A Mage Reborn: Legacy of the Fallen Emperor
Chapter 69: Imperial Decree

Chapter 69: Chapter 69: Imperial Decree

A magnificent carriage, radiating power and importance, rolled through the estate gates. It resembled the previous arrival of the investigation team, yet was distinctly different. Even a blind man, from miles away, could sense that this carriage carried good news.

Curious villagers trailed after the carriage, following the path it carved through the dust.

"What’s this? Another carriage from the capital?"

"No way! The investigation team’s back already?"

"The banner’s different this time. And that carriage looks way too expensive. What’s happening, I wonder?"

"Carriages are always expensive, you moron."

"Whoa! It’s going up to the manor!"

Every servant working in the manor scurried outside. Ian, brushing dirt from his clothes, headed for the main gate.

Creak.

A long, impressive procession trailed the massive, ornate carriage. Imperial guards stood at rigid attention, ceremonial swords held at the ready. Their imposing presence hushed the gathering crowd.

An elderly woman emerged from the carriage.

"Ah. It’s Administrator Chielonia."

Romandrome recognized her, someone of similar rank to Molin. Deep wrinkles lined her face, yet her eyes shone with a fierce, piercing intelligence. She surveyed the surroundings with an air of grace, quickly locating Ian.

"Are you Ian?"

"I am."

"I bear a message from His Imperial Majesty. All of you, kneel."

Ian knelt carefully, and immediately, everyone in the manor followed his lead, bowing low. The woman, in a dignified and resonant voice, read from the scroll.

"-The recommendations of First Prince Marive Berosion and Advisor Romandrome have been approved by the council. In recognition of your meritorious service in rebuilding the territory and defending the border, Ian is hereby appointed as the new Viscount of the former Bratz territory. However..."

At the declaration of his appointment, the servants, forgetting all decorum, lifted their heads in excitement. The villagers gathered outside did the same, straining to hear every word from the Imperial Palace.

"-The fact that you are Derga Bratz’s bastard son is a stain that will not change, regardless of the circumstances. Therefore, a conditional offer is presented. If you remit to the Imperial Palace the taxes Derga Bratz failed to pay, along with the ’opportunity cost’ of elevating your status, the glory of a new family will be passed down to future generations."

Well, well.

Ian’s eyebrows rose slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips. In short, it meant he was a lord on probation. If he made the payment within the allotted time, he could continue in his position without issue. Failure, however, would place everything under the Imperial Palace’s control.

All of Ian’s assets, including his very status.

"That concludes His Imperial Majesty’s message. A formal investiture ceremony will be held at the Imperial Palace at the end of the year. If you agree to these terms, present yourself at the capital at the appointed time."

At the investiture ceremony, he would be granted a new surname and could officially declare his family’s crest, among other things. Ian nodded subtly.

"Was there no mention of the deadline for this payment?"

"It will be one year from the date of the investiture ceremony. The total amount to be repaid is 10,000 gold coins."

"Gah!"

A startled gasp escaped from one of the servants. It was likely the first time they had ever heard of such an astronomical sum – 10,000 gold coins! How could anyone possibly amass that kind of wealth? Especially considering it was in addition to the regular annual taxes.

Chielonia carefully rolled up the scroll and handed it to Ian.

"You do, of course, have the right to refuse."

"Absolutely not. It is His Imperial Majesty’s command."

And he truly meant it. The scroll included the phrase "opportunity cost of elevating your status." This was almost certainly a reference to the possibility of demoting Ian, a mana user, to the status of a bound slave. Refusing the appointment would be the same as pleading to be enslaved. Even fleeing to the Great Desert would offer no escape, not if the Imperial Palace was determined to hunt him down.

"I accept with the utmost gratitude."

"The investiture ceremony will coincide with the New Year’s celebration. Further details regarding the schedule will be sent separately. Please prepare the family crest you wish to have officially recognized."

The surname was bestowed by the Emperor; Ian had no say in that.

"Yes. I understand."

"Congratulations, Viscount Ian."

Though not yet formally proclaimed, the Emperor’s decree had effectively reached him. Chielonia inclined her head slightly towards Ian, offering her congratulations.

"Thank you."

"Ah, and one more matter."

She paused, carefully selecting her next words.

"Yes?"

"Is Sir Molin well?"

Being of similar age and belonging to the same administrative branch, they were undoubtedly colleagues of many years. Romandrome’s report had confirmed a conflict between Ian and Molin, but it lacked any mention of Molin’s current condition, leading to Chielonia’s understandable concern.

"He is perfectly well."

"I will now convey, not the order of His Imperial Majesty, but that of His Highness, Second Prince Giel."

She stepped forward from the carriage and produced another scroll from within her robes.

With a flourish, she unrolled it. - Secure the custody of Molin, Mac, and Degorr and return with them.

Chielonia held her head high, her gaze demanding immediate compliance. Ian, arms crossed, simply stared back at her.

"What are you waiting for?"

"I should be asking you that. What are you doing?"

Her eyebrows drew together in a slight frown at his unexpected defiance. He should be bowing low, eager to obey, yet here he was, questioning her. But Ian’s next words contained information that surprised even Romandrome.

"His Imperial Majesty is like the sun. Just as the sun moves ceaselessly, the carriage should minimize its stops. And just as there is only one sun in the sky, only His Majesty’s command should be delivered. Surely, Administrator, you must be aware of this."

"...!"

No extraneous matters could be appended to the Emperor’s command. An imperial decree had to be delivered in its pure form, without any additional conditions or riders. This was a long-standing, inviolable protocol of the Imperial Palace. So why was she attaching Giel’s order?

