Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 382

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

Chapter 382
Fire. Slowly Bleeding Away
A carriage hurtling through absolute darkness, with Bariel soldiers in pursuit behind it.
Though nothing was visible, they raced through the forest without pause, climbing and descending, guided only by the sound of carriage wheels, the cries of horses, and the terrified screams of Ruswena soldiers.
It seemed clear they had no idea where they were running, yet they continued the chase regardless. One Bariel officer exchanged hand signals with his colleague.
“Keep pursuing. It’s the Minister’s orders.”
“I’m just worried we’ll exhaust the horses for nothing.”
Clatter clatter!
The relentless marathon continued to discover the supply depots of Burgos and Ruswena. The rattling carriage looked almost pitiful. Then, as they passed through a sloped forest area—
Whoooosh!
A group of soldiers cut across in front of the carriage. They were Burgos troops.
The Bariel soldiers, who had been mechanically following from behind, came to an abrupt halt, as did the Ruswena carriage. But they quickly recognized the arrival of Burgos forces and seized the reins urgently.
“Take the right path and you’ll find a familiar route!”
“Yes, understood!”
Clang!
Burgos had sent reinforcements upon learning that supplies were in trouble.
The right path. The Bariel officers exchanged glances. Like companions who had spent a lifetime together, they understood what each wanted from a single breath.
One officer turned back the way they came to pursue the carriage, while the remaining soldiers drew their swords.
“You dark creatures living in dead lands—are you thieves, then?”
It was Bariel’s declaration of war, indicating they had no political purpose.
In a place devoid of any light, dressed in black, if not for the sword blades reflecting moonlight, no one would have known anyone was standing there at all.
The Burgos soldiers straightened their stance and faced off against Bariel.
“Ambushing supply carriages is what thieves do, so it’s laughable for you to say such things about us.”
“State your rank. If you’re of high standing, I’ll let you live.”
“Let me live? Ha ha.”
The Burgos soldier laughed aloud as if genuinely amused. With it, a desolate wind swept through the branches. Since there were no leaves, if one misheard, it sounded like a person laughing.
“What arrogance.”
Even before crossing blades, to speak of sparing or killing was truly presumptuous.
And though all Burgos soldiers wore identical uniforms, what was the point of asking for rank? It meant they intended to capture him alive and extract information.
He clicked his tongue and gripped his sword tighter, while the Bariel officer also raised his weapon.
“But tell me—do you know what’s in that carriage before you chase it?”
Whoooosh.
What is he trying to say?
The Bariel officer frowned, but it was too dark to see the opponent’s expression. Or rather, honestly, he couldn’t even tell which of them had spoken. If only a bit of moonlight would seep through.
“Why chase it at all? You could simply go to your nation’s Magic Minister and ask him to make more.”
“Nonsense.”
“Which part sounds like nonsense to you? Ah, do you not know of Idgal?”
Idgal. He had heard the name, but never actually seen it or touched it. He only knew it was a crucial means to counter mages and mage knights in this war.
“Since it was Bariel’s Magic Minister who created Idgal, instead of exhausting yourselves chasing this carriage, wouldn’t it be simpler to go to him and ask him to make more?”
The soldier was certain. This madman was playing tricks with his tongue. Whatever his intent, from the way he rambled on, it wasn’t something he should pay attention to.
Tap-tap-tap!
Clang!
The officer swung his blade without hesitation. In the darkness, their swords crossed and retreated, their edges grazing dangerously close to each other’s vital points.
Every sense except sight awakened as if newborn. The strange scent emanating from my opponent. The whistling sound of the blade’s arc. Breathing. And the instinctive sense of the next attack to come.
“Damn it. This won’t do. Light the torches!”
At the officer’s command, the soldiers hurriedly lit the torches.
The surroundings brightened in an instant. The officer could now see the face of the one he had been fighting.
Eyes composed entirely of black pupils with no whites visible. Where had I seen this before? My own face was reflected perfectly in those glossy eyes.
Clang! Clang!
The attacks continued with surprising ease. Then, more footsteps echoed from the forest. Could these be reinforcements from Burgos? As the tense officer turned his head, the enemy soldier seized the opening and thrust his blade toward my neck.
Whoosh!
Crack!
But at that same moment, an axe flew through the air.
It struck the enemy soldier’s face with perfect accuracy. Stunned, he staggered backward a few steps before collapsing forward, his face twisted grotesquely to one side.
From that point on, the balance of the tightly contested battle shifted. The Bariel soldiers felled the Burgos soldiers one by one, and soon they achieved victory in the small skirmish without casualties.
The officer steadied his breathing and looked toward where the axe had come from.
“…Minister.”
“You were losing your edge in the darkness.”
“My apologies. He was a formidable opponent.”
“The carriage?”
“Yes. We continue to pursue it.”
“You all should transport the items acquired from Cliffford’s barrier and rest briefly. How many pursuit teams are currently chasing the Ruswena supply carriage?”
“Since we just split from Chase, there are five squads total—ten men each, fifty in all.”
