Chapter 69
Chapter 69
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 69
Chapter Title: Imperial Protocol
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A carriage entered the estate gates with majestic flair. It was similar to when the investigation team had stormed in before, but starkly different. Even a blind man watching from afar could tell it bore positive news.
The territory folk followed curiously along the path the carriage had taken.
“What’s that? Another carriage from the capital?”
“No way! The investigation team hasn’t come back down, have they?”
“The flags are different from back then. And that carriage looks way too expensive, doesn’t it? What’s going on, hmm.”
“Carriages are always expensive, you idiot.”
“Hey! It’s heading up to the mansion!”
The servants working at the mansion all rushed outside, and Ian brushed off the dirt as he walked to the front gate.
Creak.
Behind the massive, ornate carriage stretched a long procession. Imperial Palace soldiers stood at attention, holding ceremonial swords. Their dignified presence silenced the murmurs of the crowd.
An elderly woman stepped down from the carriage.
“Ah. It’s Administrative Officer Chielonia.”
Only Romandro recognized her; she seemed to hold a position similar to Molin’s. Despite her deep wrinkles, her eyes gleamed sharply. She surveyed the surroundings with elegant poise, then immediately spotted Ian.
“Are you Ian?”
“Yes.”
“I bring a message from His Imperial Majesty. All of you, kneel.”
Ian carefully knelt, and soon everyone at the mansion followed suit, prostrating themselves. The woman read the edict in a dignified, weighty voice.
-The recommendation from First Prince Marib Berosion and Advisor Romandro has received the approval of the Grand Council. In recognition of your merits in territory reconstruction and border defense, I hereby appoint you as the new Viscount of the former Bratz territory. However……
The servants, heedless of decorum, snapped their heads up at the words appointing him as lord. The crowd gathered outside did the same, straining to eavesdrop on what message the Imperial Palace had brought.
-That you are the bastard son of Derga Bratz is an indelible stigma under any circumstance. Thus, I propose a condition. If, as lord, you offer to the Imperial Palace the missing taxes from Derga Bratz and compensation for the opportunity cost of your improved status, the glory of your new house shall endure for generations.
‘Well now.’
Ian’s eyebrow twitched as he smiled faintly. In short, it was a probationary lordship. If he fulfilled the tribute within the term, he could keep the position without issue, but failure would place everything under the palace’s disposition.
His status, and all the territory’s assets, included.
“That concludes His Imperial Majesty’s decree. A formal investiture ceremony will be held at the Imperial Palace at year’s end, so if you accept, arrive on the appointed day.”
Attending the investiture would grant him a new surname and allow official declaration of his house’s seal. Ian nodded lightly.
“Was there no mention of the tribute period?”
“It will be one year from the investiture date, and the repayment amount is ten thousand gold coins.”
“Eek!”
A gasp escaped from some unidentified servant. Hearing of ten thousand gold coins was a first in their lives—how could anyone possibly produce that sum? And separately from regular annual taxes, no less.
Chielonia rolled up the edict and handed it to Ian.
“You are certainly entitled to refuse.”
“Out of the question. How dare I defy His Imperial Majesty’s word.”
It truly was out of the question. The edict mentioned “compensation for the opportunity cost of your improved status.” It likely referred to demoting the mana user Ian back to slave status for absorption. Refusing the appointment was tantamount to begging to be enslaved. Even fleeing to the Great Desert wouldn’t help if the palace decided to subjugate him.
“I humbly accept this boundless honor.”
“The investiture will coincide with the New Year’s gathering. Detailed schedule will follow separately; prepare the crest to be officially proclaimed for your house.”
The surname was bestowed by the emperor, so Ian had no choice in that.
“Yes. Understood.”
“Congratulations, Lord Ian.”
Though not yet formally proclaimed, the emperor’s command had reached him. Chielonia offered Ian a light bow and words of congratulations.
“Thank you.”
“Ah, and one more thing.”
She paused, choosing her words carefully.
“Yes?”
“Is Lord Molin safe?”
Same administrative branch, similar age—surely longtime colleagues. Romandro’s reports had confirmed friction with Ian, but no mention of their well-being, which must have worried her immensely.
“Safe and sound, of course.”
“From this point, I convey not His Imperial Majesty’s command, but that of Second Prince Gail.”
She stepped forward from the carriage and promptly drew another edict from her inner pocket, unfurling it.
-Secure the persons of Molin, Mac, and Drgor, and return with them.
Rip!
Chielonia lifted her head stiffly, eyes signaling to carry it out at once. Ian merely crossed his arms and stared at her.
“What are you doing?”
“That’s what I’d like to ask. What are you doing?”
Her brows furrowed at his unexpected attitude. When one should be bowing in eager compliance, he counters with a question? But Ian’s follow-up stunned even Romandro.
