Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 102
Chapter 102: Formatting
“Lord Ian.”
As soon as the carriage door opened, Madam Lien welcomed Ian. Wearing a dress more glamorous and abundant than usual, she was flashing the most perfect smile Ian had ever seen on her. The lady confidently extended her wrist, and Ian lightly kissed it.
“It’s been a while, my lady. I hope you’ve been well?”
“Yes, thanks to you. Sir Romandro has been well too, I assume?”
“Of course. Please come inside, it’s chilly out here.”
“Look forward to tonight’s feast. It’s a blessed Merellof day today, so I’ve prepared diligently.”
Lady Lien led the way inside the mansion. The hallway was so bright it was unbelievable compared to when Ian had rushed over after hearing news of the Count’s death. Ian entered the parlor, exchanging greetings with the servants.
“Let’s get down to business first, shall we?”
The lady smiled, placing a leather document stand down.
“Here is the certificate for 5,000 gold coins you requested. The number of soldiers has also been reduced by more than half of the current amount, with a written oath to continue maintaining this level.”
“May I see the budget estimates?”
“Certainly. You can check on the next page.”
Ian slowly looked over Merellof’s annual budget. It seemed Sir Romandro’s aides and staff had worked hard on it. Indeed, next year’s allocated budget for maintaining mercenaries was cleanly halved.
“I wonder what tricks his aide has been up to?”
“Oh my. Are you worried he’s selling off the territory piece by piece?”
“Not worried, just curious.”
Hearing Ian and the lady’s casual conversation, the people present stiffened. Sir Romandro’s men awkwardly glanced at each other thinking, ‘
we shouldn’t have stuck around
.’
“It’s not like we’re skimming off the budget for Sir Ian or deceiving the territory residents. We plan to use that money to pay off the loans we took out for the mine purchases.”
“I see, very well then.”
“If the 5,000 gold coins compensation is uncomfortable, think of it as my personal funds.”
“I didn’t say that. It’s fair payment for services rendered.”
At Ian’s words, Romandro took out the correspondence for reporting to the Imperial Palace from his pocket. He elegantly picked it up and sharply read every word.
Rustle
.
“No lies, nothing that needs to be kept secret. I like it. Submit the report as is. The imperial palace won’t be sending any separate investigators, correct?”
It detailed how and why the Count had died, as well as the succession process, but cleanly omitted anything unnecessary.
Such as the slave and lady’s relationship, the slave’s punishment, when the successor Dive had left Merellof, and so on.
“If there are no particular issues, I’ll stamp my seal now.”
“Yes, could you prepare for me?”
As if to show off, Romandro filled in his signature and dripped wax. His official seal indicating it was his formal report was stamped.
“I’m very happy to have gained a good neighbor. The Merellof territory residents have also gained a lot of Grula and other food from Bratz…Ack!”
“Not long until it gets a new name.”
“Pardon me. I should watch my words. Anyway, the Merellof residents are thankful to be getting much produce like Grula from your side.”
“I’m glad to hear. We must gather warmth for the winter.”
“Now then, for the finishing touch.”
Ian and Lady Lien wrapped things up by entering an exclusivity negotiation clause applying to all their trade agreements. Having coordinated the details in advance, the process went very quickly.
As she set down the ink-stained pen Lady Lien muttered, “With it being this easy, just what was my husband doing agonizing over parchments all day?”
What she had once thought was just diligent turned out to be an extremely strict and inefficient personality.
“And Dive?”
“He’s in the annex. I should tell him to start heading out soon.”
Lady Lien’s smile didn’t have a speck of pretense. It was time to completely drive Dive out of Merellof, so how elated she must feel. Ian likewise checked his pocket watch.
“You’ve chosen a caravan, correct?”
“Xial caravan. Definitely for big things there is always a tendency to match up well. Not just the prices but we chose it because of the caravan itself’s excellent credibility and capabilities.”
“Who will Merellof send as the representative?”
At Ian’s question, Lady Lien’s eyes narrowed further. Her gaze held inscrutable intentions—seeming indifferent yet slightly amused, and also somewhat sorrowful on the other hand…
“Five soldiers and two assistant aides, as well as Clarke, are scheduled to go. Aside from Clarke, they will return after seeing Dive leave in the Hawan Kingdom.”
As expected.
It was a clever way to protect Clarke while still making frugal use of him. Ian nodded approvingly at the good thinking.
“Since you have chosen, my lady, I’m sure they will serve excellently. However, just to double check there will be no hiccups with work—we are taking considerable risks here, to be frank.”
“You needn’t worry about that. They are all highly capable.”
Especially Clarke, who was bound by blind faith and love. The moment traces were created that Dive had arrived in Toorlun, Clarke would surely be ready to snuff out his life.
“Very well. Shall we go greet Dive then?”
“Servant. Is the carriage prepared?”
“Yes, you may head right out,” servant Simon replied.
Everyone got up and headed to the front gate. Seeing Ian and the lady, Dive, wearing a winter robe inside out, became agitated and started shouting.
“Y-you evil creatures!”
His ankles were shackled beneath the robe—the arrangement to convey him out in the most civil manner possible, considering external eyes.
“Sir Dive. Before your long journey, I wish you blessings.”
“You b*tch! Do you think you’ll get away with this unscathed?”
