Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 332

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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 332
A Spark About to Ignite
Emperor Ian lay reclined upon the sofa, his gaze fixed upon the fireplace’s endless, dancing flames. His pallid skin warmed to a gentle glow, and even his cool, sharp eyes seemed to melt into the warmth.
This was the night he had returned victorious from his first campaign—the night of triumph. Outside, the sounds of celebration for Bariel’s victory echoed through the halls, yet Ian’s study remained silent and still.
“Your Majesty.”
Ian turned his head listlessly. Naum stood slanted against the doorframe, a report and a box tucked under his arm—more matters requiring attention, it seemed.
Yet strangely, my body refused to move. I should have risen and gone to my desk, but strength eluded me.
No, to be precise, it was not strength that failed me, but will. Under the authority of an emperor, under the justification of war, I had killed people.
“Are you well?”
“What could possibly be wrong? Is that a report?”
Naum approached me slowly and knelt before the sofa. When our eyes met, I could see my own pupils wavering in the firelight.
Was it truly the fault of the burning flames? Or was it the trembling born of my young guilt? Naum carefully arranged the strands of my hair that spilled over the sofa’s edge, offering comfort.
“Your Majesty has done brilliantly. All of Bariel rejoices and finds relief. To obtain what one desires, one must inevitably pay the necessary price, must one not?”
“…Yes. And so I did. I commanded them to kill, to burn, to cast away.”
The screams of enemies still echoed in the ears of this young boy emperor. I had pushed forward through those crying for mercy, leaving my own soldiers behind as they shielded me, caught in the chaos of it all. Naum tilted his head sympathetically and soothed me.
“Do not worry. You will grow numb to it.”
“Growing numb frightens me as well.”
“But if you do not, Your Majesty will be wounded.”
Naum grasped my right wrist. He rolled up my sleeve unceremoniously, revealing a long, deep cut along the inner forearm. It was not severe, yet it was a wound that could not be overlooked. When Naum’s eyes narrowed, I laughed and made excuses.
“Not a single drop of blood fell from me while the enemy commander’s head was severed—is that not Bariel’s pride?”
“Pride it may be, but it is a pain that gnaws at Your Majesty. Do not grow numb to such things. If it hurts, say it hurts. If it is difficult, say it is difficult. Spit out all the suffering you harbor within.”
Salve and bandages emerged from the box. Naum, who had marched into battle alongside me, seemed to know everything.
As I entrusted myself to his care, I continued to gaze only at the fireplace. It was no different from the flames that had raged across the battlefield.
“…An emperor’s tears fill the world, and his sighs crumble it.”
“And if Your Majesty should collapse, the world collapses with you. I, however….”
He wanted to say that he had lamented my ascension to the throne at such a tender age, and that was why he had stopped me then.
The path of an emperor was already lonely and arduous. How could one with scarcely a true friend to confide in bear such weight? Perhaps I could—by consuming my own life in the process.
“I am, Your Majesty, the Minister of Magic.”
“I know. And I am the Emperor.”
Naum was my only pillar of support, yet he was the Minister of Magic. This suggested that our bond could not be purely rooted in friendship alone—political interests inevitably intruded.
How wonderful it would be if I had a true friend untainted by ulterior motives. Naum disinfected my wound and spoke.
“If it is difficult to let go, then simply follow my words. Even that alone will help. Say it: ‘It hurts.'”
“How insipid.”
“Try it. ‘It hurts,’ or ‘My heart is troubled.'”
“…Naum.”
“Or that would be fine too. ‘It is difficult.'”
I smiled faintly, my chin resting in my hand. The crackling of burning wood somehow brought peace to my heart. I closed my eyes languidly and murmured. His bandaging was clumsy at best.
“Naum. It hurts. Be gentle.”
* * *
I opened my eyes. What greeted my hazy consciousness was an exotic patterned ceiling. My awareness had not yet fully returned.
