A Mage Reborn: Legacy of the Fallen Emperor
Chapter 79: The Scent of Deception

Chapter 79: Chapter 79: The Scent of Deception

"Ian."

Romandro’s voice echoed through the central garden. Ian, who had just entered the carefully manicured space, turned.

"I hear the Countess of Mereloff is here," Romandro said. "Where is she? I suppose the Count was too chicken to show his face, ha! Seriously."

"That’s what I thought, too," Ian replied, "but the Countess is in Lady Mary’s room right now."

"Lady Mary Bratz?" Romandro raised an eyebrow. "What’s *she* doing there? I heard they were close, but... belated condolences, perhaps?"

"I wish it were," Ian said. "She claims she lent something to Lady Mary and is looking for it."

"What is it?" Romandro asked.

"I don’t know," Ian replied with a shrug. Whatever it is, she’s being awfully secretive about it. "I asked, but she wouldn’t tell me."

Romandro tilted his head at Ian’s words. *What could noblewomen possibly exchange?* The Countess of Mereloff’s antics, which Ian had expected to end quickly, continued past lunchtime.

Creak.

The Countess of Mereloff emerged from Mary’s room, her expression unreadable. A flicker of triumph, perhaps? Or disappointment? It was impossible to tell.

Ian noticed the servant behind her, his face ashen, and surmised that she had failed to find whatever she was looking for.

"Madam?" Ian asked, his voice carefully neutral.

"Ah, Sir Ian," the Countess replied. "That took longer than I expected."

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

"No. It seems to have been lost in all the commotion, I’m afraid. It wasn’t in the room."

The Countess brushed a stray strand of hair back with a delicate hand and offered a small smile. To an unsuspecting observer, she would have appeared truly radiant and charming. A practiced facade, Ian thought. But Ian, both then and now, sensed that the Countess of Mereloff had no intention of revealing what she was searching for.

Well, there’s no need to pry, Ian thought. He forced a polite smile. "Then, shall we retire to the drawing room?"

"I was just craving some tea," the Countess replied, her own smile smooth and practiced. "That would be lovely."

Romandro greeted her as they entered. "Countess Mereloff, good day."

"Oh! Hello. How have you been? I believe your name was Romandro?" the Countess asked, her voice light and airy.

"That is correct, Countess," Romandro replied, bowing slightly.

The Countess accepted Romandro’s hand kiss with a gracious nod and descended back down to the drawing room, talking animatedly. Beric, watching from the bottom of the stairs, muttered.

"She reeks of unhinged."

"...Beric," Ian cautioned from somewhere nearby.

"I’m serious. What’s with her?" Beric insisted.

"Check the room and tidy up afterward," Ian ordered, his voice low.

"Yeah, yeah. Roger," Beric grumbled, already turning away. He headed into Mary’s room, his steps heavy.

By the time Ian reached the drawing room, Romandro and the Countess of Mereloff were already pouring tea.

"Sir Ian, I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience," the Countess said, settling into her chair.

"Not at all, Countess. Don’t mention it," Ian replied.

"And I mentioned earlier that I had another gift, didn’t I?"

"Yes, you did." Ian sat down opposite her.

"I hear you have to pay a contribution to the central authority," the Countess began, smoothly transitioning the conversation.

"Ah. How did you know?" Ian asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Word travels," the Countess replied with a slight smile. "The amount seems to be quite substantial, so we were thinking of offering some assistance."

"The Count of Mereloff?"

"Yes. It may not be the full amount you require, but I believe we can lend you about 5,000 gold."

"Ah. A loan?" Ian repeated, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"In exchange for no interest, we’d like to receive some Gula seeds. What do you say?" the Countess proposed.

Ian smiled thinly.

"I don’t think so," the Countess replied, her voice calm and even.

Cough!

Romandro choked involuntarily. The audacity! But the Countess herself just shrugged, seemingly unfazed.

"Is that so?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"I appreciate the Count’s and your concern," Ian replied, his voice even. "However, the contribution is something we must handle ourselves, and we are capable of doing so."

"You’re capable? Are you serious?" the Countess asked, a hint of surprise in her tone.

"Completely," Ian stated firmly. "Therefore, I must decline your offer. Besides, comparing the interest on 5,000 gold to the value of Gula, the latter is clearly superior. Gula seeds are perennial and yield a dozen or more seeds each, effectively eliminating winter hunger, wouldn’t you agree?"

"Even so, Gula was worthless before," the Countess countered.

"That was then," Ian said, his gaze unwavering. "Gold can be earned again, but a life, once lost, is gone forever."

