Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 312

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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 312
Fire. Who Knows
“…Stop.”
“Pardon? Why, Your Majesty?”
“Stop, I said! Halt the carriage!”
Startled by the King’s sudden command, Timothy knocked on the window toward the coachman’s seat. Since all four wheels were still rolling, the coachman shouted ahead to the escort carriage to slow its pace.
Damon leaned his head out the window and looked back at the distance they had traveled. It had happened in an instant. The place where he had locked eyes with the Gypsy was already receding far behind.
Whinnnnny!
Screeeech!
“Damn it.”
“Your Majesty!”
The moment the carriage stopped, Damon threw open the door himself and bolted out. He abandoned the well-swept central road, weaving through the crowds, shouting for people to make way, and vaulted over cumbersome market stalls.
Timothy rushed after him in alarm, his master’s passionate display. It was as if he were witnessing an illusion. Was this not the man who always maintained composure?
Even when the previous King died, even when new mines were discovered, he had never revealed his true emotions.
“Move aside! Clear the way!”
“Kyaaaah! Don’t push, you bastard!”
“All the stalls are falling over, damn it, what a cursed fool!”
“Who is that? A foreigner? Looks like someone from the palace.”
“Don’t block him, move! Damn it! Your—”
“Silence! Hold your tongue!”
It was chaos. Collisions erupted between the soldiers moving with Damon and the citizens, and Timothy forbade any mention of the King’s identity.
Even if word spread eventually through whispers, there was no need to announce right now that the King of Burgos was here, was there?
Patter, patter, patter!
Damon’s breath came in gasps, yet he did not slow his pace and continued running.
I knew it would come to this. I foresaw it from the moment I first entered Bariel. That arrogant Gypsy would appear before those searching for me and offer a greeting like mockery.
Damon arrived at the place where he had seen the Gypsy and looked around.
“Huff, huff….”
“Your—no, Master!”
“Just move aside for a moment! Please!”
“This thing fell over! You should compensate us!”
“I know, damn it. Where is the Master? Just stop for a moment!”
The crowd was so thick that nearby soldiers were not visible. A child sitting before the steps spoke to Damon.
“Looking for Grandmother?”
“…What?”
“She said ‘I should run away—’ and went that way.”
The direction the child pointed was a dark alley. A narrow, shadowy passage barely wide enough for three or four people. Despite the festival’s brilliance, there were always places where light did not reach.
Whoosh.
Damon entered without hesitation. But after turning a corner twice, he realized he had been deceived. He faced a dead end. He had not seen a single fork in the road or even a crack to slip through.
‘Damn it.’
Damon stood motionless, pressing his forehead. He could not dismiss this as a mistake or mere illusion born of expectation. The child sitting before the steps had confirmed the Gypsy’s presence.
‘But something felt off.’
Minister Ian Hielo of the Magic Ministry had declared with absolute certainty that the Gypsy had moved to a foreign land, showing not a shred of doubt.
The Gypsy was extraordinary, certainly, but did he possess the ability to deceive the eyes and ears of mages and vanish? Could Minister Ian Hielo truly believe the Gypsy had fled abroad?
If so, it was both disappointing and fortunate. It made clear the limits of those who wielded power akin to divinity, yet suggested they were still manageable opponents.
‘If they truly didn’t know—if they were genuinely ignorant, it would be pathetic. But what if they did know? What if they knew the Gypsy was in Bariel yet reported nothing to King Burgos?’
Whoosh.
Wind twisted through the narrow alley.
Damon furrowed his brow and steadied himself against the wall. If the Gypsy and Minister Ian Hielo had made contact and were concealing it from King Burgos, the situation became grave.
The methods available to uncover the truth were limited, and there was only one thing Damon could do now. He whispered quietly, using the distant festival commotion as a shield.
“I am—”
If I returned to the imperial palace, the portraits would hear it, and I could fall under the surveillance of the mages. Only this shabby alley, born of impulse and chance, could hold my secret.
“Damon Runkvis. Living two lives.”
Damon instinctively covered his mouth and pressed against the wall. His heart felt as though it had stopped.
