Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 30

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Chapter 30. Eyes That See Through Lies
I kept my gaze fixed on the crimson flower within the tent. Berik was still snoring away in deep slumber, while the world outside buzzed with commotion.
Piecing together the situation: Winchen’s illness required a plant called ‘Silask,’ and it seemed several expeditions had been sent out to find it. But none of them had returned.
‘But this is that?’
Silask. The true identity of the potted flower that no one at the Bratz Estate had known. I gently brushed the petals, my brow furrowing. How in the world had the illegitimate Ian obtained this during his lifetime?
‘He said he cultivated it himself. If Philia had been nearby, I could have asked her.’
Could it be a rare medicinal herb found only in the blind spots of the red-light district? Like Gula. If someone merely discovered it, it could usher humanity toward another great leap forward.
As that thought struck me, I felt my heart racing.
“Mm.”
Just then, Berik stirred awake. His face was puffy from the meat and alcohol he’d consumed the previous day. I hastily tossed him a towel, signaling him to prepare himself, and Berik stumbled out of the tent still half-asleep.
“Ah. A foreigner.”
“Shh. He’s a foreigner.”
“Didn’t he go to the banquet yesterday?”
“Hey! Did you have pleasant dreams? What went into your bellies was top-grade!”
Pushing through the murmuring crowd, I found my way to a familiar location—Winchen’s tent, which I’d visited immediately upon arriving yesterday. The scent of gurul leaves hung even more thickly in the air. Nersaren noticed me and turned his head in confusion.
“What brings you here?”
“Good morning. I followed the commotion and found myself here.”
“This matter is none of your concern. Remain in the tent until Kakantir sends word.”
From here on, I would have to earn my keep in this place. Still, given my position, I would likely be tasked with spreading Bariel’s language and culture to the higher-ranking members.
As for Berik—whether he’d be treated like a slave as Su suggested, or whether he’d be recognized as my assistant, remained to be seen.
“The Winchen Chieftain seems to be in quite grave condition.”
“Ian Bratz. You speak far too much right now.”
The moment I mentioned the Winchen Chieftain’s name, the surroundings fell silent in an instant. Some clicked their tongues in disbelief, while others shot me openly hostile glares. Had I been dealing with anyone other than Nersaren, a conflict might have erupted on the spot.
“The noise from all directions this morning made it impossible not to hear, even if I tried.”
“I’m afraid you—”
“A flower that, once it blooms, never withers—they call it Silask. If you had just that, would the Winchen Chieftain’s health be restored?”
Though Nersaren hadn’t known me long, he understood I wasn’t the type to be so oblivious to atmosphere. I glanced around and whispered quietly.
“I have a matter to discuss. Please arrange an audience with the Chieftain.”
I’d shown enough of my hand. If what I possessed was indeed Silask, the credit would seep through them like wind. In a situation where I needed to cultivate goodwill, a certain degree of attention was necessary.
Creak—
Nersaren led me not to Winchen’s chamber, but to an adjoining barracks. There, Kakantir and other leaders were discussing the expedition.
“—But that man has just fathered a son.”
“His fifth child. With four grown children above him, I believe there are no issues for the remaining family.”
“And he is particularly skilled with the bow….”
“Kakan.”
At Nersaren’s call, Kakantir turned his head. A gurul leaf was still curled between his lips.
“What is it?”
“Ian Bratz says he has something to tell you about Silask.”
“More precisely, I have questions to ask.”
“…Sit.”
I settled myself amid the thick haze of smoke. Elderly men seated in a row on either side watched me with expressions of varying curiosity.
“Could you explain what this plant called Silask is? I have a suspicion about it, and I’d like to verify whether my guess is correct.”
“A suspicion? Ah. You don’t know what Silask is?”
I answered with silence instead.
Kakantir exhaled the smoke lightly, then gestured with his eyes toward the physician seated beside him. The physician withdrew a single sheet of paper from his robes—it appeared to be a portion of a plant encyclopedia written in an unfamiliar language.
“Silask is the name of a disease that afflicts those who directly receive the will of the divine, much like the Winchen Chieftain. After a lifetime of bearing that divine essence, they grow old and frail, unable to endure it any longer, and shatter into pieces.”
The physician continued his explanation.
“According to records, in the distant past, merchants from the southern lands were rescued by the Cheonryeo in the desert, and Silask seeds were obtained at that time. However, nowadays it’s become nearly impossible to find.”
I couldn’t fathom the depth of that distant past they spoke of. No one among the Cheonryeo Tribe today knew Winchen in her youth.
While she endured for so long, the records concerning Silask had grown dim, and only now had they barely grasped a thread of the truth.
I offered appropriate words of consolation.
“It seems that’s because the Bariel Empire doesn’t have many who receive the will of the divine.”
I nearly let slip the word “gypsy.” To these people, Winchen is an important figure, but in the Bariel Empire, she’s merely one old gypsy among many—albeit one with genuine skill even among a sea of charlatans. Nothing more than that.
Moreover, since gypsies wander throughout their lives, no one knows how their final years unfold. It’s more accurate to say people simply don’t care.
The physician’s brow furrowed.
“At some point, Silask disappeared, and well. Now we see the situation before us.”
“Could Silask perhaps be… a red flower that, once it blooms, never wilts?”
