Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 31

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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 31. Right of First Negotiation
While the Physician examined the potted plant, the tribe members watched anxiously from behind, eager for the old man to declare it was Silask. After turning over the leaves and inspecting them carefully, the Physician finally made his pronouncement.
“It is indeed Silask.”
“Damn! By the heavens!”
“Thank you, divine one!”
“Then hurry and brew it! Yes? Winchen will breathe her last!”
Brief cheers erupted at the Physician’s words. They embraced one another and offered prayers of gratitude to the divine. Only Kakantir, the tribal chief, remained at the center, composed.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes. Comparing it against existing records, Silask is confirmed. The number and thickness of the leaves, their color, the fragrance, the shape of the roots—all match expectations. And most importantly, according to the foreigner’s testimony, the flowers never wilted after blooming, did they not?”
The most crucial characteristic had already been verified through Winchen, so there was nothing more to add. The chief nodded and urged them forward.
“Then brew it into medicine at once.”
“However….”
A very slight hesitation. Yet it was enough to freeze the atmosphere inside the tent.
“The quantity is the problem.”
“Quantity?”
“The records state that three roots must be brewed for a complete cure to be effective. Winchen’s strength has already greatly diminished, and this pot contains only two roots. It will likely only serve to extinguish the immediate crisis.”
The quantity was insufficient. But they chose to focus on the positive reality before them.
“Extinguishing the immediate crisis is blessing enough. Prepare the decoction quickly. Use just one root for now.”
“Yes, Kakan.”
“And bring Ian from outside….”
The one giving orders trailed off. Everyone looked at him with confusion. Kakantir paused in thought before correcting himself.
“Bring Sir Ian of Bratz.”
In any case, he had brought the Silask here with his own feet to aid the tribal chief. Whatever his intentions, as a chief and as a Cheonryeo tribesman, this was clearly an act of goodwill. They had an obligation to honor their promise.
Swish—
Ian entered the tent calmly. He had apparently already heard the commotion from outside. Upon seeing the potted plant on the table, he smiled.
“Knowing this is its last bloom, it appears particularly crimson today.”
“Sir Ian of Bratz.”
And he placed his hand over his chest in greeting. It was the same courtesy Nersaren had shown at the manor. As Kakan bowed, his subordinates too had to lower their heads.
“I offer my sincere gratitude for your aid.”
“I hear the quantity is insufficient.”
“Nevertheless, the fact of your assistance remains unchanged. While we’re at it, I have something I wish to ask. Would you sit for a moment?”
His demeanor had clearly shifted. Though not completely formal—he was the chief of the Cheonryeo Tribe—there was respect woven through his words.
“Please, speak.”
“Can more Silask be obtained from Bratz?”
If Winchen died, someone else in the tribe would take her place. This was an unchanging truth. And as time passed, that person too would need Silask. Looking ahead, the cultivation of the crimson flower was essential for the Cheonryeo Tribe.
“I cannot say with certainty.”
“Explain more clearly, so I might understand.”
“The pot is indeed mine. But precisely speaking….”
Ian paused briefly. To explain the exact origin of the pot, he would need to mention Philia’s existence, which would suggest that his own status was incomplete.
It was something he would reveal eventually, but whether this was the right moment was another matter entirely. As Ian fell silent, everyone in the tent held their breath, their eyes fixed solely on his lips.
“Sir Ian?”
“My apologies. I’ve possessed it since childhood, but I cannot say how it came into my hands. There is someone who might know, but I cannot meet them at present. I expect to be able to contact them in about two to four weeks.”
To obtain Silask, it was true that Bratz held an advantage over the southern lands with uncertain travel routes—it could be reached within days.
“Does Count Derga not know of Silask’s existence either?”
“No one in the Bratz Estate knew of that flower. I myself only learned of it upon arriving here.”
Otherwise, I had considered submitting a formal trade request, but hearing that it wasn’t distributed within Bratz left me at a loss. Kakan fell into thought, tapping the table rhythmically.
“…But why does contacting them take two to four weeks?”
It was a distance that could be reached in three or four days if one set their mind to it. Was the person who knew of Silask somewhere else? As if confirming Kakan’s suspicion, Ian nodded.
“There are circumstances that will make them difficult to find in Bratz.”
“May I ask for more details?”
“…In truth, I wish to tell you as well, but then I would need one more agreement from you.”
What would it be this time? I wondered if Ian would ask to be sent back to Bratz.
‘That would be rather inconvenient.’
“Grant me priority in negotiations over Count Bratz.”
“Priority in negotiations?”
At Ian’s words, murmurs erupted from behind. Were they not all bound together as one house of Bratz? Priority in negotiations between father and son? That meant internal conflict would arise within.
Kakan furrowed his brow and asked.
“It seems you intend to overthrow your father.”
“Is it not the same among the Cheonryeo Tribe—that the strong sit in the position of leader?”
True. In fact, I had no grounds to object. The Cheonryeo Tribe were those who practiced the law of survival of the fittest firsthand. Kakantir realized this conversation was taking an increasingly interesting turn.
“I’m sorry, but I cannot grant priority in negotiations. You cannot command Bratz soldiers at present, nor can you increase the grain you would deliver to us, can you?”
