Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 11

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 11. Spirits and Water
Hena arrived carrying a tray of dried fruits and such. Sensing that there was another purpose behind my summons, she clasped her hands before her and looked at me. I was still savoring the bright weather visible through the window.
“Is there anything else you require, sir?”
“Hena. How are my younger siblings faring?”
Ever since we began taking meals in the dining hall, there had been far more surplus. Not just Hena, but the other kitchen staff as well were padding their pockets quite generously.
“Thanks to your kindness, they’re doing wonderfully. Though they’re so busy running about that they barely have time to catch their breath.”
The boy smiled with genuine warmth. With bellies full, the smile never faded, and each day deepened the bonds between family. It was all thanks to me. The servants knew that I set aside food for them.
“Then I’m relieved.”
“You have a task for me, don’t you, sir?”
Hena stepped closer to me. Her resolve was to let not even the faintest breath escape. I continued speaking, still showing only my back.
“Hena. I have a message to convey to your mother.”
I continued channeling magical power into the brooch. So that this secret conversation would not reach Derga. Both children were illiterate in every practical sense, so there was no helping it.
“Yes, sir. Please tell me.”
At last, a chance to repay your kindness!
Hena clamped her lips shut as if urging me to give my orders. The window flashed brilliantly, but the boy dismissed it as merely sunlight.
“Tell her to come to Portro Area 3 Park by the lake tomorrow at noon. She must be in disguise.”
“Is that all I should convey?”
“…Also tell her that the purse was received well.”
This would likely be our first contact. If my mother thought it was one of Derga’s tricks and didn’t show, it would be troublesome. Hena etched the brief information firmly into her mind.
“Yes. I’ll make sure there are no mistakes.”
“I’m sorry. I promised I wouldn’t send you to such places, but circumstances are urgent and there’s no other way.”
It had to be tomorrow. There was no time to arrange it through other means. Hena nodded as if to say she would take on the task, then stepped back.
“Then I shall take my leave now.”
“Take some snacks with you. Consider it your wages.”
“Thank you so much, Ian!”
Even as Hena tucked the dried fruits into her pocket, I did not turn my head.
What could possibly be so captivating outside that window? The boy pondered the view before understanding dawned, and she smiled. All that was visible from here was the main building and the servants’ quarters.
“When you go out tomorrow with Young Master Chel, sir. Deo will be accompanying you, he said.”
“Deo?”
My head turned slightly, though not enough to reveal my eyes. Hena contentedly smoothed her now-bulging pocket as she answered.
“Yes. It just so happens that night training is scheduled for today, you see? Deo is the only one with the day off. His left arm is still inconvenient, but he says there’s no problem escorting the two of you.”
“What happened to his arm?”
“Oh. You didn’t know, sir? Half a month ago, he got thoroughly drunk and broke his left arm. He claims he fought with some ruffian passing by, but everyone knows it was actually the tavern wall. I’ve lost count of how many times this has happened.”
Hena giggled with amusement. I too smiled faintly, but I could deduce that this fellow Deo was no ordinary man.
He engaged in such shameful behavior yet wasn’t dismissed? Moreover, despite his arm still being inconvenient, he was entrusted with escorting both sons?
That meant he was both trusted by Derga and possessed considerable skill. I gently rubbed the window and nodded in understanding.
“I see. I’ll remember that.”
“Yes. Please call for me again if you need anything.”
Click.
The boy left the room with light steps. Only then did I withdraw my magical power and turn around. My golden eyes returned to absinthe, and the brooch’s light extinguished.
‘Hmm. Deora.’
Chel might be useless, but if things went well, Deora could become a variable worth considering. I sat on the sofa, fingering the pouch my mother had given me.
* * *
Eight days and one night.
That was how long it took before I left the Bratz Mansion. The carriage Mollin had sent arrived precisely at noon and waited for the two of us.
“Young Master Chel. Ian. This way, please.”
And there was Deora. The scars densely covering his face hinted at his temperament. His physique was so imposing that I worried whether he could even fit inside the carriage.
