Chapter 27
Chapter 27
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: The Peace Ceremony
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Finally, the day had arrived.
Ian sat on the bed, watching the sun rising outside. Since opening his eyes in the Bratz territory, he had been running toward this very moment.
Knock knock.
"Ian."
Haena called out to him carefully as she entered. She had clearly been crying yesterday. Her already small eyes were so puffy that she couldn't even meet his gaze.
"Haena. Come on."
"Have you packed everything?"
A laugh nearly escaped him, but at the child's earnest question, Ian simply nodded. There was nothing much to pack. A few clothes and some miscellaneous books. And the potted plant in the room—the only thing that felt truly like Ian's.
"...It would have been nice if there had been more."
So that those left behind in the mansion could remember him. Ian smiled as he straightened his clothes. Even just one shirt was worth two or three gold coins. The finely embroidered white thread and gold leaf made him look like a precious 'object.'
"Father?"
"He's just coughing a bit. He said to bring you to the dining hall."
"Alright. Let's go."
Ian tried to pass by Haena and head out the door. But he soon turned back and quietly advised her.
"Haena. If possible, after I leave, I hope you'll quit working at the mansion."
"Pardon? What do you......"
"It'll be hard, but it'll be better for you. Tell the others too. Of course, without the Count—er, Lord Count—knowing."
Haena looked at him puzzled, but Ian walked away without answering. Anything more was up to Haena's choice.
The dining hall already had Derga, fully dressed to perfection, along with Lady Mary and Chel seated there.
"Sit."
"Yes, Father."
It was their last meal together. But the atmosphere was no different from usual. To them, Ian had never truly been part of the family.
"You've memorized the order of the peace ceremony well, I trust."
"No issues."
"Always keep in mind the reason you're still alive."
"Of course. For the honor and glory of Bratz."
Ian's mood seemed better than usual. Once he crossed the border, his head could roll at any moment—where on earth was that leisure coming from?
"If I return for my next birthday—"
He said as he sliced off a piece of meat and ate it.
If he survived, he would be granted short returns on his birthday. Derga paused, stopping his chewing.
"May I see Mother too?"
"...Ian."
"You're sending me far away without even seeing Lord Molin, or Mother."
Molin had hurriedly packed up and headed to the capital on the morning the Cheonryeo Tribe left the Bratz mansion. Their deal with Ian had gone smoothly to completion anyway, so there was no need for farewells.
Their carriage was probably still racing across the fields. It took a month to go and come back. They would return around when Ian came back from the Great Desert.
"Hmm. Mother, eh."
Derga muttered, stroking his beard. It was clearly a message pretending to be a request from his mother to smuggle in Gurut Leaves. Lady Mary's eyes sharpened fiercely, but Derga ignored it.
"Fine. You'll see her once or twice around then."
"Thank you."
Did Ian still not know? That his mother, Philia, had vanished without a trace? Rumors said she had run off with the neighbor's stablehand, or in other quarters, that she had been sold off quietly to pay gambling debts.
"Lord Count. The carriage is ready."
As the meal was nearly ending.
The butler's announcement signaled that all preparations were complete. The Count wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood.
"Let's go."
Led by Derga, everyone exited the main building. A small group of armed private soldiers, and ahead of them, knights standing proudly. It was the first time Ian had seen them since arriving.
'One, two, three... ten in total.'
That was when it happened.
Haena and the other servants came running to Ian, tears in their eyes. They grabbed his hands tightly, unable to hide their regret.
"Please, please come back alive."
"I'll make something delicious for your birthday."
"Ian, please go safely."
In the few months, the bonds he had built with them were deeper than with Derga's family. Ian just smiled brightly, with no particular reply. As Haena burst into loud sobs, the Count scolded her.
"Wailing on such an auspicious day! Butler!"
"I'm sorry, Lord Count. I'll remind them."
"Depart now!"
But with most of the mansion servants surrounding Ian, he couldn't single any out for punishment. Ian held Haena's hand tightly and bid farewell.
"Thank you so much for everything. Haena."
"Young master! Sob......"
"See you again."
See you again. At those words promising a future, Haena wiped her tears with her palm. Under Derga's fierce glare, Ian didn't drag it out and boarded the carriage. Derga grumbled continuously, clearly displeased with the mansion's atmosphere.
"Hya!"
Neigh!
With the coachman's whip crack, the mansion receded. Through the palm-sized window, Bratz scenery flashed by. Ian glanced at Derga. The seal would be in his pocket.
'The aide still hasn't woken up, right?'
It had been over a week in a coma. It was safe to assume the chances of waking were slim. Even if he did, Ian would already be in the desert.
* * *
Clop clop!
After three or four hours, the lush green land turned barren. They had reached the edge of the Great Desert.
"We've arrived, Lord Count."
Hiss.
As the door opened, the coachman's voice mixed roughly with the wind. Blue sky and golden sand dunes. In the distance, dozens of Kusille. And their masters, the Cheonryeo Tribe.
