Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 19

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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 19. Information Source
“I know well enough that I have nowhere to sleep and nothing to eat right now.”
The salary I’d received over the years would surely have been confiscated under the guise of compensation for damages. Berik was truly destitute, stripped of everything.
I’d managed to get gruel at the tavern where I used to beg, but I couldn’t survive like this for days on end. Berik furrowed his brow and glared at me.
“Damn it, did you use some kind of drug on me?”
“So that’s what it was, then.”
“Now that I think about it, every time I met you, my body felt strange. Whatever it is, you’d better come clean. It’ll be better for you. I don’t fight that way.”
Blood boiling with fighting spirit. When I drove my fist forward, I nearly lost myself in the pleasure of it. No matter how I thought about it, this wasn’t a normal reaction. The only common point in both experiences was that blonde-haired bastard.
“Hmm.”
I chuckled leisurely and shook my head. My attitude suggested mild disappointment.
“Your form is good, but you’re duller than I expected.”
“What?”
Berik faltered at my sudden remark, bewildered. I crossed my arms and leaned against the door. Then I tapped near my temple as if telling him to think carefully.
“The water I gave you when we first met wasn’t mine—it belonged to one of the trainees. And you didn’t refuse the jerky, did you?”
I hadn’t consumed a single sip of water beyond that. Berik’s face grew increasingly confused. After all, he’d come here half-convinced of something.
“I can tell you what you’re curious about. But first, you must make a promise.”
Whoosh.
My eyes gleamed with golden light.
But unlike before, I didn’t let my mana flow into Berik. If he reared up like a colt here, things could go wrong.
“First, you will keep silent about the golden eyes.”
“No, wait! This is it!”
Berik jumped up and shouted, causing the guards standing behind to turn and look at him curiously. I had my back turned, so my face wasn’t visible.
“And you will not be disrespectful.”
I looked at Berik calmly and warned him. I’d overlooked much because I needed his strength as a Mage Knight, but Berik was excessive. Given his nature, he’d likely behave the same way in front of Count Derga.
‘Is that why Mage Knights are so rare?’
A temperament that doesn’t just hasten death but practically offers his neck for it. The unhealed whip scars were proof of that. Berik bit his lower lip and muttered.
“…That’s all?”
“Finally. I wish for you to guard me from all manner of dangers. If you do, I will make that power entirely your own. And lest you misunderstand, I merely drew out the strength that was already hidden within you.”
He seemed to despise relying on external power, so it was best to nail this down. Berik blinked in surprise.
“My own power?”
“The offer ends here. If you agree—”
“I agree!”
“Please lower your voice.”
At Berik’s behavior, shouting without further thought, the guards began to wear suspicious expressions. They whispered among themselves and discussed something.
“Being with me includes crossing the border. Whether you’ll be needed when we return is uncertain.”
“Return? Here?”
How could a sacrifice bartered away in a peace treaty ever return to Bratz? Even Berik knew that was impossible. But separate from that, my answer was clear.
“What’s the big deal about crossing the border? I have no home or family anyway, so what does it matter?”
“Remember that you could die.”
“If I stay here, I’ll starve to death.”
Right. Even if death were imminent, he wouldn’t drop the formal speech. I let out an incredulous laugh, looking up at him. I almost added something more, but held back. He’d heard enough scolding from me, and I had to admit—this was progress.
“So now, speak freely.”
Berik’s eyes burned with intensity. It was the simple gaze of one who pursued strength. I paused, searching for simple words to explain.
“Have you ever heard of a Mage Knight?”
“No.”
“What about magical power?”
“That either.”
“….”
We stared at each other in peculiar silence.
Even during my time as Emperor, the uneducated existed. How much more so in this rural Borderlands from a hundred years ago? It was only natural that Berik, who’d wandered the streets as an orphan, wouldn’t know such things.
“My lord Ian. Time has been considerably delayed.”
“It is time for the shift change.”
The moment we stopped talking, the guards seized their opportunity and stepped in. I stroked my chin and gave Berik a word of caution.
“I’ll call for you soon, so wait here.”
“Huh? Wait, just a moment—”
“Behave yourself.”
I added the last words almost as a plea. As the guards slowly pushed the massive door shut, Berik tried to follow, only to be blocked by the shaft of a long spear.
‘I clearly told him to wait.’
How does he disobey the moment I give an order? I already had plenty to handle, and now I had one more thing to worry about.
I clicked my tongue and made my way toward the Guest House. The hour was awkward, and not a single servant was visible in the corridor. They’d all finished cleaning and gone to rest.
Knock, knock.
“It’s Ian.”
I didn’t wait for a response and opened the door.
I’d expected the Tutor to be waiting, but the room was empty. Judging by the coat, bag, and half-cooled teacup, he hadn’t left for good.
“…Where did he go? The Tutor?”
Perhaps he’d gone to the washroom, but there was no sign of anyone. I leaned back against the sofa, then suddenly lifted my head and fixed my gaze on the Tutor’s bag.
‘He’s someone Mollin placed to spy on me. There might be useful information inside.’