“I will be eating well and living nicely, so I hope the same for you, Sir Dive. It would be good if we never cross paths again.”
Lady Lien smiled elegantly as she unleashed very inelegant words—crazy bitch, screwed up bitch, bitch missing screws in her head. Dive recklessly spewed vulgar curses before glaring at Ian.
“And you, Ian! How dare you provoke the Merellof House, thinking you’ll survive! The curse of the underground gods will come raining down directly!”
Ian ignored him as he surveyed the mercenaries and aides preparing for departure, checking if they lacked any necessities and telling them not to worry about thieves when crossing the mountain ranges.
Creak
.
That moment, there was a presence approaching from behind. It was Clarke with his shackles removed, now wearing dry clothes. Rubbing his bruised wrists, he shouldered a large backpack.
“Ready?”
“…Yes.”
Without even meeting his gaze, the lady asked. To an outsider they would seem like total strangers, such was the frigidity.
“Then let’s get going.”
That backpack probably contained ample travel funds prepared by Lady Lien. Everyone boarded the carriage, and when Clarke moved to close the door…
“…I’ll be back.”
Clarke said that to the lady before shutting the door. She turned away wordlessly while Dive spewed vicious curses from inside.
“Have a good trip. See you in hell.”
“Hyaah! Let’s go!”
Hieeng—!
The carriage vigorously departed the Merellof estate, accompanied by the horses’ cries. The lady watched its rear for a long while before turning herself around.
“Now then.”
She smiled at Ian, Sir Romandro, and especially his men, meeting their gazes.
“Shall we go have a meal? Sir Romandro’s men will be seeing much more of Merellof going forward, no?”
“Yes, we’ll be in your care. My lady.”
“I’m the one deeply grateful for your assistance.”
Ian blankly watched the black ribbons fluttering all over the territory. It was because he wondered if similar things would have adorned Bariel if his previous self had died. Lady Lien called to Ian as she ushered the guests inside.
“Sir Ian?”
“Won’t you come inside? It’s cold out.”
“My lady. How was the Count’s funeral carried out?”
The lady smiled brightly without answering.
As if saying he already knew, so why ask.
*
Whinny—!
On the way back from the territory to Merellof. Ian’s head spun from the grape wine served at the feast.
“Ian, you alright?”
“…You look tipsier, Sir Romandro.”
“Ahaha! Actually your face looks doubled to me too.”
“That’s already the third time you’ve said that.”
“Is that so? Guess you’re sloshed. But hey…lemme tell you something funny. I’m seeing two of your faces.”
“……”
In high spirits, Sir Romandro jested lightly. Having drunk together, he seemed fine while Lady Lien had a liquor barrel for a stomach, seeing them off perfectly sober.
Creak!
“Sir Ian. We’ve arrived.”
“Ah, good work. Go rest.”
As the coachman opened the door, Ian staggered out of the carriage. Then a bloodcurdling scream erupted from behind.
“Goodness, Lord Ian!”
“Huh?”
When Ian looked back, workers moving leather sack bundles came over worriedly.
“We heard you were unwell but didn’t think you couldn’t even walk. Are you alright?”
“You must be running a fever. Your complexion is all flushed.”
“Hurry inside on this cold night.”
Unwell? Who?
As Ian blinked blankly the workers bowed deeply and disappeared after bidding him well. They seemed to be finishing late night duty. Rubbing the back of his neck puzzled, Ian mumbled.
“What are they on about…”
When he walked by, he wondered what the pile of miscellaneous things at the entrance was for. As Ian entered the mansion, servants came up to retrieve his coat.
“You’ve returned?”
“Yes. But what are those things?”
“After hearing rumors of your frail health, the residents sent them over. All afternoon offerings kept stacking up.”
Just like back then—when the residents had come to comfort him after hearing he was ambushed. Though he didn’t know what talk was spreading now, their feelings seemed unchanged as a smile crept up his face.
“Thought they wouldn’t have much to spare in winter, but it seems everyone somehow gathered a bit.”
Dried flowers, eggs painted with cute colors, dried meat, generations-old family jam jars… Small yet somehow heartwarmingly thoughtful gifts. Ian smiled asking the servant,
“Store them nicely in my bedroom.”
“Yes, Lord Ian. Also, you’ve a guest waiting.”
“A guest? Who?”
No one was supposed to visit at this hour. The moment Ian voiced his puzzlement, Beric called down from the railing above.
“Ian, you’re late?”
“Beric. Had dinner?”
“Yeah. Philea’s here.”
“Huh?”
A face peeked out next to him—golden hair and green eyes matching Ian’s. Mountain living seemed to have toughened her as she now exuded a robust, healthy beauty unlike before.
“Ian.”
She smiled brightly, yet emotions seemed to choke up seeing her son’s face after so long. Tear drops plopped down Ian’s cheeks.
“Ian. Who’s this?”
Romandro, rubbing his cold hands, followed inside inquisitively. When they had first entered Brazz, Philia’s existence was kept hidden from everyone. So their alliance with the Tenrey wouldn’t get complicated.
But Romandro from the imperial palace already knew Ian’s circumstances. The days for concealment were over.
“Sir Romandro. Please give your greetings.”
Ian silently decided to convey his gratitude to the woman who had gathered Grula in the mountains awaiting his return.
“She is my mother.”