Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 119

Chapter 119

When Ian opened his eyes again, the two were sprawled out on the ground in a cross shape. Despite the mess of snow and mud, what was worse was their condition. The nosebleed that wouldn’t stop was proof enough.

“Beric. Are you alright?”

“Wow, damn, this hurts. It hurts!”

“Good. You seem to be okay.”

“It hurts, I said!”

But at least Beric could express his pain, whereas Barsabe could only curl up and groan. The mishandling of her magical powers was a critical mistake. The most significant issue was the rapid depletion of her strength, making it impossible to continue the fight properly.

Ian approached her to subtly check on her condition.

“…Are you crying?”

“Who? Who’s crying!”

She was indeed crying. Barsabe was shedding tears in frustration. Her lips chewed furiously, as if trying to hold back her sobs, but it didn’t seem to be working. Ian frowned slightly and asked,

“The daughter of Petreio? You were the one lurking around the mansion since yesterday.”

“Yes. So kill me now. If not, I will come back for you someday…”

Barsabe couldn’t finish her sentence. The shock of her father’s sudden death was enough to drive her mad, and to be defeated in such a manner before she could exact her revenge was the ultimate humiliation. She was supposed to be a knight of the Royal Guard, albeit still in training.

“So did Morlin say it? That I killed Petreio.”

Ian immediately realized who had leaked the information to Barsabe. Morlin, the old man from the administration who had survived the turmoil in Gale thanks to the protection of the gods. Perhaps they would see him at the New Year’s celebration.

“Morlin? That old geezer?”

“Let me make this clear, we did not kill Petreio.”

In fact, the opposite was true. They had brought him to the mansion after he had tried to kill himself by crushing his face with poison and had not treated him. The act was intended to extract a confession, but in the end, they bore no responsibility for Petreio’s death.

“It was your father who tried to kill us first, and it was also your father who chose death to protect his lord and his honor.”

“Lies!”

“Why do you think it’s a lie?”

“My father, my father would never…”

“You thought he wouldn’t leave you behind?”

His words seemed to have hit a nerve. Barsabe started to sob, tears rolling down her cheeks. It appeared he had been a decent subordinate and not a bad father either.

“Barsabe. Be clear. If you swear to complete the mission your father could not, then it is right for you to kill me. But if you seek to avenge your father, you are mistaken.”

Petreio acted on his convictions and made his decisions accordingly. What could be a more honorable death for a knight than fighting fiercely in their appointed role? The grief felt by the family is another matter entirely.

“If you are a knight, then you should be able to understand Petreio’s final actions.”

As a knight, or in the spirit of one.

Barsabe stared blankly at the ground, sniffling. The saliva she swallowed tasted strongly of blood. Ian, sensing that Barsabe had calmed down, continued,

“Do you trust and follow Morlin?”

“No.”

“On the honor of a knight?”

“Yes.”

If she had affirmed trust in Morlin, she would have been deemed an enemy.

It would mean that Morlin sent a spy to kill him, confirming the intention to complete Petreio’s unfinished mission. But since she claims to walk a different path…

‘Maybe there’s some use for her after all.’

Ian checked his pocket watch and looked back at Beric. He was dusting off his dirtied clothes and wiping off blood, just as Ian was. With the noise they made, it was only a matter of time before the guards arrived.

“But it is true that Morlin told me that Ian, who came from the border, killed my father.”

Barsabe staggered to her feet, still glaring at Ian. However, her gaze was no longer filled solely with the intent to kill. It was a look that hovered between suspicion and distrust, melting into something less hostile. At least, the will to kill Ian seemed to have dissipated.

“…I see why Petreio would have said such a thing.”

“What? What are you talking about? What did my father say?”

Ian deliberately mumbled, causing Barsabe to step closer and ask again, but he simply stepped back and smiled.

“Curious?”

He had once probed Petreio, asking if he wasn’t afraid of the repercussions for his family. Petreio had responded with silence. Now, seeing the spirited nature of his daughter, Ian understood that Petreio had no worries in that regard.

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

“Then don’t sneak around. Come to the mansion formally, with all due respect, and I will hand over your father’s ring along with it.”

Petreio’s ring, coated with poison on a silver needle, had been sealed for investigation. Barsabe might be able to distinguish whether it was indeed her father’s or provided by Morlin for suicide. This could serve as critical evidence that Morlin had intended to kill her.

“Let’s go, Beric.”

“Huh? We’re not killing her?”

“It’s settled. Killing her here would only complicate matters.”

With the New Year’s celebration approaching and various factions in the central region hostile to Ian, it was a delicate time. Not just Gale and Morlin, but also the noble classes who resented Ian, a commoner who had risen to their ranks, would be looking for any excuse to target him. In such a time, even the falling leaves need to be treaded upon carefully, let alone dealing with a spy without giving them any leverage.

“Barsabe, you have chosen your timing well.”

“What if she tries to kill us again?”

“By then, you’ll have your weapon too, Beric. It’ll be fine.”

“Ah? Ahaha! Right. With a sword in my hand, it’s a different story.”

Ideally, if Barsabe truly intended to kill Ian, she should have made her move stealthily in the night to cause trouble.

But she didn’t. At least, she showed the intention not to involve those who were uninvolved, a noteworthy point.

“Besides, if I were killed, you wouldn’t know where your father’s only remaining keepsake is, would you? Wouldn’t that be troubling, Barsabe?”

Ian made sure to clarify, in case she hadn’t understood, and quickly left the alley without waiting for a response. The nearest patrol was almost upon them.

Tap-tap-tap!

“This way!”

“Over here!”

As expected, upon exiting the alley, Ian and Beric saw the back of the guards running into the opposite direction. They would comb the area to find the source of the noise.