Just moments ago, I was speaking with Naum, yet where am I now? Why does this acrid smell linger in the air? The moment I gathered strength to move my hand, every muscle in my body twisted and tore with searing pain.
“Ah…!”
An involuntary groan escaped my lips. The agony snapped my senses back to reality. Then, a child’s head entered my field of vision.
One, two, three.
“He’s awake.”
“He’s awake?”
“He’s awake!”
Orange-haired children with drooping eyes—clearly siblings of Prince Noah. The little ones leaned over my bed, chattering away.
“It’s amazing. He bled so much but didn’t die.”
“He’s a Mage. Of course he didn’t.”
“Mages don’t die? Do they live forever?”
I wanted to say something, but I had no strength left. Just as I was about to close my eyes in resignation, the children bolted from the room. They couldn’t let this moment slip away, not when they’d been waiting for me to wake.
“Minister Bariel is awake!”
“He’s awake!”
“Mages, come quick!”
The children’s clear voices rang out, followed by thundering footsteps and commotion. People were rushing down the corridor from somewhere distant.
Sure enough, the door burst open and a crowd poured in—half palace staff, half Mages.
“Minister Ian! Are you alright? Can you hear me?”
“Goodness, can you hear what I’m saying? How are you feeling?”
“Step aside, please. I’ll administer a sedative. Now that consciousness has returned, the pain will be unbearable. You there!”
“Minister Ian. You recognize me, don’t you? Please say something.”
“A sedative might not be enough—we should infuse more magical power instead. Who has reserves? Otrik?”
“I’ll do it. Everyone help me.”
“Iaaaaaaan!”
Crash!
Berik couldn’t stop his momentum and slammed into the door frame. He shoved people aside and rushed toward my bed. The Doctors called for him to move back, but neither he nor the Mages would easily yield.
“Ian, how’s your body?”
Berik leaned in close and whispered. I’d never seen him look so haggard. In fact, all the Mages surrounding me bore the same exhausted appearance—they’d poured every last drop of their already depleted magical power into saving me.
I must look even worse, lying here like this. I smiled faintly and was about to say the usual reassurance that I was fine.
“Try saying it. ‘It hurts’ or ‘I’m uncomfortable.'”
But the memory of my conversation with Naum stopped me.
I gazed at my Colleagues surrounding me, then let out a deep sigh. And very quietly, with a grave yet light heart, I answered.
“…It hurts.”
“Right? It hurts, doesn’t it? You bled an insane amount. What on earth happened?”
“I’m sorry, everyone. The plan hit a snag.”
I don’t know how much time has passed, but if nothing had gone wrong, I would have returned to Bariel long ago. The Mages frowned, as if telling me not to say such things.
“Please don’t say that. The fact that you survived is a miracle.”
“Was it really that bad?”
“The blood soaked the reception room carpet and flowed out into the corridor. We truly….”
“Minister Ian, don’t upset yourself. By the way, Minister Ian, what happened? Do you know the cause?”
Clipoford continued to insist the matter had nothing to do with them, but until I confirmed it directly from Ian’s own lips, we maintained our sharp vigilance.
“Ah, I see.”
Ian slowly raised his hand and touched the area near his heart. The moment he attempted to execute the contract magic, hadn’t a searing pain ripped through him like being torn by claws? It had spread and spread, transferring to other organs.
Ian pondered for a moment, then nodded.
“It was a personal mistake.”
“Pardon? You, Ian?”
The Mages were considerably startled by Ian’s response and hesitated. That Ian—he had accidentally triggered magic and ended up in this state?
It was unbelievable. He had never shown even the slightest error in execution, and they had never even seen him make a mistake in spelling. They exchanged awkward glances.
‘It seems Ian is reluctant to speak about this, doesn’t it?’
‘Right. That shouldn’t be possible.’
‘Let’s move past it for now.’
While they whispered among themselves, Ian closed his eyes and recalled Melania’s words. The oath that the illegitimate Ian had made with Rutherford. So this was what it meant that he could not go against it.
