A Mage Reborn: Legacy of the Fallen Emperor
Chapter 73: The Plot

Chapter 73: Chapter 73: The Plot

A Mereloff butler’s day was a study in routine.

He woke, straightened the bedding, and oversaw the servants, confirming their morning duties. While breakfast cooked, he sorted the letters for delivery to the office.

All before the first hint of dawn.

Knock-knock.

"Are you awake, my lord?"

Hearing Count Mereloff’s reply, the butler opened the door and entered the bedroom. It was a suite of three rooms, and at the innermost chamber, the Count was already fully dressed, his wife still abed.

"The weather’s definitely turning colder."

"I’ll have the fireplace cleaned, my lord."

Count Mereloff examined the letters on the tray one by one. Most were merely formal missives for maintaining social connections.

"What’s this?" The Count gestured with a letter.

"Ah. My apologies, my lord."

It was a reply from Ian. Of course, the butler thought. Someone had to maintain appearances.

Count Mereloff scoffed. "You’re too damn diligent."

Then, his hand stopped. Ian had sent a reply not only to the Count but also to the Countess. Without hesitation, the Count broke the wax seal and scanned the contents.

"This..."

His expression was one of utter bewilderment. The prominent bones of his brow furrowed even further. A bead of cold sweat trickled down the butler’s back.

"It’s addressed to Rien?"

"W-well, my lord, knowing you had no intention of sending congratulations, he sent one in your stead. Given the Lady’s dedication to her household duties..."

Count Mereloff placed the letter on the table and stared at it intently. He couldn’t believe his day was starting like this.

"He sent a gift as well, I see."

"He selected some unused items from the storage."

"Himself?"

"...Yes."

"He *personally* selected items and sent a letter of congratulations? And Ian received it *gratefully*? Have they met separately?"

The butler shook his head lightly but firmly.

It was just a pile of junk no one even knew existed. Even if the exchange of greetings was polite, the Count, being a noble, knew better than anyone that it wasn’t sincere.

Rustle.

The sound of the Countess stirring in the inner chamber was unusually loud. Today, it seemed, the butler wasn’t the only one having a rough start.

"I’m certain they haven’t, my lord."

"When Ian came to the central mansion, did they not meet then?"

"Ah, th-they did cross paths when I saw him off. But it was very, *very* brief, and they didn’t exchange any words."

The butler added a desperate explanation, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears. The Count’s already sallow complexion was now flushed with blood. It was as if his blood pressure was visibly rising.

"Good morning."

Just then, the Countess emerged from the inner chamber, dressed in a light robe. She yawned like a cat, then snatched the letter from the Count’s hand.

"Why are you reading something addressed to me?"

"Look here, Rien."

"Let’s see, what does it say? Hmm. He says he’s genuinely pleased. Should I be happy about this, or not? Hahaha."

The Countess laughed, seemingly oblivious to her husband’s troubled mood. The butler turned his head, determined not to look, and the atmosphere in the bedroom grew even more twisted. It was the effect of one side being infinitely light and the other infinitely heavy.

"Prepare breakfast."

"Yes, my lord."

"I want venison steak today."

"Yes, my lady. I will see to it."

"You said that last time, too, and it never appeared."

"...I apologize. I will rectify it."

It was a fall without the joy of harvest. The great mansion was always well-stocked, so there were no problems with running the kitchen, but materials that needed to be sourced externally were often difficult to obtain in a single day.

Especially venison, as in this case.

Countess Mereloff perched on the table and casually asked her husband.

"Darling. I hear the Bratz people are all cultivating and eating Gulla. Apparently, it’s surprisingly delicious?"

"They’re associating with beasts, so they’ve become beasts themselves. Do they eat that because they have nothing else to eat?"

"That may be the case for us, but things are different for those below us. Lord Ian said he wanted to see me to thank me, should I go and visit?"

"Where? Bratz?"

Count Mereloff’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. But the Countess just shrugged, as if it were no big deal.

"Well, do you think I’d go anywhere else?"

"Nonsense. Every year at this time, it’s the same old story. There’s no food, this and that. Soon, a large merchant caravan will arrive from the Hawan Kingdom, so they just need to hold on until then. How can they be so incapable of learning? Tsk, tsk."

It wasn’t that they lacked the ability to learn. It was *because* they had learned that the number of people farming decreased each year, while the number of residents opening entertainment businesses or lodging increased. Even with winter approaching, many were relying solely on the merchant caravan without making any preparations.

*...Problems inside and out,* the butler thought.

The butler bowed his head and left the bedroom. Countess Mereloff simply smiled at him, not saying a word.

"Darling."

As soon as the door was completely closed, Rien placed her hand on her husband’s shoulder and asked. The Count’s mood was still at rock bottom.

"So, when is the caravan from Hawan arriving?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Can’t I ask?"

"...I received a message that they’ll depart in a month."

"A month. Then, considering the time to cross the mountains, a month and a half? No, maybe a month and a week..."

The Count’s scowl deepened at his wife’s muttering. She had always been unpredictable, but lately, it had gotten worse.

"I hope they arrive soon."

With that, she slipped out of the bedroom. In the hallway, a man who was cleaning a window paused and looked towards the door. The woman shot him a look so cold it was almost murderous.