“If the records are accurate.”
At that, Kakan’s brow creased delicately this time.
“I sense the fragrance of Silask in your words.”
This fellow has quite the nose.
I smiled broadly and nodded.
“In fact, I once saw a flower suspected to be Silask in the Bratz Estate. It was red, and once it bloomed, it never wilted.”
Even the sun sets once a day, yet a mere flower never wilts? Clearly, this was a special case. At my words, Kakantir pressed further.
“Is this the truth?”
“I was astonished as well. That’s why I came here immediately upon hearing about Silask.”
Well, how should I proceed? If the timing aligned perfectly, there was a way to lure them to Bratz.
While the Emperor’s Central Army was laying waste to Bratz, if I returned with the Cheonryeo’s strength at my back, I would gain not only my life but, with proper execution, even the estate itself.
But…
‘The problem is that Winchen is on her last legs.’
Could she endure until the Central Army reached Bratz? Doubtful. If the chieftain fled the banquet, her condition was such that it wouldn’t be strange if she stopped breathing at any moment.
“Explain in detail.”
“Before that, I have a request.”
Then, I would have to use a different approach after all.
At my words, Kakan made no effort to hide his displeasure. It was the attitude of one haggling over the chieftain’s very life.
“A request? But if Winchen’s breath stops before then, your head will be severed as well, won’t it?”
“Please treat me not as a subject of peace negotiations, but as a guest of the Bariel Empire.”
Since there had been no imperial decree, I couldn’t use terms like “envoy” or “representative.” But the meaning itself was hardly different. I sought assured safety of life and proper respect.
“Bratz is but one piece that comprises the vast Bariel. The peace of Bratz is known even in the Imperial Palace, and my presence here is, when all is said and done, the will of the Imperial Palace.”
At my honeyed words, Kakantir’s lips curved upward ever so slightly. A look that seemed to say, “See? I told you so,” came as a bonus.
“Is that so? Then let me ask you this. If your head were to fall from your shoulders right now, would the Imperial Palace send an army marching down here? By your own logic, shouldn’t they?”
“I cannot say whether they would bring an army, but it would certainly become a problem. You see, the spirit of the Imperial Palace runs deep within me.”
Crash!
Before he could finish speaking, an elderly man slammed his fist against the table. Since it was their language, I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Something about a serpent’s tongue, perhaps….
The others remained silent, but their eyes betrayed their disbelief in Ian’s words.
“The spirit of the Imperial Palace?”
Was Ian claiming that I had inherited the bloodline of the Imperial Palace? That Count Derga was my father?
“I cannot elaborate on the details. What I can assure you of is this: my body was inherited from Count Derga Bratz, but my spirit belongs to the Imperial Palace. I do not believe this is a matter the Chieftain should concern herself with.”
“Fine. Yes, fine. It is because of men like you that the Divine sent us Winchen. You there!”
At Kakantir’s shout, two warriors approached and seized Ian by the arms. Berik, who had been waiting outside the tent, nearly rushed forward in alarm, but Ian raised a hand lightly to stop him.
‘So it begins.’
They were taking Ian to Winchen. Ian met Berik’s gaze with a look that said to wait, then turned back into the Chieftain’s tent.
“Winchen.”
“Ah….”
Her breathing was labored, but consciousness had returned. The servants slowly helped her to her feet, and her clouded eyes continued to gaze upward toward the sky.
“This man claims to have knowledge of Silask.”
“More precisely, I said I had a suspicion about it.”
“…A suspicion, you say. Is it the truth?”
Saliva dripped from the corner of Winchen’s mouth. Instead of speaking, she answered by nodding her head. At the same moment, the servants let out cries of joy, and Nersaren, who had followed, brightened as if he had found a glimmer of light.
“And furthermore, this man claims that his spirit belongs to the Bariel Imperial Palace.”
Did he have anything to correct about that?
Kakantir looked down at Ian and let his words trail off. If Winchen’s head shook in denial at this moment, he would sever Ian’s legs—he had the skill for it. Since he needed to hear about Silask, he would make sure to cauterize the wound properly.
“Ah….”
Then Winchen drew in a sharp breath. Her body trembled slightly as she closed her eyes. She never closed her eyes while concealing falsehoods.
“…!”
And then, everyone fell silent. Winchen placed her two withered hands, thin as twigs, across her chest in a gesture of respect. Then, bending at the waist as much as her body would allow, she prostrated herself forward. To anyone watching, it was a salute reserved for the most noble of persons.
“Winchen?”
“Ugh….”
And with that, the Chieftain collapsed to her side. The physician rushed over and checked her pulse, while the servants ran off to fetch warm water. Ian simply gazed at her and murmured.
“Silask is in my tent.”
At his words, Kakan froze in surprise. When the Chieftain did not issue a command, Nersaren, who had been listening, bolted outside and shouted.
“Go to the foreigner’s tent! Search for the red flower!”
“What? Why?”
“Hurry! There is no time to waste!”
“Ian! What is this? What do we do? Should we grab it and run?”
At Berik’s cry, Ian smiled softly.
“It is done. This is my first gift to them as a guest of Bariel.”
Ian announced to Berik in a voice full of dignity. In Winchen’s tent, heavy with the scent of guroot leaves, Ian now stood as an equal to Kakan for the first time.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————