Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 120

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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 120. The End of the Outing
When pollen announcing the start of the New Year Conference blanketed all of Bariel, Barsabe returned to the imperial palace drenched in blood. The small mansion in the city had lost its meaning without her father, so now her only dwelling was the barracks beside the training grounds, prepared for the soldiers.
Crash!
“Barsabe, good heavens!”
“Quiet. Keep it down.”
“Did you get into an accident somewhere?”
“No. Don’t worry about it.”
Barsabe stripped off her tattered clothes and found her formal uniform. The tattoo of the Imperial Guard on her left shoulder remained pristine, though her body bore burn marks from a mishandled surge of magical power—everywhere except around the tattoo itself.
“I don’t have gloves. Lend me yours.”
“Your formal uniform? Why are you taking that out now? The New Year Conference hasn’t started yet. The pollen signal flare went off, but…”
I didn’t know what Ian’s true intentions were, but there was only one thing I could do now.
Go along with what he said.
He said he would hand over my father’s belongings if I came properly dressed in formal attire. I couldn’t refuse. Without even being able to recover the body, those were truly my father’s last traces.
“You didn’t actually go find that Ian, did you?”
“I did. And as you can see, I came back a mess.”
At my answer, my colleague pressed their forehead. Petreio’s death had spread widely within the Imperial Guard. Though he was a retired senior, I had joined the order following in his footsteps, and since there was active exchange between generations of knights, it was natural that everyone would come to know of it.
The exact moment was probably when Mollin returned to the administrative branch in a dying state. That a man named Ian had severed Mollin’s arms and legs in the process of usurping the lordship.
Of course, those spreading rumors often spoke of Erika, but it was clear that Petreio’s name was also included in that.
‘What about Father?’
‘I’m sorry, Barsabe. Petreio fulfilled his duty as a knight to protect me from Ian.’
‘But surely Lord Mollin was the administrator of the imperial palace…’
‘That mattered little to that vulgar man from the borderlands. Barsabe, when I was locked in the underground prison, I heard your father’s agonized groans day and night.’
I recalled the conversation I’d had with Mollin and frowned. He had clearly told me that Ian had made my father suffer a painful death. Yet when I actually met him, he didn’t seem like the type to do such a thing at all.
‘You shouldn’t judge people by appearances, but still, the feeling…’
“Barsabe! Are you listening to me?”
My trailing thoughts came to an abrupt stop. My colleague was looking at me with concern, gripping my arm—precisely where the tattoo was marked on my left shoulder.
“If you cause trouble during the ceremony, you’ll be dismissed without warning. You know that, right? I understand your feelings, but that man is to become a noble by the Emperor’s command. It means he’s not someone we should draw our swords against.”
In the palace, everyone except Marib’s faction naturally opposed Ian. Even the neutral direct guard had branded Ian with a negative first impression due to Petreio’s death.
“I know. But what if I get dismissed? There’s no father left to scold me.”
“That’s, that’s not the point! And how could you recklessly challenge a mana user? They say he’s the man who subdued the barbarians in the borderlands! Even Lord Mollin and Erika’s Central Army fell to him, so what were you thinking?”
Rumors spread in thousands of directions through the palace. Those who heard of Ian’s exploits each emphasized different aspects according to their own perspectives. The Magic Ministry particularly noted that Ian was a mana user, while the direct guard focused on how Ian had driven back the Central Army.
“Right. There’s one escort that Ian keeps with him—a madman. What’s different about borderland food? Just brute strength without sense.”
I muttered indifferently, but I meant it. The fact that I unconsciously unleashed my magical power was proof. Setting aside the tension from the situation of avenging my father, it was definitely a mistake.
‘For now, I’ll let it slide. I’ll let it slide and see him properly next time.’
Whether Ian bore responsibility for my father’s death or not. Since I’d already clashed with him once, I could approach the next battle with more composure. It was the moment I reached for the formal uniform’s sword sheath.
Weeee!
A loud assembly call rang out from outside. It was a signal for all knights in the barracks, except those on duty outside, to come out in formal uniform.
My colleague glanced outside and looked back at me. The knights who had remained in the palace were shuffling into their respective quarters.
“Take off the gloves.”
“Ah…”
“I only have one.”
If I’d known it would come to this, I should have just grabbed my clothes and left. Barsabe frowned and set down her sword.
* * *
“Wow.”
Berik let out an exclamation as he surveyed the ruined blacksmith shop. What was already a filthy mess of dust and ash had been made worse by what appeared to be an explosion—the floor was charred black. The Blacksmith’s long beard was also singed and curled, looking properly burned.
“My lord! You never mentioned anything like this!”
“Calm yourself and explain what happened.”
“How could you entrust me with this without saying a word? A special blade like this is worth barely one silver coin. It’s far cheaper than compensation!”
As the saying goes, suspicion kills. I’d come on a hunch, and my fears were confirmed. I kept telling the Blacksmith to calm down, but he wouldn’t lower his voice.
And for good reason—the blade had exploded!
To be precise…
“I heated it, but the heat wouldn’t dissipate.”
