Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 280

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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 280
Criticism. Exactly Right
“Pardon me. Where is the Ministry of Magic’s office located?”
“Go straight down this corridor, then turn right once.”
“Thank you.”
“But you’re an Imperial Guard Knight, aren’t you? Is this perhaps related to tomorrow’s scheduled matters? Since I’m the person in charge, if so, shall we return together?”
Barsabe shook her head, her arms full of reports. These were matters left unfinished from the earlier council meeting. Though it was late at night, once dawn broke, everything would descend into chaos. Captain Jeirat had ordered her to hurry and organize them since they weren’t particularly important anyway.
“No. These are council reports.”
“I see. Then do your best.”
“Yes! Do your best tomorrow as well!”
The Mage chuckled as he passed by Barsabe’s cheerful greeting. In truth, he was exhausted and had little energy left.
Barsabe followed the Mage’s directions before coming to a halt.
‘Now that I think about it, is the office actually open at this hour? This is my first time coming to another department so late, so I’m not sure. Usually the on-duty staff would receive these.’
Far down the corridor, she could see a door emanating dignity. A faint light leaked through the gap. Barsabe suddenly understood why the Mage hadn’t corrected her to go to the duty office instead.
The Minister of Magic didn’t know the meaning of leaving work. His office was always open without exception. How dreadful and remarkable that was.
Barsabe approached carefully and made her presence known.
Knock, knock.
“Come in.”
He didn’t even ask who it was? Insane. Had he been waiting for this report all along? Barsabe poked her head in and bowed respectfully.
“Good evening, Minister. I’ve brought the council reports.”
Ian didn’t even glance at Barsabe, continuing to move his pen across the page. Whatever work he was doing, his desk was surrounded by old books rather than reports.
Ian gestured with his left hand, signaling her to bring them over.
‘Maps?’
Maps of different scales, history books written in foreign languages, administrative archives, official diplomatic letters from the previous generation, and more. Weren’t these unusual tasks for the Minister of Magic to be reviewing? Since he didn’t seem to be hiding anything in particular, Barsabe placed the reports down and asked.
“It seems I’ve come at a busy time. Is this personal business?”
“You could say it is, or you could say it isn’t.”
Looking more closely, they were maps of Burgos and the Kingdom of Ruswena. Sensing Barsabe’s gaze, Ian looked up at her.
“…My apologies.”
“Curiosity isn’t among a Knight’s virtues, is it?”
“I, well, um…”
Even after delivering the reports, she showed no sign of leaving. Ian set down his pen and raised his eyebrows. It was a look that said he had much to do, so if she had anything to say, she should hurry.
“Captain Jeirat wishes to address what happened today.”
“Address it? How?”
“I heard that Xiaoxi’s injury is the greatest concern, particularly regarding the protection of Jhin. So I’m asking—wouldn’t it be suitable for me to serve at his side until Xiaoxi recovers?”
“You?”
Ian responded with a tone of disbelief. Barsabe placed her hand over her heart and performed the Imperial salute.
*Thump.*
“Though my own condition hasn’t fully recovered, I am more than capable of substituting for Xiaoxi. I stake everything on this—I will think only of his safety.”
Ian tapped his desk with his fingertips, studying her. A silence longer than expected stretched between them. Just as Barsabe, unable to bear the tension, was about to add something more.
“Very well. Do so.”
“What? Really?”
“…Was I joking?”
“That can’t be! How could I make such a jest!”
“We’re short-handed due to the selection schedule. Since Captain Jairot has offered to take her on as a trainee, I have no reason to object. However, it remains your escort duty. You’d do well to seek his permission rather than mine. It’s too late now—when the sun rises, go to his quarters and ask.”
“Yes. I understand. Then.”
“Barsabe.”
She stopped as she was heading out and turned back. Unable to hide her bewilderment at how easily permission had been granted, her expression was transparent. Ian chuckled softly as he observed her face.
“Assisting with Berik’s training is also your responsibility.”
Though she hadn’t sparred with him, Xiaoxi had been doing everything she could for Berik. Bringing water and towels was merely the basics—she’d participated in his fundamental physical training, running and push-ups, contributing to improving his records.