I rummaged through his bag and found bundles of papers. Most were reference materials for lessons.
The rest was a thesis titled “The Correlation Between Great Desert Climate Change and Blaster Sea Phenomena,” and oddly enough, it contained an academic journal published last year. Surprisingly, it was issued by Bariel University.
‘So he graduated from a university—and it was Bariel, no less.’
It was easy to guess why such a prodigy was stationed in the Bratz Borderlands. “Great Desert” referred to the Cheonryeo Tribe’s garrison, and “Blaster Sea” was the edge of the desert where it met the eastern sea.
Swish.
I emptied the bag down to its lining, but found nothing remarkable. I carefully reorganized the materials and then rummaged through the worn coat. Apart from trash in the pockets, it was clean.
“Hmm?”
Deep inside the sleeve. A tailor’s label was stitched there—the name of whoever designed and made the garment. The seal stamped beside it seemed familiar somehow.
‘…It looks similar to the seal Mollin used.’
I traced each line with my fingertip. It bore striking resemblance to Mollin’s handwriting from memory.
Then my eyes caught on “Bariel University” again. Since Bariel University was a state-run institution, wouldn’t those affiliated with it have frequent contact with government officials? I found myself laughing.
‘So the Tutor was Mollin’s eyes and ears.’
Now it made sense. Information like sending letters to the Cheonryeo Tribe wouldn’t be known to servants, would it? I folded the coat and sat on the sofa as if nothing had happened.
Does the Tutor know that I’ve joined hands with Mollin?
If he were merely an information source, there would be no need to inform him of that, but if he were more than that, he would be watching me doubly from the shadows.
That was when it happened.
Creak.
“Ian?”
The Tutor, who had rushed in, spotted me and flinched. A faint sheen of sweat and a flushed face—it seemed he had just returned from doing something rather precarious.
In such cases, it was usually a secret meeting, reconnaissance, or theft. Given that he was empty-handed, reconnaissance seemed most likely.
“I had some business to attend to, so I’m a bit late. Where have you been?”
“T-the restroom.”
“But there’s a restroom in your quarters.”
“That is, well…”
His eyes darted about frantically. I waved my hand dismissively and sat at my desk.
“I need to write a letter today. You’ve heard from Father, haven’t you?”
“Yes, of course. I’ve received the contents and already prepared a draft. You need only copy it, Ian.”
I could hear the sound of a relieved sigh from him—grateful that I seemed uninterested in his whereabouts.
How clumsy he was. Rather than an informant planted as a Tutor, the hypothesis that he turned out to be a distant branch of the family seemed far more plausible.
“Teacher, I may be running late today. Shall I have someone contact your residence? Since the timing is uncertain, why don’t you stay for dinner?”
I asked this to probe him. The Tutor wiped his sweat and showed clear discomfort.
“It’s fine. There’s no one waiting for me anyway. I’ll eat after I get home.”
A bachelor. In his late thirties, struggling alone in a foreign land as an impoverished noble. His life—devoted to research, driven to come this far—was transparent to me.
When I was at the Imperial Palace, such individuals occasionally produced remarkable results.
I understood why he lacked enthusiasm in lessons.
He needed to finish quickly and return to his research.
As I copied the letters, I observed the Tutor carefully. There was definitely something bothering him—the atmosphere between us had grown oddly tense.
Scratch, scratch.
The sound of parchment being scraped filled the quiet room. I pondered silently.
It seemed he had noticed something and was attempting to act on Mollin’s instructions. But the timing would have been too tight to visit Count Derga’s Study.
My quarters were on the third floor of the Guest House, while Count Derga’s Study was at the top of the main building. With no way of knowing when my tutor would arrive, he couldn’t have gone there. That meant he must have conducted his business somewhere in the Guest House.
The first floor had a simple kitchen, a bathroom for servants, and a warehouse. The second floor housed the Butler’s quarters and the servants’ dormitory. The third floor and above were all guest rooms and empty chambers.
“The Butler…”
Had he visited the Butler’s quarters? I deliberately let my words trail off and glanced back at the Tutor. He seemed to have a talent for answering without words. His face had turned dark and rigid.
“The Butler hasn’t brought refreshments today, it seems. Aren’t you hungry?”
“N-no, I’m fine.”
I chuckled softly and continued writing the rest of the letter. From Mollin’s perspective, it made sense to keep multiple possibilities open for safety.
If I were to fail, or worse, if Count Derga discovered it and everything fell apart, how would he manage the aftermath? Surely the Tutor had received some sort of instruction as well.
So the Tutor had business with the Butler.
A master key? But it was rare for a household head to grant a butler access to the family seal. Granting him control over finances would be different. Based on Count Derga’s nature, that didn’t seem likely.
Then what could it be?
I would have to investigate directly.
I copied the letters skillfully while observing the Tutor. For now, he seemed unaware that I had joined hands with Mollin. The way he fidgeted and perspired made that clear.
There was no particular reason for me to reveal it either. The Tutor seemed relieved by my smile, returning an awkward grin of his own.

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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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