Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 2

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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 2. The Bastard of House Bratz
“House Bratz is vulgar for nobility.”
This was the assessment of the Bratz family that circulated through high society.
Perhaps it was because among the many Marquises, they alone bordered the barbarian territories. In the distant past, the sound of war trumpets never ceased, but since recently establishing a surface-level peace, various exchanges had become frequent.
“Ian. Your table manners are quite excellent.”
Ian, who had been hastily chewing meat, came to his senses at the old man’s praise. Was it sarcasm? Had I been so ravenous that I ate without restraint? Ian felt stung by his own behavior and cleared his throat, but the old man’s praise was genuine.
“Your son possesses remarkable refinement. Surely this is thanks to the excellent guidance of Count Derga.”
“You flatter us, Lord Mollin.”
Count Derga, the head of House Bratz, was bewildered by the bastard’s sudden change in demeanor, yet maintained his ceremonial expression. Derga glanced at Ian before responding.
“In any case, Bratz blood flows through his veins, so it is only natural. Please convey my regards to His Majesty.”
“Of course, Count.”
At their cryptic exchange, Ian stopped chewing.
His Majesty? Me?
No, wait. Did he just say Bratz?
‘Now that I think about it…’
My hands holding the fork and knife were far too small and thin. My vantage point from the chair was also low. Bewildered by the inexplicable situation, I swallowed the food and reached for a wine glass.
“Ah.”
The glass contained not wine but a beverage. Moreover, reflected in the round glass was not myself, but the unfamiliar face of a stranger. I nearly spat it out without a second thought.
“Cough!”
As I grabbed a napkin along with the cough, the boy across from me sneered.
“Tsk, tsk. Look at that. And here I thought he was doing well.”
“Chel. You should look after your brother when he makes a mistake.”
The boy called Chel pouted in displeasure.
Countess Merry gripped Chel’s hand firmly beneath the tablecloth, disciplining her son. This was no ordinary meal, after all.
Lord Mollin was a bureaucrat sent down from the Central Palace, and he was currently assessing whether Ian possessed the qualifications to be registered into House Bratz.
Mollin offered Chel a benevolent smile before refocusing his attention on Ian.
“Ian. I hear you’ve been studying philosophy lately.”
At Mollin’s sudden question, Count Derga and his wife wore expressions of alarm. Ian couldn’t even write his own name.
The Count was the child born from his assault on a commoner outside the estate, so the boy had received no proper education. Just moments after the meal began, hadn’t he been gulping down the finger bowl water?
“He is not yet at a level to speak on such matters.”
The Count quickly interjected, ostensibly defending Ian. Yet his gaze toward Ian was unmistakably sharp.
‘Fool. I told you to memorize it.’
There had been crash-course education in preparation for Mollin’s questions, but it seemed the lowborn wretch had forgotten it all.
The old man did not relent, pressing forward with a smile.
“Learning is like that, after all. It becomes stronger when opinions clash with one another. Ian. What have you studied recently? At sixteen, I hear you haven’t attended school…”
The old man, nearly eighty, was both gentle and formidable. How could he not be, having spent a lifetime in the Central Administration where talented individuals were ground down daily?
At this point, even the Count could not defend him. All eyes turned toward Ian.
“Hmm.”
I cleared my throat and wiped my mouth with the napkin.
Just as the Bratz family expected, I was panicking. But not because of Mollin’s question—rather, because I had realized this place was the back garden of the Marquis Mansion.
The Bratz Mansion?
In the body of a boy I’d never seen before?
I suspected Naum’s spatio-temporal magic was involved, but I couldn’t be certain. Spatio-temporal magic opened passages connecting one point in time to another, which inherently imposed location restrictions.
In other words, I had to go there.
But Ian’s last memory was of the Underground Prison, wasn’t it? Moreover, I’d never heard of anyone traveling by borrowing another’s body.
“Lord Ian?”
“Ah. My apologies.”
At Mollin’s prompting, I responded reflexively with practiced grace—a habit cultivated in the Imperial Palace. A smile conveying attentiveness, as if truly absorbed in conversation. The Marquis and his family had never seen me smile like that before.
“Philosophy. Philosophy…”
I murmured thoughtfully, as if deliberating.
“Might I answer in his stead, Administrator Mollin?”
Unable to contain himself, my half-brother Chel interjected.
It was maddening enough that this outsider had become the center of attention at this precious meal, but for him to be registered into the House of Bratz despite his lowborn blood? His indignation was justified.
A foolish, pathetic attempt to redirect the adults’ attention from me to himself. Though the sharp glance from Lady Merry had made his words falter.
“Chel. Mollin was asking Ian.”
She was pleading silently.
My son, please. Just close your mouth. This is all for your sake. We must register this lowborn child into House Bratz so you can live.
“I admire Master Furin.”
“Furin?”
In the midst of the commotion, I spoke those final words. My appetite had vanished; I’d already set my utensils aside neatly.
Count Derga’s face drained of all color. It was a name he’d never heard before. Why not simply admit ignorance? Where did such nonsensical drivel come from…?
“Yes. Of course, the Papacy doesn’t welcome such ideas, but the humanism Master Furin pursues is an extraordinarily important question, isn’t it? By centering humanity and contemplating the truths humanity has created, one can truly envision the form of a rightful sovereign.”
It was purely personal preference. For me, philosophy and humanities mattered far less than ensuring the empire’s people didn’t starve to death each day.
