A Mage Reborn: Legacy of the Fallen Emperor
Chapter 63. In the Alley

Chapter 63: Chapter 63. In the Alley

"Right. Let’s have a look."

Romandro scratched his nose, reviewing the documents. Across from him, Ian and Kakan-tir shuffled through the papers as well. They were settling in for their end-of-day meeting, after dinner.

He asked Ian, "Is there nothing to rebuild inside Gilssam Village?"

"No. It’s said that the village was isolated when the bridge was destroyed early in the fighting, so it suffered no damage. The bridge reconstruction is underway, and once that’s complete, it should be almost finished."

"Good. Then let’s reduce the orders to the quarry."

Romandro felt a sense of relief, as if a great weight had been lifted – erasing the traces of battle from Bratz territory. He took a sip of wine and continued, "What about the Gula supply?"

"I think we can start soon. It’s reportedly spreading rapidly through the territory’s residents who received the initial supply. It would be best to make a public announcement before it flows into Merelof."

"I see. Are you going out again tonight?"

"I’m thinking just three more days."

"Working day and night. They say Magic Users have exceptional talents, but yours seems to be stamina."

Ian laughed, surprised by the unexpected compliment. Wasn’t this the same Ian who’d collapsed, weak and exhausted, after a single outing when he first arrived in Bratz? It seemed he was gradually getting stronger, traveling back and forth to the Great Desert.

"Let’s review the details. Cultivation, distribution, and consumption of Gula are permitted within the entire Bratz territory, but all external trade must go through the manor."

More precisely, through the Imperial Advisor, and even more precisely, through Ian.

Given Gula’s nature, this winter would undoubtedly be the first and last time Bratz had a monopoly. It was such a fast-breeding and common crop that, once perceptions changed, it would be consumed throughout all of Variel.

Romandro mumbled, chewing over the wording. "Perhaps we should add a clause about Merelof..."

"That’s not a good idea. It would give them an excuse to interfere. As things stand, we’re at a disadvantage."

"Hmm. Though he’s the one who started it."

"The aggressor always forgets."

"Well, that’s true. Then, regarding the related fines..."

As they fine-tuned the details, the moon climbed to the center of the sky. Ian glanced at his watch and nodded.

"This should be enough. Is there anything else? Ah, Nersaren."

Nersaren, who had been standing silently behind Kakan-tir for most of the meeting, raised his hand.

"Word has come from the Great Desert."

"From the Great Desert?"

"The tribal leader’s health has taken a turn for the worse."

It was the old man who’d once cheated death thanks to the Silask Ian had given him. They’d been relieved to hear he was recovering, but it seemed he couldn’t hold off death’s relentless push forever.

"Therefore, they’ve decided to use all the remaining Silask."

"Damn."

"Even if they planted it, they have no information on how to cultivate it, or how long it would take."

"Hold on. Could you fill me in? Who’s this tribal leader, and what’s this Silask?"

Romandro, who had been listening quietly, raised his hand. He didn’t understand any of it. He’d never even heard of Silask before.

Ian briefly explained what had happened.

"...So, to cure the gypsy’s illness, a red flower called Silask was needed, and as luck would have it, I had some. The Cheonryeo Tribe used one to get him through the crisis, and they were debating whether to plant the remaining one for the future or use it on Tribal Leader Winzen. That’s the decision they’ve made."

"Silask? Never heard of it."

"You really haven’t? It’s a red flower that, once bloomed, never fades."

If the advisor from the Imperial Palace didn’t know about it, that said it all. Even Ian, a former emperor in his past life, was unfamiliar with it. It was probably safe to assume it was hard to find in Variel.

"Our decision was largely influenced by the current situation in Bratz. Are you familiar with our burial customs?"

"Yes, I am."

When a chieftain or tribal leader dies, the entire tribe enters a year of seclusion. If a family member dies, only that family observes it, but the leader is considered family to all. Especially someone like Winzen, who had held the position for so long...

"Romandro."

"Hm?"

Ian tapped his fingers lightly on the table before calling out to him. The time had come to speak what had been left unsaid.

"Have you received any replies to the reports sent to the Imperial Palace?"

"No. Not a single one."

"I’m asking about a reply from His Highness, Prince Marib."

He knew they were sending messenger pigeons every day. The First Prince was clearly keeping the Molin faction in check, which was the same as keeping the Second Prince, Gale, in check. Everyone knew he couldn’t possibly be interested only in the reconstruction of Bratz.

"...There was one, just once."

"May I ask what it said?"

"It was nothing of importance. Just to report the territory’s situation thoroughly, and..."

Romandro glanced at Ian.

"Since I reported that you’re a Magic User, he told me to keep a close eye on you. Ahem. Really, that’s all. Nothing much, right?"

As far as Ian could guess, one of Gale’s main pillars of support was the Magic Department. He remembered the incident where a large number of already scarce mages were purged after the failed rebellion. So, the fact that Ian was a Magic User might make Marib feel a bit uneasy. Marib would be aware of this power dynamic, and he might misunderstand Ian as being on Gale’s side.

"Advisor. As you can see, I’m not on good terms with the Molin faction."

"Mm. Yes. I know. It seems that way. Heh heh."

Romandro let out an awkward laugh and took a sip of wine. He seemed a bit nervous about what Ian was going to say.

"I believe His Highness, Prince Marib, would prefer to appoint someone unrelated to the Molin faction as the new Lord of Bratz. Am I correct?"

