Chapter 63
Chapter 63
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 63
Chapter Title: In the Alley
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“Eh. Let’s take a look.”
Romandro scratched his nose and checked the documents. Sitting across from him, Ian and Kakantir rifled through the papers together. It was after dinner, time for their end-of-day wrap-up meeting.
He asked Ian,
“Is there nothing in the inner part of Gillam Village that needs rebuilding?”
“Yes. The bridge was cut first during the battle, so it was isolated and suffered no damage. They’re rebuilding the bridge now, so once that’s done, it should be mostly finished.”
“Good. Then let’s cut back a bit on the quarry orders.”
Erasing the traces of battle from Bratz territory felt like crossing off one major task, and Romandro was in a good mood. He wet his throat with wine and continued,
“How about Gula distribution?”
“It seems about time. It’s already spreading rapidly through the territory residents we supplied in advance. We should make it public before it leaks to Merelrof.”
“I see. Heading out again today?”
“I plan to for about three more days.”
“Working days and nights. They say Mana Users have exceptional talent, but in your case, it must be stamina.”
Ian laughed in surprise at the unexpected praise. Back when they first arrived in Bratz, wasn’t he collapsing and groaning even after a single outing? He seemed to be gradually toughening up from traveling back and forth to the Great Desert.
“Let’s check the content again. Hm, ‘Cultivation, distribution, and consumption of Gula within former Bratz territory is free, but all trade with the outside must go through the mansion.’”
Precisely, through the imperial advisor, and more precisely, through Ian.
Given Gula’s nature, this winter would surely be the first and last time Bratz monopolized it. It was such a fast-breeding, common crop that once perceptions improved, it would soon be consumed across the entire Variel Empire.
Romandro mulled over the phrasing and muttered,
“Should we add a Merelrof condition...?”
“That’s not good. It would give them an opening. We’re at a disadvantage right now.”
“Hm. Truthfully, they started it first.”
“The one who strikes never remembers.”
“Well, true. Then the related fines...”
They fine-tuned the details until the moon hung in the center of the sky. Ian glanced at his watch and nodded.
“This should do it. Anything else to add? Ah, Lord Nersarn.”
At Ian’s words, Nersarn, who had been standing behind Kakantir, raised his hand. He had been relatively quiet throughout the meeting.
“Word came from the Great Desert.”
“From the Great Desert?”
“The clan leader’s health has worsened again.”
He was the elder who had barely survived a brush with death thanks to the Silask Ian had given him. They thought he was on the mend, but it seemed he couldn’t hold back death forever.
“So, they’ve decided to use up all the remaining Silask.”
“Oh no.”
“Even if they plant it, there’s no information on how to cultivate it or how long it takes.”
“Wait. Mind filling me in? Who’s this clan leader, and what’s Silask?”
Romandro, who had been listening quietly, raised his hand. He knew nothing from start to finish. Especially Silask—that was a name he’d never heard in his life.
Ian briefly explained what had happened.
“...So, to cure the gypsy’s illness, we needed this red flower called Silask, and it just so happened I had some. The Cheonryeo Tribe used one to get past the crisis, and they were debating whether to plant the other for future generations or use it on Clan Leader Winchen. That’s the decision they reached.”
“Silask? First time hearing it.”
“You really don’t know? It’s the red flower that never wilts once it blooms.”
If even an imperial advisor from the palace didn’t know, that said it all. In fact, Ian, who had been emperor in his previous life, had found it unfamiliar too, so it was probably rare in Variel.
“Our decision weighs heavily on Bratz’s current situation. You know our funeral customs, right?”
“Yes. I know.”
When a clan leader or chieftain dies, the entire tribe goes into seclusion for a year. A single family does it for their own, but the leader is everyone’s family. Especially someone like Winchen, who had held the position for so long...
“Lord Romandro.”
“Hm?”
Ian tapped the table lightly and called him. It was time to say what he’d been beating around the bush about.
“Any reply to the report we sent to the palace?”
“No. Not a single one yet.”
“I’m asking about Prince Marib’s reply.”
He knew they were sending messenger birds every day. The First Prince was clearly keeping Molin’s group in check, which was tantamount to checking Second Prince Gail. No one believed he cared only about Bratz’s reconstruction.
“...Just once.”
“Pardon my rudeness, but may I ask what it said?”
“Nothing much. Just to report the territory’s situation in detail, and...”
Romandro glanced at Ian.
“Since we reported you’re a Mana User, it said to watch you closely. Ahem. That was really it. Nothing special, right?”
From Ian’s guess, the Magic Department was one of Gail’s key pillars. Ian remembered the massacre of already scarce mages after the rebellion failed. So, Ian being a Mana User might feel inconvenient to Marib. Marib, understanding the power dynamics, could mistake Ian for being on Gail’s side.
“Advisor. As you can see, I’m not on good terms with Molin’s group.”