Of course, it was merely philosophy studied for the sake of form, so I simply recalled a name of someone whose beliefs resembled mine—a so-called “accomplished” intellectual I remembered.
Count Derga’s eyes darted about as he gauged Mollin’s reaction. The old man seemed momentarily taken aback, but then he leaned his upper body closer toward me.
“How do you know of Lord Furin?”
“Pardon?”
But it was Count Derga, not I, who answered. Mollin chuckled and shook his head repeatedly.
“My, I fear my arrogance led me to assume news travels slowly to the Borderlands. I apologize to both Count Derga and Lord Ian.”
“No, no.”
Mollin had noticed that the Count didn’t know Furin. Had he known, his stern expression would have twisted into displeasure rather than that vacant stare.
“Lord Furin is the youngest son of House Hawkman, who has only recently come of age. Though young in years, he is a prodigy among prodigies—admitted to Bariel University as the top student. Recently, at an academic debate held in the Imperial Palace, he stirred quite the sensation by raising the question of humanism.”
News does travel slowly to the Borderlands—it took a full fortnight of carriage travel from the Capital to reach Count Derga’s domain. A fact unknown to the Count or anyone else here.
As everyone turned to look at me in astonishment, I too was inwardly shocked.
‘Master Furin has only just come of age? I thought he was over a hundred years old?’
Not only was I in an unfamiliar body, but I had apparently traveled backward through time by nearly a century.
An extraordinarily, truly extraordinary situation—yet I revealed nothing outwardly. My composure as an emperor remained intact.
“So you admire Lord Furin’s philosophy. Yet you just said the Papacy doesn’t welcome it. What did you mean by that?”
“…Humanism is the view that nothing is more important than humanity, so the Papacy, which serves God, would naturally not favor it.”
“Heh heh.”
It was a perfect answer.
Mollin felt the fatigue accumulated over the past fortnight finally lifting.
“It was worth the journey here. I had no idea the new young master of House of Bratz possessed such brilliance. Surely the Emperor will be pleased as well.”
In truth, legitimizing a bastard child was hardly an extraordinary matter for nobility. Being as distinguished and accomplished as they were, what was a little indiscretion in managing one’s household? Whether male or female, it was merely a tedious scandal that periodically circulated through the monotonous social circles of the aristocracy.
Yet something felt off about Mollin’s next words.
“And the Cheonryo Tribe will surely welcome this as well.”
‘The Cheonryo Tribe?’
Ian searched his memory, recalling the familiar name.
The Cheonryo Tribe referred to the barbarians east of the border.
They would welcome his brilliance?
…Then.
‘It seems I’m to be a hostage.’
A bastard to be sent to the Cheonryo Tribe bordering the Borderlands as the price of maintaining peace.
‘Now I understand the situation well enough.’
The Count smiled wickedly and placed his hand over Ian’s. Now that the situation was clear, he appeared like a demon wearing the mask of a benevolent father.
“Ian. I have no doubt that you will become a symbol of peace.”
Peace treaties were official agreements. Traditionally, each chieftain would send their own legitimate child, but the barbarians beyond the Borderlands were unpredictable creatures, liable to turn hostile at any moment.
In fact, Count Derga’s older brother had also crossed the border as a child for such a peace treaty and died. They called it an accident, but the truth remained unclear.
Given such circumstances, how could he possibly send Chel, his only legitimate heir? He had hastily brought Ian, whom he had scarcely acknowledged, to legitimize him.
‘The Imperial Palace must have seen through this as well.’
Yet precisely because one could not send just anyone, they were testing Ian’s brilliance through Mollin. The more intelligent the child sent, the greater the diplomatic leverage gained, and thus it would benefit both sides.
Of course, since the autonomy of House of Bratz took precedence in the Borderlands, it was half a formality. But the other half could be seen as the Imperial Palace’s way of keeping provincial nobility in check.
“Ah.”
Ian grasped the situation immediately.
Even before his death, House of Bratz had exchanged hostages numerous times in this manner to maintain peace treaties.
Though in the end, they would be utterly annihilated by the Cheonryo Tribe.
It was unfortunate that it took a fortnight for the messenger to reach the Capital. By the time the other lords and the Emperor of that era arrived with their armies, it was already too late.
‘Was it my great-grandfather?’
This was an incident from Ian’s great-grandfather’s time.
The Emperor had concluded the matter by dividing fiefs among the nobles and knights who had fought alongside him to drive back the Cheonryo Tribe.
“Ian?”
Lady Mary called to Ian. It was a prompt reminding him to answer the Count, to recall his duty.
Ian smiled brightly and moistened his lips with water once more. Whatever this was, he would acknowledge one thing: he had not died. He had been resurrected in the form of some unknown child.
“Yes, Father.”
At Ian’s crisp response, Count Derga laughed with satisfaction. Except for Chel, everyone laughed merrily, blessing the peace that Ian’s existence would bring.
“Come now, do eat.”
Only then did Count Derga resume his meal with ease.
Ian paused to survey his surroundings, seeking some sense of reality. Above all else, only the pounding of his heart reminded him that he was alive.
‘I have no idea how this came to be.’
If this were Naum’s magic, there was one way to verify it: to go to the Imperial Villa and search for traces of Naum’s magic there.
Yet the distance from Border Bratz to the Capital stretched beyond a fortnight, and for a child soon to be sold into the Great Desert, it was a world as unreachable as eternity itself.
Yes. That world ‘had been’ unreachable.

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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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