Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 151

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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 151. Parkens’ Slave Trading Company
‘Rugasfel. How long it has been since I heard that name.’
I glanced out the carriage window, surveying my surroundings. Rugasfel—wasn’t it an exceptionally troublesome slum even by the Capital’s standards? When the guards spoke of demotion, they meant assignment to this district, and many couldn’t endure the grueling work and resigned. Naturally, gaps in security emerged, creating a vicious cycle that perpetuated Rugasfel’s lawlessness.
A breeding ground for every conceivable crime, incident, and accident. Bariel’s festering wound. A world more filthy and vile than the very dregs of humanity.
“Rugasfel didn’t seem to be like this before.”
“Is that so?”
“Ah, since you hail from the Borderlands, you wouldn’t know. Originally, this district was much like Merelrof—a place where trading companies temporarily lodged. But with so many transient people of unknown status, illegal immigrants, drug syndicates, and slave trading companies establishing themselves here, it has deteriorated into this.”
Romandro cleared his throat to maintain his dignity as he explained. His eyes had met those of vagrants reeking of alcohol who clung to the carriage. The Coachman cracked his whip and shouted for them to disperse, but those half-senseless creatures paid no heed.
“Get away! Do you know who rides in this carriage?”
“Someone of high station, surely! Just give us a coin! The sound of the carriage sobered me right up!”
“You wretches! Move aside!”
Crack!
‘My knowledge of Rugasfel’s origins is not so distant after all.’
I clicked my tongue, observing the vagrants. They were so tattered and filthy that one could scarcely believe them to be citizens of the empire. A truly great nation should allow sunlight to reach even such alleys…
“Are we nearly there?”
“Yes. The compass’s light grows steadily stronger. It appears the target hasn’t relocated elsewhere but remains in this vicinity.”
Romandro wiped his brow with a handkerchief and sighed. Though it was midday, the densely packed dilapidated buildings cast everything in gloom.
And that was merely the beginning. Clotheslines and yellowed fabric swayed throughout the air, while foul odors, the shouts of drunkards, and sudden brawls assaulted every sense, filling one with a pervasive sense of danger.
“What does Berik need from us? He’s even confronting the Guard Captain, yet here we are.”
“It doesn’t seem to be a matter resolved by force. And more importantly, this is likely Hasha’s judgment.”
Had it been Berik, he would surely have retrieved Hasha and returned immediately upon finding him. Even if obstacles stood in his way, he would have carved a path with his blade. But since he hadn’t done so, it was clear that Hasha had made a request.
“Stop. Turn the carriage around.”
As I conversed with Romandro, the compass’s light suddenly reversed direction. We had passed our target. The Coachman awkwardly thrust his head through the window.
“M-my lord. The street is far too narrow to turn around. We can stop here, but to return, we’ll need to backtrack quite a considerable distance.”
“I see. I’ll get out.”
“Ian, you’re… getting out?”
“If you wish, you may remain in the carriage, Romandro.”
The door opened with a click, and the stench of filth poured forth. Simultaneously, the gazes of those watching from the surroundings turned toward us. Romandro quickly glanced left and right, deliberating. Should he remain with the Coachman in this savage district? Or accompany Ian, a Mage?
“Ian, let’s go together! Come on!”
Whoosh.
I continued following the compass, turning my body this way and that. I needed to find where the light shone most intensely and the direction didn’t reverse.
‘It should be here.’
An unremarkable dilapidated building. Based on the crates stacked in front, I deduced this was a trading company’s headquarters. A yellowed flag was planted beside the door.
Romandro stroked his beard and sniffed.
“It’s in Chelim script. Par, par…”
“Parkens.”
“Ah yes. Parkens. Eh? You speak the Chelim tongue?”
Romandro, who had been nodding, suddenly widened his eyes and turned to look at me. But I showed little interest in answering, instead turning toward the door to peer inside.
“Parkens… Hasha and Berik must be here. Call someone from inside.”
“Here? Why?”
Romandro’s expression showed genuine bewilderment. The slave caravan that had dealt with Karenna’s thief captain and the undead—Ian had memorized that organization’s name firmly. He had followed the compass here, and that caravan was present? This could not be mere coincidence.
Knock, knock!
“Is anyone inside?”
“Eek!”
Ian grasped the door handle without hesitation and knocked. After a considerable pause, a bald man, still half-asleep, appeared with a furrowed brow.
Creak.
Judging by his attire, he appeared to be a nobleman’s son of a rank unseen in Rugerspel, yet why would such a person visit this place in broad daylight? The man looked Ian up and down, then let out a derisive snort.
“I’m sorry, but this isn’t a market day.”
Meaning the slave market wasn’t open. Anyone visiting on a non-market day was predictable.
Either a lecherous man with walls surrounding his estate, an unlicensed doctor needing test subjects, or a cold-blooded individual requiring meat to throw to their pet monsters. In any case, none of them were normal.
“Leave.”
Ian noticed the interior space was larger and deeper than expected. Men scattered about began rising one by one, turning their gazes toward the entrance.
“…I’m looking for something.”
“I said it’s not a market day! Don’t make me repeat myself!”
He couldn’t inquire about Hasha and Berik’s identities here. While there were cases of people becoming slaves legally, nearly half fell into slavery through kidnapping from foreign lands or illegal means. If he searched for Hasha and Berik’s whereabouts here, he would only draw the slave traders’ suspicion.
