
"Ooh! Another one!"
Berik stomped excitedly, turning toward the sound. But that direction...
"Isn't that the smithy?"
"Yeah, that way."
"I see black smoke from here, Ian. You too?"
Smoke? Ian tilted his head, turned, and spotted thin wisps of black smoke rising.