A secret spoken aloud. The secret I sold to the Gypsy, transmitted of its own accord. This couldn’t be. The Gypsy wasn’t even dead—how was this possible?
‘…I gave away a secret? To whom?’
Just as I had given away my secret and obtained my parents’ secret in return, someone else had done the same.
Damon felt nausea rising from the shock. The sickening sensation made it difficult to stand properly.
“Your Majesty!”
Then, Timothy’s voice calling from behind. He approached with a deeply troubled expression.
“Your Majesty. What troubles you?”
“You…”
“One moment! Here! Found him! Everyone, have the carriage ready!”
“Yes, understood! The Bariel Guard has arrived.”
Even as Timothy directed his subordinates, Damon’s mind twisted into knots. This was Timothy, who had pursued the Gypsy for months.
Should I tell him?
Could I mention that I saw the Gypsy on the way?
“Your Majesty. Whatever the matter, your complexion looks poor.”
Damon gathered his wits and looked up at Timothy.
That strange connection—meeting Minister Ian Hielo ‘by chance’ during a mission before returning home. The immediate understanding at the banquet regarding the Gypsy’s whereabouts.
And in my past life, abandoning his own country…
“Perhaps there is some instruction you wish to give? The Guard has arrived, but I shall handle matters well.”
Timothy asked with concern, but Damon shook his head.
“It’s fine.”
“Your Majesty? But—”
“It’s fine.”
For now, the only places my secret could have leaked were the heart of the imperial palace—specifically, Minister Ian Hielo and perhaps the Crown Prince.
If it were the imperial family, it would be unsurprising if they harbored something vast enough to exchange for my secret.
…And above all, Timothy.
‘Since he pursued directly, he might have heard the secret from the Gypsy and let him live.’
Certainty was impossible. The more I calculated, the more infinite possibilities emerged.
Damon passed by Timothy, who was watching him with concern, and slipped out of the alley. The boy who had been sitting before the stairs had vanished without a trace. The streets were in complete disarray, chaos incarnate, born from the confusion he had created.
“Let us pass through! Please?”
“I said no. Wait! Or take the other route!”
“Why are there so many people! Move aside! Just around that corner, that’s all we need!”
The guards used their bodies to carve a path through the crowd, and Damon boarded the carriage as though nothing had happened.
Timothy arranged the carriage while requesting something from the Captain of the Guard.
Whinnnnng!
Clop clop clop!
Damon’s carriage continued down the road. Timothy, sitting across from him, wore a perpetually bewildered expression, but he remained silent and kept watch outside.
How could I tell a suspicious man that I saw a Gypsy? That I crossed the Bariel border into foreign lands? He was the very one who mocked such absurd claims.
“Your Majesty. Have I made some error?”
“The departure schedule has been set?”
“Yes? The Crown Prince commanded that the Kingdom of Burgos depart first. It seems we shall leave by tomorrow afternoon. After that comes Cliffford, then Ruswena.”
“After the work report at the palace, go to the Magic Ministry. Tell Minister Ian Hielo in advance that I wish to meet with him.”
“Count Ian? Why would you…?”
It was a genuine question. How could he, as both steward and representative envoy, assist without knowing why the King sought an audience with a foreign minister?
The matter of mana stone transactions was something to be concluded through Captain Akorella, so there was no particular need to meet Ian. The accompanying mage would report on their own.
Moreover, given his current precarious standing in the imperial palace, it was prudent to calculate even small matters carefully….
“Your only words shall be ‘I obey.'”
Damon rebuked Timothy with an eerie gaze. It was an overtly hostile stare, a command to speak no further.
Why would he act thus? Timothy had sensed something amiss from the moment Damon leaped from the carriage, but this seemed excessive. He bowed his head in embarrassment and concern, offering his response.
“…Yes, Your Majesty. I obey.”
Though the stone road was well-maintained, the carriage seemed to sway violently. Damon’s frown deepened as nausea rose within him, and Timothy, sensing the mood, turned his gaze out the window.
The people gathered for the festival looked so happy. What was he doing here? The thought struck him that he wished to finish his duties and return home to see his Countess and children.