"Clark. Make sure those windows are sparkling. Guests are coming from the Hawan Kingdom in a month."

"...Yes. I understand."

The man named Clark simply nodded and replied that he understood. He continued to wipe the window, repeating to himself: A month later, Hawan Kingdom departure. A month later, Hawan Kingdom departure...

* * *

After Kakantir left, Ian immersed himself in his office, thoroughly researching Mereloff. There was nothing more important in battle than knowing your enemy. Before contacting Mereloff, it was advantageous to learn as much as possible about them.

"By the way, about Countess Mereloff..."

"The Countess?"

Romandro’s subordinate flipped through the report and tilted his head in puzzlement.

"We’ve confirmed her name is Rien Mereloff, but we don’t know her origins."

"You mean you don’t know her family name?"

"Not just her family name, but also her social status. We don’t know her exact rank. They’ve been married for three years, but the wedding ceremony was so small that many residents only found out about it later."

Hearing Romandro and his subordinate’s conversation, Ian looked up. No matter how modest they tried to be, he was still a Count.

"That means there’s a significant difference in their social status."

"That’s what I think, too. Perhaps she was a commoner?"

"Hmm. I wonder."

Ian shrugged, recalling Countess Mereloff’s peculiar smile. One thing was certain: she was an outsider. And most importantly, since she knew about Dripper, she couldn’t be of ordinary origin.

"Have you identified the merchant caravan departing from the Hawan Kingdom?"

"It’s the Illak Caravan, a group that comes around every five years. Including the caravan leader, there are about 100 members."

"That’s not as large as I expected."

"But their route is consistent, so many people entrust themselves to them."

Individuals traveling or small merchant groups paid money to join and ensure their safety. Since that number exceeded fifty, it could be considered a scale of roughly 150 to 200 people.

"The Illak Caravan is the first, and after that, larger and smaller caravans will continue to arrive at intervals of fifteen days."

"Then, it’s important to catch those in the beginning."

"If they accept entrustments, it would be quite convenient for us."

That was Nerssaren’s comment. He flipped through the documents, slowly tracing the letters with his finger. Since it was in Bariel, it took him longer to read than the others.

"They’re not personnel we can rely on in an emergency, and more importantly, wouldn’t they be a burden?"

"I agree. Then, we should start figuring out the dates. They’ll want to arrive before winter, so at the latest..."

"Ah, we know the date."

Romandro’s subordinate raised his hand excitedly.

"A rumor has spread that they’ll depart from the Hawan Kingdom in a month, and with the time it takes to cross the mountains, they’ll arrive after that."

"A rumor? Where did it spread?"

"From Mereloff."

Upon learning the exact date, Romandro and his subordinates cheered and encouraged each other. Only Ian remained silent, not smiling.

"Is there a problem?"

"It only takes ten days to travel from here to the Hawan Kingdom."

"No, no. That’s not the issue. I was wondering if there are any bandits around here."

Especially mountain bandits. Merchant caravans have many mercenaries, but they also carry many valuables. If the timing is known in advance, they could become targets for bandits. Bandits could disrupt the plan. It would be best if they came over quietly and quickly.

"Hmm. Bandits. I don’t think there are any, due to the aftermath of the battle."

"And the estimated arrival time needs to be known so that the territory can prepare various things."

Ian nodded, still feeling a little uneasy. Right. It was important for the caravan and Mereloff, but it was irrelevant from Ian’s perspective.

"Alright. Then, let’s get this show on the..."

Thump-thump-thump!

Heavy footfalls pounded down the hallway, growing louder. Someone was running—someone big.

Romandro and his men reached for their swords, but Ian, Nerssaren, and Berik simply covered the documents, unconcerned.

The door slammed open.

"Took you long enough," Berik said, a smirk playing on his lips.

"A lack of courtesy," Nerssaren chided, though a hint of amusement flickered in his eyes.

"Su," Ian acknowledged.

"Noooo! Why me?!"

Su stood there, chest heaving, fists clenched and trembling. Her face was flushed. Kakantir had sent her here the moment he’d returned to Cheonryeo.

"Well, well. Making an entrance, are we?" Beric drawled.

"Berik! It *was* you! You recommended me, didn’t you?!"

"What power do you think I have? Can’t you see? While everyone else is slaving away at the table, I’m sprawled out on the couch like a useless lump."

"Why?! Why me?! Huh?! It’s already cold enough outside the desert, and now you want me to climb a mountain? I don’t even know what that mountain looks like!"

"Liar."

"Shut up, Beric! I’m not in my right mind right now!"

Ian rose from his seat and approached Su. She glared up at him, breathing heavily, her eyes filled with resentment.

"Why do I have to go all the way to the Hawan Kingdom and infiltrate a merchant caravan?! Are there really no capable people here?" So that’s why they’d summoned her, when she’d been lazing around, eating and playing! She should have known something was up when Kakantir had passed the meat to her bowl. Good heavens! The Hawan Kingdom!

Ian smiled brightly and nodded.

"That’s right. We lack capable people. No matter how much I thought about it, there was no one more suitable than you. Sit down and catch your breath, and I’ll explain the operation in more detail. Kakantir gave you the gist of it, right?"

At those words, Su pressed a hand to her forehead, unable to contain her lament.

"The gist? Yeah, barely. Infiltrate the caravan and poison the Gulla."