Chapter 123
Chapter 123
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 123
Chapter Title: Mana Confirmation Ritual
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Ian rarely panicked, but he couldn't help but be at a complete loss for words.
Twins? If they had at least been different genders, or even fraternal twins, it wouldn't have been like this. Even from a distance, the two princes looked exactly like mirror images.
"Surprised? Rumor has it even their mother, Lady Dillaina, gets confused sometimes. But their personalities are so different that it's not a big issue. I can tell them apart at a glance myself."
"And their names?"
Ian asked again, racking his brain for memories. A hundred years ago, had there been an emperor with twin brothers? He couldn't recall. Emperors' siblings were often losers in power struggles, deliberately excluded from records.
"The Fourth Prince is Arsen, and the Fifth Prince is Jin."
Ian frowned at Romandro's murmur. Twins usually had matching names, but Arsen sounded noble while Jin seemed fit for commoners.
"I know what you're wondering. But the location..."
"Step out for a moment."
This wasn't something to hear later. One of those two was clearly destined to become emperor—no need to beat around the bush.
At Ian's glance, Romandro took the hint and backed away. Berik followed suit.
"Pardon us."
They exited the grand arched entrance and stepped into the opposite corridor. Unlike the banquet hall, this area was filled with younger, more debauched nobles uninterested in the emperor's New Year's address, mingling socially. Some glanced at Ian, but that was it—they focused on teasing each other and enjoying themselves.
"Ooh, they're kissing over there."
"Berik, enough nonsense—come here. Lord Romandro, I know it's irreverent, but is the current emperor truly the thirteenth?"
It matched Ian's memory. He clearly recalled the "13th Berosion" inscription under the portrait. But Romandro awkwardly looked around before responding.
"Watch your words. That matter was only recently settled. The emperor is now the fourteenth."
Ian let out a small sigh. He instantly grasped Romandro's meaning. Peering at history from the distant future was worlds apart from living it.
"His late majesty, who perished in the previous rebellion, had his father recognized as legitimate. So he was thirteenth until last year, but now he's fourteenth."
Seizers of power often rewrite prior history to legitimize themselves. Collateral lines especially sought acknowledgment of direct lineage for political footing—unable to change their blood, they altered records.
"What does that even mean? Did they find hidden parents or something?"
Berik scratched his ear, baffled. How could an emperor shift from thirteenth to fourteenth without dying and resurrecting? Ian rubbed his forehead and muttered in reply.
"History's meaning shifts with the narrator. It means dethroning or restoring predecessors from the throne. The current emperor is fourteenth now, but was thirteenth last year—who knows what next year brings."
It hinted that amid history's torrent, one couldn't gauge the storm's depth—only press on by face alone.
'When I received my lord appointment in the borderlands, I heard the emperor's name but didn't recognize it. The next generation will likely be the same...'
"But why are the twin princes' names so different?"
Ian整理ed his tangled thoughts and asked again. Arsen and Jin—the stark contrast in their vibes suggested a clue.
"An oracle came down when the twins were born."
"An oracle? Official one?"
"Yes. Details should be in the records—it's been ten years, but it was huge news back then."
The princes were ten years old. Ian nodded for more, and Romandro whispered through gritted teeth, voice as low as possible.
"The late-born child will bring great calamity to the first-born."
"......!"
Ian's eyes widened. Oracles allowed interpretation, but this felt like a massive signpost to him. Romandro twirled his beard awkwardly and cleared his throat.
"So they couldn't even share a bedroom as infants. We feared future power struggles, but with Princes Marib and Gail grown and holding firm, that's not it. Anyway, they gave plain names to thwart demonic mischief."
The superstition held that blending into normalcy with ordinary names evaded devils' pranks. Whichever of Marib or Gail became emperor, Arsen and Jin were doomed to live as if dead.
"But like all oracles, they don't always hold true. After ten years, it seems like a total bust."
"Is that so?"
"From childhood, they've been rigorously educated. Prince Jin dotes on Prince Arsen with utmost care and respect—holds nothing back. Sometimes it feels like the brothers are swapped."
