Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 369

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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 369
Fire. Conversation
Even unconscious, May reflexively resisted the pain. Throughout the entire process of washing away the completely torn wound with water, disinfecting it, and stitching it with thread and needle, she emitted pitiful sounds.
Yet the fact that she never opened her eyes until the very end suggested just how brutal an ordeal she had endured.
Knock, knock.
Noah, who had been sitting quietly beside the bed watching over May, turned around. A soldier carefully poked his head in and informed him that the carriage to transport May to the capital was ready.
“We’ll be able to depart in about ten minutes. However, the General says the military physicians and doctors cannot be spared in case of emergency. Therefore, we plan to administer another dose of painkillers before boarding the carriage and then depart.”
“…Understood.”
“I’ve informed the royal physician to prepare for treatment. Please don’t worry too much, Your Highness.”
At Noah’s gesture to leave, the soldier quietly backed out of the room.
The moment the door closed completely, Noah pressed his forehead against May’s shoulder. This was the first time he had done this when the curse hadn’t manifested. Excluding that distant childhood when he had first shared the curse while crying his eyes out.
Noah wiped his face with a dry hand and exhaled a sigh. So immature, so utterly immature. I failed to protect the village, caused the soldiers to dwindle, and even drove those close to me away from my side.
“Sigh.”
Is that all? If only I could completely seize the existence called Ian in my grasp, every situation would be resolved. Yet due to my insufficient ability, I had instead surrendered half my initiative.
The mages continue to insist that everything is Cliffford’s choice, but I already knew that some of them were moving according to their own will. This is all my fault. For failing to grow properly, everything Cliffford had built over the years has become precarious.
In the empty room, Noah finally bowed his head, tears streaming down silently. Without sound, the tears simply flowed, leaving traces upon the bed.
“…Your Highness.”
Then, a hand gently grasped his wrist.
It was May. Still with her eyes closed and breathing that seemed fragile, yet May reacted sensitively to Prince Noah’s tears. No, she had no choice. Perhaps except for the King and Queen, his tears were a secret permitted only to May.
“You’re wetting the bed. Please restrain yourself.”
“May. Are you alright?”
“If I’m alright enough to speak, then I can grasp your wrist.”
“…You’ve endured much.”
“You’ve done well too, Your Highness.”
May patted the back of his hand as if to comfort him.
“You said it isn’t over until it’s over. The war is only beginning, and history continues to be written. Don’t cry. There is nothing to fear, nothing to be afraid of.”
Noah wiped away his tears and nodded. He sensed the sound of footsteps outside. Only then did May slightly open her eyes and flutter her brows. Her vision was blurred and she couldn’t see well.
“And didn’t I scout right through the middle of their camp? There was nothing impressive about it.”
May chuckled softly and muttered. It was indeed so. Whether it was because she was from Cliffford or not, Burgos’s soldiers seemed like small fry, and the officers and those above them appeared foolish.
Soon, the sound of knocking on the door came again.
“Your Highness. May I enter?”
“You may.”
“Everything is prepared. Oh, Miss May. You’ve regained consciousness. How is your body? I’ll administer painkillers, so please extend your arm for a moment.”
“It would be a lie to say it doesn’t hurt.”
“Pardon me.”
The doctor administered the painkiller to her, then nodded to the soldiers. They transferred May to a stretcher and carefully carried her outside.
Yet contrary to that composure, a loud commotion echoed from within the war room. By now, it was obvious without even looking. It had to be the sounds made by Berik and Akorelra.
“Your Highness. Please go in.”
“May.”
“I will recover at the palace and return.”
Noah pressed his lips firmly together and patted the back of her hand. Then, contrary to May’s insistence that he enter, he waited until the carriage disappeared down the road and over the hill before turning away.
Thud!
What in the world were they doing now?
Noah furrowed his brow as he threw open the war room door, then frowned at the precarious stack of bizarre objects piled on the table.
Small rods bound with magnets, string tangled haphazardly around them, and mysterious mana stones—it looked as though a child had crudely assembled a toy.
