Chapter 164
Chapter 164
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 164
Chapter Title: Signal Flare
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Creeeak.
Ian emerged from the reception room with an odd expression. The chief steward glanced back at the firmly shut door as he escorted him. Just before Ian's arrival, Marib's frenzied roars had echoed nonstop through the fits of rage.
Yet now, how could it be so quiet?
This silence was frightening in its own right.
"Lord Ian, are you all right?"
"With what?"
"...Nothing."
The chief steward closely examined Ian's cheeks, hair, and clothing. Everything was impeccable, just as it had been when he entered. Considering the servants who might have been carried out like corpses, this was a relief. Still, as the Magic Department Minister, he seemed to have kept his wits about him in His Highness's presence.
"Um, Lord Ian. If I may be so bold as to ask one thing?"
"You may."
As the chief steward opened the carriage door and asked, Ian nodded lightly. His calm tone was impressive. It felt as if Marib's outbursts in this palace had nothing whatsoever to do with him.
The chief steward snapped to attention and bowed.
"It's nothing much, but I wanted to ask about the condition of the servants inside. There's a doctor on standby, but with His Highness there, we can't provide treatment. Did he seem tired, or drowsy in any way?"
Ian stared at the chief steward. He'd called it a bold question, but it was truly audacious. It was the chief steward's role to resolve issues between his master and the servants. Still, Ian recalled the people cowering flat on the floor and let slip a hint.
"They didn't seem badly hurt. And isn't it about time for sunset? For someone who works late into the night, it's not yet time for bed."
"His Highness has irregular sleep patterns and catches naps whenever he gets a chance. Thank you for the information."
Unlike his polite words, his hand hurriedly shut the carriage door, as if eager to leave this place. Ian watched her return to the palace, frowning.
'Irregular sleep schedule. Right, Marib handles so much work that rumors say the lights in his office never go out.'
Could that be how he got exposed to the sleep-inducing hallucinogen? If sleep was an issue, he might have sought a solution and gotten tangled with a particular merchant group. Or perhaps he already had connections there and obtained it that way.
"Where to, Minister?"
"To the Magic Department."
"Yes, understood."
Ian smirked as he gazed at the darkening outside. It was because the arrogant Marib, whose pride had been cracked, had made a highly amusing move. In truth, the attempt to kill Gail had been mediocre at best, but the fact that he had orchestrated it made the situation entertaining.
'It's truly a boon for me.'
Right now, Marib and Gail were sharpening their blades, each eyeing the other's throat. But since a single blow could cost them everything, they were biding their time, waiting for an opening.
Waiting for an opportunity—put another way, a lack of justification. Or, to phrase it differently, the absence of a signal flare. If he could just create a reason for them to charge...
'One of them dies. The other takes a fatal wound and falls. Then, at the right moment, finish off the survivor, and things get easier.'
Gail had the curse's reality and suspicions of rebellion, while Marib bore accusations of attempting to assassinate the Emperor. Ian tapped his knee in time with the rattling carriage wheels.
"Change of destination."
"Yes? Where to?"
"His Highness Gail's palace."
Ian ordered the coachman to turn the carriage. The plan that had come to him was satisfying, so it was best to inform Gail before he exposed Marib's imperial assassination plot. Fortunately, the carriage didn't have far to go.
Whinny!
'Haiman House's carriage squadron.'
It seemed Melania was at Gail's palace as well. As Ian stepped down from the carriage, the guards saluted crisply and greeted him.
"Is that Minister Ian Hiello?"
"Indeed. Good to see you. You're a familiar face."
"I'll notify His Highness."
Previously, they'd added barbs about him being a mere viscount's bastard, but now there were no questions asked. Just announce the arrival and let him in.
Knock knock.
"Your Highness Gail, Minister Ian has arrived."
"Oh, yes. Let him in!"
He must have been toasting, as the door swung open to a rush of alcohol scent. Melania sat with her eyes half-closed, puffing away at the mana cigarette Gail had offered her. This was getting out of hand. The brother smashed furniture in a rampage, while the younger brother indulged in debauchery.
"Minister Ian Hiello! What brings you here?"
"I have urgent business. If the timing is poor, I can return later."
"No, no. It's fine. Come in."
His hand slapped the sofa enthusiastically, brimming with delight. Instead of sitting, Ian glanced at Melania and bowed lightly.
"Lady Melania. You look feverish."
Get some fresh air—meaning, in other words, please leave. She curved her eyebrows into a soft smile. For all the talk of her being from an unparalleled bastard line, her manners were no different from any noble house.
"Oh, some fresh air does sound nice. Excuse me for a moment."
Melania graciously stepped out, and Ian sat across from Gail. His hand tapped the mana cigarette roughly. Ian noticed the shift in his eyes the moment Melania left.
"What is it?"
