A Mage Reborn: Legacy of the Fallen Emperor
Chapter 60: A Father, the Emperor

Chapter 60: Chapter 60: A Father, the Emperor

As he aged, the Emperor craved freshness. The renovation of his bedchamber was a testament to this yearning. One wall had been replaced with glass, allowing him to gaze upon the eternally verdant garden throughout the year. Sometimes, he lay so still that one might wonder if he had passed away in his sleep, and Marive felt that way now.

"Father?"

The Emperor smiled faintly at the sound of his son’s voice and turned his head. Benevolence was etched deep within the lines of his aged face.

"Did you call for me?"

"Indeed, Marive. You seem to have been quite busy lately."

"It’s always like this, especially during the summer."

Marive answered, taking a seat across from his father with practiced ease. It was a private space, and a private summons. He studied his father’s complexion, then asked, "Is something troubling you?"

"...No. It’s just... it feels like it’s been so long since I last saw your face."

"This is unusual."

"Marive."

"Yes, Father?"

"Have you had any... issues with Gale?"

The Emperor’s fondness for Gale was a thinly veiled secret. Marive was aware of this, but the Emperor had always scrupulously avoided mentioning Gale’s name in his presence. It was his way of preserving the line of succession and, in his own way, protecting his sons.

"No, Father. None at all. Why do you ask?"

"...I had a dream last night. Carolina appeared."

Unlike Marive, the legitimate son of the Queen, Gale was the son of the first concubine. She was said to have been from some obscure noble family, a woman who had risen as high as she could on the strength of her beauty alone.

"She never appears in my dreams, and yet, there she was..."

The Emperor’s voice was thick with emotion. Marive inwardly sighed. If he’d known it would be like this, he would have used work as an excuse to avoid coming. He averted his gaze, struggling to conceal his expression.

A lone peach tree stood starkly in the distance.

"She offered me a peach. And then, sobbing, she begged me to summon Gale."

"Father."

"If there are no problems, then... very well."

The Emperor patted Marive’s hand, abruptly ending the conversation. Despite his benevolent smile, the Emperor’s arrogant way of communicating remained unchanged. Marive nodded, and left his father’s bedchamber.

Creak.

"Prince Marive?"

The aide called out, puzzled, as Marive stood frozen upon exiting the room. The prince approached the servants lined up in a row.

"Are there any issues with the management of His Majesty’s bedchamber?"

"What? No, no, of course not, Prince Marive."

"Then why is my father having troubled dreams?"

"Pardon?"

The servant seemed to have heard nothing of the sort. He almost raised his head to question, when Marive swiftly struck him across the face.

Slap!

"If I hear of this again, I will have the heads of everyone responsible."

"I-I will keep that in mind."

Though father and son were unaware of it, they were strikingly similar. Warm like spring one moment, then a sudden, unexpected chill the next. The servants breathed a sigh of relief as Marive’s shadow disappeared from view.

"Are all of today’s schedules finished?"

"Yes, Your Highness. However, it seems you should go to your office, not your bedchamber."

He just said the schedule was finished, didn’t he?

Marive frowned, and the aide quickly added, "A messenger bird arrived from Romandro."

"I’ll check it tomorrow. I’m rather tired today."

"But, the report... it’s rather shocking..."

The aide knew full well the mood his superior was in after being tormented by the Emperor. But among the accompanying party was Molin. It wouldn’t just be Marive who would find out; Gale would learn of it as well.

"Be brief."

It was an order to summarize. The aide, following his superior’s wishes, concisely relayed the report’s core points.

"Ian, Derga’s bastard son, has rebuilt and taken control of Bratz with the Cheonryeo tribe. Commander Erica has left the territory."

"...What?"

"And, apparently, he’s a magic user."

Marive stopped walking and turned to face his aide. The aide maintained a stoic expression, silently asserting the report’s absolute truth.

"This is chaos."

"Indeed it is."

"To the office."

"Yes, sir. I’ll prepare everything."

Marive ground his teeth and tied his hair up into a single knot. It was a night of the full moon.

The day after the full moon.

In the back alleys of the taverns in Merelope’s territory, strange information could be readily obtained.

"What? If you take gulla to Bratz, they’ll exchange it for money?"

"Hey, keep your voice down! Someone might hear."

"But, why? What are they going to use that weed for?"

"How should I know? Those barbarian folk are utterly incomprehensible. Logan from the red brick house took six bundles and received two gold coins."

"I heard there’s a time limit. But the nearby forests are already picked clean. You’ll have to go deep to gather any gulla."

"Well, I’ll be. I never thought I’d hear of someone buying a useless weed. It’s madness."

"What do we care? It’s good for us, isn’t it? My wife’s been nagging me to eat meat lately."

Everyone was whispering, trying to keep others from taking their gulla, but there wasn’t a single person among the lower class of Merellope who hadn’t heard the news. The same was true for the residents of Bratz.

"What? Gulla?"

"There’s a notice. One gold coin for every three bundles."

"Isn’t he just wasting money?"

"They didn’t give any reason!"

Despite their bewilderment, they fully met Ian’s demands. They roamed the mountains and fields, gathering gulla, which they usually trampled underfoot, into sacks and bringing them to the manor. Day after day, the gulla seeds piled up in the warehouse, reaching almost to the ceiling.

"How many bundles today?"

"Forty-nine, sir."

"The pace is faster than I expected."

Ian looked on, satisfied, and moved on. In the restricted garden at the back, research into gulla cultivation was in full swing. Although it was said to thrive in all harsh environments except for the cold, there had to be an optimal cultivation method.

Ian had never grown it himself, so research was the only option.

"There’s almost no difference in growth rate between the ones given a lot of water and the ones given less. I think we need to try different soil types."