* * *
The mage entered the corridor with thick documents pressed against his chest. The office door stood half-open. He made his presence known loudly as he poked his head inside.
Knock knock.
“Are you here?”
“I’m not. Leave.”
“You are here. I have a message to deliver.”
It was Romandro who greeted the mage. His cheeks had hollowed from handling the aftermath of the ceremony in Ian’s stead.
Captain Heil and Berik lay sprawled across the sofa. One could excuse Heil for having given his mana to Ian, but there was no accounting for why Berik was lying there.
“A message? From where?”
“The Prime Minister sent it.”
“Hmm. Wait a moment. You don’t seem to realize everyone is resting. The investiture ceremony just ended—wouldn’t it be nice to drink and relax? Wouldn’t it? Don’t you think?”
“And Ian? Is he all right?”
“Fortunately, the bleeding has stopped. What of the other mages?”
Romandro flipped through the first page of the documents, nodding. Through the half-open inner door, one could see Ian’s profile—having received Heil’s mana, he had collapsed into sleep. His posture was perfectly straight, his breathing steady and even.
The mage shrugged and whispered, realizing his voice had been somewhat loud.
“They say he overexerted himself, but it doesn’t seem like much. Ian suffered the most. While everyone else was dizzy and drooling, he alone was bleeding. But should I relay that message again?”
“Hmm? Wait, let me see.”
Romandro, who had been concentrating on reading the text, stroked his chin with a troubled expression. Berik, lying upside down on the sofa, tugged at his pant leg and asked.
“What is it? Your expression makes you look like someone who just lost their house deed,”
“Well, um. It says that Crown Prince Jin has cancelled all his afternoon schedules today….”
“His Highness must be exhausted. *Yawn*. I’m getting sleepy too.”
“And there’s a message that he’s moving his residence from the Magic Ministry to the imperial palace, asking us to pack his belongings.”
“The palace? Which one? That one that got destroyed?”
“I heard the repairs are almost complete, so I figured he’d return eventually, but isn’t this too soon?”
Just beyond the office lies Jin’s quarters. As the Crown Prince, it was only natural that he couldn’t maintain a residence in a specific ministry.
But it felt such a shame. While there were sad and regrettable moments mixed in with what could be called memories, there were certainly times of laughter and joy as well. Romandro sniffled like a parent sending off a child.
“Ah, he’s crying again. There’s no reason to cry.”
“Aren’t you sad about it? You fool, His Highness Jin is leaving for another palace.”
“What’s there to be sad about? It’s not like he’s going to another country—we’ll keep seeing him coming and going. Anyway, there’s something else attached to the back of this note.”
Romandro glanced at Berik and examined the memo. This had been added by a diplomat handling Burgos affairs.
“The King of Burgos will be coming to the Magic Ministry, and he’s asking to meet with Ian. He apparently left the palace regarding the mana stones.”
“I heard something happened on the way there.”
“Something happened? What?”
“I’m not sure. Whether there was a problem with the carriage or the streets were blocked—I only heard it secondhand. We should be able to confirm the details once he arrives at the palace.”
What should we do? Given Ian’s poor condition, it might be better to postpone the meeting. While Romandro was deep in thought.
Ian, who had been lying quietly, opened his eyes.
‘He’s leaving.’
My consciousness, which had been dimly awake, became clear the moment I heard about Jin’s relocation. Judging that I couldn’t fall back asleep, I called for Romandro. My head throbbed and ached, but lying down made it bearable.
“Romandro.”
“Huh? Ian. You’re awake? Oh no. That Berik’s voice was too loud.”
“Wow, that’s funny. You were the one talking the most, Romandro!”
“Shut it! Be quiet!”
“…Both of you, stop. Please hand me the report.”
“Here it is!”
I reviewed the memo while lying down. The King of Burgos is requesting a direct meeting. I’m not sure what his intentions are, but there’s no reason to refuse. I nodded and spoke.
“…It would be good to handle some matters before King Damon returns.”
I was saying we should go ahead with the meeting.

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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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