Chapter 61
Chapter 61
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: Rumors
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“…We talked about that?”
“You don’t remember? ‘We’ll make use of the rumors.’”
At Ian’s meaningful words, Molin recalled the conversation they’d had during their second lunch together.
As long as they could solve the famine, they’d be grateful for any food source, and they’d shared ideas on distribution methods to improve public perception.
“……!”
Could it be that he’d planned for this moment from back then?
Ian turned the topic with a nonchalant expression.
“The one gathering gulla is none other than Lord Romandro from the imperial palace.”
Everyone’s gazes turned to Romandro.
They weren’t just anyone—they were people working in the imperial palace, serving the Emperor. If they took the lead in recognizing gulla as food, changing perceptions wouldn’t be an issue.
“Let’s sketch out a little scenario. The imperial palace has been actively researching alternative crops for a while now. Then they discover that while gulla is highly toxic, its seeds are packed with nutrition and taste great. Lord Romandro gets ahead of the curve with this information and starts collecting gulla.”
“Is that okay with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well…….”
“What’s the harm? It’s just words. Rumors from Bratz don’t reach the palace. They only spread through your two pens. You know that, right?”
Romandro gave an awkward laugh and scratched his chin. Just as they’d discussed that day, the reports should precisely capture Ian’s merits, but the rumors spread to the fief’s people should be crafted accordingly.
“Will just spreading that rumor be enough?”
“Of course not. We’ll need to slip in some research findings too. What sounds good? Something about improving skin and hair, or promoting longevity without illness?”
“Hahaha! That’s too far-fetched.”
“What’s wrong with it? To tempt people, you inflate the bait. And Lord Romandro, Lord Molin—make time to dine out often. Publicly, with dishes made from gulla. Then I’ll handle the finishing touches.”
At Ian’s words, Molin lightly slapped the table—a gesture of refusal he couldn’t possibly agree to.
“Nonsense! Using the imperial palace in rumors is utterly inappropriate. It involves His Majesty’s dignity.”
If they promoted gulla with talk of nonexistent research and problems arose later, wouldn’t the people blame the palace? It was a reasonable point, but Ian didn’t sympathize.
“…At that time, Lord Molin seemed to view solving the famine as a leader’s fate. You didn’t strike me as someone who’d oppose over such trivial reasons.”
“Trivial? Trivial! Is the palace’s honor trivial?”
“In the face of immediate death, everything is trivial!”
It was almost the first time. Ian had never raised his voice like this, always just smiling slyly in rebuttal. As Molin faltered, mouth agape, Ian set down his napkin.
“Lord Molin. There seems to be a misunderstanding—I’m not asking for permission right now.”
A one-sided declaration that refusals wouldn’t be accepted.
“If you’re going to oppose and interfere, leave the fief immediately. I’ll order the warriors to escort you out.”
“…What insolence is this!”
“Lord Mac. Get a good look at your position. Who’s being insolent here?”
Ian, proposing solutions to save the fief and its people, versus Molin’s group, who were only there as imperial emissaries and opposing him.
The insulting command to know their place turned Mac’s face beet red. They might not compare to dukes or counts, but they were still from noble families. They’d never been treated like this anywhere.
Romandro, who’d been quietly listening, slipped in to lighten the mood.
“Ahem. Please calm down, everyone. Uh, Lord Molin—I’ve tried it myself, and it tastes pretty good. There are more cooking methods than expected, so it’ll add variety to the table.”
Just then, Berik slipped into the dining hall. He winked his left eye, signaling subtly. It meant he’d recovered the mana stone.
“I’ve made my intentions clear. This is important, so I won’t tolerate any sabotage.”
“Ian, how dare you be so arrogant!”
“Then enjoy your meals, everyone. I’ll be going.”
Ian said this while entrusting the aftermath to Romandro. Berik, out in the corridor, placed the mana stone in his hand.
“But Ian, you sure talk pretty.”
“What do you mean?”
“Threatening to kill them if they act like they’ve eaten shit in front of people, but phrasing it as ‘I won’t forgive.’ So refined. So refined.”
As Berik marveled and clicked his tongue, Ian smirked.
The two headed to the office Derga had used. The investigation team had swept up every scrap of paper, but they’d left the mana solution untouched. Ian filled a glass vial with the solution, just like Derga had, and dropped in the mana stone.
Plop!
The red gem began to glow and hum. Ian read through the rising reports with one ear on the sound, while Berik sprawled on the sofa, chewing gurut leaves.
It could be called a somewhat peaceful break.
[Given her personality, if things… go like this… I can’t even presume… how she’ll react.]
Scratch, scratch.
Amid the humming of the three men’s voices, only the quiet sound of Ian’s pen could be heard.
[If someone blocks the path ahead… and there’s no way around, no way back… what would she do?]
