Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 392

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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 392
Fire. The Ian Within
As the sunset faded, silence descended upon the battlefield.
The corpses of the fallen lay so thickly that there was scarcely room to step, while shattered spears, arrows, and blades stood upright like grim monuments.
A flock of crows descended upon the scene. They circled the air several times before settling slowly, convinced they had found a place where all life had ceased.
Before the barrier, the earth reeked of blood and echoed with the cries of crows. The rich soil and verdant grass had been trampled and churned beyond recognition.
A Clifford Soldier standing atop the barrier exhaled heavily. Even with war’s end came problems—how would they recover all those bodies? Among them lay not only foreigners without kin, but also abominations that defied nature’s order. One way or another, Clifford’s heartland would be fouled with filthy refuse.
“Any movement out there?”
“Ah, Your Highness.”
Prince Noah approached slowly and raised his spyglass. Before them lay Burgos’s encampment, and to the right, Ruswena’s forces.
Had it been winter, at least they wouldn’t have worried about crops, and Clifford’s bitter winds would have become soldiers claiming their breath. But with summer approaching, even the night breeze carried humid warmth.
“What of contact between Burgos and Ruswena?”
“We’ve detected nothing from our position yet, but we continue to scout.”
“The kings will surely meet under cover of darkness. Whatever they discuss will be executed with the dawn. Prepare the special unit. Night is when they huddle, but for us, it is opportunity.”
Even with the ceasefire, battle would resume when daylight came. The course of war would shift depending on who struck first.
It was better for Clifford, familiar with the terrain, to sever contact between the two nations and prevent the second battle’s start. Though the mages and Mage Knights who formed the backbone of their forces presented another problem entirely.
Noah patted the soldier’s shoulder and descended from the barrier.
Creak.
As the gate opened, the eyes of mages and Mage Knights fell upon Noah. Yet none offered a greeting. They lacked the strength, and their spirits were unwilling.
“Where is Count Ian?”
“Still sleeping, sir.”
Ian slept in an upright posture, breathing heavily.
Berik remained at his side, lying prostrate, while the mages sighed as they changed their bandages.
“Ow, take it easy.”
“Has everyone returned?”
“No. Five have not returned. We don’t know if they’re alive or dead. The Mage Knights rescued all those they could see, but we may have missed some, or… they’re likely among those corpses outside.”
Captain Jairot exhaled cigarette smoke thinly.
Five. To be honest, they thought the mission was complete. They had brought everyone back safely from the chaos of battle.
But when they counted, five were missing. This was because they couldn’t account for all the mages’ personnel in the confusion. Captain Jairot ground out his cigarette and spoke.
“The magical energy felt beyond the barrier is faint, so there may be survivors.”
“Could it not be from Ruswena’s mages?”
“We can determine that precisely. Just as we could guess each other’s origins when we first encountered them.”
Minister Maxim Tweller appeared behind Captain Jairot. He was wiping his face with a wet cloth, though bloodstains clung stubbornly in the creases of his skin.
“Bariel’s mage corps being incapacitated is their opportunity, so they’ll show their hand with daylight. Count Ian is also exhausted in body and spirit, making it difficult for him to issue orders. That captain—what was his name again?”
“Captain Heil, sir.”
Heil, who had been channeling magical energy beside Ian, raised himself halfway up.
“Until Count Ian awakens, you will take command of the mage corps in his stead. We need leaders who can confer with one another.”
The Imperial Defense Corps, the Imperial Guards, and the key figures of the mage corps had all gathered.
Maxim drained a cup of warm spirits in one gulp, then looked bitterly at the mages.
“So then, how many mages can we field against them tomorrow?”
“I cannot speak with certainty until we observe further. All those with trauma sustained injuries from Idgal weapons, and their recovery rates vary depending on the severity of their wounds. Captain Akorella is also preparing a new amplification agent, so let us wait a bit longer.”
“Captain Jairot. Could the Imperial Guards not provide additional support?”
“That is impossible. The Imperial Guards exist to protect and serve His Majesty the Emperor. Prince Gin has graciously permitted our dispatch, but this is the extent of what we can offer. Two of the Three Captains cannot leave the palace grounds.”
Jairot spoke thus while looking at Barsabe. She was stanching the bleeding from her side, sweat pouring down her face. When their eyes met, she offered an awkward smile, but the pain was evident in her expression.
“Very well. Then the arrival of Bariel’s reinforcements is our best option at present. It would be fortunate if they approached from Ruswena’s rear. In my assessment, we should be more concerned with the presence of mages than with synthetic monsters. I believe it would be wise to eliminate Ruswena first.”
*Ssshhh.*
Maxim muttered while lighting a cigarette.
“Furthermore, is not Ruswena farther from the homeland than Burgos? If supplies are cut off, Ruswena would suffer the most.”
*Whoosh.*
At that moment, the General of Clifford raised his hand.
“I am Captain Samobo of Clifford. While the Minister’s perspective has merit, I must respectfully disagree. Greater supply distance means more time required for war operations—it is not an immediate threat. Therefore, I believe we should postpone Ruswena for now and deal with Burgos first. Above all, I am concerned about the influx of synthetic monsters and other creatures.”
“Ah, tell me more about that. There is a fissure beneath Clifford, is there not? Is the royal palace conducting a separate investigation, Prince?”
“That is true, but the traces of magic have long since vanished for us. Experts in geology are researching at the palace, but there have been no significant findings.”
Maxim closed his eyes briefly, as if pondering something.
Even the people living on the mainland were unaware of the fissure’s existence, and despite experts undertaking an investigation, results had not emerged quickly.
Then how did King Damon know of it? Judging by the fact that he initiated a war, he seemed to possess certainty, but what could have given him such conviction?
