A Mage Reborn: Legacy of the Fallen Emperor
Chapter 66. The Bastards

Chapter 66: Chapter 66. The Bastards

Ian and the mansion servants hauled all the Gula seeds they’d been accumulating to the square. What had started as a mere four sacks had ballooned to well over a hundred.

The seedlings, carefully nurtured for research, were also wrapped in paper and loaded onto carts. It took a good five or six trips, the carts lining up one after another.

"Good heavens. How is there so much?"

"We scoured the nearby mountains and fields. That’s why."

"And you’re giving all of this away for free?"

Ian gestured for them to form a line, and they moved, forming a somewhat orderly queue. Beside him, one of Romandro’s men was flipping through documents. Distributing the Gula was a task in itself; it would take a while.

"Listen carefully. The Gula seeds will be distributed based on the size of the fields you’re cultivating. Families with many mouths to feed will receive additional seedlings. I expect you to actively share cultivation and cooking methods with each other, to lessen the burden on the mansion."

"He’s giving away seedlings, too!"

"Shh! Be quiet. I can’t hear."

"We can’t hear in the back!"

Ian raised a single finger and shouted, "We are giving away the Gula free of charge now. But next year, at harvest time, we will collect an additional ten percent tax. Furthermore, any trade of Gula with outsiders must go through the mansion. Violators will be fined fifty gold coins."

"F-Fifty coins?"

"Good lord, that’s terrifying."

The average tenant farmer earned about one gold coin a month. They were momentarily shocked by the severity of the fine, but on second thought, it didn’t seem like a big deal.

"W-What about selling and buying amongst ourselves?"

"That’s fine. The important thing is outsiders. You cannot sell seeds, roots, or anything related to Gula to outsiders on your own."

"That... that shouldn’t be a problem, right?"

"Yeah. The only outsiders are the desert tribes and... who else? Mereloff. Hard to find anyone else."

"Right. N-No problem! No problem at all!"

"You, you owe me a debt, don’t you? Pay me back with some Gula."

Ian continued his instructions, raising his voice even louder, "And anyone who reports a violator will receive a reward. If anyone is unhappy with the additional tax, you don’t have to take the Gula."

"How much is ten percent?"

"For every ten sacks of wheat, you’ll give one more."

"What about fifty sacks?"

"...Five sacks. If you can’t do the math, ask one of the staff."

Each person worriedly calculated their increased taxes for the next year, counting on their fingers. But they needed to eat and survive now to even see next year. The Gula distribution began, and the man at the front of the line stepped forward.

"Aolden Parma."

"Ah, yes. You tend the farmland near the riverbank."

"How much do I get?"

"Here. Five scoops."

It was only five scoops, but considering its prolific nature, it was a substantial amount. Those who had arrived late stomped their feet impatiently, inching closer to the front. Ian held them back, saying, "Those who don’t receive Gula today, don’t worry. There will be a second distribution."

Since external trade was prohibited, anything cultivated would eventually return to the mansion. It was only a matter of time before all the residents of Bratz would be growing Gula.

"Next!"

As he was helping with the distribution, Beric whispered from behind, "Ian. You need to come back to the mansion. One of the bastards woke up."

"...I’ll be there shortly."

Ian gave a nod to Romandro’s men, indicating they should continue, and left the square. The mansion, emptied of Gula and people, seemed much quieter and emptier than usual.

Tap, tap, tap!

"You’ve arrived?"

"The other one woke up? What about Petreyo?"

The doctor, soaked in sweat, wiped his face with the back of his hand and sighed. He’d never seen a patient in such a horrific state. This was... something else.

"There’s no hope. At most, he has until the end of the day."

"...Tough bastard."

Beric peeked through the doorway at Petreyo. The man was a bloody mess, barely clinging to life. To be in that state and still not talk... he wasn’t the type to open his mouth, even in death.

Swoosh.

"And the other one?"

"He’s wide awake. Started crying and begging the moment he opened his eyes..."

He begged for his life, rubbing his hands together so desperately. They were the ones who almost died, Ian and Beric, but an outsider might think they’d kidnapped some innocent soul.

Ian opened the door and entered. The man, who had been scraping at a bowl of barley porridge, froze.

"Ah..."

"It’s Ian. Glad to see me in the daylight?"

"Please, spare me! Spare me!"

Clatter!

The barley porridge went flying, and the man slammed his head back onto the floor, begging. He was sobbing uncontrollably, almost having a fit. Ian sighed and asked, "Name?"

"C-Colin."

"Keep talking."

Ian sat down in a chair and nodded. Colin wiped the porridge from his lips and cleared his throat.

"W-Well, I’m Colin, I’m twenty years old, I have two older brothers and three younger ones."

"...You’ve got to be kidding me. I don’t care about that."

"Hey, you want your head smashed in with that porridge bowl?" Berick growled.

"Eek!"

Berick threatened him, and the man started rubbing his hands together again.

"So, I’m an errand boy at the gambling den. I overheard the guards talking. They said some guy was offering a bunch of money to hire muscle."

"Where are they from?"

"I-I’m from Mereloff..."

Just as I thought. There was nowhere else nearby to recruit people. Ian smiled, and Beric kicked the man hard in the shin.

Thwack!

"Aaargh!"

"So? Who was this ’some guy’?"

