Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 119

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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 119. Barsabe
When I opened my eyes again, both of us lay sprawled across the ground in disarray. Snow and dirt mingled together in a mess, but our condition was far worse than that. Blood streamed from our noses without ceasing.
“Berik. Are you alright?”
“Ugh, damn it, this hurts. It hurts!”
“Good. You seem fine then.”
“It hurts!”
At least Berik could still complain about the pain, but Barsabe only whimpered and curled her body inward. Her hasty release of mana had been a critical mistake. The sudden drain of power prevented her from continuing the battle properly, which was the worst part of it all.
I approached her and discreetly assessed her condition.
“…Are you crying?”
“Who? Who’s crying!”
She was definitely crying. Barsabe’s tears streamed down her face in frustration. Her lips trembled as if she might bite through them, trying to hold back her sobs but failing miserably. I furrowed my brow slightly and asked.
“Are you Petreio’s daughter? So it was you circling the manor since yesterday.”
“Yes. So kill me now. Otherwise, someday I will come for you again….”
Barsabe couldn’t finish her words. Her father’s death had been so futile it drove her to madness, and now, unable to even seek revenge, she suffered this humiliation. She had been a knight of the Imperial Palace Guard, but it seemed she was still limited by her apprentice status.
“Did Mollin tell you? That I killed Petreio?”
I immediately recognized who had leaked this information to Barsabe. Mollin—the elderly administrator from the Borderlands who had survived thanks to Prince Gail’s protection. Perhaps I might even see him at the New Year’s gathering if things went well.
“Mollin? That old geezer?”
“Let me be clear. We did not kill Petreio.”
It was quite the opposite. We had brought him to the manor after he had poisoned his own face and attempted suicide, and we had even tried to treat him. While it was an act to extract a confession, the truth was we bore no responsibility for Petreio’s death.
“It was your father who tried to kill us first, and it was your father who chose death to protect his master and honor.”
“That’s a lie!”
“Why do you think it’s a lie?”
“Father, he….”
“You thought he could never abandon you?”
I had struck a nerve. Barsabe began to sniffle and tears streamed down her face. He seemed to have been a decent subordinate, but also not a bad father.
“Barsabe. Be clear about this. If you swear to complete the unfinished duty your father left behind, then killing me would be appropriate. But if you seek revenge for your father, then you’ve misunderstood.”
Petreio acted according to his convictions and made his choice. There is no death more honorable for a knight than fighting fiercely in one’s own position. Though the sense of loss felt by family is another matter entirely.
“If you are also a knight, you should be able to understand Petreio’s final moment.”
A knight, or as a knight.
Barsabe stared blankly at one corner of the ground and sniffled. The taste of blood was strong in the saliva that went down her throat. I felt her composure returning and continued speaking.
“Do you trust and follow Mollin?”
“No.”
“On the honor of a knight.”
“Yes.”
If she had affirmed it, I would have killed her.
Mollin had sent a spy to kill me, and his purpose of completing Petreio’s unfinished duty would have been confirmed. But since she said she would walk a different path than him….
‘Perhaps she might be of some use.’
I checked my pocket watch and glanced back at Berik. He was brushing off his tattered clothes and wiping away blood as well. There had been a loud noise, so it was only a matter of time before the guards arrived.
“But Mollin did tell you correctly. That Ian, coming up from the Borderlands, killed your father.”
Barsabe struggled to her feet, still glaring at me. But her gaze was no longer filled with murderous intent like before. It was a look melting into the space between suspicion and distrust. At least her will to kill me had vanished.
“…Now I understand why Petreio said such things.”
“What? What are you talking about? What did Father say?”
I deliberately mumbled and trailed off. Barsabe stepped forward and pressed me for an answer, but I simply retreated a step further, smiling without explanation.
“Are you curious?”
I had once probed Petreio with a pointed question—whether he feared future troubles if he had family. He had answered with silence. Now I understood his response well enough. With a daughter so spirited and capable, he had nothing to worry about.
“Is that what you call an answer?”
“Then instead of sneaking about like this, come to my manor with proper courtesy and etiquette. If you do, I shall hand over your father’s ring as well.”
Petreio’s ring. The one with poison on the silver needle—I had brought it sealed for investigation. If Barsabe saw it, she would be able to discern whether it was Petreio’s own possession or something Mollin had prepared separately for his suicide. That could become decisive evidence that Mollin had tried to kill me.
“Let’s go, Berik.”
“Huh? Aren’t you going to kill her?”
“That’s enough. If I kill her here, who knows what complications might arise.”
With the New Year’s gathering approaching, the Capital was teeming with forces hostile to me. Not just Gail and Mollin, but many nobles of the aristocracy resented and disapproved of me, a commoner-born who had risen to become a family head. In times when one must be cautious even of falling leaves, giving my enemies any opening—even against a spy—could prove fatal.
“Barsabe, your timing is quite remarkable.”
“What if she tries to kill you again?”
“Then you’ll have a weapon by your side, so it should be fine.”
“Oh? Aha! That’s right. Once I grip a sword, things are different.”
Besides, if Barsabe had truly wanted to kill me with all her strength, she would have infiltrated at night and caused a commotion then.
But she hadn’t done that. There was a clear intention to keep uninvolved people from being caught up in this—wasn’t there?
“Moreover, if I die, you won’t know where the only keepsake Father left is hidden, which would be quite inconvenient for you, wouldn’t it? Isn’t that right, Barsabe?”
I made sure to emphasize the point in case she hadn’t understood. Then, without waiting for her response, I hurried out of the alley. The nearest guard station would arrive any moment now.
Tap-tap-tap!
“This way!”
“Over here!”