It was a statement that clearly grasped the situation in Mereloff. Their coffers were overflowing, but they had nowhere to spend it. The Countess took a sip of her tea and smiled softly.

"If you’re interested in purchasing Gula, we’d be happy to accommodate you," she said smoothly. "That would be the cleanest and most agreeable solution for both of us. After all, isn’t resolving matters with money the simplest solution?"

"...If you were to sell, what price would you have in mind?" Ian asked, his voice carefully neutral.

"Fifty a bag."

"Fifty...?"

"Gold," the Countess confirmed, her smile unwavering.

Romandro coughed and spilled his tea. Didn’t he say it was ten gold coins a bag the other day?

But Ian had made it clear, Romandro thought. At least ten gold.

"My goodness. You’re selling such weeds for fifty gold each," the Countess exclaimed, her voice laced with mock surprise.

"Shall I show you the size?" Ian asked, unfazed.

Ian calmly called for a servant. The servant fumbled for an empty sack and held it up, demonstrating its size. It was a small sack, reaching only from the ground to his calf.

The Countess raised an eyebrow, her expression one of feigned admiration.

"Wow," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

As if it were none of her concern.

"Are you mocking me?" the Countess asked, her voice sharp.

"Of course not, Countess. You are here representing the Count, are you not? To insult you would be to insult him. That is unthinkable," Ian replied smoothly, though his eyes held a glint of steel.

She has no real interest in buying or selling Gula, Ian thought, now certain. Her only objective seems to be whatever she lent to Lady Mary...

"A single bag holds thirty to forty Gula seeds," Ian continued, gesturing towards the sack the servant still held. "Plant them all, and within a month, you’ll have hundreds. Another month, and that number will grow to thousands, even tens of thousands."

This, of course, assumed none were consumed and all were planted. Given that winter was already upon them, that was highly unlikely.

"Two months’ time, and that’s enough to feed everyone in the Mereloff estate, and then some," Ian continued. "I trust you understand that a territory’s strength lies in its population."

"Hmm. I see," the Countess murmured noncommittally.

"There are many factors that influence pricing. Like Count Mereloff, we prioritize the needs of our own people... What was the price of grain back then, *Countess*?" Ian asked, turning to her with a pointed look.

Romandro interjected, as if on cue.

"Excluding wheat and corn, which were considered essential, the prices of other goods more than doubled. Potatoes were particularly notable. You charged half a gold coin per barrel, if I recall correctly," Romandro said, his tone dripping with barely concealed satisfaction.

So, this is a taste of your own medicine, Romandro thought. You inflated prices when others were desperate, and now you’re facing the same.

The Countess twisted a lock of her hair, her gaze fixed on something outside the window. Then, as if remembering something, she murmured quietly.

"In truth, it is the Count who controls the finances, so my opinion carries little weight," she said, a hint of resignation in her voice. "What’s fifty gold, when faced with survival? We might even have to sell off some land."

"I appreciate your understanding," Ian replied, though he doubted she truly understood the implications of her words.

Back in Mary’s room, the atmosphere was far less charged.

While Ian, the Countess of Mereloff, and Romandro were engaged in tense negotiations, Beric, who had been casually looking around Mary’s room, sensed someone behind him and turned.

Creak.

The door swung open, revealing Hanna. "Beric? What are you doing here?"

She wiped her wet hands on her apron, tilting her head in question.

"Oh. The Countess of Mereloff came earlier and ransacked the room," Beric explained. "Ian told me to check it over and then lock up."

"Ransacked the room? Why?" Hanna asked, her eyebrows raised.

"No idea. Seems like Lady Mary borrowed something and didn’t return it. Ian thinks it’s still in here, but I can’t find it anywhere." Beric shrugged.

Even when she was fleeing, she insisted on stopping by her room, he thought, frowning.

"And you don’t even know what it is?"

"Crazy, right?" Beric agreed.

"Hmm. This definitely isn’t a simple situation," Hanna mused, more to herself than Beric.

Hanna put her hands on her hips, quickly scanning the room. Then, she dropped to her hands and knees and shoved the broom under the bed.

"What are you doing?" Beric asked, bewildered.

"Looking for hiding places," she replied without looking up. "There’s only so many places to stash something in a room. Under the bed, in the wardrobe, under or behind the drawers..."

"I’ve looked everywhere," Beric cut in, exasperated.

"Then it’s either the floor or the ceiling," Hanna concluded, undeterred.

"The floor and the ceiling?" Beric echoed, skeptical.

