A Mage Reborn: Legacy of the Fallen Emperor
Chapter 56: Funding

Chapter 56: Chapter 56: Funding

They were not ignorant of magic, not like Beric. These men dealt with the Ministry of Magic in the capital, working on matters of state. They knew exactly what that sudden flash of light meant.

Molyn and his companions stared at Ian, mouths slightly agape. The silence was broken only by Romandro’s hiccup.

"Hic- So, you... you’re..."

"A wielder of magic, they call people like me," Ian confirmed.

"But... when...?"

"I don’t know. It’s a power that’s always been with me, a natural part of who I am."

This was a disaster. Molyn pressed a hand to his forehead, his fingers as dry and brittle as twigs. The vision he’d seen before hadn’t been an illusion. Mack and Dgor, equally stunned, covered their mouths in shock.

"For now, I can only sense and release the flow of mana. But one day, I hope to be of service to Bariel."

"O-Of course! Of course, you will. Good heavens! In all my years, I never thought I’d see a magic user outside the Ministry! Haha!"

And the bastard son of an executed count, at that!

Romandro instinctively understood that Ian was the center of everything. The denunciation, the execution, and even his actions since arriving. He’d seemed remarkably shrewd for his age, and now it was clear why.

"May I shake your hand?"

"What? Haha. It would be an honor."

It was a silly superstition. They said meeting a magic user before they earned the title of ’Wizard’ brought good luck. Romandro and Ian shook hands again, and with each passing moment, Molyn’s expression soured further.

’What to do...’

Ian’s mother being a commoner, or whatever she was, no longer mattered. Kakantar’s reaction made it obvious he already knew.

’Judging by the way he so brazenly displayed his power in front of Romandro...’

He clearly had no intention of returning to the Great Desert. He intended to stay in Bariel. And now that they knew he was a magic user, all the leverage rested with Ian.

Just look at Romandro’s beaming, flushed face.

"Let’s discuss the details over dinner. You must be tired after your long journey. It’s best to rest first."

"Ah. Would that be alright?"

"I’ll have rooms prepared for your subordinates."

"Thank you. Riding in a carriage for fifteen days is no easy feat."

Having assessed the overall situation, Romandro rose, his body stiff. They could discuss future schedules and the disposal of the bastard son later.

Was there even anything to discuss? He’d likely be the one receiving reports on the reconstruction efforts.

"You, stay. I need to speak with you." Molyn muttered quietly as they were about to leave. Ian gestured to Kakantar and sat back down.

"Lord Romandro. I’ll see you at dinner."

"Uh-huh. Yes. Let’s..."

"This way..."

Creak.

Only Molyn’s group remained in the reception room. Silence filled the space. Molyn hoped Ian would explain himself and show some goodwill, but he showed no sign of doing so. Unable to bear it any longer, Mack interjected.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean? Why are you making things so complicated?"

"What’s so complicated? I gave you the denunciation, Lord Molyn, and in return, you gave me my freedom. We haven’t agreed on anything beyond that."

Clatter.

Molyn slammed his teacup down roughly. "Didn’t I ask you? I asked if you knew anything about wielding magic. You said you knew nothing. It seems you’re aiming to take Bratz territory, but if you’d been honest back then, things wouldn’t have become so twisted."

If he had known Ian was a magic user, he would have tried to install him as a puppet lord instead of Erica. He was a bastard, yes, but he had merit for providing the denunciation, and more importantly, his bloodline was low, but his talent was rare. He could have found a way to make it work.

"Am I obligated to be honest with you?" Ian countered, his tone holding genuine curiosity, not arrogance.

"My judgment in the past was the best choice I could make at the time. Whatever you say now, Lord Molyn, is irrelevant to me."

Besides, these men followed the Second Prince Gale. They were trying to use the borderlands as a stepping stone for rebellion, something Ian, who had led Bariel under the legitimate bloodline, would never condone.

They wouldn’t understand. They wouldn’t understand what it meant to plot treason. But he didn’t expect them to.

"What do you want?"

"I should be asking you that. What do you want?"

The conversation began to derail. It was the kind of talk that happened when people who thought they held all the cards started to negotiate.

"...I, no. We will make Commander Erica the lord. If you truly cannot give up the position of lord, we can find a compromise—"

"The appointment of a lord is the Emperor’s prerogative. How can you speak such disrespectful words? And it would be better to find someone else. Commander Erica has a rather negative reputation within the territory."

Knock knock.

"Lord Ian. A letter has arrived from Mereloff."

"Alright. I’ll be right there."

Ian concluded that further conversation with Molyn was unproductive. Hearing the servant call from outside, he rose without hesitation.

"The three of you should also rest and recover from your journey. Since you’ve come from the Imperial Palace, I’ll make sure everything is prepared to the best of my ability."

Creak, slam!

"Ha!"

Molyn and his companions stared at the closed door, letting out incredulous laughs. But none of them could offer a suggestion to salvage the situation. Ian’s attack and defense were that firmly established.

—To His Highness, Prince Marive. This is Romandro.

I have just arrived and inspected the territory. It is in better condition than expected. Although there are still houses to be rebuilt, there are almost no people sleeping on the streets, and the people often smile.