“Beric, you’ve done well. Let’s hurry and get out of here.”

“Ian, I’m cold. Hungry. Sleepy.”

“You’ve got all the essentials of a beggar.”

“Whose fault is that!”

Ian nodded for Beric to hurry up. Passersby momentarily flinched at the sight of the blood-soaked Beric but quickly made way, sidestepping to avoid them.

Beric scooped up snow from a corner of the alley and scrubbed his face vigorously.

“Just wiping off the blood? You owe me a meat dinner later. Got it?”

“Understood. Let’s get you changed into new clothes too. It’s best to discard those.”

Their clothes, already ragged, were in a sorry state from the fight. Ian quickly headed towards Romandro’s tailor shop, and in about ten minutes, they arrived.

Ding-a-ling.

The clear sound of a bell welcomed them along with a rush of warm air mixed with the sweet scent of perfume. Romandro, who had been sipping tea at a table, turned around unconsciously and nearly choked in shock.

“My word!”

“Sorry for the delay.”

“Good heavens, Beric. Did you roll in a sewer? You look absolutely wretched!”

While Ian’s hair was merely disheveled from the run, Beric looked exactly like he had emerged from a sewer, as Romandro put it. Even Viviana couldn’t hide her astonishment, her mouth agape. The boutique’s madam was questioning with her eyes if Beric was indeed a customer, looking back at Romandro for confirmation.

“We had some complications. Madam Viviana, have you looked at the clothes?”

“Ah, yes. We just finished selecting the designs. The current trend in men’s fashion is a slightly relaxed fit with bright-colored formal wear, embellished with a light touch of tassels, right, Madam?”

“Ah, yes. Excuse me for a moment.”

Prompted by the lady’s urging, the tailor quickly gathered her wits and brought out a lineup of mannequins. To Beric, they all looked the same, but Ian meticulously examined each outfit.

“Bright is in fashion, but Beric is hard on clothes, so let’s go with something darker for him. I’ll take white. I like this design here.”

“Your eye for style is impeccable,” the madam complimented, bowing slightly with a satisfied smile. It wasn’t just flattery; Ian had chosen the most popular design in the boutique, which also happened to be made from the most expensive fabric.

“And for the dinner?”

“You might want to consider this line here.”

“And what about the other options?”

Viviana sipped her tea, observing Ian’s selections. It wasn’t that she was prejudiced, but Ian’s behavior was undeniably unusual given the context. It was peculiar how naturally Ian, who had primarily operated in the changing deserts, selected clothes compared to the seasoned young nobles of the social circles.

“This one and this one? What’s the difference?”

Beric’s reaction seemed more natural, questioning the difference between button shapes or linings. Ian’s skill in comparing such details was remarkable. Although Viviana had offered her assistance, it turned out to be unnecessary.

“Let’s go with these.”

Ian chose a complete set, including a top, trousers, coat, shoes, and gloves, glancing at Beric. It might not have been the perfect fit for Beric, but it seemed sufficient for an appearance at the royal court.

“Thank you. The total comes to five gold coins.”

Considering the monthly income of an average commoner was around one gold coin, the price was astonishing. Beric’s mouth fell open in shock, but Ian gracefully wrote a cheque and nodded in agreement. Romandro, who had been quietly observing, stood up to add something when Ian made his move.

Swiftly, Ian wrote down eight gold coins. It was a tip for the tailor who had assisted with the fitting, a kind of showmanship. Given that this boutique was frequented by the central nobility, the tailor would surely share tales of Ian’s generosity after they left.

“Please ensure a fine finish on these.”

“Absolutely. Leave it to us.”

It was essential to leave a favorable impression while also showcasing the wealth and generosity characteristic of nobility. Better to be seen as a nouveau riche than just another country bumpkin from the borderlands.

“Well done.”

Romandro had risen to convey just that. Seeing Ian handle the payment so smoothly, he subtly gave a thumbs up in approval. Ian, constantly checking the mirror, noticed Beric feeling awkward in his new outfit.

“Beric, give that back to the madam and change into the new clothes. We’ll take a stroll around the shops and then go retrieve your sword.”

“Do I have to wear this now, Master?”

“Yes, you do.”

“Ahhh. When’s the New Year’s celebration again? This is really nice. I like it.”

Beric, glued to the mirror and continuously admiring himself, prompted nothing but laughter from Ian and Romandro as they exchanged amused glances. That’s when it happened.

Boom!

“What? Again? Something exploded again!”

At the sound of a loud bang outside, Beric instinctively peered out the window. However, Romandro and Viviana remained calm, recognizing it as the fireworks from the palace signaling the upcoming New Year’s celebration.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please don’t be alarmed. This is the palace signaling the start of the New Year’s celebration period. Look up at the sky. Soon, it will be as if snowflakes of pollen are falling, creating a beautiful spectacle.”

Prompted by Viviana’s words, Ian joined Beric at the window to look outside, intrigued by the notion of such an opening ceremony from a century ago in Bariel.

“Wow, it’s true!”

The blue sky was embroidered with countless particles of pollen, glittering in gold, pale pink, and white, cascading down like stars. It was then that Ian realized why this spectacle was absent in his own era.

‘This is magic too.’

With the decline of magicians, such displays had become impossible. It was a light signaling the true beginning of the New Year’s celebration.

Boom!

“Oh! There it goes again!”

Beric hopped excitedly, turning towards the source of the sound. But that direction was…

“Isn’t that towards the forge?”

“Yes, that’s the direction.”

“I see black smoke. Do you see it too, Ian?”

Smoke?

Ian turned his head, puzzled, and then noticed the wisps of black smoke rising.