Chapter 153
Chapter 153
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 153
Chapter Title: Whole Roast Pig Party
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“Looks like a beggar crawled into your stomach.”
In one corner of the garden, a whole pig was roasting golden brown in a barrel. Romandro muttered while staring at Berik in disbelief.
He finally understood what it meant to be possessed. The sight of him cramming chunks of meat into his mouth by the fistful was the very picture of a madman. Berik smiled happily and raised his glass.
“One more bottle!”
“You bastard, cut it out! Did a beggar really crawl into your stomach? Don’t you have any shame after taking a week to cover a few hours’ distance?”
“You know alcohol’s supposed to go down endlessly once you start!”
“You’re more likely to die from your stomach exploding than from a sword wound. Good lord, I can’t even find the words. Really.”
Berik’s throat was clogged with meat, but Romandro’s was clogged with sheer exasperation. Paying no mind, Berik kept ripping into the meat, half out of his mind.
“Ian, keeping that guy around is gonna cost you a fortune in food. Terrible return on investment.”
“Still, smack, probably more than the pig we caught earlier, right? What was he thinking, saying all the slaves were yours? Right? Whoa, this meat is seriously good!”
Romandro’s face flushed red at Berik’s words. Fine. He admitted it. He’d let slip in his panic and tension.
Not only the Astana folk, but bringing in slaves of unknown origin had required extra spending. They’d attached doctors to the dying, clothes to the naked, and food to the starving.
“Do you, do you have any idea of a civil servant’s woes!?”
“Huh? Why would I? And what’s that got to do with your slip of the tongue? Ian, I’m right, yeah?”
Romandro clutched his nape with a groan and shut his eyes. Ian patted his shoulder.
“Looks like all that fieldwork sharpened the kid up.”
Full of amusement. Meaning Ian agreed with Berik. Romandro pressed his forehead and apologized again.
“Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine. Thanks to you, they cleared out the building, so the guards can handle the cleanup easily. And Berik, just so you know, your single meal cost more than what we gave those folks.”
“No way, lies!”
Even as he said it, Berik chomped down on a hunk of meat the size of his head. His bowl emptied in seconds. Mini panicked and flipped the firewood with a poker.
“Sir Berik, eat slowly! The Astana folk have barely had half a bowl each!”
“My stomach’s not even half full yet?”
The Astana men were filling their bellies while chatting with Hasha. Laughter occasionally spilled out, so they were probably sharing hometown stories.
One of them met Ian’s eyes and bowed his head with a broad grin.
“Judging by how the Rugerspel guards are handling it, it won’t blow up into a big issue. After the investigation, restore the identities of any illegally enslaved and wrap it up.”
“What about Pakenus?”
“Get him to reveal his necromancer accomplice, then hand him to the guards. Punish him under the laws on illegal slave trading.”
Pakenus was confined in the manor’s warehouse. More precisely, he was out cold, preserving his spot.
Romandro nodded, wetting his mouth with alcohol at Ian’s instructions.
“Got it. I’ll handle this. Ian, you just focus on becoming the next Magic Department Minister without worrying.”
Romandro set down his glass with a resolute expression. Berik openly snickered. His cackling laughter was utterly innocent.
“Gonna screw up again and buy something weird?”
“Shut up and eat, or this’ll be your last meal!”
“Ian’s the one feeding me, so why’re you acting like it’s your treat? If the house is empty, I’ll raid the whole kitchen!”
“You think our Mini’s that easy to deal with?!”
Their childish bickering flared up again. The Astana folk, startled by the shouting at first, now seemed accustomed to it.
Hasha hopped down from his chair and ran to Ian. A man staggered behind him.
—Ian!
“Hasha, not enough food?”
—No, we’re all stuffed. It’s not that. Remember how Astana has tons of shamans?
“Yeah. You told me. Different factions follow different shamans. So if you go back, you might get a new body with help from another faction. I remember clearly.”
Hasha smacked the man’s knee with his tail. The man opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue.
A strange pattern marked the center. Berik and Romandro looked puzzled, but Ian got the meaning.
—This one’s a diviner. He has a message for you.
A kind of prophet. Divining fate is like counting waves in the sea. It shifts easily with the slightest breeze or fish splash.
Ian noted the man’s flushed excitement and gave permission.
“If it’s good, I’ll hear it. If not, I’ll ignore it.”
—Of course it’s good! If my benefactor’s fortune came out bad, I’d cut out my tongue and seal it forever!
With Ian’s approval, the man divined the future in incomprehensible Astana tongue. His prophecy came through Hasha in Bariel speech.
—Even stumbling, lost, turning every which way, there’s ultimately one path. It may seem changed, but from the heavens, all connects. In the end, you’ll return to that spot. As you desire.