"Those are......"
Two massive rocks marking the border stood there. Derga and his group passed between them, approaching the Cheonryeo Tribe.
'We've crossed the border.'
Really. Had he ever crossed a border in his life for anything but war? Ian struggled to hide his growing excitement.
Nearby stood a small temple built of white stone. Without any decorations, it existed simply as space itself. The marks of time carved by wind and sand were evident.
"Welcome, our ally."
It was a low yet powerful voice. No one had said it, but Ian knew instinctively. Absolute superiority in strength. The man's aura was as grand and heavy as nature itself.
"I am Kakantir, chief of the Cheonryeo Tribe of the Great Desert."
"I am Derga Bratz, Count of the Variel Empire."
The two slowly clasped hands. Then their wives and children exchanged greetings and formalities. The key figures gathered around the temple table, while their soldiers stood under the sun, watching each other.
"First, I express our gratitude for your goodwill."
"Isn't this the place where we promise that your hardships are ours? Think nothing of it."
They traded formal words, and Derga's tongue moved as smoothly as if oiled for the official occasion. Kakantir's gaze fell on Ian.
"This must be Bratz's gift."
"It's an honor to meet you."
"...The agreement."
Derga hurriedly instructed. Parchments with identical contents written out by each side were placed on the table. Prohibited clauses, lists of trade goods, and details on Ian's status.
'The Cheonryeo shall send their token in response within three years of receiving Bratz's token of peace.... From the moment of the peace treaty, Cheonryeo and Bratz shall not invade each other's territories......'
It spanned a dozen or so pages. Derga carefully reviewed the documents and nodded.
"Confirmed. While the seal melts, please verify."
"Very well. However......"
What Bratz had prepared was a kinship potion. The most reliable method they knew to confirm blood relations. It wouldn't mean much to the Cheonryeo Tribe.
"Chief Winchen's health prevented him from accompanying us. We'll handle our verification upon return."
"As you wish. The household register confirmation hasn't arrived from the palace yet, so I'll send it via messenger as soon as we receive it."
Derga dropped his blood into the potion. Ian did the same. The clear liquid soon turned blue. The Bratz side watched with eyes asking, 'Well? Do you accept it?' but the Cheonryeo Tribe was indifferent.
"Then, we'll proceed with handwriting verification."
Ian picked up the pen in front of him. Stumbling a bit, he awkwardly continued the text from the letter he had sent. The handwriting was a mess for an official occasion.
"Does it match?"
"Nersarn."
The chief nodded and called his younger brother standing behind him. He approached with a bow and offered a dagger. Without hesitation, he slashed his palm, drawing blood.
Slice!
Blood dripped down the blade. Kakantir wrote his name in blood and swore the oath. Derga's face paled at the sight.
'Barbarians, as expected.'
Skipping the seal for needless bloodletting!
The Count stamped the seal and waited for the wax to dry. They exchanged documents, then clasped hands again.
"For the everlasting glory of Bratz."
"Demosha, Gurun Tu."
They wished each other luck and concluded the simple ceremony. As the people emerged safely from the temple, the soldiers relaxed.
"Then, we'll be off."
Ian looked at Derga. They would now ride back in the carriage, but Ian had to cross the desert with the Cheonryeo Tribe. Derga embraced Ian showily.
"Ian. Take care."
"Yes, Father."
The hand on his shoulder was rough, but Ian roughly reciprocated. Derga's group turned back without lingering, heading toward the border rocks.
"Ian."
It was Su. She stood with arms crossed, looking down at his luggage. Kakantir, Nersarn, and a few warriors discussed something while scanning the sky.
"No way this is all of it?"
"Why? Missing something?"
"No, not that, but......"
"I'm kidding. Not everything's here yet. Ah, right on time."
As Ian finished speaking, someone came running from the direction Derga had vanished.
Amid the rough, dusty sandstorm, red hair appeared. He dismounted and ran across the sinking desert sand. When his horse tried to follow, he kicked its rear and sent it back.
"Right on time."
"Ian. Ready to depart!"
At Nersarn's shout, Su gathered Ian's luggage. She effortlessly carried what two private soldiers had shared.
"Yes. I'm ready."
"Chief. That's the guy I told you about. The one we'll use as our slave!"
Su ground her teeth and said to the chief. He chuckled and patted her head, then turned to Ian. From what he'd heard, the chief was supposed to be savage and quite violent......
'Doesn't seem so bad.'
It must have been the monster image created by Bratz territory folk. To Ian, he just looked like a reliable leader of a small tribe—nothing more. Well, the details would come with time living nearby.
"Hurry and prepare. Miss the timing, and we'll hit a sandstorm."
From here to their stronghold in the Great Desert would take several more days. A sandstorm could mean losses or a longer journey.
"Iaaaan—!"
Far off, Berik shouted. Kakantir silently assigned two Kusille to Ian and turned away.