A Mage Reborn: Legacy of the Fallen Emperor
Chapter 65. Gathered by Heart

Chapter 65: Chapter 65. Gathered by Heart

"Oh my, heavens. What is all that?"

"They said there was an uproar in the middle of the night."

"But why? Who?"

"They said Ian was attacked on his way back to the mansion."

"Whaaat?! How?"

"Isn’t that what they’re investigating now? He went out to distribute Gula, and look at this disaster."

"Is Ian...? Is he one of those bodies?"

As dawn broke, everyone learned of the night’s events. With corpses piled high, blocking the alley, it was impossible to keep it a secret. And what about the blood, flowing all the way to the main street?

The guards lined up the bodies for identification, while the people whispered, keeping their distance.

Meanwhile, the mansion was just as noisy, especially the basement of the main building.

"Aaaargh!"

Two of the attackers had survived.

One was presumed to be ’Petreyo,’ the other an unidentified man. Petreyo, gagged, screamed, drenched in sweat, tears, and blood.

"Do you have any idea how terrible you look?"

"Ugh..."

"You’re going to die at this rate. Just identify yourself, and I’ll have a physician attend to you."

In truth, a physician had already come while he was unconscious. But the wounds were so bizarre, so severe, that the physician had declared he wouldn’t last three days. Beric pressed a cloth against Petreyo’s face, annoyed.

"Just open your damn mouth!"

"Aaaargh!"

"Stop screaming! Damn it, anyone would think I was torturing you!"

Though he was tied to a chair and gagged, their actions were closer to nursing than torture. They had tried to clean the filth with lukewarm water, but so much skin had been torn off that even that brought agony.

"Guh..."

"Beric. That’s enough. Strip him. Completely."

"His clothes? All of them?"

"Don’t leave a single thread."

"Ugh."

Beric, though displeased, followed Ian’s order.

Petreyo was military. It wasn’t clear exactly what kind of work he did, but he’d clearly worked under the rules of the Imperial Palace. Judging by his age, he’d likely participated in his share of battles, large and small. In such cases, it was common to mark one’s body with proof of identity. So that even if they became a mangled corpse on the battlefield, they could return to their homeland.

"Huh? Is this it?"

Beric, stripping off Petreyo’s upper garment, found a tattoo on his left flank. But the flesh had been deliberately wounded, scraped. A meticulous preparation.

"Tsk, tsk."

Ian leaned down, examined the wound, and met his eyes. Even with his stomach pierced, his face melting, his eyes hadn’t lost their light. Men like these rarely opened their mouths easily. Molin would know that.

"I don’t want to torture someone who’s about to die."

"..."

"But a true warrior never forgets revenge. I hope, for your sake, you have no one precious to you. Anyone bearing the name Petreyo will meet the same death as you."

The words were calm, but incredibly cruel. In truth, Ian had little intention of doing so, but he’d thrown it out to probe for a weakness. As expected, Petreyo showed no reaction.

"...Keep a close watch on him."

"Okay. Whew. The smell of blood is sickening. Seriously."

Ian, with no other choice, left the aftermath to Beric and stepped out into the basement corridor.

Creak.

"...Aaaargh!"

Petreyo’s scream leaked through the closing door, then abruptly stopped. As Ian moved towards the opposite end of the corridor, he heard someone practically tumbling down the stairs.

Thump! Tap-tap-tap! Thump-thump!

"I-I-Ian!"

"Ah. Royal Romandro. You’re awake."

"This! This! Oh my..."

He had rushed down immediately upon waking, and was quite lightly dressed. He grabbed Ian’s shoulders, looking him up and down, seemingly flustered that he was so unharmed.

"They said... over a dozen men were killed..."

"As you can see, I’m perfectly fine."

"As expected, a Magic User is different! As expected!"

"Please, calm down."

If Beric had heard that, he would have been furious. I’m the one who took a beating, he’d say, so why is Ian getting all the praise?

"A man named Petreyo conspired to carry out this attack. He seems to be Molin’s subordinate, but he disfigured his face with poison the moment he was caught, making identification impossible. The investigation is ongoing, but he keeps giving strange names."

"M-Molin’s group?"

"They’re in a similar state."

At Romandro’s question, Ian gestured with his chin towards the room at the end of the corridor. It was where Molin and two other men were confined.

"What will you do now?"

Romandro paced in front of Ian, then asked, seemingly at a loss. In truth, even if it were true that Molin had tried to kill Ian, there was nothing, conventionally speaking, that could be held against him. Molin was an Administrator of the Imperial Palace, and Ian, as Molin claimed, was a commoner based in the Great Desert. Even though Ian was a Magic User and the head of the mansion, none of those were official positions.

"Will you kill him?"

"No. I refuse to have any more investigation teams sent down from the Imperial Palace."

If Ian killed Molin, the Imperial Palace would send more people. If things went badly, Gale’s faction might even send an army to execute Ian.

"Then?"

"It’s not my decision to make."

"...Huh?"

"I told you, didn’t I? That I would prove myself. So, send a message to Royal Marib. I will abide by their decision."

Besides proving he wasn’t on Gale’s side, this was the cleanest method, the one with the least repercussions. He had a rough idea of the situation in the Imperial Palace, but it was just an assumption. He couldn’t be certain what the consequences of Molin’s death would be, so he was passing that responsibility to Marib.

"Then, until we receive a reply..."

"We’ll leave them there. That much is fine."

"Alright. I’ll send a carrier pigeon right away."

"Ah. Just a moment, Royal Romandro."