What do you think? Good, right? Hasha panted with laughter, but Ian could only make a strange face. For some reason, that path felt like it meant “history.”
Much had already changed, but over a century, everything might reclaim its fate, reshaping the world Ian knew.
“What’s that? Not a prophecy, a riddle.”
—Prophecies are open to interpretation.
Hasha retorted to Berik. The prophet bowed and returned to his seat. Ian quietly wet his lips with wine. Vivianna offered water instead, worried.
“Sir Ian. Didn’t you say you have to enter the palace at dawn? Dear, you should stop the alcohol too. It’ll be hard to get up.”
At Vivianna’s concern, Romandro regretfully set down his glass. She smiled brightly and added,
“And Sir Ian. I heard you’re challenging for Magic Department Minister. Your clothes are stylish and cool now, but they don’t quite suit a department minister.”
“Madam, I was just about to ask you about that.”
For the New Year’s assembly, his tailored outfits had a youthful flair. They couldn’t match formal public office attire.
“So, I prepared something new. Wear it when you enter the palace tomorrow.”
“As expected of the lady Romandro trusts and relies on. I feel secure. Thank you, Madam.”
Ian kissed the back of her hand in thanks. Romandro beamed as if praised himself. Ignoring them, Berik held up an empty plate and shouted.
“One more plate!”
* * *
The next day, at the hour of the dawn moon.
Ian arrived at the Magic Department after barely a few hours of sleep. Such an emergency left clear signs of all-nighters in the building.
The Imperial Administration Romandro visited was probably the same. As Ian entered the lobby, passing mages greeted him tiredly.
“Ian, any separate word from the palace?”
“None. They’d have called an emergency muster with magic if so. Problem?”
“We’re investigating Forbidden Magic records. Stuff over 300 years old went to the administration. That Wesley guy. Seems like before the Magic Department was founded, so we need a cooperation letter.”
“All captains need cooperation letters?”
“Yeah. And yours would help. You attended the palace meeting.”
“Understood. I’ll write one up right away.”
Creak.
Ian flung open the division door. Mages packed the chairs. This was clearly the Magic Operations Division office, so why were they all here?
“What are you all doing here?”
“Huh? Oh! Ian, oof. You’re here.”
Acorella was first to stand. She wiped drool from her mouth and checked the clock. Three a.m. Too early for work, too late for quitting. She pressed her brow to chase fatigue.
“Introductions. These are the Potion Research Division, Verbal Magic Research Division, and Magic Tool Fabrication Division captains. Yawn.”
Others rose at Acorella’s words. He’d passed them before, so faces were familiar. Magic Operations folk were crashed out together in the back on-call room.
“Formal greetings. I’m Ian.”
“Yeah, we know. No need.”
“We’ve seen each other.”
“We go way back, so get along.”
Way back. Meaning Acorella’s recruits to back Ian. Regulars at his potion sales, too. Ian shook hands and shed his coat.
“If you’re close with Lady Acorella, you can be close with me too.”
“Haha. Right. Potion Research is all-in on commercializing truth serum, no question. Magic Tool Fabrication wants mass Luron Stone supply. Verbal Magic Research? Budget’s too low. No extra funds for studying speech, they say. Hope the next minister considers it, yeah?”
Each division’s wants were clear. Ian nodded as if just needing their trust. Acorella chalked division names on the board.
Scribble scribble.
“And Captain Jang?”
“Yes. Magic Research Division captain.”
“Didn’t peg him for it, but he’s popular. United with other candidates who registered. Don’t know what he offered, but solidifying lines, we’re short on numbers.”
Ian fully agreed with Acorella’s surprise. Not memorable, he stroked his chin and nodded.
“What about undecided divisions?”
“Plenty. Don’t care who wins, too busy investigating, or waiting for Mana Confirmation Ritual results!”
Acorella slammed the board. Tommy jolted awake in the on-call room, rubbed his eyes, then flopped back realizing nothing.
Ian scanned the list, eyes stopping at the end.
“What about them?”
Magic Support Division. Minister Wesley’s direct report, now shunned by both Magic Department and palace.
Acorella scratched under her nose.
“Probably abstaining. Haven’t shown their faces. Know they’ll lose, that’s it.”
Tap tap. Ian counted Magic Support mages, calculating. Other divisions mattered, but they had the most heads?
“Anyone have the Magic Support Division captain’s contact?”
Ian elegantly asked post-thought. Captains all raised hands instinctively. Ian smiled satisfied and ordered.
“Call them. Here. Now.”
“Call? Will they come?”
The Verbal Magic Research captain’s question got Ian’s immediate reply.
“If not, their loss. They’ll figure that much. Call. I predict thirty minutes.”