Chapter 243
Chapter 243
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 243
Chapter Title: Bedside Purge
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Vivianna, who had been nursing Romandro, heard the news about Ian and headed to his office. For someone who had lost so much blood, he had regained consciousness remarkably quickly. The mages passing by were murmuring in relief.
She turned the corner, balancing a tray with warm tea. There stood Philia in front of the half-open door. Vivianna called out to her in surprise.
“Madam?”
“Oh, hello.”
“What are you doing here? Why not go in?”
“I heard he woke up, but... it looked like he was talking with the mages. I didn’t want to interrupt, so I’ve been waiting.”
Philia smiled shyly, fidgeting with her fingers. On the windowsill in the corridor sat a bowl of barley porridge. It looked completely cold—no telling how long she’d been there.
“When Ian was little and got sick, he always wanted barley porridge. The palace is full of delicacies from land and sea now, so he probably wouldn’t touch it anymore.”
“The food you crave most in tough times is what you ate as a child. Madam, don’t worry. Come in with me.”
“Oh, should I? Haha. That would be nice.”
Oh, you flower of the fields. Vivianna smiled pityingly at the woman’s joyful expression. How could someone with features so identical to Ian’s have such a delicate personality? Vivianna opened the door and ushered her in. Philia nodded bashfully.
Creak.
“Ian?”
Vivianna announced her presence as she started to enter but froze. The door to the small bedroom in the office was wide open, revealing Ian clearly. He was buried in fluffy pillows and cushions, flipping through reports.
Rustle.
“Madam, how is Lord Romandro?”
“Kyaaah! What in the world are you doing?!”
Vivianna couldn’t contain her shock. After spilling blood everywhere like that, diving straight into work upon waking? Either Ian had lost his mind, or she was seeing things.
Hail, who had been channeling mana beside him, jumped in surprise and turned around.
“Madam. Are you all right?”
“H-How could I be! This can’t be happening! Ian, what is this madness? Do you not know the words ‘absolute rest’? Which heartless soul handed you those reports the moment you opened your eyes? Huh?”
Gulp. Hail instantly became that heartless soul, clamping his mouth shut. As Vivianna continued her outrage, Ian waved the reports demonstratively to calm her.
“I’m lying down, aren’t I?”
“Lying down doesn’t solve everything!”
Why in the world was there a bed tray in the Magic Department?
Whether he knew her inner thoughts or not, Ian tapped the wooden tray with a satisfied smile. Everything was plush and perfectly angled, so he only needed to move his wrist. As he lazily lifted his head, Vivianna clutched her forehead.
“And Lord Romandro?”
“…Not yet, but he woke up midway and even ate a meal. He’s improving.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“How could you say that.”
“I have mages to help me, but your husband has to overcome it on his own.”
Rustle.
Ian flipped to the next report. Exhaustion still clung to him, but his gaze was steady. He twitched his fingers at Hail, urging him on—as if to say, don’t stop the mana flow.
“Oh, right, Madam Philia. Come in. It’s fine.”
Vivianna whirled around in surprise. She’d burst in and thrown a fit right away, so Philia had frozen at the threshold, startled. Ian glanced over and called to her.
“Mother?”
“Ian.”
She timidly stepped forward, tray in hand. Seeing her, Ian sank deeper into his cushions with a grin. His son, who had wandered the brink of death covered in blood. This smile was a small consideration to ease her worries.
“You must have been so worried.”
“I-I brought barley porridge.”
“Thank you. I’m hungry, just in time.”
Hail made a puzzled face. Hadn’t he refused all the kitchen food, claiming extreme fatigue killed his appetite? More than that, hadn’t he said a full stomach would only make sleep harder to fight, so he was sustaining himself on mana alone?
“But my stomach’s still unsettled, so I’ll eat it later if you leave it.”
Yes. That made sense—he wouldn’t eat. Hail nodded curtly and focused on channeling mana.
Whirr. Whirr.
“Right. W-Warming it up would be better.”
“Yes. I’ll have the servants heat it up.”
Philia glanced at Ian with eyes full of emotion. Seeing him sunk into the cushions reminded her vividly of her little boy.
Ahh. He was so adorable back then.
He still was cute, but back then...
“Mother. What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing. And I have something else to give you.”
Philia snapped out of her reverie and waved her hand. Then, with hurried motions, she pulled crumpled notes from her pocket—stained with food. Ian at first had no idea what they were, then let out a short, dry chuckle as it dawned on him.
“Gifts from Prince Gail, I see.”
Traitors making contact, using exile rumors as cover. He hadn’t expected their cooperation in gathering traces. He’d been pondering what to do next, but this made things much easier.
“But one paper was burned by the prince. I tried to save half, but it turned to complete ash.”
“It’s fine. Thank you, Mother.”
Philia beamed at Ian’s gratitude. Pride at being helpful rippled across her smile.
This was less a favor to Ian and more payment to Philia for sharing meals with him so diligently.
‘Let’s take a look.’
Ian flipped through the papers, checking contents. Some bore names written by hand, others didn’t. The handwriting was so clear comparison would be easy.