"...There are matters between those in higher positions."

"I share that sentiment, Advisor."

"I had a bit of a hunch, actually."

"Since you suspected, it makes it easier to speak. Romandro, I know you wish to return to the capital. If a lord is appointed quickly, it would be beneficial for you as well, Advisor."

"Ian, you..."

"Recommend me as Lord."

The authority to appoint a lord belonged to the Emperor, but the recommendation of the First Prince, the heir apparent and the one with true power, would also carry significant weight. No matter that the blood of a criminal flowed in his veins; as long as Ian was a Magic User, such restrictions were meaningless. For the sake of Variel’s progress, someone had to secure him.

"Otherwise, I’ll have to return to the Great Desert. The new lord wouldn’t leave me alone, someone with the bloodline of the previous family. Furthermore, the Imperial Palace would try to monopolize my abilities, given my status as a slave."

"That may be true, but..."

"It’s the only way to protect my safety and the peace of Bratz. There’s no one better suited to address the public sentiment that the Imperial Palace is so concerned about."

And that wasn’t all. His remarkable work, meticulously documented in the reports, was proof of his abilities. The same went for the discovery of Gula. Eliminating the empire’s great famine alone was, frankly, worth more than the position of lord in this backwater territory.

Of course, things hadn’t progressed that far yet.

Romandro, as if having made up his mind, took out a cigarette.

"Alright. I’ll be frank."

"Please do."

"His Highness, Prince Marib, doesn’t understand the relationship between you and Molin."

From an outsider’s perspective, Ian had informed on his own father through Molin, and the aftermath had led to the current situation. It was as if he’d laid the groundwork for someone from Molin to be appointed lord.

Moreover, he was a Magic User. If he entered the Imperial Palace, he would undoubtedly be assigned to the Magic Department. It was an open secret that the head of the Magic Department, Wesley, was Gale’s woman.

No matter how you looked at it, Ian seemed to fit in well with Gale.

"If that’s the reason, I’ll prove it."

"How?"

"I’ll explain the details directly to His Highness, Prince Marib. No matter how detailed I am, there are things that can’t be conveyed through written words alone. But I can prove immediately that the Molin faction and I are on truly opposing paths."

By death itself.

Reading Ian’s calm gaze, Romandro felt a slight chill run down his spine. He wondered why he felt so uneasy, even though no further words were spoken.

"I, uh, I’ll convey that to His Highness, Prince Marib."

"Thank you."

In truth, Romandro also secretly believed that Ian was the right person for the job. But because of his background and the circumstances, he hadn’t been able to say it easily.

Besides, speaking up was like throwing himself directly into an unknown political vortex. All Romandro wanted was to finish the reconstruction quickly and return to his family home in the capital.

To the home where his beautiful wife was waiting!

"Well then, that’s enough for today."

"While we’re on the subject, may I ask one more favor?"

"What is it?"

"Could you perhaps find out if there are any merchant guilds in the capital that deal in Silask?"

The capital of the empire was the center of the world. If he wanted to find information, he would surely find something there. Romandro readily nodded, as it wasn’t a particularly difficult task.

"Alright. I’ll look into it."

"Thank you."

"It’s getting late. You should get some rest, too."

"Thank you for your hard work. I’ll see you tomorrow."

Creak.

Romandro and Nersaren gathered their things and left the meeting room. Ian, tapping his stiff shoulders, called for Berick outside.

"Berick. Let’s head out early tonight and come back soon."

"Tired?"

"Yeah. My eyes keep closing, it’s no use."

Ian smiled and draped his hood over his shoulders, then turned off all the lights in the meeting room. It was a pitch-black night, with not even the moon in sight.

"Lord Ian is here!"

"Shhh. Keep your voice down."

"Lord Ian. We’ve been waiting for you."

"You’re all still awake."

"Of course. By the way, I roasted some of the seeds for the first time yesterday. They were delicious!"

Word had already spread that Ian was distributing Gula at night. Everyone pretended to be asleep, locking their doors, but as soon as they heard his footsteps, they rushed out to greet him. Perhaps it was because of the excited atmosphere. It felt like the aftermath of a forbidden festival.

"Oh, what to do? I didn’t bring much tonight."

"Already? I only got a handful..."

"I’ll try to bring more tomorrow."

"Don’t make things difficult for Lord Ian! He’s helping us while avoiding the eyes of those Imperial Palace bastards, isn’t he?"

"Hey, you idiot! Those Imperial Palace bastards will hear you. I told you to keep your voice down."

Despite the commotion, they didn’t find it strange that the guards hadn’t arrived. No, it seemed they hadn’t even considered it. As if they were intoxicated by the joy Gula brought.

"When you come tomorrow, you have to give it to me first. Okay?"

"Alright. Now go inside and sleep."

Berick shook out the burlap sack he was carrying, showing that the Gula was gone. The disappointed residents dispersed one by one, and Ian turned to leave as well.

Step, step.

Once they left the alley, only the sound of their two pairs of footsteps could be heard. Perhaps it was because he was more tired than usual. Ian walked silently, then realized Berick had stopped.

"Aren’t you coming?"

"Ian."

Beric raised his eyebrows slyly, three times. Their gazes met, accompanied by a cool breeze. Ian also removed his hood, a faint smile on his lips.

"Let’s go."

Three sets of footsteps followed behind.

Ian continued walking ahead, pretending not to notice, and Berick conspicuously swung his arms, as if to show that he wasn’t carrying any weapons.