That was when it happened. The content was so grating that Ian stopped writing. Berik, who’d had his eyes half-closed, did the same. He stopped chewing and lifted his head slightly.
“What’d that asshole just mutter?”
“Shh.”
[She’d have to… remove the blocker… and push forward.]
[…Teacher.]
[There’s always a way.]
Ian tapped the table with his pen nib, amused. Berik sidled closer and gave a thumbs-down, mimicking slitting a throat.
“Isn’t that saying they’ll kill you?”
“Yeah. Sure. Not a bad option, I suppose.”
It was a choice Ian would’ve considered in their position. In truth, the best for them was to abandon Bratz fief—but cutting off Ian’s lifeline would be easier and more convenient than giving up months of effort here.
Especially considering the future, it was the safest.
“What’ll we do? Pluck it?”
Berik casually picked up his scabbard, as if suggesting they pick a wildflower.
‘He’s been waiting for a chance…….’
Unfortunately, Ian had hardly ever been alone while working. He was always with Berik, and his sleep was irregular—short naps during the day at best.
“Pluck? Nah. Wait. It’s too flimsy to call evidence. Should’ve given them more of a dressing-down earlier.”
Ian chuckled as he removed the mana stone. The faces of Molin’s group from the dining hall came into sharper focus—nobles seething with shame and humiliation.
They might even send assassins tonight.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing… just reminded me of old times.”
He too, though briefly, had been Emperor.
He could confidently say no one knew better than him the pitch darkness of a midnight chamber, the sound of a venomous scorpion climbing curtains, or the glint in an intruder’s eyes as they drew a dagger.
“Berik. I need you sharp.”
“I’m always sharp.”
“Sharper. Wide awake.”
Ian patted Berik’s cheek, asking him to guard without gaps. Of course, he didn’t forget to assign eyes and ears on Molin’s group.
* * *
Not far from the mansion, in the village plot. Romandro was checking construction progress with his subordinates, overseeing the rebuilding. The sun was high noon, so a subordinate subtly mentioned lunch.
“Let’s call it for the morning.”
“Shall we?”
“Lord Romandro! What about the leftover oak?”
“Line it up and move it to Gilssam Village entrance. Didn’t the swing bridge there break? We’ll build a proper overpass, so we’ll use it.”
“Yes, understood.”
“Lord Romandro!”
“Wait a moment. Eat first, yeah?”
“Sorry. It’s urgent. That giant boulder you said to clear—it’s apparently this guy’s father’s grave.”
“What? Damn it.”
Romandro clutched his head and gestured to the subordinate. Hurry and show him. He had a feeling he’d miss lunch. He reached into his pocket, grabbed a handful of something, and popped it into his mouth.
“Did you see that just now?”
The fief folk, who’d glimpsed it with their whites of eyes, whispered.
“He keeps pulling stuff from his pocket every time he works.”
“Yeah. Won’t say what it is even if you ask.”
“Tsk tsk. You guys haven’t heard?”
A man nosed in knowingly.
“It’s gulla seeds. Gulla seeds.”
“Eww? Bullshit. Why would the advisor eat that?”
“You really don’t know? Didn’t they buy gulla at the mansion last time?”
“Yeah.”
The collection period was over, and they weren’t taking more anyway—there was no gulla left around. Even deep in the forest, not a single leaf could be found.
“That was so Romandro could eat it!”
“Crazy. That’d have to make sense for me to buy it!”
“No, for real. News is slow here in the borderlands. Central folk are already munching gulla seeds like peanuts.”
“Isn’t that the gulla he’s eating? Head’s gone loopy from the poison?”
“Gulla’s toxic on the outside, but the seeds taste amazing. They say it makes your skin plump and fair. Central can’t get enough!”
At that point, the gathered people tilted their heads skeptically.
“Really?”
“Don’t believe me? Ask the advisor yourself. ‘What’re you eating from your pocket?’ He won’t tell. They’re too busy hogging it.”
“So that’s why they paid to collect gulla?”
“What else? You ever see higher-ups waste money?”
Everyone shook their heads at the man’s words. Nobles sucked money dry without leaving a drop. No way they’d waste it. Must be a good reason.
“Wasn’t Ian gonna sell it to the Cheonryeo Tribe?”
“That make sense? Cheonryeo’ll freeze out soon and leave. Most already bailed—only the chief and Ner, that Ner guy, and a few left. Chief’s on his last legs, they say.”
Rumors spread mouth to mouth, ballooning each time. Ian, who’d secretly planted eyes and ears everywhere, nodded once ‘that rumor’ started circulating.
“Get this? ‘The Emperor eats it for immortality.’ Total fart talk.”
“Haha! Who cares if it’s words or farts? Good enough. That’s it. Berik—time for the next step.”
Judging that curiosity about gulla had peaked, Ian moved to the next phase.