As a result, elder brother Arsen was bright and lively, always smiling, while younger brother Jin exuded calm, composed maturity. Though identical in face, the entire court distinguished them effortlessly.
"I see."
Ian turned, resolved to meet the princes, as music from the inner imperial orchestra swelled. The emperor's speech and title ceremony must have ended, creating a brief intermission.
"Let's head back. We'll discuss details at the estate."
"Details? Wasn't that detailed enough?"
What's left to ask? Romandro scratched his chin, but Ian just gestured ahead. Berik stuck close, chuckling.
Clack-clack!
"Ian, but—"
"Master."
"Ah, master. But what about dinner?"
"Still a ways off. Won't be dinner party till after the mana confirmation ritual."
More crucial than the title slip was how far dinner was—Berik's face fell in shock. Should've eaten heartily; skipping for uniform sharpness was a mistake.
Swoosh.
Returning to the hall, the atmosphere had shifted. The emperor and princes had ascended to the second floor to watch proceedings; music livened up; spirits bustled.
"Viscount Ian Hielo."
A voice called from behind. Turning, Ian saw a man in Magic Department robes bowing politely—an administrative official overseeing the event, likely.
"I'll explain the upcoming mana confirmation ritual again. This way, please. Minister Wesley will brief you personally."
Wesley—Gail's lover and Magic Department head. To Ian's knowledge, all current evils revolved around her. He signaled Berik to follow.
"Lead on."
"Yes. This way."
Circling behind the dais, he spotted her instantly: black hair tied simply, skin pale as porcelain, lips red as blood. Above all, the cape exclusive to ministers.
"Greetings, Minister Wesley."
She turned from directing the ritual, lips twisting into an odd smile at Ian. Beautiful, yes, but her subtle intimidation was immense. Perhaps amplified because Ian knew her true colors.
"Oh! Who might this be? The lowly border bastard turned noble, Viscount Ian Hielo?"
Wesley clapped, voice booming. Surrounding mages glanced and stifled snickers. Berik scowled irritably but met Ian's eyes and gazed distantly, patient.
"Pleased to meet you, Minister Wesley. If no offense, might I have your family name?"
Ian extended a handshake, smiling casually. Mages were mostly commoners—a dig at that. Even in the palace, Wesley lacked a proper surname.
Her lips stiffened; surrounding laughter died instantly.
"Viscount Ian Hielo, as minister, I hold rank equivalent to court count."
Not actual title, but equivalent honor and authority. Ian smoothly withdrew his hand, grinning.
"Ah, my apologies. Ignorant me assumed I'd never heard Minister Wesley's full name."
Implying no surname worth the wind-up. Ian met the mages' blatant hostility head-on, unyielding—no reason to bow.
"Such arrogance—fall to slavery, and it'd be quite the spectacle."
"Worrying even for that? The Magic Department minister is far more compassionate than rumored."
No fear of demotion for unpaid 10,000 nics tribute— it had freed his status, a boon.
Joining the Magic Department would then be his choice.
'Setting aside Prince Marib's orders, annex construction, and such.'
Wesley glared down sharply. Hated this puny youth strutting with a noble title.
"Ian, the mana confirmation ritual is soon. Should mana be confirmed in you, expect formal induction request from the Magic Department tomorrow."
"An honor, Minister."
"Tiresome platitudes. Any preferred division?"
Her lips curved slyly—up to something, clearly. Ian chose silence, gauging her and the mages' vibes.
'Definitely plotting. Could it be what I predicted?'
"Fine, country bumpkin—how could you know? Someone beside you must advise."
Pointing at Marib—implying she knew he was planted as a spy.
"But the Magic Department prioritizes merit above all. We don't coddle tax-draining mediocrities. Whatever your mana level, suitable division assignment follows."
Ian couldn't help a slight smile. Exactly as predicted entering the New Year's gathering. Betting oracle light showed no reaction.
"Ah, is that so?"
Ian feigned nonchalance, but beside him, Berik caught the laughter in his voice.