"Then we should bring some soil from the riverbank over there."

"Lord Ian! Look at this. Sprouts have already appeared."

Hana and Romandro’s subordinates, covered in dirt, stood up at the sight of Ian. The sprouts were tiny, about the length of a fingertip. Ian smiled brightly and patted Hana’s shoulder.

"Good. Well done."

"Oh, and Lord Romandro ate some more gulla earlier. Lord Ian, please say something to him."

"Again? I spoke to him clearly yesterday."

"I think he thought no one would see."

Since that day, Romandro had been eating gulla with every meal, without fail. It had gotten to the point where Ian had to tell him to restrain himself. Since more than ten new gulla plants could grow from a single seed... He’d rather Romandro just eat meat.

"I understand. I’ll speak to him again."

Ian said, leaving the garden. His plan was to multiply the gulla as much as possible to prepare for winter. It would likely be the most abundant end-of-year ever for the residents of Bratz.

"What are you thinking about?"

Beric, who had been following behind, walked ahead and asked Ian. Before he could answer, Berick snapped his fingers and answered his own question.

"Let me guess. You were thinking about the old man, right? He’s suddenly gone quiet as a mouse. It’s strangely unsettling."

"Ah. Yes, you’re right."

Ian briefly wondered who "the old man" was, but quickly realized it was Molin.

"He hasn’t come out, has he?"

"Two of his subordinates are running around here and there, but I haven’t seen the old man’s face in a while. I hear he’s eating well, though."

They had placed a magic stone brooch on the bed in their room. They’d planned to retrieve it during cleaning, but since the room was never empty, it had been constantly delayed. It was time to retrieve it directly.

"Tell Lord Romandro that we’ll all have dinner together today."

"All of us? What if he refuses?"

"Add that it’s essential, as we’ll be having a meeting. I’ll find the magic stone in the meantime."

Berick nodded and retreated.

He wondered if they had heard the rumors about the gulla. Even if they had, Ian officially needed to inform the imperial envoys, specifically Molin’s group, about the plan. From the looks of it, Romandro and Molin were each writing their own reports.

Knock, knock.

"Lord Ian is entering."

"Come in, Ian."

Since it was just before lunchtime, they gathered quickly. Unlike Romandro, who stood up lightly to greet him, Molin’s group looked quite displeased, their heads held stiffly.

"The weather is fine today."

"What is it?"

"Nothing much. It’s just that it’s been a while since I’ve seen my guests. I wanted to hear if there were any inconveniences, and also, I have something to tell you."

Ian referred to Molin’s group as "guests," clearly defining their respective positions. This was Ian’s domain.

Mac sneered, muttering, "Seems busy. As if."

"Ah. Did you hear from Lord Romandro?"

At Ian’s question, Mac and Dgor’s expressions crumpled. If Romandro considered them equal comrades, he would have naturally shared the discovery of gulla.

But they were like unwelcome guests, unable to hear anything. Ian had imposed a gag order on the manor’s inhabitants, not on Romandro.

"Ahem. Not yet."

"My apologies."

Romandro winked with his left eye and coughed awkwardly. Just as Mac was about to speak, the dining room doors opened, and the food was brought in.

"Since Sir Molin also needs to report to the capital, I thought I’d tell you. It’s nothing grand. I’ve discovered a new crop to help us through the winter."

Nothing grand, my ass. Beric, listening from the corner, snorted inwardly. He could clearly see Ian rambling on to Romandro about the Great Famine of Variel and whatnot. While Ian talked to the three men, he signaled to the servants.

"A crop? Don’t tell me it’s gulla?"

"You knew already."

"Of course. The whole place is buzzing about the manor buying that worthless weed for money. People are even coming from Merellope, so even a deaf man in Bratz would know."

Mac raised his voice, seemingly agitated. However, when Molin glanced at him, signaling him to calm down, he bit his lip tightly and closed his mouth.

"Then, do you know?"

It was Dgor who interjected instead of Mac. His voice was low and calm, but he couldn’t completely hide his hostility.

"Know what?"

"Why Bratz is buying that weed for money, and what the people are saying about it."

"I’m curious. What are they saying?"

"They say Ian is trying to squander the subsidies and sell the territory to the Cheonryeo tribe."

"Oh. That’s... creative."

Ian chuckled lightly. It wasn’t entirely without merit. If the influence of the imperial advisor and the imperial palace were pushed out, and Bratz were to collapse, the Cheonryeo tribe would benefit the most.

"But if I intended to take Bratz that way, I would have shown my intentions as soon as you arrived. Why would I let you waste food?"

"What? Waste?"

"Mac. Lower your voice."

"And I wouldn’t have worked so hard to rebuild, either. Whoever it is, if they’re spreading such false rumors, tell them they’ll be severely punished for insulting our allies and me."

Ian stared intently at Mac and Dgor. The residents of the territory, busy with their daily lives, might be skeptical, but they wouldn’t be resentful. First of all, the Cheonryeo tribe and Ian’s reputations were quite good, and most importantly, the territory’s collapse wouldn’t necessarily mean their own ruin.

What changed when Derga died?

It was clear that Mac and Dgor were spreading the rumors. At Ian’s warning, Molin, who had been silent, spoke.

"...You. Do you not know what gulla is known for?"

Because it was poisonous, people in households would pull it out as soon as they saw it. Perhaps because of this, in urban areas, gulla was only seen in places where garbage accumulated or in sewers, places untouched by human hands.

"I know it well, but since Lord Romandro enjoys eating it, I’m sure everyone will come to love it."

Then, he added a slightly regretful smile.

"However, Sir Molin. Don’t you remember? We’ve talked about this before."