Whether intentional or not, he subtly used different titles for the two of us.
“Will you ride together?”
“Yes, but…?”
If we sat facing each other, our knees would nearly touch.
I cast a displeased glance before climbing into the carriage. Whether it was my imagination or not, the horse seemed to move with difficulty.
Clop, clop, clop.
Only the sound of hoofbeats echoed quietly. Chel and I remained silent, each staring out opposite windows. The boy felt like he was being dragged to a slaughterhouse, wishing school would be better, but I was marveling at the sights.
‘Oh.’
The Borderlands, and not far from the desert at that—the scenery was distinctly different. I had spent most of my life in the Capital and the war I participated in was in the opposite region entirely. I had never taken a vacation like other nobles.
So such a place existed in Bariel. It felt like crossing into a foreign land, beyond mere unfamiliarity. Though there was also the gap that a century brings.
“Do you happen to know any worthwhile places to visit in Portro?”
After admiring the sights for a while, I finally spoke. At my sudden question, Chel turned around, and the man merely blinked his eyes.
“The administrator asked me to introduce the region, so I should at least make an effort for propriety’s sake, but as you know, I know nothing.”
I was a child from the Slum, too busy just surviving.
“Isn’t that right, brother? No matter what, I don’t think introducing the alleys where I lived would be appropriate.”
“…Yes, that’s true.”
The guests might be curious, but I couldn’t actually show them that place. And it wasn’t just anywhere—it was the Red-light District. How could the young masters of the Count’s household take guests there? It would be madness.
Deora scratched his nose and answered awkwardly.
“Well, there are plenty of taverns, but I’m not sure of places suitable for Central Office officials. The places I frequent tend to be rather rowdy.”
“…Did you forget that I’m a minor?”
“Well, that’s what I’m saying.”
Despite my rebuke, Deora merely laughed shamelessly, and a foul stench seemed to rise from his blackened teeth.
‘Quite an unsettling fellow.’
It wasn’t just a matter of hygiene. The habit of constantly touching the hilt of his dagger, the sinister glint in his eyes—nothing about him seemed quite human.
“Very well. We’ll have to make do with a park tour then.”
This was my true purpose. Laying groundwork in advance. I had to account for the possibility that Deora would report to the Count. Since I had arranged to see my mother at the park, everything had to appear natural yet certain.
“We’ve arrived.”
“Please step down, young master.”
The speed gradually decreased, and the coachman opened the door.
Portro was unmistakably a residential area for the upper classes. Beyond the well-maintained stone paths and tree-lined streets, the ‘Haiman Bank’ standing prominently on the main avenue was proof of that.
The place responsible for the financial infrastructure across all of Bariel, called the Third Sanctuary. Each territory had at least one branch, and without them, massive tax payments would have to be transported by carriage.
Thud!
As Deora descended last, the carriage swayed heavily. Seeing this, Mac approached with a cheerful greeting.
“Oh! Young Master Ian!”
“Mac. You came to greet us. Thank you.”
“Please, don’t mention it. It’s even more delightful to see you outside. Ah, and Young Master Chel as well. You must have had a tiring journey.”
Mac welcomed Ian and Chel warmly, though his eyes kept darting toward the guards in the back. Behind his smile lay a palpable sense of caution. But Deo merely scratched his ear without responding.
“Please, come in.”
They appeared to occupy the entire building. It wasn’t as grand as Count Derga’s Manor, but the interior, finished with luxurious materials, exuded an old-world elegance.
“Is this an official residence?”
“Yes. It’s used when civil servants are dispatched from the Capital. It’s clean and comfortable, so I’ve made myself quite at home.”
The interior was already prepared.
Trays overflowed with food, and wine completed the spread perfectly. It looked hardly different from the luncheon at Bratz Mansion.
“Does the escort intend to join us as well?”
“Is that not acceptable?”
When Mac posed the question before the Drawing Room door, Deo’s eyes widened as if finding it strange. It was considerably rude, but Mac simply crossed his arms, contemplating how to handle this man.
