A Mage Reborn: Legacy of the Fallen Emperor
Chapter 38. A New Reason

Chapter 38: Chapter 38. A New Reason

"Did you hear that?"

"Came from Master Iyan’s tent, I think."

Two or three of the Cheonryeo tribesmen, roused from their sleep, emerged, pulling on their clothes. It seemed they hadn’t imagined the noise. They hurried towards Iyan and Beric’s tent, confirming the half-open entrance.

"Master Iyan? Are you alright?"

"Trouble? Beric, he isn’t dead, is he?"

One step inside revealed a scene. Some stranger lay sprawled on the ground, while Iyan clutched his reddened neck, coughing violently.

"Cough!"

"M-Master Iyan? What’s going on?"

"That man... tried to kill me..."

Only then did they notice the shattered pieces of a dagger lying on the ground. They immediately alerted those outside, and the man’s arms and legs were bound.

"What happened?"

"I don’t know. I woke up, and he was trying to kill me."

"No, but... how did you take him down? You haven’t received any training, Master Iyan."

"...It just happened." Iyan rubbed his neck, feigning difficulty in answering. Soon, the entire tribe was awake. Kakan appeared, wearing only his trousers, a testament to his haste.

"What’s this commotion? Someone attacked Master Iyan?"

"Kakan! This is the one. He was already out cold when we got here."

"Is he an idiot? What’s his game?"

"Right..."

"Who is he? Can’t see his face."

It was a genuine question, devoid of malice.

Honestly, even a Cheonryeo child could have overpowered Iyan in terms of combat ability. So how did this brute end up unconscious after being hit by who knows what?

"Take off the mask."

Though bewildered by this unprecedented event, Kakantir carefully examined Iyan. Fortunately, he seemed unharmed.

They had sworn to treat Iyan as an honored guest, putting aside their military expedition for the moment. Nothing would be more dishonorable than allowing harm to befall him.

Shhkk.

"Gasp!"

As the soldier removed the mask, gasps filled the air.

It was Bumat. Nersaren’s second stepmother’s cousin and the head of food management. Iyan recognized him instantly. Wasn’t he the one who had stared so intently at him during the welcoming ceremony? The memory had stuck with him, leaving an uneasy feeling.

"...Take Bumat away. We’ll interrogate him at daybreak."

At Kakantir’s command, three soldiers dragged Bumat out. The chieftain turned to Iyan as he was about to leave with them.

It was Bumat, of all people. One of the strongest warriors in the tribe. To have faced him and emerged without a single scratch, merely ruffled...

"Master Iyan. Is it true that you subdued Bumat?"

"It seems so... somehow."

"In the Empire..." Kakantir’s gaze shifted slightly towards Beric. Understanding dawned on him. "Those who perform miracles are called mages."

"I have no intention of lying in the Great Desert."

"Are you saying I shouldn’t ask?"

"When we return to Barielle, I’ll tell you when the time is right. I will explain the significance of my existence. It might be difficult for you to understand now, as we have lived through different times."

They likely reacted this way because they didn’t fully grasp the status of a magic user, a mage, within the Empire. No matter how lowly their bloodline, they were eligible to become a pillar of the Imperial Palace. Such was the social power of magic.

"Very well. Above all, internal matters are more pressing now. Get some rest. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask."

"Thank you."

Kakantir gave a slight smile, a hint of anticipation in his eyes, and left the tent. Amidst the settling commotion, Beric remained fast asleep, mouth agape.

"Khuuueerk."

"Haaa."

His loud snores suggested that he was recovering. Considering the hole in his side, he seemed to be in surprisingly good condition.

Iyan finally noticed the fresh gurute leaves on the table. He burned a few in the lamp and carefully dried others, holding them under Beric’s nose.

Whooosh!

As darkness receded, Kakantir’s men poured sand over Bumat’s face. Usually, water would be used, but this was the middle of the Great Desert. Iyan couldn’t help but feel a sympathetic sting on his own cheeks.

"Keep pouring until he wakes."

"Yes, Kakan."

The sand poured endlessly, piling up to Bumat’s chest. Only then did the man stir, finally regaining consciousness. Kakantir scrutinized him with a sharp gaze.

"Bumat."

"Ah..."

His limbs were bound, and splints were set. Bumat twisted his body, then lifted his head with a look of indignation.

"Bumat. Did you attack Master Iyan at dawn?"

Bumat hesitated to answer. A human’s tongue could lie, but they had Winchen. Kakantir would undoubtedly discern truth from falsehood based on the interrogation.

"Kakan. First, untie me..."

"Answer. If you utter nonsense, I’ll cut off your fingers."

It was a coldness devoid of hesitation. Bumat, unable to do anything, bit his lip and eventually slammed his head onto the ground.

"..."

"You choose silence?"

Damn it. He could have killed his target with one hand, so how did things end up like this?

But there was still a chance. If his motive remained hidden, he would only be punished for attacking Iyan.