“King Damon’s movements are suspicious.”
“He is clearly not in his right mind.”
“Even with Bariel’s involvement, he has not withdrawn—it seems he possesses his own odds of victory. This is strange. Something is definitely strange.”
In half a lifetime spent traversing battlefields, the most dangerous moments had always been like this. Like crocodiles dwelling in swamps, showing only their surface as they approached.
With no way to know what lay beneath, experience taught that significant casualties were difficult to avoid in such circumstances.
“Captain Jairot. A moment.”
Barsabe gestured to the captain, requesting a private word. The mages glanced at them before returning their attention to treatment, while Maxim continued to burn through cigarettes without pause.
“Your body is not even healed. What is it?”
“I have something to tell you.”
“Speak freely.”
Barsabe had accompanied them both to escort the mages and to monitor Ian.
She clutched her throbbing side while glancing about. Apart from the weary guards passing by, there was no one of particular note.
“Count Ian’s words and actions have seemed somewhat peculiar.”
“In what manner?”
Jairot’s eyes sharpened in an instant. Through Gin, he had come to understand the Emperor’s hesitation and the Prince’s will, but regardless, the Magic Ministry was always a subject requiring vigilance.
Barsabe shook her head to indicate he should lower his guard.
“No. It is not that sort of peculiarity. Though I did not hear the details clearly, I observed him several times acting as though he intended to leave the palace.”
“Leave the palace?”
“Yes. I am uncertain of the specifics, but he has frequently made remarks hinting at this to Heil and Akorella. Whether intentional or not, I cannot say. However, he certainly conveyed this meaning to them. As for their responses, I do not know.”
“Is there anything else?”
“Nothing more. Count Ian took the lead in establishing an alliance between Clifford and Bariel, and subsequently assisted without reservation. To any observer, he behaved as befits Bariel’s representative.”
Jairot stroked his beard and sighed. Given that Barsabe was reporting this, it was unlikely to be baseless gossip.
Ian intends to leave the palace? But why?
Was it due to the strain of his duties? For a moment, the image of the boy working ceaselessly day and night came to mind, but Jairot shook his head.
Ian had been in his rightful place from the beginning, fulfilling his role completely. He had seamlessly integrated into the Imperial Palace in such a short time, as if the palace was his embrace and his embrace was the palace itself. He was leaving the palace?
‘Could it be… for Prince Gin’s sake?’
The moment Jairot fumbled with a cigarette in his pocket, a small commotion erupted from inside.
“Ian, are you awake?”
Creak.
Ian’s eyes had opened.
The Doctor looked flustered and conducted a quick examination. Given the dosage of sedative administered, he should have slept well into tomorrow, yet he’d been awake for only a few hours—a puzzling expression crossed the Doctor’s face.
The Doctor snapped his fingers repeatedly to check Ian’s mental state.
Snap.
“Can you hear me? Ian. Please speak. If you’d rather not talk, just nod your head.”
Ian nodded blankly. He appeared drowsy and weak, as if freshly awakened from sleep.
“How do you feel?”
“….”
“I hear the magic you used was of the mental variety, so the side effects manifested in that direction. If you’re uncomfortable, it would be best to rest more and stabilize yourself. Can you hear me?”
The Doctor wrote down his findings while repeatedly glancing at Ian. Alive, yet not seeming alive. He gently bit his lower lip as he recorded the symptoms.
‘If he’s awake now despite the sedative dose I administered… giving more medication would be futile. Setting aside the magic, medically speaking, it means he’s filled with such intense stress that he cannot easily fall asleep.’
“Ian!”
Berik shoved the Doctor who was busily writing something and thrust his face forward. Finally, you’re awake! His eyes sparkled, smiling as if urging Ian to say something.
The other Mages felt the same way. They all smiled awkwardly, waiting for Ian’s words.
Let’s pretend we didn’t see the tears, let’s erase from memory how hard he suffered—they had all made this promise. Yet facing Ian now, they felt awkward and could only offer strained smiles.
“Ian?”
Slowly.
Ian rose gradually and looked around.
Minister Maxim Tweller watched Ian with interest, a cigarette between his lips. The boy’s head was moving ever so slightly. Surely he was counting.
“…Five are missing.”
“Ah, that is….”
“Selena, Yen, Kanci, Tomi, Jang.”
He identified them precisely. Ian immediately grasped which Mages had not returned and sighed.
“Ian. When dawn breaks, we’ll sweep the area before the barrier with the Mage Knights. We can still sense faint magical energy, so there’s a possibility they’re being held as prisoners on the other side. They’re not dead. We can tell, can’t we?”
One of the Mages added hastily and ramblingly. Whether it was to console or to comfort, it was unclear.
But Ian simply collapsed onto the edge of the bed, continuing to stare into empty space. He no longer wept. He had already shed all the tears he could, his eyes seeming as parched as if all moisture had been drained.
Honestly, this sight was not pleasant for his colleagues either. Ian’s eyes had always been clear and sparkling, like jewels.
“Ian. Rest a bit more, and when the sun rises, let’s go back out. They might contact us first from over there. That’s why we’re waiting, right? When we fight again, I’ll really do well this time. I’ll really cut off all those bastards’ heads. Okay?”
Berik clutched at Ian’s sleeve, fidgeting anxiously, but Ian continued to gaze only at the empty space before him. After thinking about something for a long while, Ian turned his gaze toward the door and issued a command.
“…Bring Prince Noah. We’re changing the strategy.”
Changing the strategy?
Minister Maxim Tweller raised his eyebrows with interest, while Jairot, who had been monitoring the situation from outside the window, furrowed his brow with concern. This was not the Ian he knew.

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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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