His slurred voice sobered instantly; the smoke tolerance was top-notch. He must have his own struggles to keep up with Melania.
"I'm coming from seeing His Highness Marib."
"You always go between us brothers."
"I'd rather not, but they keep summoning me."
Gail burst into low laughter at Ian's deadpan reply. He stubbed out the mana cigarette and asked,
"That's your value, isn't it? So, what did he say? My brother Marib? No matter how much he postures with his lofty dignity as a prince, he can't hide his temper. He didn't turn the palace upside down, did he?"
Even so, having watched each other up close their whole lives, they seemed to have a good grasp of each other's personalities. Ian affirmed with silence and got to the point.
"...He ordered me to kill Your Highness Gail."
"Haha. Music to my ears."
"Is it?"
"Outwardly, I'm under a curse tied to Bariel's very survival, and inwardly, I'm the Emperor's favored son. For him to target me like this proves Marib is backed into a corner, doesn't it?"
The attitude Marib's faction showed at the assembly hall must have been the tipping point. To expose their disorganized power right in front of Gail—no one else—must have been a shock and crisis for Marib.
"Exactly. Proof. And it's justification that fell right into Your Highness Gail's lap."
Gail seemed to catch on to what Ian meant. With a sly smile, he opened a drawer and pulled out a thick stack of documents. The materials on Marib's imperial assassination suspicions, as promised to Ian.
"Justification. I love that word. In the palace, it ranks above the law. Even Father's orders lose power without it."
Ian accepted the documents with a respectful gesture. Unexpectedly weighty. He'd thought it would just cover the drug's source, suppliers, or associates.
"Satisfactory?"
"It means His Imperial Majesty's shadow runs deep. A lamentable state."
"Hahaha! You were born to be in the palace, no doubt."
Ian carefully placed the documents by the sofa and faced Gail squarely. He was grinning ear to ear, eyes saying he knew exactly what was in Ian's head.
"His Highness Marib ordered me to prove my innocence, so I'll do so soon."
"I'd be honored if you did it yourself."
"You seemed to want a magical side effect, but that's a burden for me too. Fortunately, I have some slaves on hand."
An assassination attempt via slave. He'd see it as the signal flare for all-out war. The blades aimed at throats would now fly freely.
'Direct magical involvement could be used against me later. No matter the outcome.'
To Marib, it proved his innocence through the assassination attempt. To Gail, passing the info handed him the opportunity. He didn't know who would win, but regardless, Ian had his exit.
"If I fall, the attempt itself earns Marib trust. If Marib falls, passing this info shows I'm not tied to his faction."
"Intentions are open to interpretation."
"Fine. No reason to refuse. Especially since you hold the reins of my curse—I've no choice."
One word from Ian could shatter his barrier. In a clash of lethal strikes, a barrier's worth equaled one's life.
"I'll announce the curse's lifting as per Your Highness Gail's wishes. In return, use these documents as a last resort. I went to great lengths to obtain them; if they're wasted, I'm in real trouble."
He'd endured Marib's suspicions to help with the truth serum case, but if Gail exposed the assassination plot publicly, Ian gained nothing. What use was information everyone already knew?
"If you planned to use that as your signal flare, don't. Use me as the pretext instead. It's better for both of us."
He couldn't refuse. Refusing meant making an enemy of Ian. Gail wet his lips with the remaining liquor and tilted his head back, exposing his throat.
"Then one request."
"Name it."
"Make the assassination after the full moon rises."
"May I ask why?"
"Lady Melania's birthday. We're having a banquet with the Haiman House that day."
He said that, but Ian knew. It was the day the mana stone armor ordered from Haiman House would be complete. Ian nodded and rose.
"Then allow me one request as well."
"Speak."
"Return the slave I send in one piece."
"Hahaha! How, for one who targets a prince's life?"
"If I may be bold, I dislike losses."
In their fight, he stood to lose nothing, he implied. And rightly so—Ian didn't care who lived or died. As long as one twin prince succeeded as history intended, that sufficed. Though it would be some time off.
"I dislike losses too."
"If Your Highness suffers one, blame His Highness Marib, not me. So, shall I just wait for the full moon?"
Otherwise, you'd be the one in trouble. In the past, such insolence would have cost him his tongue. Gail shrugged once more, acknowledging his position.
"Fine. I'll leave the door wide open."
"Then, I'll take my leave."
"Lord Ian."
Gail called as Ian turned to go. He poured a full glass and implored,
"Go easy."
"...I'll convey it's just an attempt."
"No. You."
A loaded statement. Was he asking Ian to help him now? Ian bowed his head and exited the chamber. In that short time, the alcohol scent clung to his clothes.
Swish.
'Now back to select a suitable slave.'
"Lord Ian."
"Lady Melania."
"Have you finished talking?"
"Yes. Have a pleasant night."
As Ian tried to pass her,
"Ian, I have something to say."