Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 286

Chapter 286 – Damon Runkvis

Burgos was vast but barren. The year-round dryness had stolen away the verdant growth, and unknown beasts prowled the abandoned lands under cover of darkness.

Whoosh.

Before entering the palace, Timothy turned around at the wind’s beckoning. The steep incline offered a clear view of the common people’s dwellings beyond the palace walls.

…It’s too withered.

Was this not the very sight the King witnessed two or three times each day on his comings and goings? Though he should only have to look upon prosperity, what Timothy now faced was an all too withered Burgos.

Surely this couldn’t be blamed on climate alone. The kingdom’s daylight, which had been slowly dimming since the previous king’s reign, had finally given way to night.

“I’m here to see His Majesty Damon.”

“Please wait a moment.”

Timothy showed his report to the attendant, requesting to be announced.

Though perhaps not as busy as Bariel preparing for the inauguration ceremony, the Kingdom of Burgos was likewise in a flurry preparing for their king’s upcoming departure.

Creeak.

“This way, please.”

Following the attendant inside, only the soft clicking of shoes echoed through the space. Though the room was grand enough to serve as a banquet hall, it stood empty. If not for the occasional portraits of the previous king hanging on the walls, none would have guessed this to be the king’s office.

Timothy stood before the king, following the carpet’s path.

“Your Majesty. This is Timothy reporting.”

Damon Runkvis, King of Burgos, paused his pen and turned his head.

His black hair fell to his shoulders, and deep violet eyes gleamed piercingly even in the darkness, set against pale cheeks.

Silently, he tapped his desk with his fingertips. A command to bring the report forward.

“Is this regarding the visit to Bariel?”

“Yes. As you instructed, I’ve compiled a new list of delegation members. The added nobles will select tribute gifts by next week, which you can review then.”

Rustle.

Damon wordlessly flipped through the documents.

As the silence stretched on, various thoughts bloomed in Timothy’s mind. Among them was Minister Ian Hielo.

The young Minister of Magic who hadn’t yet come of age, and the king who had only been on the throne for two years – they seemed somehow similar.

Though Ian was younger, was it because they were both so cold and meticulous in their work?

“I believe I said to exclude Count Garame.”

“Ah, about that…”

“Is there strong opposition?”

“My apologies. The motion isn’t passing. Without the Count, we face issues with the promised transportation. Currently, there’s no one else who can provide a hundred horses…”

When Damon furrowed his brow and pressed his forehead, Timothy could only swallow dryly. All who served knew of the king’s intelligence and capability. Yet occasionally when he issued such problematic orders, it truly put them in a difficult position.

“This is the last time. If there’s opposition, I’ll attend the meeting personally. Tell them to handle it appropriately.”

“Yes, understood.”

The reason Damon could push through his opinions wasn’t simply because he was king – rather, most of his orders, though unexpected, tended to yield surprisingly positive results.

Damon muttered to himself as he gripped his pen again.

“If it’s early, then so be it. What do they know?”

Timothy gave an awkward smile and bowed deeply at the waist. His Majesty seemed to be in quite a foul mood, so it would be best to withdraw for today. Hadn’t his family asked him to come home early anyway? Just as Timothy began to step back-

“Timothy.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Any news of the Gypsy?”

Creeak.

The king rose from his chair and approached Timothy. His already slim frame appeared even more diminutive next to Timothy’s large build. Of course, the weight of royal dignity prevented Timothy from raising his head to look.

“My deepest apologies. Though we continue making inquiries, there’s still no word. If you’ll wait just a bit longer, I swear we’ll bring her before Your Majesty.”

Damon gazed down at Timothy’s crown. His cool violet eyes keenly assessed the man. Though sharp emotion filled his gaze, Timothy had no way of noticing.

“Very well. I’ll trust you this time as well.”

“…I will serve with all my heart.”

This time as well.

Timothy bowed repeatedly, understanding the weight of those words. It was a gesture filled with reverence – for their king, for Burgos’ future, and for the master he served.

Though Damon had already turned his back, focusing only on the report before him.

***

Beric and Romandro waited at a distance from the main road. Ian’s conversation with the Gypsy seemed to be growing longer.

Lantern lights flickered intermittently around them. Those lying in wait were asking what they should do, but Romandro had only one order to relay.

Click. Click.

Not yet.

Though winter had passed, the night air remained cold. As Romandro looked around trying to shake off the chill, Beric suddenly moved. It was a reflexive motion.

Startled, Romandro followed his gaze. The Gypsy was now shaking violently, different from before.

“Ian! Shit, something’s wrong with the old lady! Be careful!”

“Stay back!”

Something about secrets and whatnot – what a strange old woman. Though Beric grabbed his sword in concern, Ian immediately stopped him. Without even looking back, he simply raised his hand. They couldn’t even see Ian’s profile. He kept the Gypsy where she was and gestured to Beric and Romandro.

“Step back further.”

“Oh, come on! At this rate we’ll end up at the Imperial Palace!”

“Now, now, Beric. Let’s do as he says.”

Sensing something wasn’t right, Romandro pulled Beric away. As Beric’s protests faded, Ian carefully looked back. They had retreated to a distance where even shouting would be barely audible. He pressed his forehead as if brushing back his hair.