“Please, enjoy your meal and scholarly discussions. I need only remain in the corner.”
At the man’s words, Ian turned his body and looked up at Mac. Then, with the subtlest raise of his eyebrows, he signaled.
“We came from the Manor together, so I can’t have him merely watch us eat. Could you perhaps set out another place setting and wine glass?”
Ian deliberately emphasized the word “wine.” A man who lived by his body had reportedly broken his arm countless times from drunkenness. He was surely the type who couldn’t survive without alcohol.
Mac hesitated for a moment, then opened his mouth.
“…We didn’t prepare wine.”
Both invited guests were children. At a luncheon without Count Derga and Mrs. Mary present, there would be no reason to prepare alcohol. Ian didn’t seem the type to be unaware of that, though….
“Do you perhaps enjoy drinking?”
“Pardon? Well, it would be a lie to say otherwise.”
“Then come down to the basement with me. There’s a wine cellar there—go and pick whatever you’d like. I hadn’t anticipated this, but once a place is set, you’re a guest regardless. So it’s only proper.”
…Was this right? Mac glanced at Ian, his words trailing off. It was perfect communication. When the boy smiled faintly, Mac grasped the intention and urged Deo along.
“There’s quite a variety.”
“It’s directly below?”
“The building’s basement.”
Deo sniffed and wiped his nose, then looked down at Chel and Ian. Since it was within the building, there was no danger. As long as Chel and Ian stayed together, it would be fine for a while. Besides, it wasn’t just anywhere—it was the official residence’s wine cellar! There would surely be spirits he’d never seen before.
“Very well. I won’t refuse.”
“Wait a moment. Dgor!”
Mac opened the Drawing Room door and called for Dgor. After whispering something to him, he instructed Deo to follow.
“Young Masters, please come this way.”
Dgor took over Mac’s role and led the guests inside. Mollin’s gaze was as gentle as always.
“Please, sit. I hope it suits your tastes.”
The only difference was that the location had shifted from Count Derga’s Backyard to here—a strange sense of déjà vu. They exchanged greetings just as they had yesterday and began their meal.
“Oh, is the school Young Master Chel attends nearby?”
“Yes. It takes about ten minutes by carriage.”
The one difference was the focus of their questions. Both men lavished their attention on Chel conspicuously. Ian knew it was an obvious deception, but perhaps it might work on Chel.
“Father, they barely spoke to Ian at all, did they? They didn’t seem to have any particular ulterior motive. And the conversation we had today….”
He’d been told not to omit a single detail, so the boy was surely straining to memorize their words. Ian imagined Chel’s dull expression and stifled a laugh. After all, Count Derga would verify the brooch anyway.
‘Well, when shall we begin?’
Ian remained silent and merely chewed his meat. In truth, he was just as curious as Count Derga. What possible intention could there be behind removing him from the room? He had his suspicions, but they were nothing more than conjecture.
“Oh!”
Splash!
Just then, Dgor spilled his water bottle—directly and precisely onto Chel’s trousers. A classic method, perhaps, but an effective one nonetheless. Ian recognized it as a signal.
“My apologies! Are you alright?”
“Ah. Yes….”
Chel’s face flushed reflexively. His thighs were completely drenched as if he had lost control. Ian remained perfectly composed, placing another piece of meat into his mouth while anticipating Dgor’s next words.
‘Shall I have you change into fresh clothes?’
“You should change out of those.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“Allow me. I’ll have a servant fetch suitable attire at once. There’s a decent tailor just in the building next door.”
Ian continued eating with an expression of indifferent certainty—exactly as he had anticipated.
“Rather, go yourself, brother. Since it’s not your usual tailor, you wouldn’t know your proper measurements, would you?”
If he sent a servant, the man would surely return and insist that Chel go himself. It was transparent as glass. Mollin wet his lips with water and glanced at Ian.
“Isn’t that so, Mollin?”
So let’s stop wasting time and have our real conversation. The boy knew how to speak with his eyes.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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