Ian stopped him as he was about to rush up the stairs. He handed him the ring, carefully wrapped in cloth. It was a simple silver ring, but there was a small needle inside, and the area around it was discolored with poison.

"Have you heard of anything like this? When it pricked him, his face immediately started to melt."

"Hmm. Let’s see..."

Romandro pulled his face back, squinting.

"Are they planning to use this again?"

"Can it be used again?"

"Well, it would need a technician to re-insert the needle, but it’s not entirely unusable. The poison seems to be Tebarfin. It’s used by assassins to hide their identities, or, you know, by human traffickers... that’s it."

Human trafficking, organ trafficking, and so on.

It was a toxic substance actively used in crimes where the identity of the corpse had to be concealed. It wasn’t used at all in Ian’s time, which was somewhat shocking.

"Such a thing exists?"

"You might not know. Why so surprised?"

So, 100 years ago, they used such a potent poison. Ian felt a shiver run down his spine. How many crimes must have been committed and buried, thanks to the disfigurement of corpses?

It was clearly a poison that wasn’t even recognized in Ian’s time. There must have been a reason it was banned, but he couldn’t know that.

Romandro glanced at Ian, then said he would write the letter and went upstairs.

"I’ll send it as quickly as possible."

"Yes. Thank you. I’ll see you later."

Ian wrapped the ring in the cloth again and tucked it into his inner pocket. Then, he approached the room at the end of the corridor where Molin and his men were confined.

"Was there any disturbance inside?"

"No, there wasn’t."

"Open the door."

Thunk.

At Ian’s command, the guard unlocked the padlock, which was the size of a man’s fist. Only wooden bowls, like feeding animals, were scattered on the floor.

At the sound of the door opening, Mac instinctively stood.

"Ian, you bastard!"

But he was immediately restrained by the guards. Ian placed the overturned wooden bowl on the table.

"Did you sleep well?"

"You insolent commoner! How dare you, knowing who we are? Open this door immediately! Or I’ll kill you! The Imperial Palace won’t let you get away with this!"

This time, Dregor also didn’t hide his anger. He rushed forward as if he were about to grab Ian by the collar.

"We are here by order of the Imperial Palace! Treating us like this is an insult to the Center! Act like the outskirts you are! Cheonryeo tribe! You lot should behave yourselves, too! Ian, as someone said, is currently affiliated with the Cheonryeo tribe! If such a person treats an Imperial Palace Administrator this way, do you not understand what that means?"

"Isn’t that why you’re still alive?"

"Wh-What?"

"If it weren’t for the Imperial banner, you’d be sitting in Petreyo’s place instead of eating."

Ian took out the ring, holding the band with the cloth and bringing the needle close to Mac’s face. Flinch. Mac, aware of the object, instinctively pulled back.

"Petreyo?!"

"The investigation is ongoing. Even if the face is necrotized, the existence doesn’t disappear. And haven’t you already heard?"

The red brooch Berik had shown. Their secret conversation had been recorded. But Molin and his men weren’t intimidated. Instead, they shouted, claiming injustice.

"We know nothing about it! If you’re so confident, hold a proper trial! What kind of damned process is this? How dare a nameless...!"

"How can a man have a name when even the territory has lost its own? Dregor, this is the outskirts. It’s not the Center you’re used to."

Ian brushed Mac’s ruffled collar.

"A subordinate’s mistake is the superior’s mistake. Above all, the warriors of the Great Desert do not take revenge lightly. The brooch leads to a natural conclusion, and I have no intention of simply letting this go."

Specifically, he would punish Molin and his men according to Marib’s instructions. Ian looked at the scattered barley porridge.

"Food is precious."

It was a warning that next time, they might have to eat what was on the floor. Ian signaled the guards to keep a close watch and stepped out.

Click.

"Ian! I-Ian!"

Just then, Hana came running down into the basement, calling out to Ian.

"What is it?"

"The citizens, all of them, they’ve come in droves!"

The citizens? Why? What for?

But Hana, in her haste, just stamped her feet and ran ahead.

Chasing after her, Ian considered several possibilities. To loot the Gula? Or perhaps forces that Molin had arranged?

"Ian!"

As he emerged from the basement, sunlight poured down. Beneath it, the gathered citizens. They were all carrying wildflowers or small fruits. They, too, seemed surprised to see Ian.

"He’s unharmed!"

"Oh, thank goodness. Thank goodness!"

"Who, huh? Who was spreading those rumors? Saying Ian had a huge knife wound in his stomach?"

"We were worried. We heard there was a huge attack in the middle of the night... And the alley was so soaked with blood."

"You’re alright, aren’t you? Going out in the middle of the night, and then..."

"Shh! Be quiet! The Center bastards will hear."

"Ian. Take this. It’s small, but good."

The citizens surrounding Ian poured out their concerns. They checked him with their eyes for any injuries and pressed gifts into his hands. In an instant, his arms were filled with flowers and fruit.

"All this..."

Ian paused, unable to speak, and looked down at the flowers. He finally remembered what had sustained him for those short three years, bearing the weight of the crown.

Such small smiles. That was all.

"It’s good that you’ve all come. Royal Romandro has finally given his permission."

"Sir? Permission...?"

"Permission for the cultivation, distribution, and consumption of Gula."

"Woooaaah! Oh my!"

"Thank you! Thank you!"

At the unexpectedly early good news, everyone embraced, jumping for joy. Ian gestured for them to calm down, and they all looked at him, eyes shining.

"But there are conditions."

"Just tell us!"

Everyone chattered excitedly, imagining a plentiful winter. Ian handed the flowers and fruit to Hana.

"Tell all the citizens to gather in the square this afternoon. I will announce it and give the instructions."