“I order a full retreat. Everyone prepare and return to Cliffford. Check the bodies as well.”
“Yes. But Minister, have you by any chance seen Minister Ian?”
“Yes. He appeared to be in good health. The real problem was in Cliffford itself. I’ll explain the details once we return. The night grows deep. Monsters may appear, so hurry with the retreat.”
“Then are we to abandon the supply line disruption operation?”
“We’ve recovered most of the dragon scales. At this point, Burgos won’t achieve their objectives either. Soon, once Burgos digs in and fortifies their position, they’ll make their move. We must prepare fully for the capital’s defense.”
The soldiers searched the dead Burgos soldier’s clothing, checking for anything of value. It was at that moment Tweller turned his horse’s head.
“Wait, isn’t this an Idgal?”
An Idgal? A mere soldier carrying an Idgal? Tweller frowned and approached the corpse, meeting the gaze of the dead man with wide eyes.
“The eyes resemble Duke Haiman’s.”
“Ah yes, now that you mention it. I wondered where I’d seen them before. Eyes without whites are quite rare.”
“Did he reveal his affiliation?”
“Yes. We asked him to reveal it, but he refused.”
“Iza has one too!”
Click.
All the dead carried Idgals. Regardless of their true status, if even mere soldiers carried Idgals as a precaution…
‘It seems distribution already occurred before the war. Far more than we anticipated.’
Of course, I already knew of the Idgal’s existence and its distribution potential. I had heard that Minister Volb had discussed this matter in the conference hall at the time.
But this was undoubtedly far more severe than what Bariel had assessed.
‘Does Count Ian know about this?’
“Ah, Minister, there’s something else.”
The officer wiping blood from his hands muttered while staring down at the corpse’s black eyes.
“Do you know where Idgal originated from?”
“It’s suspected to be from a merchant house called Rutherford, but we haven’t discussed the details yet. The handover wasn’t completed properly either.”
“Iza said something strange. I dismissed it as nonsense, but since Idgal came out of this man’s pocket, it doesn’t seem like something to overlook lightly, so I’m reporting it.”
“What?”
“They say Count Ian manufactured Idgal.”
Tweller’s expression contorted even further—the most exaggerated grimace one could muster in response to such absurdity. The officer awkwardly sniffled and pretended to move the corpse to the roadside, but he couldn’t escape Tweller’s lecture.
“In war, information is paramount. The ability to distinguish truth from falsehood carries the weight of thousands, tens of thousands of soldiers. What you just said makes me want to wash my ears, understand?”
“My apologies. I did think it was nonsense too, yes. Ha.”
A mage creating a substance poisonous to mages? I haven’t seen him many times, but Count Ian didn’t seem so reckless and foolish. Though Akorelra beside him might do it if her research curiosity got the better of her.
In any case, even the most foolish wouldn’t strangle themselves. Tweller picked up an axe and ordered his soldiers.
“Clean up. We’re heading into Cliffford.”
“Yes, Minister.”
“The road’s clear. See you soon.”
A faintly shimmering beam of light. Though night prevented it from shining as brightly as day, it was still easy enough to follow the carriage’s trail.
The mage gestured from the sky to hurry, and Tweller climbed into the carriage, following that light with his subordinates. It felt like chasing the Milky Way across the night sky.
* * *
“So? The supplies?”
“Nothing has arrived yet.”
Damon received his subordinate’s report while being dressed. His short hair, which had clinked softly, was tied back neatly, and he put on more ornate and dignified garments of fine cloth.
Damon’s reflection in the mirror was expressionless, betraying no emotion, but his subordinate nervously picked at his fingertips inside his sleeves.
“I understand.”
“Yes?”
“Withdraw. Tomorrow is the day of departure.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Unable to receive proper supplies, Timothy fleeing to Bariel, the departure ceremony looming in the worst circumstances—the subordinate had expected Prince Damon to throw a tantrum, yet he seemed to let it pass easily, which surprised him inwardly.
And for good reason—a major event was approaching. Even for Prince Damon, it was right to suppress his temperament on such a day. The subordinate thought this to himself as he backed out of the room.
“The supply reinforcements?”
“Yes. They should be clashing with Bariel’s forces by now.”
The man standing beside him—the one who had displaced Timothy and claimed Damon’s inner circle. Damon chuckled softly and straightened his collar with his own hands.
Bariel’s involvement in this war, or more precisely, the Magic Division’s involvement, would bring both gains and losses. After all, he had learned new facts along with Ian’s secret, which he had exchanged for his second hidden card.
“Is this Rutherford fellow really so important?”
“My apologies. There are circumstances involved, so I ask for your generous understanding. Shall I send another reply?”
“No, never mind. Merchants naturally hide and observe during times of chaos like this. But Rutherford connected to Idgal? All the more reason.”
Damon read the letter on his desk one last time, then burned it in the candlelight. Its contents detailed the popularization of Idgal, agreements regarding supplies during war, and additionally, a detailed account of how Idgal’s origins began.
Damon laughed lightly as he blew away the ash-covered paper scraps.
“Lucky, really. That Ian isn’t in the imperial palace.”

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