“Hm. Yeah. I know. You look it. Heh heh.”
Romandro gave an awkward laugh and sipped his wine. He seemed a bit tense about what Ian might say.
“Prince Marib probably wants Bratz’s new lord to be someone unconnected to Molin’s group. Right?”
“...It’s the circumstances among the higher-ups.”
“I agree with that. Lord Romandro.”
“I’d sort of guessed.”
“Glad you have. Lord Romandro, I know you want to return to the center. If a lord is appointed quickly, it’d be good for you too.”
“Ian, you...”
“Recommend me as lord.”
Lord appointment was the emperor’s prerogative, but a recommendation from the first-in-line successor and real power holder, the First Prince, would carry great weight. No matter the blood of a criminal flowing through him, Ian being a Mana User made such restrictions pointless. For Variel’s progress, someone had to hold onto him.
“Otherwise, I’ll have to return to the Great Desert. A new lord from the previous family won’t leave me be. And the palace will try to monopolize my abilities as a slave.”
“That’s true, but...”
“It’s the only way to ensure my safety and Bratz’s peace. Even the public sentiment the palace cares about—no one fits better than me.”
And that wasn’t all. The densely packed accomplishments in the reports showed remarkable ability. Discovering Gula was the same. Eradicating the empire’s famine alone made such a frontier lordship honestly insufficient.
Of course, it hadn’t progressed that far yet.
Romandro pulled out a mana cigarette as if resolved.
“Alright. I’ll be frank.”
“Please do.”
“Prince Marib doesn’t understand your relationship with Molin.”
From a third party’s view, hadn’t Ian denounced Molin’s father through him, leading to the current situation? It was as good as paving the way for Molin to become lord.
Plus, a Mana User. If he entered the palace, he’d surely join the Magic Department. Minister Wesley was Gail’s woman—a poorly kept secret.
No matter how you looked at it, Ian fit well with Gail.
“If that’s the reason, I’ll prove it.”
“How?”
“I’ll explain the details in person to Prince Marib. No matter how detailed the writing, some things don’t come through on paper. But that Molin’s group and I are truly on opposing paths—I can prove that right now.”
Namely, with death.
Reading Ian’s calm gaze, Romandro felt a chill down his spine. No words were spoken, yet why this precarious feeling?
“G-Got it. I’ll relay that to Prince Marib.”
“Thank you.”
Truthfully, Romandro inwardly knew Ian was the right fit. But his background and situation made it hard to bring up.
Moreover, voicing it meant throwing himself into an unknown political whirlpool. Romandro just wanted to finish reconstruction quickly and return to his main home in the center.
To that house where his lovely wife awaited!
“Then, that’s it for today.”
“Since it came up, one more request?”
“What is it?”
“Could you check if any merchant groups in the center handle Silask?”
The empire’s capital was the world’s center. Surely, seeking information there would yield something. It didn’t seem difficult, and Romandro nodded readily.
“Got it. I’ll check.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s too late. Get some rest too.”
“Good work. See you tomorrow.”
Creak.
Romandro and Nersarn packed up and left the meeting room. Ian rubbed his sore shoulders and called Berik outside.
“Berik. Let’s head out early today.”
“Tired?”
“Yeah. My eyes keep closing.”
Ian smiled, draped his hood over his shoulders, and extinguished all the meeting room lanterns. That night, even the moon hid, leaving pitch-black darkness.
* * *
“Ian’s here!”
“Shh. Keep it down.”
“Ian! We’ve been waiting.”
“You’re all still up.”
“Of course. By the way, we tried roasting seeds for the first time yesterday. So good!”
Word that Ian distributed Gula at night had spread. They pretended to sleep with doors locked, then rushed out at the slightest sound. The excited atmosphere felt like the hidden side of a forbidden festival.
“What do we do? Not much prepared today.”
“Already? I only got a handful...”
“I’ll bring more tomorrow.”
“Don’t trouble Ian! You’re already helping us dodge those palace bastards!”
“Hey, you idiot. They’ll hear. Keep it down, I said.”
So rowdy, yet they didn’t question why no guards came. They didn’t even think about it. As if drunk on Gula’s joy.
“Give me first dibs tomorrow, okay?”
“Got it. Now go sleep.”
Berik shook out his sack, signaling it was empty. The disappointed territory residents dispersed one by one, and Ian turned to leave.
Thud, thud.
Exiting the alley, only their two sets of footsteps echoed. Maybe from extra fatigue, Ian walked silently until he noticed Berik had stopped.
“Not going?”
“Ian.”
Berik waggled his eyebrows ‘three times’ cheekily. Their gazes met with the cool breeze. Ian removed his hood and gave a faint smile.
“Let’s go.”
Three sets of footsteps followed behind.
Ian pretended not to notice and kept walking ahead, while Berik swung his arms conspicuously, signaling empty hands.