However, there is a surprising development. Instead of Commander Erica, Ian, the bastard son of Derga, was stationed in the territory with the Tenryeo tribe. I was taken aback, but he is friendly to the Imperial Palace and, above all, seems genuinely committed to the reconstruction. I will attach the details in a separate report.

There will be no problems with the overall progress. I would also like to add that the bastard son, Ian, is a magic user. Molyn says that according to national law, he should be reduced to a slave, but how can that be? I, for now—

Knock knock.

Romandro paused mid-sentence. The door opened, revealing a servant’s face, and the smell of food wafted in.

"Dinner is ready."

"Very well. I’ll be down shortly."

Romandro went down to the dining room on the floor below. Neat food was served on silver platters. He sat down and examined it with his eyes first. There were almost no fresh vegetables or fruits, and the main course consisted of preserved meat that could be stored for a long time.

’The supply of ingredients hasn’t returned to normal, it seems.’

It was the summer, when the sun blazed. It was a time when the labor of the people of the territory was needed, but many had died, and those who survived were stunned by the sight of their ruined fields. Not only that, but the Central Army and the investigation team were stationed there, and the stored food must have been rapidly depleted.

"Does everyone in the mansion eat like this?"

"Ah... Is there anything you would like? Your subordinates, Advisor, were served the same food."

"No. I was just curious. What about Ian?"

"He said he would eat first. He received a letter from a neighboring territory."

Judging by the response, it seemed everyone was eating like this. Romandro picked up his fork to satisfy his hunger. If the situation had been worse, he might have had to eat on the floor. That was the norm in places touched by the bloodshed of battle. But here he was, eating a warm dinner at a table!

’I’m lucky. Hmm. Very lucky!’

Just as he was finishing his meal, Ian entered the room.

"Lord Romandro. Is the food to your liking?"

"Oh. Come in. What about Lord Molyn?"

"He’s also eating in his room."

Romandro pretended not to notice the thick stack of documents in his hand. Ian smiled and sat down near him. The servants quickly cleared away the empty dishes.

"It would be helpful if you could refer to this as you proceed."

"Let’s see. Hmm. A map and a status report."

"I’ve compiled a detailed list of completed repairs and regional information."

The advisor glanced over the map and then asked. The servant said earlier that a letter had come from a neighboring territory, right?

"Do you have any communication with the neighboring territories?"

"When the fighting was at its peak, we kept the outer gates firmly closed to avoid getting involved. But now, we’re exchanging letters little by little."

"More than anything, it would be good to obtain crops that can be harvested before winter comes. What’s the status of food supplies?"

"The Central Support Army’s presence has significantly depleted our stores. We’ve emptied all the warehouses in the mansion, but we’ll soon run out completely."

Ian said this and handed over another document.

"Therefore, I propose that this winter’s central tax be limited to 30% of a normal harvest."

"As I said, my goal is to make it the same as a normal harvest."

Romandro was a little surprised. Although he was taking care of the mansion’s affairs, he didn’t expect him to discuss taxes in terms of percentages. It wasn’t a concept a sixteen-year-old bastard from the borderlands should know.

"When I checked the property lists reported by the people of the territory, it’s half of what it was last year. Also, the mansion needs funds to pay the Tenryeo tribe, besides the wages of a few servants. When calculated, 30% is appropriate."

Ian explained this and turned to the next page. It was a decision made with clear evidence. Dozens of sentences and formulas said so.

"But the goal cannot be adjusted."

"That’s unfortunate. If the central government could waive taxes for this year alone, 50% might be possible..."

"Did you calculate all this yourself?"

"Yes."

"Didn’t you say you were a bastard son of commoner birth?"

"Before crossing the Great Desert, I had a tutor to ensure I was versed in diplomatic etiquette."

Even still... this was more than enough.

He was ready to be put into practical work immediately. Romandro couldn’t help but admire him as he continued to carefully examine the documents. He took a sip of the wine a servant had poured for him.

"...It can’t be helped. There is an alternative. I brought the letter from Mereloff. Please read it."

"Hmm?"

Romandro couldn’t help but chuckle after receiving the letter. It was a way to procure food from the neighboring territory.

Romandro’s lips were about to split from smiling at Ian’s prompt and refreshing handling of the situation. If all went well, he might be able to see Bariel’s first snow in the capital this year.

"I told Count Mereloff to sell us food, and he said he would send a list of available items and prices. Wheat and corn, which are necessities, are not in abundant supply on their side either, so the price is expected to be a bit higher than usual..."

Romandro listened to Ian’s explanation and nodded unconsciously.

"...In any case, trade with them is necessary. The mansion’s funds have also run out, so we can only buy enough for the people of the territory to last about a week."

"Ah. Don’t worry about that."

He was an advisor sent from the central government to appease the public sentiment. He couldn’t adjust the taxes for the sake of fairness, but he had brought funds for the advisor to use. He tapped the table.

"We can cover up to two months’ worth. Will that be enough to normalize things by winter?"

"How much is the amount...?"

Romandro only drank wine in response to Ian’s question. It was an unspoken answer that he couldn’t tell him. It was the only power Romandro held, so it was understandable.

"Then I’ll convey our intentions to Mereloff."

"Do that."

"I’ll just organize...."

Ian gestured to the servant and left the dining room. He turned the corner and found Kakantar, Nersaren, and his men waiting. Beric was also there.

Ian spoke.

"We have a problem."