Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 118
Chapter 118
“Beric.”
“…Ugh!”
At Ian’s call, Beric sprang up. His eyes shone intensely without a hint of disarray, but the saliva mark on the side of his cheek clearly indicated he had spent a blissful night. Beric frowned playfully and muttered.
“Ah, staying up all night really drained me. Should I go out for some meat today?”
“Beric. I just heard you snoring.”
“
You
must have heard wrong?”
Ahem. Beric rubbed his philtrum, gauging Ian’s reaction. Despite having stood guard till dawn with his senses fully alert, he had lost consciousness the moment the maid Minnie coughed. Worried about Ian’s reprimand, Beric kept looking around nervously.
“Was everything quiet last night?”
“Yeah. Absolutely nothing happened.”
“Then, go wash up before breakfast. You look a bit unkempt.”
“Breakfast! Let’s have breakfast!”
Clatter!
With Ian’s permission, Beric quickly dashed upstairs. Minnie, who was bringing warm soup, paused.
“Did he already go up? He said he wanted soup in the early morning, so I prepared it. He’s so impatient.”
“Just set it down with the meal.”
“Understood.”
Minnie said, when she came out in the dawn, there he was, eyes wide open, standing in front of the main gate. Seeing that he generally does his tasks well, Ian entered the dining room satisfied. Lady Viviana and Sir Romandro were also dressed lightly, ready for the day.
“Good morning, Lord Ian.”
“Thanks to the lady, I had a very comfortable sleep.”
“There’s much to do today, so please get ready quickly.”
Viviana seemed to have meticulously prepared the shopping list overnight. She slowly recited the route through the commercial district they needed to follow that day, unfolding the neatly folded paper.
Under the buttery scent and warm sunshine piercing the cold air, Ian felt a sense of peace for the first time in a while. Hasha seemed to feel the same, sitting quietly in his chair, sipping milk.
“Hasha. The smell? Is it much different from yesterday?”
-It seems not. Above all, the smell of butter is too strong right now.
Hasha’s eyes were dreamy as he sniffed around.
‘Was I worried for nothing?’
After making enemies in the change, it was almost like entering their den. It seemed he had become sensitive after consecutive encounters with Mariv and Gale.
“Food! Food!”
…It seems Beric was unfairly caught in the middle.
Ian, feeling a bit sorry for him, personally made him some tea. Whether Beric knew this or not, he began to devour the food on the table.
“Ha-ha! Delicious!”
“I’m sorry, my lady. I don’t think this scene will be a good prenatal education for the baby.”
“Oh, I don’t mind. I saw it yesterday when you two went out. It’s nice to see him eat heartily.”
“Minnie! Prepare the carriage so it stays warm inside.”
“Yes, Lord Romandro!”
Just stepping out of the upscale residential area, the streets become complicated. Not only does pedestrian traffic increase, but congestion worsens due to illegal flyers zipping between carriages and children on bicycles. To avoid shivering in the cold, it was essential to preheat the carriage.
“So, where are we going first?”
As Beric asked while munching on bread, Viviana answered in his stead.
“We’re going to drop off the knight’s sword. There’s a very old forge nearby. They sharpen blades wonderfully. We’ll drop it off, then go buy some clothes, and after eating, we’ll pick it up. That’s the plan.”
Beric nodded, finishing his meal. His sword was so blunt that it was better used for hitting than cutting.
“Let’s go! *Burp*”
“My goodness, Beric!”
“…I apologize.”
Hasha made an extremely annoyed face and growled softly. Thus, their peaceful morning began.
* * *
“Here is the forge.”
“Sir Ian, Viviana and I will wait here, so please hurry back.”
“Understood. Beric, follow me.”
“Yes, sir. Let’s go sharpen our little sword~!”
Not far from Romandro’s mansion was the forge. Ian and Beric entered with the sword in hand. The stifling smell of sweat mixed with the ear-splitting clang of metal resonated continuously.
Whirrr!
Bang! Clang! Bang!
Beric was shouting something next to Ian while covering his ears, but it was too loud to hear anything. Ian looked around and spotted a yellow bell.
Click.
Pressing the button, lanterns lit up in a place visible to the blacksmiths, a kind of doorbell indicating a customer’s arrival. They immediately stopped hammering and turned towards the entrance.
“Master! A customer’s here!”
“Oh, alright. What brings you here, sir?”
‘Sir,’ right? The blacksmith glanced at Beric and trailed off.
“The blade of this sword has become too blunt; we seek to have it sharpened.”
“Just a moment. Hm? Is this supposed to be a sword?”
“Indeed. How much would it cost?”
“Five copper coins should suffice, but that’s not the issue. Do you know what this is made of?”
“I do not, as I am no expert.”
Ian had merely thought its color a bit dark. As the blacksmith examined the sword with an unusual intensity, others began to gather around, curious.