Hanna walked around, tapping the floor with the broom. She was listening for any hollow sounds.

Thump! Thump, thump!

"Yes. Sometimes there are loose floorboards. The ceiling’s too high to reach, though... Ah!"

Hanna’s gaze shot up to the ceiling, a sudden thought striking her. Her eyes locked onto the chandelier’s decorations. Fabric draped from the center, spreading outwards like the branches of a tree.

"Hold on. A chair won’t be high enough," Hanna said, squinting at the chandelier.

"A ladder?" Beric asked.

"Yeah."

"I’ll grab one. Keep checking the floor," Beric replied.

Beric turned to hurry out, but paused, a question nagging at him.

"Seriously, what are you?" he asked, turning back to Hanna. "You’re good at picking locks, you’ve got nimble fingers, and you’re a natural at finding hidden things."

"Everyone in my neighborhood can do this sort of thing," Hanna replied, shrugging.

"I doubt that..." Beric muttered.

Call it a skill honed by necessity. Hanna’s place was better off than most, but he’d heard of houses where the ceilings had collapsed from the weight of hidden stashes of drugs.

Hanna gestured for him to hurry. Beric shook his head but did as he was told.

"Hold it steady," she instructed.

"Wouldn’t it be better if I climbed up?" Beric asked, dubious.

"Beric, you can’t even find clothes in your own drawers. Just hold it steady," Hanna retorted, her voice firm.

Creak.

Hanna climbed the ladder and reached inside the chandelier. The warmth of the light bulb radiated onto her fingertips, along with a layer of sticky dust.

"A little to the left... Ah!" Hanna exclaimed.

"What? What is it? Did you find it?" Beric asked urgently.

"Uh..." Hanna hesitated.

Hanna pulled out the round object. It was a black, gleaming compact. This must be what Mary and the Countess were talking about...

"Why would she hide makeup here?" Hanna wondered aloud.

"Beats me. Looks like nothing special," Beric said dismissively.

"Should we open it?" Hanna asked.

While Hanna handed him the compact and climbed down the ladder, Beric, impatient, flipped open the lid. It was filled with a fine, smooth powder.

"It’s really nothing... wait, what?" Beric’s voice trailed off.

"What’s wrong?" Hanna asked.

"This... the smell..." Beric mumbled, his words cut short.

Hanna watched in confusion as Beric buried his nose in the powder, sniffing deeply. It did seem to have an odd odor.

He’d barely taken two breaths when his eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed forward.

Thud!

"Beric!" Hanna cried out.

The powder spilled across the floor. Hanna shook Beric, but his body was already stiffening, and he showed no sign of waking.

"Ugh..." Hanna gasped, scrambling back.

"Ian! Ian!"

Hanna stumbled backward and scrambled to the drawing room, bursting through the door without knocking. Romandro, Ian, and the Countess of Mereloff turned to look at her, startled.

"Ian! It’s an emergency!" she shouted, breathless.

"What’s all the commotion, Hanna?" Ian asked, rising from his chair.

"Beric found it... the thing we were looking for. It’s a black, round compact, and he collapsed as soon as he smelled the powder inside."

"What in the..." Ian began, but the Countess cut him off.

Unlike Ian, who was utterly bewildered, the Countess of Mereloff reacted instantly, rushing out of the room. Hanna was shoved aside, falling to the floor, and Ian, equally alarmed, followed.

"Countess! Countess!" Ian called after her.

Tap-tap-tap! Her heels echoed on the floor.

She ran, desperately clutching the hem of her dress. Ian quickly caught up and grabbed her arm.

*Whoosh!*

"Countess, please, calm down..." Ian pleaded.

"Let go!" she shrieked.

"Just a moment..."

There was a brief struggle. The Countess missed her footing on the stairs and slid, pulling Ian down with her in a tangle of limbs and expensive fabric. Romandro and Hanna, who had followed them, rushed forward., as Ian and the Countess tumbled to the bottom of the stairs

"Ian! Are you alright?" Romandro shouted, his voice filled with concern.

"Ian! Are you okay?" Hanna cried, rushing to his side.

"Ah. I’m fine," Ian said, wincing as he sat up. "Countess, are you hurt...?"

"Ah..." The Countess didn’t answer.

The Countess scrambled up the stairs, so frantic that she didn’t notice as the hem of her skirt lifted, revealing her ankle. The skin was an unnatural, purplish hue.

Ian flinched, a flicker of alarm crossing his face, but then realized it was just a severe bruise. But how did she get a bruise like that?