"I-I don’t know! Why would we need to know each other’s business? You just give the money and do the work. I didn’t even meet him. I got the money from the guards."

Berick glanced at Ian.

"What should we do? Kill him?"

"Spare me! Please! I’ll do anything you say! Aaaargh!"

"My, my. I haven’t even touched him, and his screams are fantastic."

Berick kicked the man clinging to Ian’s feet, pulling him away. Judging by his behavior, he wasn’t likely to kill himself to keep quiet. Ian tapped his fingertips together, thinking.

’Mereloff...’

"Ian?"

"Keep him locked up. And is anyone outside?"

"Yes, Lord Ian. There is. What is it?"

"I’m sending a letter to Mereloff. Prepare a horse."

Ian emerged onto the ground floor and gave the order to a servant. Then he went straight up to the drawing-room and knocked on the door. Romandro, who was inside writing a report, jumped in surprise and welcomed him.

"What is it? Did Petreyo die?"

"No. He’s still clinging to life. One of the attackers woke up and confessed he’s from Mereloff. Most of them probably are. He said they were guards who worked at the gambling den. I’d like to write a letter. Will you help me?"

Romandro put down his quill and tried to grasp Ian’s intentions. Sending a letter was one thing, but why was he asking for help with that? He furrowed his brow, guessing.

"Are you trying to create a justification?"

"You could say that."

"Heh. Indeed."

Ian sat down across from him, and Romandro turned the report he’d been writing and handed it to him. It was a recommendation for Ian’s appointment as lord. It was filled with praise for the discovery of Gula, the alliance with the Great Desert, and the rebuilding of the territory.

"Do you like it?"

"I hope it pleases Her Highness Marive and His Majesty the Emperor. Just in case, include one of Molin’s belongings when you send it. Do you have a ring?"

"Yes. So, what shall we write to Mereloff?"

He took out a new sheet of paper and dipped his quill in ink.

"’Ian, who has been recommended as the next lord, was attacked’ is a good start."

This was the reason Romandro, the Imperial Advisor, was writing instead of Ian. Ian’s current status was too low; even if he raised the issue, it was likely to be ignored.

But being nominated as the "next lord," and having the advisor write on his behalf due to his injuries, would make it difficult for Mereloff to dismiss it lightly.

"The attackers who assaulted the prospective lord were thugs from Mereloff. One of the group survived and confessed, revealing this fact. This is a matter that could easily cause a misunderstanding between us."

Scratch, scratch.

If Ian were the lord?

He could immediately raise an army, and it wouldn’t be a problem. But that wasn’t the reality, so he had to borrow Romandro’s authority. Mereloff might brazenly threaten to kill his people.

It seemed entirely possible, given it was the Count of Mereloff.

"Therefore, we request that you send someone to identify and retrieve the bodies, and we urge your full cooperation in the investigation."

"Good. The ink flows well, very good."

"And it would be good to add a request for compensation."

Romandro scratched his nose with the quill.

"How much should we ask for? Would 100 gold coins be appropriate?"

"That’s reasonable, but since we’re at it, it’s better to ask for more. We don’t actually expect to receive it anyway."

This was the same man who had cruelly rejected their request for food aid, even on humanitarian grounds. They’d probably have to ask for 200 coins to get maybe 20 after haggling.

"Let’s see, hmm..."

Romandro pondered for a moment, then finished the letter with elegant prose. He then pressed his ring seal firmly onto it and handed the sealed letter to Ian.

"Is everything ready outside?"

"Yes, Lord Ian. A horse has been prepared."

"Deliver this to the Count of Mereloff. Be careful."

The servant carefully tucked the letter into his clothes and left the drawing-room. It would probably take some time to get a proper response.

"Since you said it’s for justification, I hope we don’t receive a reply at all."

Ian smiled brightly at Romandro’s words.

That was precisely what Ian wanted.

"We probably won’t receive it until winter. Their Gula seeds must be depleted, and it will be difficult for them to plant immediately, so they’ll surely want the Gula itself before long."

When that time came, bringing up this incident would give them grounds to refuse initially, and secondly, it would be a reason to raise the price of Gula.

He would return the favor, exactly as the Count of Mereloff had done to him.

"Just thinking about him having to buy that weed at a high price makes me laugh. His expression will be priceless."

But Ian’s situation and theirs were different. Ian didn’t need to buy their food, but they wouldn’t be able to back down unless they had an alternative.

Romandro continued to finish the report he was sending to the capital.

"But, you see, even if you are appointed lord, the fact that you’re a magic user has been reported, so you might have to stay in the capital for a long time, no?"

Becoming lord was the priority, of course, but there were still issues even after that. They wouldn’t send Ian, a magic user, to the outskirts.

"Who will look after this place then?"

"It’s not uncommon for lords to spend long periods in the capital."

"That’s true, but that’s when they have a steward."

Ian simply smiled in response.

For now, that was something to think about after returning to the Imperial Court. He could re-evaluate his plans after confirming whether this unbelievable regression was related to Naum’s magic.

"I don’t know. Let’s think about that after I become lord. The investiture ceremony is at the New Year’s gathering anyway. I hope Her Highness Marive will be helpful."

Marive’s help... Romandro only made a strange expression at Ian’s words. It was an ambiguous response, neither affirming nor denying.