Akorelra adjusted the position of the mana stone with trembling fingertips, while Berik held his breath, watching intently.
“What are you doing?”
“Shh! Your Highness, I’m in the middle of something very important right now? Don’t speak. If this tips over, it all falls apart, you see? Then I fall apart too.”
The answer was twice as long as the question warranted. Noah found it absurd, but he crossed his arms and watched what they were doing.
As the mana stone and rods barely maintained their balance, supporting each other precariously, Akorelra silently clenched her fist. As if to say it was done.
“Perfect! Of course it’s me! Akorelra!”
“It works? So? How does it function?”
“Watch carefully. When I channel mana into this….”
Whoosh. Akorelra gently activated her mana.
The mana stone then swayed slowly left and right like a pendulum. Soon it spun once in place, then tensed as if an invisible hand were pulling it from the left.
“Left. It’s pointing left, right?”
“Yes. Correct. The accuracy is somewhat lacking, but it’s not pointing directly at the center of Burgos’s camp.”
“What is this?”
“A sort of compass.”
“A compass?”
Bratz’s brooch also had a location-tracking function. The compass to verify it was currently on the second floor of Romandro’s residence, so they had hastily constructed this makeshift version to confirm Hasha’s location.
It was crude and only indicated general direction, but what did that matter? Even if they could only confirm the cardinal directions or up and down, that would suffice.
“If Hasha has returned safely, he will rendezvous with the other sorcerers. We wish to observe that. Of course, they won’t gather everyone in one place. But if there’s a right, there’s naturally a left as well. Combined with information about their formations, we should be able to eliminate them entirely.”
“In the borderlands, this would be considered fairly advanced, but overall it’s rather crude. We can manage to produce roughly similar effects. Everyone be careful around this! If you bump it slightly and it shakes, the whole thing collapses!”
Akorelra swung her dagger back and forth, warning the mages and soldiers. The blade still bore the blood of monsters, along with the mana-sealing stones provided by the kingdom.
“How are the weapons being procured?”
“We’ll need to wait until dawn. We’ve summoned all the blacksmiths in the capital and are increasing our workforce, so we should be able to meet whatever Count Ian requires, shouldn’t we?”
“Whatever I require?”
The laugh implied: as if you know how much that is. Akorelra’s eyes widened as she watched the mana stone move with meticulous precision.
“The direction shifted slightly—very slightly. About ten degrees? It seems to have moved to the outer edge of the camp, or perhaps westward. Someone didn’t touch it, did they?!”
“N-no, Commander, you’ve been holding the sword the whole time, what are you talking about?”
“Right. If anyone touched it, it would’ve been the Commander.”
“Ah, I see. It wasn’t me, so okay. Hasha is moving, Ian.”
Ian nodded and raised his spyglass.
In the distance, Burgos’s camp passed through Cliffford’s night with only minimal torches lit. Yet the darkness obscured the movement of the horses.
“Once the sun rises, it will become clear. Let us wait a little longer.”
“Yes. I’ll have to keep watch over this until then.”
Shwick, shwick. As Akorelra twirled her blade lightly while humming, the mages filed out of the war room one by one. Better to spend the night outside than risk stray sparks flying nearby.
“…Do you think he will perform his duties well?”
“You mean Hasha?”
“Yes.”
“He is clever. And his loyalty runs deep. If that is your concern, it would be wise not to worry about it.”
Burgos and Astana had formed an external alliance, yet he turned his back on the war they entered together. It was a choice bold and decisive enough to threaten all of Astana that he carried on his shoulders.
“Many forget past favors beneath the name of history. They would consider Hasha a traitor merely for relaying a conversation with King Damon, yet he fulfilled his purpose.”
“No, what I meant was—”
Noah shook his head. He was not here to discuss trust in the Sorcerer named Hasha. He merely sought to understand the overall military strength that would determine their path forward.
Critical matters hung around Hasha’s neck, and he worried whether the other side would hand them over as desired.
“It will be fine. If it doesn’t work, so what? We will find another way.”