“His Imperial Majesty is like the sun. Just as the sun moves ceaselessly, the carriage must minimize stops, and as there is one sun in the sky, only His Majesty’s command must be conveyed. Surely the administrative officer knows this.”
“……!”
An imperial decree admits no addendums. It must be delivered purely as is, without any branches or frills. This was an ancient palace protocol. He was questioning why Gail’s words were appended.
“Truly irreverent. If His Majesty learns of it, even dismissal could follow—surely you know this well, Administrative Officer.”
Romandro, beside them, panicked and rolled his eyes.
“I-is that true? Ian?”
“Basic of the basics. Didn’t you know, Lord Romandro?”
“I’ve never received an imperial decree directly……”
Unless extraordinary circumstances, decrees were typically finalized at the Grand Council. Such distant deliveries were rare. This was an unspoken rule Ian knew from his past as emperor.
Chielonia’s face hardened rigidly.
‘How does a border bastard know that……’
Even nobles might overlook it without interest, yet he knew and threw it back at her. As she pondered how to respond, Ian pressed first.
“This seems profoundly irreverent to His Majesty and First Prince Marib. Administrative Officer Chielonia, I can ‘confirm’ that Molin and his party are unharmed, but nothing beyond that.”
Protocol aside, Molin’s group were the enemy’s loyal limbs. Who knew when they might strike again.
‘The Magic Department and administration—are they with Gail too? Or just Molin and Chielonia? Either way, sorry, but I can’t hand over those three.’
Ian watched her complexion with a resolute expression. Gail seemed to take responsibility in trying to retrieve them, but until Marib’s order, no one would touch them.
“…Lord Ian. This case is special.”
“Special? How so? Note that everything you say now will be heard by everyone present. Choose your words carefully.”
Lies beget lies. Ian nodded, urging her on. Adept at decree protocol, surely he knew more.
Chielonia bit her lower lip faintly, masking her distress.
“…First, let us confirm Molin and his party’s safety. This will be reported to the palace.”
“Very well. I’ll guide you. Berik!”
“Got it!”
“The carriage has been stopped long enough; best hurry. Administrative Officer Chielonia.”
Chielonia ignored Ian and entered the main building. As Ian moved to follow, his eyes met the servants lined up, gazing at him. Their eyes sparkled like stars. They whispered through gritted teeth, ventriloquist-style.
“Congratulations, Ian!”
“Oh my, you’ve become a noble. This is just……”
“Ian’s getting a viscountcy!”
“A viscount—above a baron, right?”
United in joy at his elevated status, which meant Bratz—their homeland—would normalize, and their mansion jobs would be more secure.
Ian smiled his thanks and followed Chielonia down to the basement prison.
“This way.”
Chielonia quickened her pace at Berik’s guidance, but Ian’s words halted her.
“Refrain from rash talk.”
“What?”
“Molin stands accused of colluding externally to kill me. As newly appointed lord, I have the authority to detain him for my safety.”
A veiled threat: any nonsense, and they’d end up corpses. Chielonia felt the situation veering off her fortnight-old script.
‘He’s been blocking me since earlier……’
A good counter in such times: say as little as possible. Chielonia stared ahead in silence. Ian glanced at her, then ordered the Cheonryeo tribesman.
“Open the door.”
Creak.
The door swung open, unleashing a musty fungal odor from within. They cleaned daily, but windowless, it was inevitable.
“Molin!”
“…Chielonia?”
“Lady Chielonia!”
“What brings you here? No, more importantly, get us out! That worthless scum has us……”
Mac, mid-shout about being imprisoned, trailed off at her attire. Not the formal garb for decree delivery? At this time, only one possibility.
“No way—the investiture went to that bastard Ian?”
Silence answered Mac’s dazed question. Molin sat in his chair, rubbing his eyelids. For them, it was the worst of the worst. Things kept tangling without release.
“How fares Second Prince Gail?”
“Hahaha.”
Ian, overhearing, burst into clear, bright laughter. Chielonia could only stare in fluster.
“See? He eats well, sleeps well, does what he wants—enough to worry about others. Windowless aside, it’s livable. Where else would an assassination ringleader find such luxury?”
Chielonia couldn’t rebut. They looked shabby, but no torture or abuse marks. Spacious as a regular room, fully furnished—prison?
“Speak if you have words. And Lord Mac, as you surmised, I am now Viscount Ian. Use proper address.”
Huge gap between noble birth and holding title. Ian now bore territory responsibility; this warned for proper respect—or face insult charges.
“Lord Ian… Might I have a private word?”
Chielonia, observing, interjected pleadingly. But Ian’s response was set.
“Oh, denied.