“…Hail.”
“Yes, Ian. Mana flowing steadily.”
“That middle bookshelf over there—starting left, two shelves over—is the important reports cabinet. Check the list and fetch the reports each one submitted. And summon Dainels, Brennan, Petric. Hm. Call a handwriting expert from the palace too. Usually two or three on duty, so one should be around.”
Hail paused at the stream of orders. But without question, he rose and called for subordinates outside. As he bustled about, Ian kept flipping reports nonstop.
“Ian. Are you really going to keep working?”
“Y-Yes, Ian. You lost so much blood…”
“I’ll handle the urgent tasks first, then rest again. Everything has its timing.”
With Arsen dealt with, the parasites clinging to him were scattering in panic. Fail to catch them now, and they’d flee. Then hide away, lay eggs in the shadows, fester, and crawl out into the light someday.
‘So this is what Prince Jin meant.’
The countermeasures meeting wasn’t recorded—only Hail’s direct report reached Ian. How to record Gail’s death in history, what to do with the sacrificed...
But the indictment’s eligibility judgment was separate from Arsen, so it came as a report.
‘Yes. Worthy of praise.’
Ian unconsciously smiled. The bureaucrat had made excellent use of the full assembly. Even the order of raises was noted—showing aggressive intent in building factions.
Ian’s smirk made Vivianna and Philia exchange puzzled glances. Reading reports like they were some fun novel...
Knock knock.
Then a mage reported from outside.
“Ian. The Prime Minister is here.”
“The Prime Minister? Show him in.”
The two madams urged Ian to rest and left. Soon after, the Prime Minister arrived with his retinue. His graying hair seemed even whiter. Wrinkles deeper too...
‘Must have suffered at the Grand Council.’
“Greetings, Prime Minister.”
The Prime Minister seemed briefly flustered seeing Ian buried in cushions. But he gestured to stay lying down and pulled a chair close to the bed.
“Keep lying down. How’s the body?”
“Thank you. As you see, I’m fine.”
“Yes. Looks that way. Good.”
He said it noting the report in Ian’s hand. Seizing the moment, Ian straightened his upper body more and gripped his pen. First, he listed the mages’ names.
“The Magic Department is screening for traitors now.”
“Traitors? What do you mean?”
“Can’t go into details, but many are likely tied to Haiman. That collusion contributed to the Arsen incident, so as Magic Department head, I believe they deserve fitting punishment.”
Even if not Magic Department-specific, no superior would sit idle if subordinates colluded with enemies. But given the situation, the Prime Minister voiced concerns.
“Punishment how? The department’s short-staffed as is. Every one counts. This isn’t just Magic Department—it’s an empire-wide issue.”
“If traitors among the dead, record them tied to Prince Gail’s death as treason. Others, demote and freeze in place.”
Killing wastes talent value; sending to borders or abroad too risky. Who knows what mages might do unseen, or who they’d collude with?
Mages gathered in the capital partly due to low numbers, but mainly imperial intent for effective control.
“Demotion. Quintana will love that.”
Pay cuts, benefit losses, scorn from returning comrades. People aren’t fixed, so best to discard at the bottom.
“And I heard Haiman Duke and his core are detained. For imperial insult and disturbance, max three days, right? Will trial come before then?”
“Hm. Judiciary’s cooperating fully. The mass absence when Magic Department filed the indictment is public now. Haiman’s hand almost certain.”
The Judiciary was indeed terrified, quaking. Seen as incorruptible paragons, yet Haiman’s tentacles had slipped in unnoticed—and effectively. The mood was one of heightened vigilance.
Rustle.
Ian murmured slowly, reading.
“More than anything...”
“Hm?”
“Focus on reverting Haiman House and central nobles’ assets to the treasury. That’ll drive everyone. Thoroughly strip Haiman’s wife and children too.”
Palace departments anticipated budget boosts from this—key reason for Magic Department cooperation. Opposing nobles same. Serro aimed to seize shares of Haiman’s divided wealth, no?
“If treason sticks, clan extermination follows, treasury revert natural. But variables before then troublesome. Wasn’t the duchess from Ruswena?”
“Ah, yes. Ian, that’s why I stopped by. Ruswena envoy arrived—seems Haiman summoned them.”
“Is that so?”
“Meant to leave palace this morning, but... they all got severe food poisoning and collapsed.”
The Prime Minister knew it was deliberate. But the tea served was trouble’s core, and they just begged a few more days’ rest. Couldn’t harshly eject a nation’s envoys—truly awkward.
Ian twitched his brow, murmuring.
“…Hm. They’re making their own misery.”
Ian scribbled instructions for next steps.
“Prime Minister. Crushing Haiman and central nobles lays imperial authority’s foundation. Path to great power.”
“I agree.”
Stronger throne meant less prime ministerial power. Yet unhesitating agreement. The emperor seemed to entrust that seat to the right person, at least.
“It’s purge time.”
Purge.
The Prime Minister nodded, taking Ian’s report.
“And once done, we proceed with our Prince Jin’s official heir appointment ceremony.”