Chapter 34
Chapter 34
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 34
Chapter Title: Dispatch
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Imperial Palace Investigation Team Leader Erica surveyed the office cluttered with piles of documents. It was only natural, having flipped over and dumped even the portable drawers. In the inner office, her subordinates had gathered to dry ink-soaked papers.
“Can it be recovered?”
“We’ll need to check what kind of ink was used for writing them. Still, salvaging half of them is fortunate enough.”
“The rest are fine!”
“That guy, always one step ahead.”
That guy wasn’t the servant lying decapitated in the corner. It referred to Derga, who had ordered the documents disposed of in that short time.
His crimes weren’t even confirmed yet, and he still held the title of count, but they didn’t care. The woman before them, Bertie Erica, would soon become the next lord of this place.
“What about the tax reports submitted to the capital?”
“They’re here.”
“Philip and Sarieng, calculate the production volumes and tenant tax rates. The rest of you, extract the mine and trade histories. An estimate for the last three years should suffice. You can do it within a week, right?”
Her subordinates gave faint smiles at their leader’s order. Her question wasn’t really a question—it was a command. Get it done in a week.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Delics, you’re in charge of the annex. Move out!”
“Let’s go! Time to tear it apart properly!”
“Uwaaaah!”
They shouted with full vigor, vowing to uncover evidence of tax evasion. If they succeeded, this place would become their territory! Their leader would become a noble, and they would all secure positions in the capital! The starting point of their dreamed-of advancement was right here, in Derga’s office.
‘Damn it.’
Meanwhile, in the room where Ian had stayed in the annex, Derga was confined. Aside from a few servants conscripted for the investigation team’s convenience, no one could leave this place. Derga muttered curses while tugging at his beard as if to rip it out.
Mary and Chel still hadn’t returned to the mansion.
“My lord. What happens now?”
“What happens? What do you mean what happens?! Shut your mouth!”
The butler flinched at the thunderous roar but was helpless. His own life hung by a thread depending on the count’s actions. As Derga paced the room, he sorted through his tangled thoughts.
‘It’s an investigation team sent directly by the emperor. But Molin must be the one who tipped them off. If my head rolls here, it benefits the Second Prince. In that case...’
Derga rummaged through the desk and found parchment and a pen. He gathered his thoughts once, then scribbled furiously without pause. No time to correct errors. Every minute, every second was desperate.
Scritch, scritch.
“Butler. You have two tasks.”
“P-Please tell me.”
“Send these letters. One to the Cheonryeo Tribe, and this one to the First Prince in the capital. Once sent, contact Deo and have him prepare the soldiers. Fully armed, ready to march at any moment.”
The letter to the Cheonryeo Tribe requested military support and Ian’s execution. Central support forces were said to be arriving soon, so they had to suppress them by force before then.
But that would truly be rebellion of the highest order.
The letter to the First Prince was meant to counter it. If he knew this was part of the Second Prince’s scheme, he would surely take action—whether checking him or interfering. Either way, it would give Derga an opportunity.
Unable to use his seal, he removed a ring and pressed it instead.
‘Right. Survive first. Survive, regroup later. That’s all...’
As he desperately steeled himself, the butler spouted nonsense.
“Leave here? How?”
The door was guarded by the investigation team, wasn’t it? Derga nodded toward the window. The butler’s face drained of color, and he shook his head as if refusing.
“My lord! I’m already fifty years old.”
“So? You wanna die like this? Fifty will be your last age.”
“If you put it that way...”
The butler peered down from the window like he was eating bitter herbs through tears. Third floor. Bad luck, and he’d die; good luck, and he’d break something.
Derga yanked down the curtains with a whoosh and tossed them to the butler.
“Make a rope.”
Damn it. At least help make this. Swallowing his rising resentment, the butler tightly knotted the curtains. As if it were his lifeline.
* * *
A single horse crossed the dawn desert. Was it from charging through sandstorms day and night? Steam rose hot from the beast’s hide.
A Cheonryeo warrior on guard spotted it. And soon realized the stranger was waving Bratz’s banner.
“Message...! A message from Bratz!”
“Sound the buffalo horn.”
“Sound the buffalo horn!”
Bwooo— Bwooo—
The tribe, preparing for a peaceful day, all looked to the sky at once. It was the signal for an outsider’s arrival. It reached Ian too, awakening him to the fact that the time had finally come. Bratz’s knight pounded on the outer wall, gasping for breath.
“I bring a message from Bratz! It’s urgent!”
Neigh!
At that moment, the horse collapsed sideways. One could feel how relentlessly it had run. The tribe brought water to pour over the horse, and warriors guided the knight inside. As if they had been waiting.
Rustle—
“A message from Count Derga?”
As the tent flap opened, half-naked Kakantir rose from his bed. The knight suddenly realized he hadn’t declared his affiliation at the entrance. He’d only said “message,” yet they let him in without question. As if they already knew...
