A Mage Reborn: Legacy of the Fallen Emperor
Chapter 61. Whispers

Chapter 61: Chapter 61. Whispers

"...We talked about this, didn’t we?"

"Don’t you remember? ’I’ll use rumors to my advantage,’ I said."

Molin’s mind flashed back to his second lunch with Ian, and the words Ian had just thrown at him.

They’d discussed how any food was a godsend in the face of starvation, even talking about how to distribute it to change people’s minds.

"...!"

Had he been planning this all along? Since then?

Ian’s expression didn’t change as he steered the conversation.

"The one gathering the Gula is Romandro, straight from the Imperial Palace."

All eyes shifted to Romandro.

This wasn’t just anyone. These were men who served the Emperor. If they took the lead in accepting Gula as food, changing public opinion would be a piece of cake.

"Let’s paint a picture. The Imperial Palace has been researching alternative crops for ages. They discovered that while Gula is highly toxic, the seeds are packed with nutrients and taste damn good. Romandro, being in the know, started collecting them."

"You sure about this, kid?"

"About what?"

"Well, I..."

"What’s the harm? It’s just talk. The whispers of Bratz won’t reach the Imperial Palace. They’ll only hear what your reports tell them. You know that, right?"

Romandro chuckled, scratching his chin awkwardly. Just like they’d discussed, the official report would give Ian full credit, but the *rumors* for the territory’s people... that was a different story.

"So, we just spread that?"

"Hell no. We need to spice it up with some ’research findings.’ What sounds good? Makes your skin and hair amazing? Grants long life and prevents disease?"

"Hahaha! That’s a bit much, don’t you think?"

"Who cares? You gotta fluff things up to hook ’em. And Romandro, you and Sir Molin, make sure you eat out in public often. Really show off those Gula dishes. I’ll handle the rest."

Molin slammed his hand on the table, a sharp thwack. He wouldn’t stand for this.

"Absolutely not! Using the Imperial Palace in these lies is outrageous. It concerns His Majesty’s honor."

What if they distributed Gula based on fabricated research and problems arose? People would blame the Palace! It was a valid concern, but Ian didn’t give a damn.

"...I distinctly remember Sir Molin saying that ending the famine was a leader’s duty. You weren’t one to object over such *trivial* matters."

"Trivial? Trivial

"When people are staring death in the face, everything else is insignificant!"

It was practically the first time Ian had raised his voice like this, a direct challenge. He usually just smirked and parried. Molin stammered, caught off guard, as Ian tossed his napkin onto the table.

"Sir Molin. You seem to be mistaken. I’m not asking for your *permission*."

It was a flat-out declaration. No room for refusal.

"If you’re going to stand in my way, get the hell out of my territory. Now. I’ll have the soldiers escort you out."

"...Such disrespect!"

"Sir Mac. Get a grip. Who’s being disrespectful here?"

Ian, offering a solution to save the territory and its people, versus Molin and his group, simply stationed there because of their Imperial connections, throwing up roadblocks.

Mac’s face flushed crimson at the insult. They might not be Dukes or Counts, but they were still nobles. They weren’t used to being talked to like this. Ever.

Romandro, who’d been watching silently, tried to defuse the tension.

"Ahem. Let’s calm down, gentlemen. Sir Molin, I’ve tried it myself. It’s quite delicious, actually. There’s a surprising variety of dishes you can make with it. It’ll liven up your meals."

Just then, Beric slipped into the dining room, winking his left eye subtly. Signal received: he had the magic stone.

"I’ve made my position clear. This is too important. I won’t tolerate any interference."

"Ian, you arrogant little...!"

"Enjoy your meal, everyone. I’m leaving."

With that, Ian left, leaving Romandro to handle the fallout. Beric met him in the hallway, pressing the magic stone into his hand.

"You know, Ian, you’ve got a real way with words."

"What do you mean?"

"Saying ’I won’t tolerate it’ instead of ’If you keep shoveling food into your mouths like you’re eating shit, I’ll kill you.’ So refined. So refined."

Beric clucked his tongue, impressed, while Ian just smirked.

They headed to Derga’s old office. The investigators had taken every scrap of paper, but they’d left the magic solution. Ian, following Derga’s example, filled a glass bottle with the solution and dropped in the magic stone.

Plop!

The red gem glowed, starting to hum. Ian listened with one ear while skimming through a report, while Beric sprawled on the sofa, chewing on a Gurut leaf.

A rare moment of peace, all things considered.

[Given her personality... if things proceed... this way... how she will react, I... cannot even begin... to guess.]

Scratch, scratch.

The only sound besides the three men’s droning voices was Ian’s pen scratching against paper.

[If the one blocking your path... refuses to move, and you cannot turn back, and there is no... other way... what... will you do?]

Suddenly, Ian stopped writing. The words were jarring. Beric, who had been half-asleep, also reacted, stopping his chewing and lifting his head slightly.

"What the hell did he just say?"

"Shh."