“What’s the matter? Why is it this color?”
“Could it be infused with Mementium post-creation?”
“It seems darker than that. It’s not a monster stone, is it?”
“Don’t jinx it! How common do you think monster stones are?”
“Sir, if you’re unsure of what this is, we can’t be held responsible if it gets damaged during sharpening.”
Faced with the blacksmith’s question, Ian looked at Beric. It was a look that asked what to do. Beric, nonchalantly shrugging while fiddling with his ear, seemed unconcerned.
“It can’t get much worse. Even if it breaks in half, that might be better. It would at least make it easier to stab with.”
“Do as you see fit. Please take good care of it.”
Even as Ian paid, the blacksmiths kept examining Beric’s sword, seemingly convinced the thieves had stolen something quite remarkable.
“We’ll come back for it by this evening.”
“Yes! Thank you! We’ll sharpen it with utmost care!”
Screech! Bang!
Stepping outside, the heat from the forge had turned Beric’s face a rosy red. Ian likely wasn’t looking much different.
Swoosh.
Ian paused as he was about to climb into the carriage, hearing the stealthy sound of footsteps behind them. Beric tilted his head, wondering why Ian wasn’t getting in, while Viviana tried the door handle, thinking it might be locked. Ian tapped the window lightly, signaling her not to.
Tap tap.
“Sir Romandro, please go ahead to the tailor’s.”
“Eh? What about you, Ian?”
“I’ll cool off from the forge’s heat by walking. I’ve memorized the way, so no need to worry. It’s just past the crosswalk and then to the left, right?”
Had he been here before? It was surprising how well he knew the central area. Though puzzled, Romandro urged the coachman without further question.
Hee-haw!
As the carriage departed, Beric gaped in disbelief.
“Ian! What about me? Sir Romandro! Take me with you!”
“You’re coming with me.”
“But, it’s really cold?”
“Let’s go. Just follow slowly.”
Ian turned into an alley in the opposite direction of the carriage, with Beric grumbling but having no choice but to follow due to his unfamiliarity with the area. The two continued deeper into the quiet and intricate backstreets, where even at midday, the sunlight couldn’t penetrate due to the shadows cast by the buildings, reaching the very underbelly of the city.
Clip-clop!
By then, Beric had also noticed that someone was following them. He rubbed his bare hands against his outerwear, muttering to himself.
“Should’ve bought a new one while leaving the sword.”
“You seem to have some money, Beric.”
“Weren’t you going to buy me one, master?”
“This way.”
Tap! Pitter-patter!
The peculiar chase continued, with the mysterious pursuer moving agilely, trying not to lose sight of Ian and Beric. But then…
Whoosh!
“Ah.”
The moment they turned a corner, the two vanished without a trace. The pursuer gasped for breath, looking around bewilderedly, but there didn’t seem to be any side alleys they could have taken. Just as she was about to turn back, grinding her teeth…
“Hello~?”
Wham!
Beric leaped out and threw a punch. The sudden attack was deftly blocked by the pursuer, who not only absorbed the force but also used it to counter, her movements fluid as a wave. The robe she wore fluttered dramatically.
Thud!
“Huh.”
Beric, barely blocking the counter, blinked in genuine surprise. But that moment was brief; his eyes soon sparkled, and he grinned as if he had found worthy prey.
“Hey! You’ve got some moves!”
“Quiet! Are you Ian?”
“Yep. I’m Ian~.”
Wham! Thump!
Crash!
A series of blows were exchanged without a moment’s gap.
From her voice, she seemed to be a woman, but her combat stance was far from ordinary. Unlike Beric’s raw aggression, she held the poise of a well-trained warrior, matching him in strength, which was astonishing.
“Beric. She seems to be left-handed.”
Her left fist was predominantly in use, indicating her right side might be relatively unguarded. With Ian’s subtle hint, Beric immediately exploited this, diving to her right and delivering a blow with his head to her chin.
“Ah, you’ve got spirit. Shall we introduce ourselves?”
“I am!”
The woman, with a fierce shout like a battle cry, lunged at Beric with her fist extended.
“The daughter of Petreio
1
; the proud former deputy commander of the Imperial Guard!”
Petreio.
Ian immediately recognized the name, familiar to his ears.
The man who had been ordered by Molrin to kill Ian, and who ultimately took his own life to uphold his honor.
“Barsabe Bruteda!”
“Ah, nice to meet you! I’ve got no proud parents to speak of! Just call me Beric, damn it!”
“The enemy of my father!”
“You’ve got the wrong guy, lady!”
Crash!
Their fists collided with each other’s faces simultaneously. Ian, watching, closed his eyes slightly as if it hurt him to watch the scene any longer.
First mentioned in Chp.64[↩]