“Standing there dazed?”
As the knight stood blankly, Kakantir prodded him with an irritated tone.
“S-Sorry. I am Bell, knight of Bratz territory. The count urgently requests aid.”
The knight snapped to and handed over the paper from his bosom. Crooked handwriting—Kakantir smirked at the crude script. He must have been truly desperate.
“Let’s see. Due to a misunderstanding with the capital, we face a dire situation. We’ve formed an alliance, so we cannot ignore each other’s hardships. As a friend, I humbly request the might of the Cheonryeo to fight alongside us. And additionally, my son Ian Bratz...”
-Execute him, please. If you see this as a stain on your honor, my knight here will substitute.
Humming a tune, Kakantir nodded.
“What’s this misunderstanding with the capital?”
“The count is under investigation for treason charges. It’s clearly false, and to resist, armed conflict is imminent.”
“What proof that the treason is false? If it’s true and we join, we’ll make enemies of the palace.”
“The proof is Ian Bratz himself. He vows to prove his innocence with the death of his beloved son.”
“Hahahaha!”
The knight stopped panting at the sudden burst of laughter, his face confused. Kakantir lazily tilted his head back and lightly chewed a Gurut Leaf.
What a cunning, sly bastard.
Killing Ian without getting his own hands dirty, and even using it to his advantage. It gave a glimpse of what Ian’s existence meant to Derga here.
‘A tool. Nothing more, nothing less.’
“Chief?”
“It’s nothing, just not fully awake yet.”
“...A letter was also sent to the palace. Just two weeks—until support arrives from the palace. Aren’t we allied friends? I’ve heard a warrior’s bond is unshakable, like a divine oath.”
Kakantir exhaled smoke in agreement. He gestured to wait a moment, threw on a loose shirt, and scribbled a reply.
“Indeed. And we are warriors among warriors. Deliver this reply to your master well. We’ll follow soon.”
“Thank you!”
Kakantir wrapped it tightly with a leather thong so the knight couldn’t peek. As the knight tucked it away and glanced sideways at the outside,
“Then, the disposition of Ian Bratz...”
Kakantir fell silent. As the silence stretched, the knight swallowed hard. He’d expected an immediate answer, but the deviation heightened his tension.
“Ah, that. As the count guessed, he’s a token of reconciliation, but he’s family who’s lived with us Cheonryeo. We don’t want blood on our hands.”
“...I understand completely.”
“So handle it yourself. Anyone outside?”
“You called, Kakan?”
“Take this one to Sir Ian.”
The knight felt a sense of unease. But exhaustion must have dulled him—he didn’t catch the difference between Ian and “Sir” Ian.
Kakantir and his men led the way to Ian’s tent. With a nod, the flap opened.
“Sir Ian. Awake?”
“Kakan.”
Still sparkling golden hair and green eyes. Slightly tanned skin made Ian look much healthier.
The knight’s hand went to his sword hilt.
“This one wants to kill you.”
“As expected.”
But a pause. The chief’s words again defied the knight’s expectations. He’d thought he’d be told to drag Ian out immediately.
The knight turned a bewildered look to Kakantir, but he only watched Ian and Berik beside him.
“Didn’t we agree back then? To teach everything about being a warrior. To your red-haired subordinate.”
“Ah, yes.”
“A warrior is one who advances toward death and survives. Sparring with us has limits without true enmity.”
Combat power needed a flashpoint. To ascend to a higher realm, everything had to be burned away.
And that everything included life and death.
“The conditions are perfect. There’s enmity, and as Derga’s knight, your skill is at least acknowledged in Bariel.”
Pathetic in Kakantir’s eyes, but true. Being granted knighthood meant official recognition. Survival through battles with beasts great and small, feats in wars against foreign powers.
“Chief. What is this...”
“Since you want to kill Ian, I’m personally setting the stage for you.”
The knight didn’t know something. And yet, they treated him like a fool. Gripping his hilt with inexplicable humiliation, he glared at Ian.
His nape was fully exposed. Perfect for a slash.
“Ha. Very well. Excuse me, then.”
The knight let out a short hollow laugh, then charged at Ian. No time to delay. With Derga confined, he had to return quickly to serve his lord.
Clang!
Then Berik swung his sword, knocking away the knight’s blade. Sparks flew like illusions, and Berik crouched into a defensive stance.
“Ah.”
Ian just blinked. He scratched his cheek, looked up at the knight. Then slowly shifted his gaze to Berik. Even from the back of his head, his face was clear. He must look itching for a fight.
“...To kill me, you’ll have to get through Berik first.”
“...?!”
Ian had trained rolling in sand piles with the Cheonryeo, but facing a knight? Palace knights often included sword-mages like Berik.
Who knew what this one could do.
“Looking forward to it. Well, take good care of him.”