Honestly, I hadn’t anticipated this at all. The illegitimate Ian had been very young at the time, and moreover, he wouldn’t have been skilled enough as a mage to perform contract magic. So I hadn’t even considered the possibility… but now.
‘Meticulous, and perplexing.’
Contract magic could be bound twice regardless of the other party. But if that was impossible, it meant the illegitimate Ian’s first contract contained provisions forbidding it.
The scheme that completely bound the illegitimate Ian, including the creation of Idgal. I had no choice but to pursue Rutherford quickly and resolve this mystery. What oath had been made, what had he wagered, and what had I promised?
“Ian.”
As Ian remained silent with a composed gaze, Berik called out with concern. Behind him, Prince Noah’s siblings were poking their heads through the doorway. Ian smiled and patted Berik’s head.
“Now that I’m conscious, recovery is just a matter of time. By the way, how long was I lying here? Has word been sent to Bariel?”
“Over a week.”
Berik mumbled while lying face-down on the bed. Given the intensity of the bleeding, waking up in just a week was truly fortunate, but Ian seemed surprised that so much time had passed.
“Over a week?”
“The day after you collapsed, I sent a messenger bird. It should be time for a reply, but nothing yet.”
The Mages also affirmed with silence. Had the messenger bird’s magic caused problems crossing the border? It was troubling that there had been no response from the imperial palace when one should have arrived by now.
Knock, knock.
Then came the sound of footsteps.
Turning around, the King of Clipoford and Prince Noah stood there. While the Doctors prostrated themselves flat, the Mages simply nodded lightly in greeting.
“Count Ian, I’m relieved you’ve regained consciousness.”
“My apologies, Your Majesty. I imagine this must have been quite a shock.”
“Indeed. They say magic’s power is like a double-edged sword, but I never expected to witness it so directly. Haha. How are you feeling? Are you doing well?”
“Yes, thanks to your grace.”
Seizing the moment, the children came running and clung to the King’s waist to get a look at Ian. Noah sighed and glanced around at the Mages. They all had gentle dispositions, which gave a sense of the atmosphere in the royal palace.
“Have you been told about that matter?”
“No, not yet.”
As Ian raised his eyebrows as if he didn’t understand what was being said, Noah crossed his arms. As if demanding he understand.
“We interrogated a man named Philic.”
“…Yes?”
“We understand well what a Mage is, but the situation was grave, and Clipoford needed to know all the facts with certainty. It was done with the Mages’ consent, so don’t hold us responsible. Of course, Philic isn’t dead.”
At the mention of torture, the King gently pressed his young children’s ears shut. When Ian looked at the Mages, they avoided his gaze and made excuses.
“Isn’t all of this because of that bastard Philic?”
“Words alone wouldn’t work, so there was no choice.”
“My apologies, Count Ian. But there’s been no contact from Bariel, and we…”
Ian pressed his forehead and sighed quietly.
“I see. It happened while I was away. If it was your decision, I respect it. But first—”
Setting aside the Philic matter, the silence from Bariel truly troubled him. Shouldn’t there be some kind of response?
“What mana stone did you use for the messenger bird sent to the Imperial Palace?”
“Why do you ask that?”
The messenger bird’s ability to find distant locations without error was thanks to the mana stone. The stones—one attached to the bird and one at the destination—attracted each other like magnets, responding to one another and guiding the bird along that path.
Since they were sending from the Royal Palace to the Imperial Palace, there must have been a standard stone they always used. Ian pressed his brow and answered.
“There’s been an abnormal mana reaction at the Cliffford border. I wondered if that might be causing problems with the messenger bird.”
Everyone’s jaws dropped at the unexpected answer. The last bird Ian sent had been dispatched from within the border, from Bariel’s territory, hadn’t it?
If that were the case, then the Imperial Palace right now would be searching for Ian and the Mages’ whereabouts…
“They must be in complete chaos. Could Soldiers be on their way here?”
Berik sniffled and muttered.

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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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