Barsabe clearly disapproved, pursing her lips as she muttered.
“I understand, sir…”
Creak.
As the door closed, Ian shut his book and examined the report she’d brought. It was faster than expected, better than anticipated, and clearer than imagined. Ian smiled and turned the pages over.
‘I knew Barsabe would come. Rather than someone unfamiliar, Captain Jairot must have judged it would be easier to bring her in. But Barsabe will be somewhat clumsy for a role beyond mere escort duty.’
Separating Xiaoxi from Jin and assigning an Imperial Guard in her place. This was clearly a form of restraint.
I’d told Xiaoxi it was still uncertain, but I should correct that immediately. Jairot has made his decision.
“But he has no foundation.”
Being able to counter Ian meant being independent from the palace’s circumstances. Standing alone—how could there be any foundation?
Honor, power, and wealth. There’s good reason to speak of these three together. The Imperial Guards exemplify this. They have honor but lack power—still insufficient.
Scratch, scratch.
The sound of a pen tip across paper. Ian suddenly recalled that day when he’d awakened at the Bratz estate. He’d organized the future the same way then. Regarding the illegitimate Ian’s indecipherable note.
-Jin, the palace, Timothy’s naturalization, the Magic Division’s separate building, the situation of three nations, the appointment ceremony, Melania and Rutherford’s trading company…
Like untangling a knotted thread, Ian laid out his plans, addressing each fragmented point one by one.
Branches continued to extend. The points where the fruits of causality ripened and burst, and where new branches sprouted—all were calculated in the palm of Ian’s hand.
Cutting away, cutting away. Cutting away again…
‘That won’t work. If it goes like this in Burgos—’
Stroke.
‘There’s no precedent. Whether he’ll accept the proposal or not is too uncertain. I’m not sure what Jin would do if he came at it that way then. Hmm. Rather than this—’
Stroke.
There was nothing more foolish than guessing the future, yet building the future depended on will. Each time he drew his pen, dozens, hundreds of futures were born and erased. Until the best future came into focus, Ian continued to extend the branches of his thoughts.
Knock, knock.
Creak.
Night deepened and morning seeped in. Normally, Ian’s command to bring meals would have been heard by now, but strangely, all was quiet. The servants lingered outside the study for a while before making their presence known inside. They wondered if he’d perhaps collapsed.
“Ian, sir?”
“Shh. He seems to be sleeping.”
Ian was slumped over his desk, asleep. He’d collapsed without even realizing it, still gripping his pen in his right hand. The servants tiptoed in, brought a blanket to drape over him, and set a meal tray at the edge of the table.
“Hmm?”
“What is it?”
“Why is there so much ash on the floor?”
“Looks like something was burned.”
“In the middle of the night?”
Hundreds of futures had bloomed in Ian’s hands. The unchosen ones were completely incinerated and vanished entirely. They had bloomed without anyone knowing, only to disappear once more.
And just one. A single sheet of paper lay beneath Ian’s arm.
It was the future he had chosen.
* * *
Days within the imperial palace flowed in chaotic succession. Externally, the grand talent selection continued unabated, while internally, preparations for Jin’s inauguration ceremony had begun.
With leaders from three nations said to be visiting, the administrative branch and key departments were already on edge.
“Not here—over there! Are you paying attention?”
“Oh, my apologies. There seems to have been some miscommunication in the process.”
“What about the remaining matches today? Can we finish before sunset? I heard there are two more promotion matches for the Imperial Guards.”
“That’s already accounted for in this report.”
“Wait, why is the barrier over there so weak? Magic Department!”
“We went to report to Ian. Just a moment!”
Jin crunched on sweets while rolling his eyes constantly. Unlike the bustling staff members, the boy was leisurely watching the matches.
Having nothing to help with wasn’t entirely comfortable. And to make matters worse, Barsabe was seated beside him instead of Xiaoxi.
“Um, Your Highness. Would you like something to drink?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Her posture—measured yet tense, awkwardly offering juice. Barsabe was doing her best to assist Jin, but the discomfort and strangeness were unavoidable.