"This is a truly egregious breach of protocol. Administrator, you must be well aware that you could be dismissed if His Imperial Majesty were to learn of this."

Romandrome, standing beside him, shifted uneasily, his eyes darting about.

"I-Is that true, Ian?"

"It’s the most fundamental rule. Were you not aware, Sir Romandrome?"

"I’ve never... had the occasion to receive a direct order from His Imperial Majesty..."

Unless it was a matter of utmost importance, the delivery of imperial decrees was typically handled by the council. There were rarely instances requiring delivery to such a remote location. This was an unspoken rule that Ian knew from his past life – a life where he had once held the very title of Emperor.

Chielonia’s expression remained rigid.

’How could a lowborn bastard from the borderlands know such a thing...?’

Most nobles wouldn’t be aware of this unless they were particularly interested in courtly matters. She hadn’t anticipated that he would know and challenge her so directly. She momentarily considered how to respond, but Ian preempted her.

"This appears to be a grave act of disrespect towards His Imperial Majesty and Prince Marive, Administrator Chielonia. I can confirm that Molin and his associates are unharmed, but I cannot go beyond that."

Protocol aside, Molin and his group were loyal followers of the enemy. There was no guarantee they wouldn’t turn on him again, like vipers in the grass.

’Are the magic corps, and the administrative branch as well, aligned with Giel? Or is it only Molin and Chielonia? Whatever the case, I regret to say, I cannot release those three.’

Ian studied Chielonia’s face, his own expression resolute. Giel had apparently attempted to take responsibility and retrieve them, but no one could lay a hand on them until Marive issued a direct order.

"...Viscount Ian. This is an exceptional circumstance."

"Exceptional? In what way? And please bear in mind, everything you say now is being heard by everyone present. Choose your words carefully."

One lie leads to another. Ian nodded slightly, urging her to continue. If he was so knowledgeable about the protocols of delivering imperial decrees, he would surely know even more.

Chielonia bit her lower lip, struggling to conceal her frustration.

"...First, let us confirm the well-being of Molin and his associates. This will, of course, be reported to the Imperial Palace."

"By all means. I will show you the way. Beric!"

"Right away, sir!"

"The carriage has been delayed long enough. We should make haste, Administrator Chielonia."

Chielonia, ignoring Ian, strode towards the main building. As Ian prepared to follow, he caught sight of the servants lined up, their eyes fixed on him. Their gazes sparkled, bright as stars. They whispered amongst themselves, their teeth clenched as if practicing ventriloquism.

"Congratulations, Lord Ian!"

"Good heavens, you’ve become a noble! This is truly unbelievable...!"

"They say Lord Ian is to receive the title of Viscount!"

"A Viscount! My word, isn’t that above a Baron?"

They celebrated Ian’s elevation in rank with one voice. It signified the normalization of Bratz, their hometown, and guaranteed the continued security of their employment at the manor.

Ian smiled, acknowledging their gratitude, and followed Chielonia towards the underground prison.

"This way."

Chielonia’s pace quickened at Beric’s guidance. But Ian’s voice stopped her short.

"Refrain from any imprudent conversation."

"What?"

"Molin is suspected of colluding with external forces to have me assassinated. Now that I have been appointed lord, I possess the authority to detain Molin for my own protection."

It was a thinly veiled threat – any misstep, and he would have them killed. Chielonia felt a growing sense of unease, her carefully laid plans unraveling. The scenario she had envisioned for the past two weeks was nothing like this.

’I feel like I’m constantly being checked...’

There was a simple solution in such situations: silence. Chielonia stared straight ahead, maintaining her silence. Ian, after a brief, assessing glance, instructed the Chunryeo tribesman.

"Open the door."

Creak.

The door swung open, releasing a wave of unfamiliar, musty air. Despite daily cleaning, the lack of windows made the damp odor unavoidable.

"Molin!"

"...Chielonia?"

"Administrator Chielonia!"

"What brings you here? No, wait, get us out of here! That good-for-nothing scoundrel has..."

Mac, who had been shouting about their unjust imprisonment, trailed off upon seeing Chielonia’s attire. It was the formal regalia worn when delivering imperial decrees. At this particular time, an imperial decree could only mean one thing.

"Don’t tell me... that bastard Ian received the appointment as lord?"

Silence was the only answer to Mac’s despairing question. Molin sat in his chair, his fingers gently pressing against his eyelids. From their perspective, it was the worst possible outcome. Everything was going wrong, a tangled mess with no sign of unraveling.

"Is His Highness Giel well?"

"Hahaha."

Ian, overhearing Molin’s question, let out a burst of laughter. It echoed so clearly and brightly that Chielonia could only stare at him in bewildered confusion.

"You see? He’s eating well, sleeping soundly, and attending to all his needs, even while worrying about others. It’s quite comfortable, apart from the absence of windows. What greater luxury could one ask for, especially when accused of masterminding an assassination?"

Chielonia couldn’t refute Ian’s words. Although they were unkempt, there were no signs of torture or mistreatment. The cell was surprisingly spacious, furnished with all the necessities. It was difficult to believe it was a prison.

"If you have something to say, say it. And Sir Mac, as you correctly surmised, as of this moment, I am Viscount Ian. I expect you to address me appropriately."

There was a vast difference between being the offspring of a noble family and inheriting a noble title. Ian had become the one responsible for the territory, and he was warning them to show him the respect he was due. Failure to do so could result in charges of lèse-majesté.

"Viscount... Ian. I would like to have a private word with you."

Chielonia, who had been observing the situation, interjected with a plea. But Ian’s answer was already decided.

"Oh, I must decline."