[You must remove... the one blocking your path... and proceed.]

[...Teacher.]

[There is always a way.]

Ian tapped the table with his pen, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. Beric moved closer, flipping his thumb and drawing it across his throat.

"That sounds like a death threat, doesn’t it?"

"Ah. Yes. Well. It’s not a bad strategy."

If their positions were reversed, Ian would have considered it too. The best option, really, was to abandon Bratz. But cutting off Ian’s lifeline was easier and more convenient than giving up months of work.

And, looking to the future, it was the safer bet.

"So? Should we take them out?"

Beric held his scabbard, his tone casual, as if he were suggesting picking some flowers.

*He’s probably been itching for a chance...*

Unfortunately for the would-be assassins, Ian had barely been alone. He was almost always with Beric, and his sleep schedule was erratic, just short naps during the day.

"Take them out? Or not?"

"Not. We wait. That’s hardly solid evidence. Damn, I should have been even more insulting back there."

Ian chuckled, pulling out the magic stone. The memory of Molin and his cronies’ faces in the dining room, contorted with shame and humiliation, was crystal clear.

They might even send assassins tonight.

"What’s so funny?"

"Ah. Nothing, really... Just a bit of nostalgia."

He’d been Emperor, however briefly. And he could confidently say he knew the darkness of a royal bedroom at night, the scuttling of a poisonous scorpion across the curtains, and the glint in an assassin’s eyes better than anyone.

"Beric. You need to be extra vigilant."

"I’m always vigilant."

"More. Eyes wide open."

Ian tapped Beric’s cheek, reminding him to keep a close watch. And, of course, he wouldn’t neglect to keep tabs on Molin and his crew.

***

Not far from the mansion, at the village construction site, Romandro was overseeing the rebuilding efforts with his men. The sun was high overhead, and one of his subordinates subtly brought up lunch.

"Let’s wrap up the morning’s work here."

"Sounds good."

"Romandro-nim! What should we do with the leftover oak?"

"Line it up and move it to the entrance of Gilsaem Village. The suspension bridge there is down, right? We’ll build a proper elevated bridge, so we’ll use it for that."

"Yes, sir."

"Romandro-nim!"

"Hold on a moment. Let’s eat first, eh?"

"I’m sorry, sir. But it’s urgent. That huge rock you ordered us to move... I looked into it, and it turns out it’s some guy’s father’s grave."

"What? You’ve *got* to be kidding me."

Romandro grabbed his head, gesturing for his subordinate to lead the way. He had a *bad* feeling he was going to miss lunch. He reached into his pocket and tossed a handful of *something* into his mouth.

"You see that?"

The villagers, watching with narrowed eyes, whispered.

"He keeps pulling something out of his pocket and eating it while he works."

"Yeah. And he won’t tell anyone what it is."

"Tsk tsk. You guys haven’t heard?"

A man butted in, acting all-knowing.

"It’s Gula seeds, isn’t it? Gula seeds."

"The *hell*? That’s crazy. Why would the advisor be eating *that*?"

"You really don’t know? Remember when they were buying Gula at the mansion for money?"

"Yeah."

The collection period was over. Nobody could find any, anyway. The Gula seeds had vanished. You could search the deepest parts of the forest and not find a single Gula leaf.

"Word is, Romandro-nim was collecting them to eat!"

"That’s *insane*! It doesn’t even make sense!"

"No, it’s the truth. We’re out in the sticks here, news travels slow. Folks in the central region are already eating Gula seeds like they’re peanuts."

"Is he nuts from eating Gula? Did the poison mess with his head?"

"Gula’s poisonous on the outside, but the seeds are delicious. Supposedly, it makes your skin firm and smooth. People in the central region can’t get enough of ’em!"

The gathered villagers started to look intrigued.

"For real?"

"If you don’t believe me, go ask the advisor. Ask him what he’s popping into his mouth. He won’t tell you. He’s too busy stuffing his face, why would he?"

"So that’s why he had us collecting Gula for money?"

"What other reason could there be? You ever seen those bigwigs spend money on something useless?"

Everyone shook their heads. When it came to money, those guys were bloodsuckers, squeezing every last drop. No way they’d waste it. There had to be a good reason.

"So Ian wasn’t trying to sell them to the Cheonryeo tribe?"

"That makes no sense! The Cheonryeo tribe won’t even be here soon. It’s too damn cold. Most of ’em have already left. Only the chief, Ner... Ner-whatever, and a few others are left. And I hear their chief’s about to kick the bucket."

The rumors spread like wildfire, growing more outrageous with each telling. Ian, who had eyes and ears everywhere, nodded in satisfaction. *That rumor* was finally circulating. It was time.

"You hear that? They say the *Emperor* eats it for eternal life. Is that bullshit, or what?"

"Haha! Who cares if it’s bullshit or not? It’s enough. It’s done. Beric, let’s get ready for the next step."

Ian, judging that the curiosity surrounding Gula had reached its peak, was ready to move on.