It meant—why would I trust someone with nothing to offer such a promise? Yet Ian noticed that despite Kakantir’s denial, a smile played at the corners of his mouth. There was an expectation that Ian would satisfy his curiosity.
“Very well. Allow me to speak first. If you deem this matter significant enough to sway the priority in negotiations, I ask that you swear by the heavens and keep your promise to me.”
“I swear.”
There was nothing to lose in this situation. Kakantir leaned back against the soft wool chair, as if urging Ian to speak. Yet his body stiffened immediately at what Ian said next.
“An army will descend from the Imperial Palace along with the inspection division. The charge is treason through tax evasion. Bratz may disappear entirely within a month.”
“What? Treason?”
“What did that bastard just say?”
“An army from the Imperial Palace?”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, everyone speaking in disbelief at the bombshell revelation. Kakan’s deep brown eyes fixed intently on Ian. Even without the gypsy abilities like Winchen’s, he could discern that Ian’s words were true.
“Is this the truth?”
“I swear by the heavens it is true.”
“How do you know this fact?”
“Before the peace ceremony, someone came down from the central government. They came to judge whether I was suitable as a peace treaty partner. I heard it from them.”
“If Bratz is annihilated, you would not escape unscathed either, would you?”
“That is precisely why I have come here. If Bratz is annihilated, would it not be troublesome for the Cheonryeo Tribe as well?”
Bratz and the Cheonryeo Tribe. They shared borders and maintained a precarious relationship with one another. It could not be called friendly, but they respected each other’s territories.
But if Bratz disappeared and the Emperor’s central forces were stationed there instead? Would the Emperor truly fear the frontier barbarians as Count Derga did? Even if a new Count were appointed? Would they trade with them?
It would become an enormous event that would completely transform the political landscape.
“Count Derga—does he know of this?”
“I don’t know. Even if I did, revealing it would only spill unnecessary blood. Treason is punishable by beheading regardless of the Emperor’s mercy. I crossed the desert to protect my estate at the very least.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“When my father dies and the estate becomes vacant, I ask that you lead your warriors into the Bratz Estate alongside me.”
“That’s absurd! Kakan!”
An old man listening from behind cried out in alarm. However, unlike him, Kakantir and Nersaren’s eyes gleamed with sharp intelligence. They had sensed that Ian was hiding something more.
Kakan spoke as if calculating carefully.
“If Count Derga dies, it means the Emperor’s central forces will be stationed in the estate. We’d be in trouble if we faced them.”
“I’m aware. But they will want to avoid friction with you.”
Because they’re preparing for real treason. There’s no reason for them to clash with frontier barbarians, especially against an enemy whose military strength is unconfirmed.
“Why is that?”
“The tribal chief demands quite a lot from me.”
It was an answer that said he couldn’t reveal it.
The sound of Kakantir tapping the table grew faster. It meant his thoughts had become complicated.
“The Cheonryeo Tribe need only stand behind me. I would greatly appreciate it if you added a word in this manner: ‘As an ally who has walked alongside Bratz for long years, we stand united with Ian Bratz, who has become family to Cheonryeo.'”
“Then, wouldn’t the Empire possibly turn their blades against us?”
“Against the Cheonryeo, who command the vast Great Desert and the mightiest warriors? I doubt it. Rather, the opposite would be true.”
The Central authority would think they could effectively control the Cheonryeo only if Ian managed the estate. It could also imply that depending on Ian’s resolve, they could even wage full-scale war for the estate’s independence.
If the estate became independent, all the effort spent purging Count Derga would be wasted.
“The Empire’s wars don’t always require drawing swords. The Empire will choose the easier, cheaper method. Even if armed conflict occurs, if you wish, you can simply return to the Great Desert.”
“Lord Ian. You’re saying something quite extraordinary right now.”
“I’ve been thinking about this since before crossing the desert. If you help me, and I succeed in protecting Bratz—more precisely, the estate—I will show you the power of a ‘true alliance’ that the Cheonryeo have never experienced before.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie either. If military provisions decreased due to peace, the estate’s warehouse would surely overflow. This would allow everyone to live well-fed.
“Wait.”
Nersaren, who had been listening quietly, raised his hand. His expression showed there was something he didn’t understand.
“Please speak.”
“You said—or rather, you said that treason is a grave crime equivalent to exterminating one’s entire house. Your name is Ian Bratz, the son of a traitor. Wouldn’t returning to the estate itself be impossible? No matter how much we cover for you.”
“Indeed, you are Nersaren. You’re absolutely right. That’s a very important point.”
Ian clapped lightly and smiled.
And he emphasized once more.
“I am Count Derga’s biological son.”
He first clarified that there was no problem with his blood relation.
“But legally, I am not. I have not yet been registered. Therefore, my name is not ‘Ian Bratz,’ but simply ‘Ian.'”
“What?”
Murmurs rippled through the gathering. But Ian’s next words were enough to silence them all.
“—Therefore, the Empire cannot legally apply the charge of treason to me. This is why I can become the new lord of Bratz.”
Of course, one misstep and he’d end up as a slave. It was information he had no need to share with the Cheonryeo.

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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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