I applied heat to flatten the warped blade. Once I thought it was heated enough, I began hammering, but the temperature wouldn’t drop as time passed. Perplexed, I quenched it, and an enormous surge of heat erupted, destroying everything around it.
“Hehe, it’s my blade. Completely sharp!”
“That’s exactly why we nearly all died!”
Still, a craftsman is a craftsman. Despite the disaster, he finished the work flawlessly, making the best of a bad situation. The client bore responsibility, but the blade bore none. Berik rushed over, grabbed the sword, and swung it. His eyes grew wider and wider as he smiled with satisfaction.
“It’s lighter. Insane! The blade is perfectly straight!”
“You’ll need to pay me compensation and hazard pay! Goodness, how can you carry something like this without knowing what it is? If I may be so bold, you didn’t just find it, did you?”
“Found it, my—”
“My apologies. I didn’t find it. In truth, my family granted it to me in secret, so you understand.”
Romandro quickly covered Berik’s mouth, and I gestured for someone to bring me a check. The situation was entirely understandable.
“How much do you want?”
“One gold coin should suffice.”
“That’s too little for hazard pay. I hear from Mrs. Viviana that you’re the finest blacksmith in the Central Army.”
I asked smoothly while picking up a pen. The Blacksmith’s raised eyebrows lowered somewhat. Rough craftsmen like those in a blacksmith shop took great pride in their work. My compliment seemed to land quite well.
“I’ll give you two gold coins. Consider this compensation for results that exceeded expectations.”
“Ahem. Well, if you put it that way, I’m grateful to accept. I’m just relieved nothing was badly damaged or broken.”
“Thank you for saying so. Berik, are you satisfied?”
“Completely! I love it! The best!”
Berik continued testing the blade, swinging it this way and that. Romandro clicked his tongue watching him.
“Tsk tsk. That means no dinner for you tonight, you fool!”
“Huh? What? Ian said he’d buy me meat.”
“That one there is a money-eating pig!”
Romandro whispered to me, but his voice was too loud. Berik, overhearing, threw a fit and rushed at Romandro, while I calmly finished the transaction.
“You’ve worked hard.”
“Yes. Next time, please entrust me with something ordinary. I’ll do even better.”
“Berik! Stop bothering Romandro and come out.”
Creak.
As we stepped outside, Mrs. Viviana, who had been waiting in the carriage, poked her head out with concern.
“What happened? Are you alright?”
“Yes, Countess. It’s nothing to worry about. It’s cold, so please stay inside. I think it would be best to wrap things up for today and head in.”
As I spoke, I glanced around once more. Whether it was because I now knew the pursuer was Barsabe, or simply my imagination, I could no longer sense anything amiss in the surroundings.
“Berik. That thing will explode if it gets too hot, so handle it carefully, yes? Don’t carelessly toss it into a furnace or anything like that.”
Romandro kept reminding Berik as he pulled him away. This place was no longer the borderlands where I held power—it was the capital now. It was difficult to predict the consequences a single incident might bring.
“Am I an idiot? Why would I put this in a furnace? You put food in a furnace!”
I took a subtle glance at the refined blade.
It was certainly no ordinary sword. Whether it was forged from mana stones, dragon molars, or meteorite fragments—there were too many possibilities to guess, but one thing was certain: it was no common object.
“Berik. Swear to me you’ll maintain it properly. Otherwise, I’ll have no choice but to confiscate the blade for everyone’s safety.”
“Master? What are you saying? We made it all the way from Karenna without any problems. It just can’t get heated. Really!”
It just can’t get heated?
My gaze lingered on Berik’s crimson hair and eyes.
‘Come to think of it, mana is ultimately a form of heat and energy.’
What if I were to release mana through the blade?
It would be the same as applying heat.
“Berik, when you’re holding the blade, you mustn’t let your mana flow either.”
“Mm-hmm. I’ll do as you say. I’m a good listener, aren’t I?”
It’s something worth attempting when the opportunity arises, but not now. The location isn’t right, and I lack the capacity to handle any fallout if something goes wrong.
“Ian. What are you thinking about?”
When I didn’t answer, Berik asked casually. As I climbed into the carriage, I tossed out a playful remark. Though Berik would hardly take it as a joke.
“…I was calculating how many pounds of meat two gold coins could buy.”
“Wait, is this my fault?”
“You fool, if you hadn’t picked that up, none of this would’ve happened. And what were you thinking picking it up in the first place? Do you have something to hide from an investigation?”
Romandro also threw in his remark as he climbed into the carriage. Berik, looking aggrieved, quickly followed up the steps, and their noisy departure came to an end.
* * *
And finally.
I woke earlier than usual and watched the sunrise. An elegant formal uniform hung on the wall, along with new shoes, gloves, and accessories—all perfectly arranged. My servant Mini had finished the preparations since dawn.
Knock, knock.
“Ian. Are you awake?”
“Yes. Just now.”
“There’s much to prepare. Please change quickly and come out.”
At Mini’s urging, I rose from the bed. Today was a special day, and the day when the pollen blanketing Bariel reached its fullest bloom.
“Today is when you attend the New Year’s reception, after all.”
The day I would meet the Emperor at this hour.
And the day I would establish a new house and stand as its patriarch.

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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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