The King of Burgos is living his second life?

Just as Ian himself had done. Though quite surprised, he contained his emotion with merely a furrowed brow.

The night was short. And wasn’t the Gypsy like the wind?

He needed to quickly extract all the secrets from her belly.

“Oh my, oh my…”

Having consumed such an enormous secret, the Gypsy could only mutter in disbelief. The satisfaction welling up within her was even deeper than when she’d learned the King of Burgos’ secret. Was this not a divine secret that transcended time and space? If heaven had a taste, surely this would be it.

Unable to contain herself, she trembled and wept. She felt she could die without regret now. Barely managing to grab Ian’s arm, she whispered:

“Such dignity from a hundred years hence. How remarkable, how remarkable indeed. Even if I were to spew forth everything, how could I contain such fullness?”

“Hurry and continue.”

How could I not?

The Gypsy pressed her forehead to the ground, repeatedly expressing her reverence.

“The King of Burgos says his first life was a failure. Trampled by mother and… father, devoured by his younger sibling, everything destroyed. In the end, the king bloodied his hands killing his sibling. And that one’s blood too flowed down, erasing everything. Thus began his second life.”

Living one’s fate twice.

How old was the King of Burgos now? Only in his second year since ascending the throne, so he couldn’t be very old.

Then, in his first life, was there a ‘bastard Ian’? Or was there an ‘Ian Hielo’ then too?

This is a gap.

The King of Burgos represented a kind of gap. Depending on Ian’s existence in the king’s first life, Ian’s own existence would be newly established.

What if he himself, who had been Emperor then, had ended up like this?

Through this gap, he might be able to see that end.

“He wished his sibling… would never be born. He made his mother and father, who had oppressed him, hate each other, and they produced many siblings.”

“What of the half-siblings?”

Was this not completely unhelpful for strengthening royal authority? Surely there must have been some reason.

“…for. For the possibility of a third life.”

The Gypsy’s once strong voice grew faint. Gaps began appearing again here and there. Ian firmly gripped the arm of the Gypsy who held onto him.

“The King of Burgos gave you his secret. So, you heard the previous king’s secret. Yet why does he continue pursuing you? Do you have any idea?”

The old woman cackled and shook her head. But of those who pursued her, eight or nine out of ten usually had similar purposes.

Either related to secrets, or related to the future.

“This is all the secret I can give.”

“…”

The Gypsy’s crystal ball began losing its light. Her gills slowly closed as well. Now even her belly held no more secrets.

She whispered softly, as if in warning:

“You should pray from now on. When the King of Burgos realizes he unconsciously revealed his secret, and that such revelation was possible, he’ll know it has leaked.”

“You should pray too. You’ll surely be killed.”

“Hahaha! This has been a thoroughly satisfying day in many ways. How about for you?”

Was she asking if I was satisfied with our transaction?

I discovered another’s regression and thereby obtained clues about my own fate. In terms of gains and losses, this could be considered more of a gain.

As Ian was about to nod, the Gypsy frowned as if in regret. Her gaze reached far away, to where Beric and Romandro stood.

“After this night, you will never be able to reveal the truth to anyone. To anyone at all.”

“…That’s what I wanted.”

He didn’t want his existence to shine in True Bariel. Especially not having the truth used outside his control, like in the Arsen incident.

Perhaps it would be safer to have it bound and buried like this.

“Then that’s fortunate.”

Ian slowly rose from his seat. He moved the lantern to his right hand. This was the signal that business was concluded and everyone should prepare to surround the Gypsy.

“Secret-eater, I’d like you to come with me.”

“Oh ho.”

A deal was a deal, and regardless, this Gypsy was someone the King of Burgos was after. Keeping her in custody would be beneficial in many ways.

The Gypsy carefully wrapped her crystal ball in cloth and waved her hand.

“I am a Gypsy. How could one who befriends clouds and follows the wind’s path keep a residence? Even meeting at an appointed time and place today was a big decision for me. Otherwise, that street ruffian wouldn’t have let me be.”

Beric, having noticed Ian’s lantern signal, was glaring this way as if ready to pounce. Had he realized the Gypsy was insulting him? He was complaining about something to Romandro.

Whirrr. Whirr.

Presences melting into darkness. As Ian reflexively opened his magical power, magicians who had been hiding throughout the alleyways revealed themselves.

Whoosh! Bang!

“Sir Ian!”

Ian shot up a magic sphere to catch her. Though the surroundings instantly brightened, the Gypsy was nowhere to be seen. The shocked magicians and soldiers immediately gave chase.

Clatter clatter!

“Dammit, where’d the old lady go?”

“That way! Keep maintaining the barrier!”

“Drive her to the left! You take these alleys!”

“She must be captured alive! Run!”

“Damn it, how far could a legless old woman-!”

Colleagues rushed past Ian, scattering in all directions, including Beric. As Ian was about to follow them, he hesitated, looking around at the now empty surroundings.

And quietly whispered the truth to himself.

…I was an Emperor.

Swallowing that truth which could not leave his lips, he gave a bitter smile.

And so Ian stood there, alone.