Just as expected, as I emerged from the alley, I caught sight of the guards rushing in the opposite direction. They would comb through the area thoroughly to locate the source of the explosion.
“Berik, you’ve worked hard. Let’s hurry and get away.”
“Ian, I’m cold. I’m hungry. I’m sleepy.”
“You’ve mastered all the essential qualities of a beggar.”
“And whose fault is that!”
I gestured for Berik to follow quickly. Passersby flinched at the sight of blood-covered Berik, but soon stepped aside, letting us pass.
Berik scooped up snow from a corner of the alley and scrubbed his face vigorously.
“Just wipe off the blood? You’re buying me meat later. Got it?”
“Understood. Let’s go get you new clothes too. Those should be discarded.”
The garments were already tattered like rags, and the hand-to-hand combat had left them in tatters. I quickened my pace toward the clothing shop where Romandro was staying, arriving at the store within about ten minutes.
Ding.
A clear bell chimed as the door opened, and a wave of fragrant warmth wafted out. Mixed with the scent was the heavy sweetness of perfume. Romandro, who had been sipping tea at a table, turned around unconsciously and nearly fainted.
“Good heavens!”
“I apologize for the delay.”
“No, Berik—did you roll in a sewer? You look absolutely dreadful!”
Unlike me, whose hair had merely been tousled by the wind from running, Berik looked exactly as Romandro described—as if he had rolled through a sewer. Even Viviana couldn’t hide her shock, her mouth falling open. The Madam of the clothing shop was questioning Romandro with her eyes, as if asking whether this person was truly a customer.
“There were circumstances. Mrs. Viviana, have you prepared the clothes?”
“Ah, yes, yes. The design selection just finished. I hear the trend in men’s fashion these days is a slightly relaxed silhouette in bright colors with formal wear. And they’re adding tassels lightly, or so I’m told, Madam?”
“Ah. My apologies. One moment, please.”
Prompted by the Countess, the Madam snapped to attention and brought out mannequins in succession. To Berik’s eye, they all looked identical, but I examined each garment meticulously.
“Though bright colors are fashionable, Berik handles clothing roughly, so let’s go with something dark. I’ll take the white one. I quite like this design.”
“An excellent eye for fashion.”
The Madam smiled with satisfaction at my choice and bowed. It wasn’t mere flattery—I had selected the best-selling design in the atelier. And consequently, the most expensive fabric as well.
“And what about for the dinner?”
“This line here would be appropriate.”
“Hmm, anything else?”
Viviana sipped her tea while observing my behavior. She harbored no prejudice, but situationally, my actions were undeniably peculiar. After all, I—who had primarily operated in the Borderlands Desert—selected clothing more naturally than the young nobles renowned in high society.
“This one and that one? What’s the difference?”
Rather, Berik’s reaction seemed more natural. My skill in comparing button shapes and lining differences was exquisite. Viviana had asked for my help, but there was nothing she could do.
“Very well. Let’s go with this.”
Having coordinated a complete set—jacket, trousers, coat, shoes, and gloves—I glanced at Berik. The ensemble didn’t suit him at all, but at least he looked presentable enough to enter the Imperial Palace.
“Thank you. The total comes to five gold coins.”
Considering that a commoner’s monthly income was one gold coin, it was truly an astounding price. Berik’s jaw dropped, but I gracefully wrote out a check and nodded. Just as Romandro, who had been watching quietly, stood up to add something—
Swish.
I wrote out eight gold coins. It was a tip for the Madam who had assisted with the fitting, and a sort of display of affluence. This atelier was frequented primarily by the Central nobility, and once they departed, the Madam would surely spread word about me to other nobles.
“Please ensure the alterations are done well.”
“Of course. Leave it to us.”
If so, I needed to leave a favorable impression while simultaneously demonstrating that my wealth and spending habits were those of true nobility. The image of a nouveau riche would infiltrate noble circles far more readily than that of a provincial outsider from the Borderlands.
“Well done.”
Romandro had also stood to point this out. As I handled the payment naturally, he subtly gave me a thumbs up in praise. I turned to look at Berik, who kept glancing awkwardly at the mirror.
“Berik. Return that to the Madam and change into your new clothes. We need to walk through the shopping district and find your sword.”
“Can’t I go like this, Master?”
“No. You can’t.”
“Aw, aw, aw. When’s the New Year’s Gala again? This really is magnificent. I love it.”
Pressed against the mirror, he kept admiring himself, and I exchanged an amused glance with Romandro before laughing. That was the moment—
Boom!
“Huh? Again? What exploded now!”
As a loud sound erupted outside, Berik reflexively thrust his head toward the window. But Romandro and Viviana remained calm—it was simply the fireworks signaling the imminent start of the New Year’s Gala at the Imperial Palace.
“Knight. Don’t be so startled. It’s a signal from the Imperial Palace announcing the New Year’s Gala period. Look at the sky. Soon flower petals will fall like snowflakes—it will be quite beautiful.”
At Viviana’s words, I too moved beside Berik and gazed out the window. So Bariel a hundred years ago held such opening ceremonies, I thought.
“Oh! It really is!”
Countless flower petals adorned the blue sky. Gold, pale pink, and white sparkles rained down like stars. Only then did I realize why my era had lacked this.
‘This is magic too.’
With mages drastically reduced, there was no way such a thing could be done. It was the light announcing the true beginning of the New Year’s Gala.
Boom!
“Oh! It’s going off again!”
Berik bounced on his feet and turned his head toward the sound. But that direction was….
“Isn’t it coming from the blacksmith’s workshop?”
“Yes, that must be the direction.”
“I see black smoke rising—do you see it too, Ian?”
Smoke? I tilted my head in confusion before turning to look, and soon I could make out the dark smoke drifting upward.

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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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