Even if that punishment meant losing his right arm. It was better than death, wasn’t it?

"Are you serious?"

"Kakan. If you still consider me family, don’t ask any more questions and take my arm. That man, Iyan, used strange powers. His eyes turned golden, and the air condensed and exploded. He’s clearly a suspicious character."

Kakantir stared down at Bumat. Murmurs could be heard, but they were fleeting.

"You’re saying things I didn’t ask. Bumat. Do you realize how pathetic you look right now?"

Prattling on while buried in a pile of sand in front of the entire tribe. A warrior who prioritized honor and glory would have bitten off his own tongue and died.

Bumat’s face flushed with humiliation. Iyan, who had been watching silently, raised his hand.

"May I offer my testimony?"

"Speak."

"He definitely mentioned Derga."

If he was willing to sacrifice an arm to keep a secret, it meant there was something even bigger hidden behind it. Iyan’s statement caused a stir among the tribe.

"He called my proposal to the Kakan a ’scheme’ and seemed intent on stopping him. It seems likely that he has some sort of agreement with Derga..."

Iyan trailed off as if struck by a sudden thought. Kakantir waited patiently, while Bumat swallowed hard.

"Bumat, have you ever sent a letter to Derga?"

The day Iyan had snuck into the office to steal the seal, hadn’t he found a letter written in the Cheonryeo language in the drawer? He couldn’t recall the details, but...

"’Who will come after the female chieftain?’ I saw a letter with that written on it on Derga’s desk. Bumat, was that you?"

All eyes fell on Bumat, who was kneeling. He glared at Iyan with a hardened expression, then took a deep breath and bit his tongue.

"Stop him!"

From the moment Derga’s name was mentioned, the time for a warrior’s honorable death had passed. The soldiers immediately pressed down on his tongue with their fingers and stuffed cloth into his mouth.

"Ugh! Ughh!"

"Bumat! Is it true?"

"Don’t let him speak! Shove more cloth in!"

"Damn it, what the hell is this..."

The tribesmen’s faces contorted with shock and betrayal. Iyan offered a cautious yet confident guess.

He had seen this kind of thing countless times in the Imperial Palace.

"It’s possible that Chieftain Winchen’s deteriorating health is connected to Bumat. Didn’t you say he was in charge of food supplies?"

Killing Winchen and replacing the chieftain... If that were to happen, Bumat was certainly a likely candidate.

"I don’t know the specifics of their pact, but it likely promised glory, the position of chieftain, to Bumat, and economic benefits to Derga."

Kakantir stared at Bumat in silence. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts. He then stood up, grabbed Bumat by the hair, and dragged him away.

"...No one is to enter."

He was heading towards Winchen’s tent.

The soldiers watched the two disappear inside, a tense silence hanging in the air. A minute stretched into what felt like an hour.

When Kakantir finally emerged, he was covered in blood, Bumat’s severed head in his hand.

"Throw him in the desert, and bring Bumat’s family here as well."

"...Yes, Kakan."

To discard the body as animal feed instead of giving it a proper burial was a declaration that he was a traitor. As Kakan threw Bumat’s head, the tribesmen spat on it as they passed.

"Master Iyan. A word."

At Kakantir’s call, Iyan moved closer. He wiped his face and hands with a wet towel handed to him by Nersaren and muttered.

"We need to adjust our plans."

"How so?"

"Our only task was to ensure your safe arrival in Bratz and to lend our strength as you established your position."

Directly confronting the central army meant taking on considerable risk. But with the current situation, the Cheonryeo tribe had no choice but to fully engage in this fight.

"We will take Derga’s life."

"Ah."

Derga had dared to deceive Kakantir with a false peace treaty while conspiring with their family to kill Winchen, their spiritual leader. This was a far greater offense than smuggling gurute leaves.

Iyan nodded after a moment of contemplation.

"I understand, but it might be difficult."

"Why?"

"Because Derga’s crime is ’treason.’ The Imperial investigation team traveled for half a month to deal with him. If a foreign power on the border handles it first, it will make their position quite awkward."

The execution of a traitor was a grand, brutal, and solemn affair. The highlight of the festival was Derga’s death. They wouldn’t hand that over to a border tribe.

"Even so, we, I, must kill Derga myself."

"...There might be a way."

Kakantir’s resolve seemed unwavering.

"If I take control of the Bratz territory as originally planned, ’officially,’ that is. Then I can be involved in the execution, and I can accept the will of the Cheonryeo tribe and offer assistance."

"In any case, we must help you."

"You’re too kind. I’m the one requesting your help."

Kakantir’s lips curled up at Iyan’s good-natured words. It wasn’t a smile of joy, but one of anticipation for what was to come.

"Good. Let’s do it."

"Demosha."

"Demosha."

Iyan and Kakantir bumped fists. Just then, the physician approached and called for Iyan.

"Beric has regained consciousness."

"...Already?"

"Just his consciousness, somehow."

"...Ah."

Iyan nodded, understanding the subtle implication.