Swish.
Ian pulled a gold coin from his pocket and displayed it before the man’s eyes. As the man’s eyes widened, about to say something, Ian pressed the coin against his chin and whispered quietly.
“I said I’m looking for something. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Then, slowly and with a smile, he placed the gold coin between the man’s teeth. The man bit down hard to verify it was genuine gold, then twisted his body to grant entry.
“…Please, come in.”
“Ahem, I, I, beg your pardon!”
Romandro coughed awkwardly and pressed close behind Ian. The man led Ian and Romandro to a room at the far end.
“One moment. I’ll inform the captain and return.”
Tap, tap.
As the man disappeared, Romandro exhaled sharply without realizing it, and Ian checked the compass.
‘This is definitely the place.’
Seven caravan members visible to the eye. With spaces like an ant colony, he couldn’t estimate the exact number. As Ian looked at them, several men grinned wickedly with sinister smiles. Romandro felt the back of his neck stiffen.
“Why, why are they smiling like that…?”
“It seems Lord Romandro has caught their fancy.”
“What! Me?”
Creak.
“My, my, what brings a guest on a non-market day? This is troublesome—if the guards find out, it’s truly terrifying. The fines are astronomical! Ahahaha!”
The caravan captain was remarkably young for his position. His bright, cunning eyes were precisely those of a merchant. He extended his hand to Ian in greeting.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Captain Parkens.”
“There’s no need for me to introduce myself.”
“Of course not. I’m not even curious. Haha! Please, sit down!”
Though he packaged himself in light laughter, a man running a slave caravan could not be careless.
Ian sat and surveyed the office. There wasn’t a single trace of someone actually living here. This was a temporary shelter used upon arrival at the capital, a space that could be abandoned and fled at a moment’s notice if problems arose.
“So then, what are you searching for? It seems you had a particular reason for seeking out our caravan specifically. Truthfully, it felt too much like a sales pitch to mention, but we have everything except what doesn’t exist. If something’s unavailable, we can quickly inquire elsewhere and make connections for you.”
Parkens smiled with interlaced fingers, gesturing for Ian to speak. Ian merely raised his eyebrows while looking at the men standing firmly behind him, as if to say they should leave.
“My apologies. We had a petty thief break into the building yesterday.”
“A petty thief?”
“There doesn’t appear to be any loss, but there are clear signs of intrusion, so everyone is on edge. The man who opened the door isn’t one to let things slide easily, but gold coins do have a way of enchanting people. Wouldn’t you agree?”
I was certain. That petty thief was Berik. He had made his way inside and met with Hasha, and at Hasha’s request, he had summoned me.
I tapped my fingertips against the table.
“How many items do you currently have?”
“We have approximately thirty pieces in stock at present.”
“I’d like to take a look around.”
“I apologize, but we don’t readily show our inventory to those without an established transaction. If there’s something specific you desire, please tell me. I’ll have it brought up.”
I stared directly at Parkens.
“Do you deal in beasts?”
“Beasts? Ah, yes. Well, we do have some.”
“I’m looking for something to play with and something suitable for sword practice. Recommend what you think would work and bring it. I’ll choose from what you bring.”
“For sword practice! That’s excellent! Generally speaking, for sword practice, thicker subcutaneous fat is preferable. Please wait a moment.”
Parkens and his subordinates closed the door and left the office. However, I could hear only one set of footsteps. The other two guards appeared to be stationed outside the door. Romandro noticed this as well and whispered to me.
“Do you think Hasha and Berik are being held here?”
“Hasha might be. If a talking dog has been discovered, that is. But the petty thief…”
“It’s Berik, isn’t it?”
“Likely. Since he said he was with Hasha, he’s probably hidden somewhere in this building.”
“So what should we do?”
Romandro merely shrugged in response. Since I didn’t know what Hasha and Berik wanted to accomplish or how they intended to handle it, I couldn’t act rashly. Should I bring guards and tear this place apart?
“I’ll let Berik know. That we’ve arrived.”
Zzzziiing. Zzzing.
I slowly released my mana. My eyes shifted to gold, and my hair fluttered in the low, undulating wind. Romandro swallowed hard, his gaze darting between the door and me.
“You’re telling him to sense your mana? Will that careless fellow even notice?”
Crash! Bang!
That’s when the sound came from outside. I stopped releasing my mana and turned around.
“He seems to have noticed.”
* * *
“What was that noise?”
“Indeed.”
Parkens, who had been heading down to the Underground Prison with his subordinates, froze. Since the sound came from where they were headed, he was understandably cautious.
Tap-tap-tap!
“Master Parkens! Master Parkens!”
“The commotion is too loud! Quiet!”
“But that is…”
A subordinate scrambling up the stairs spouted incomprehensible words. Thick smoke billowed up. Wondering if there was a fire, Parkens covered his mouth with his sleeve and descended.
Creak-eeeek.
A half-destroyed door swung open on its own. The torchlight from the corridor illuminated the Underground Prison, where a white dog and an unknown man sat. Red hair stained here and there with his subordinate’s blood.
“What is this?”
“Hey! Hey! Our master’s here, right?”
“You, you, how did you get in here…?”
“Our master’s here!?”
Berik surged to his feet, channeling mana into his blade.
Hasha did the same, bolting down the opposite corridor and bellowing at the top of his lungs.
-Astanians! It is done! Our savior has arrived! Everyone, rise!

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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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