Carelessly heard, it might sound like he was dismissing it as someone else’s problem. But his tone was grave, and the cold gaze surveying Burgos’s camp revealed a different meaning entirely.
If it doesn’t work, make it work. Find the way to make it happen.
That was how I lived.
“…Get some rest if you can. There is much time before dawn breaks.”
Noah checked the time, then left the war room early. A cold night wind swept in sharply. His mood grew inexplicably lighter.
The confidence of one without a single flaw, the oppressive weight that even royalty could not help but bow before. And somehow, a sense of defeat that he could never surpass him. All of it mixed together and pressed down on Noah’s shoulders, and he drew a deep breath, wanting to let it scatter in the wind.
* * *
“The prisoner returns!”
“Clear the path! Dim the torches even further!”
Crackle, crackle!
After undergoing a thorough body search from the Battalion Commander, his clothes were turned inside out and searched again the moment he entered the camp. Hasha wore an expression of displeasure mixed with resignation as he raised both hands in compliance.
“Follow me. The General awaits. You must report everything you saw and heard inside without omission.”
“Wait, wait—before that, could we move that beast away? The smell is driving me mad.”
“When did you go to the rear and come back? You’ve endured it until now, so bear with it a little longer. Come, this way.”
“That bastard, saying he’s not from our company…”
Slash!
Hasha was led into the General’s tent.
The General, his aides, and the Battalion Commanders below all gathered waiting for him. They had assembled to interrogate whether he possessed any useful information, or conversely, if any information had been leaked. The night was short, but the conversation would surely be long.
The General gestured for him to enter quickly, and as Hasha stepped inside, he glanced around.
‘Lord Timothee is not here.’
Where had he gone? I didn’t see him when I came in earlier. If he’s not in the tent either, he must have gone elsewhere.
Hasha sat in the chair prepared at the center and answered the questions that followed faithfully, enduring the interrogation.
“…The exact number of Mages is uncertain, but it seemed a considerable force had arrived.”
“What was their condition?”
“They appeared to be in good order.”
“Tsk, were there no unusual signs?”
“It appeared that the royal palace was manufacturing weapons using mana-sealing stones. Though I cannot be certain.”
“Yes. Did we not hear that some mad Mage was wielding a dagger? It seems that must be it.”
The General’s curiosity aligned piece by piece with Hasha’s testimony. How much time had passed? When there seemed nothing more to say, the General leaned back against his chair and issued an order.
“That will suffice. I shall reassign the Sorcerer’s position. You are dismissed.”
“Yes, General.”
I had safely passed another hurdle. As Hasha stepped out of the tent with relief, he spotted Timothy sitting before a dying campfire.
Hasha grabbed the soldier’s collar, making a request.
“Forgive me, but could you let me warm up a bit before we continue? I was in a cold place there too, and this chill hits differently here. If I move like this, I fear I’ll injure myself.”
“It’s only a short walk. There’s a bonfire nearby where you can warm yourself.”
“Ah, wait!”
As Hasha cried out urgently and began to shuffle his feet.
“There.”
Unexpectedly, Lord Timothee called out to Hasha.
“Bring him over here instead. What if he injures his leg on the way? If all he needs is to warm his frozen body, that’s fine.”
“But—”
“I’ll take responsibility.”
“Yes, understood. Then I shall return shortly.”
With Lord Timothee speaking so firmly, the soldier had no choice but to withdraw. This was his chance, Hasha thought, quickly sitting across from Lord Timothee and pretending to warm himself while stealing glances at him.
His sharp gaze swept over Hasha clearly. As a prisoner returning from enemy territory, there was much I wished to ask and learn, yet I had been unable to attend the council meeting, which was frustrating. To be honest, I doubted the General and his aides had handled things properly.
“So you’re from Astana?”
As the one responsible for diplomacy, gathering intelligence on the other party was my duty. This was why I had made Hasha sit down rather than let him pass.
Hasha rubbed his hands together as he replied.
“That’s correct.”
Both of us felt fortunate at the same moment, our gazes turning toward the bonfire. Soon enough, a conversation as sharp and cold as the wind would begin.

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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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