This wasn’t something only one of them felt; it applied to both. Romandro gestured to Jin to look away from such matters.
“Your Highness. That’s Sia over there.”
“Ah, I see. Let it begin.”
“Sia! Do well! Don’t get hurt!”
“If he wins this, he becomes rank three, correct?”
“Yes, Your Highness. Below rank one hundred, there are too many candidates, so separate grades have been assigned. He showed promise before facing Berik, so there’s reason for optimism.”
“Sia! You mustn’t get injured! Be careful of wounds!”
Jin stood up himself to cheer. The testing ground was loud and chaotic, with screams and shouts erupting everywhere, making it difficult to hear even one’s neighbor. Yet all the officials on the second floor heard Jin’s voice. They were watching, after all. Among them were Captain Jairot and Ian, who was attending to his duties.
Piiiiit!
The whistle signaled the start of the match. Jin asked without taking his eyes off Xiaoxi.
“What about Berik?”
“He has a match right after this.”
It was Barsabe who answered. She glanced nervously toward Captain Jairot.
Honestly, she hadn’t thought Berik’s skills were particularly ordinary, but she never expected him to enter the top ten. Barsabe bit her cheek, feeling a subtle sense of defeat.
“Didn’t he already lose once to a Guard?”
“Those within the top ten will continue to be verified across multiple matches. Perhaps—”
“Sia! Excellent! That’s it!”
Xiaoxi drove his fist into his opponent’s jaw. Unlike before, his attacks were far more aggressive. Watching the punches fly freely, Romandro’s blood was boiling as he continued to shout.
“Siaaaa!”
Thwack! Crack!
Bam!
Blood sprayed. The wounded fighter moved with an agility beyond comprehension. The cheers from the spectators grew louder, shaking the surroundings with noise.
As Xiaoxi drove his knee into his opponent’s chest, the match ended.
Xiaoxi gasped for breath, his chest heaving. He glanced up at the second floor. To the left, Ian watched alongside the Mages, while to the right, Jin applauded.
A figure descended swiftly.
“Xiao! Well done! You’re not hurt, are you!”
Xiaoxi placed his hand over his heart, turning toward Jin. Ian, observing this, smiled faintly before resuming his discussion with the Mage. Captain Jeirat, watching both Ian and Xiaoxi, spoke up.
“All those under your command are exceptional. Your discernment is remarkable, Minister.”
“They are all a reflection of my virtue. By the way, Berik’s match is next…”
Ian murmured while flipping through the report. Weren’t the top ten powerhouses now facing their final matches? Once this concluded, the Imperial Guards would undergo generational succession.
Two new captains and new guards.
And that would mean—
‘A captain lineage that would be etched deeply into history would be established.’
Unless there were special circumstances, they would be the ones to participate in the clash against the great demons. Thus, they would bring about the destruction of the Atan Clan. The moment history was born anew. Ian laughed with interest.
“Will you truly step forward?”
“This is about selecting captains. Unless I, as captain, recognize them, it cannot be. I will examine them one by one, starting from rank ten…”
Crash! Bang!
The door burst open!
At that moment, the training ground door was kicked open violently. It was Berik, who entered with a shout, the black sword slung across his shoulder. He was the first talent Captain Jeirat would personally verify.
“Hoo-rah! Berik has arrived!”
“…He’s here.”
“…He’s come.”
Captain Jeirat and Ian murmured simultaneously. Berik pointed his sword at Captain Jeirat and grinned wickedly. He’d been irritated about recent events, and this was an unexpected opportunity.
“You filthy old geezer. I knew a day like this would come.”
“I didn’t know. You’re more persistent than I thought.”
“It’s not persistence—it’s strength! I lost once, but that was because of a massive weight class difference! Anyway, this works out perfectly. Come down here! I’m going to examine you thoroughly, from head to toe. Just wait!”
Before even stepping onto the arena, Berik unleashed his mana. The scorching heat radiating from the black sword instantly filled the training ground. Unlike before, this was the first match where each participant could use their own weapons.
“I don’t understand all that complicated ranking selection method stuff, but if I beat you, old geezer, I become captain, right?”

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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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