Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 442

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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 442
Fire. Sailing in the Same Boat
Engrossed reading.
The word perfectly captured Zaira’s current state.
I gazed down at the scattered papers covering the floor and the back of the girl’s head as she lay flat, meticulously parsing each character with intense focus.
Like a castaway crossing the desert plunging her face into an oasis, she had maintained the same posture for tens of minutes without complaint of a sore neck.
I had thought it unusual, but it was certainly different. No matter how brilliant a child might be, displaying such concentration was far from ordinary.
“The records are….”
Clank.
The shackle locked around Zaira’s left arm rattled. I knew what the girl was about to say.
“Unfortunately, that is all. Many years have passed. Time so vast it hardly deserves the name. I consider myself fortunate to have discovered even that much.”
“A mage named Bandor led his subordinates through the rift, yet there was no report afterward. The one who claimed to be Bandor was executed at that time as well. Doesn’t that mean he was distrusted both then and now?”
“Correct. Just as you are now, the people of that era likely did not believe him either. But there is something rather interesting. After the first person who claimed to be Bandor, similar cases occurred sporadically.”
“Wait. What’s strange about that? It seems like copycat crimes.”
“What’s even more interesting is that there were no simultaneous occurrences, and they happened at irregular intervals.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“It means that only one person impersonating Bandor existed at any given time in those eras. This confirms that impersonating Bandor did not greatly benefit people of those times.”
Zaira remained sprawled out, her chin fully propped on her hand. Yet her bright, intelligent eyes never ceased reading the characters.
“Moreover, among the first mages who impersonated Bandor, an abstract concept called the ‘Abyss’ became materialized and established itself. It’s possible that magic evolved as the era advanced, but I believe that change carries meaning.”
“It does carry meaning. Even the faintest glimmer of hope shines brightest in darkness, does it not?”
Zaira pushed herself up with her arm against the floor. Whether these were records from a thousand years ago or two thousand years ago hardly mattered. As long as there was a way to reach the Abyss besides forbidden magic, nothing else concerned her. If asked to walk through fire, she would walk. If asked to sink into those deep waters, she would sink.
“What about the records of the Ruswena Mages?”
“They exist. But there aren’t many of them. Especially regarding forbidden magic—I only heard about it from Grandmother, and that time was the first I actually saw it properly.”
“That is normal. Zaira. That is precisely why it is called forbidden magic.”
“…Wait. Seeing this, there’s something you should look at right away, Ian.”
The girl crawled over to a small bag placed in the corner of the office and dragged it toward us. Having grown up with her family in the forest, she was quite unrestrained, and I thought Zaira would benefit from learning proper etiquette.
If I entrusted the remaining future to Bariel, she would surely one day be worthy of becoming the head of the Ministry of Magic. I crossed my arms lightly and offered Zaira some advice.
“Zaira. No matter how short the distance, walking on your knees is neither good for your health nor proper etiquette. Be more careful from now on.”
“Wow, just as everyone worried about.”
“Everyone worried? About what?”
“The Ruswena Mages who played and ate in the mountains—they said we’d get indigestion from eating at the Imperial Palace, and several of my family members said so.”
But Zaira seemed unbothered, crouching down to shuffle through the papers. Memos that had been tucked between them scattered like the first snow of winter. Softly. Softly. As if displaying the passage of long years, the yellowed papers scattered across the floor.
“But this one is different from Bariel’s—the author is unknown. Since I don’t know who recorded it, it’s hard to trust easily.”
“All recorded things are like that. Even if one has witnessed something, it may not be the truth. Zaira. All we can do is believe.”
Just as you did.
Erasing the boundaries you drew yourself, saying those who fell into the Abyss cannot be saved, yet still believing. Drawing the Abyss into each person’s own universe, their own sky, and their own truth that exists in their own world.
Zaira understood my meaning and nodded.
“Do not waver, Zaira. That you and I stand together in this place is because I yearn for your world. Yearning always changes reality.”
I smiled brightly and examined the papers. Coffee stains in rings, smudged ink, drawings that bordered on doodles. And two or three different handwritings.
-The Abyss flows beneath just as the rift flows through the earth. Flowing and flowing, the demons that once dwelt close to the earth flow forth.
—Look at the stars. We are moving. Beneath the cracks, their world moves as well. If we call each other unknown worlds, then their stars are us.
—Look closer. What do you see?
—Nothing is more dangerous to the cracks than conceptual thought. Humans would never understand it through their perspective alone.
“Is this a written exchange of thoughts?”
“It seems to be. I asked around, but no one knew. It looks like a note from an earlier generation, or maybe even earlier than that.”
“It’s quite cryptic. It almost looks like a riddle. One side asks a question, the other provides an answer.”
Ian tilted his head and asked.
“Did someone new arrive at Ruswena in a previous generation? Or perhaps someone who visited?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t know. Why do you ask?”
“At least one of the two must be an outsider. Otherwise, at least one of the Ruswena Mages would have known the answer to this. If no one knew, it makes sense that the one who wrote it was an outsider.”
“Is that so?”
Ian held the paper up to the sunlight, squinting. The handwriting visible from behind looked familiar somehow.
As Ian tilted his head, Zaira extended both hands asking for it back. Bariel remained Bariel, and Ruswena remained Ruswena. The information they brought was their weapon.
“There’s a bit more, but I’m not carrying it. It was one of the ways to convince my family.”
What remains in the Mage’s Forest is shared equally by all. Nothing becomes more precious, no one becomes more necessary—everything becomes equal.
Since the Ruswena Mages were throwing themselves into the arms of their former enemy Bariel, they needed to bond even more tightly.
Ian raised his eyebrows and asked.
“Really? Who?”
“I can’t say now. Once we all obtain Bariel citizenship and feel safe, we’ll unpack everything. Then you’ll know.”
At the boy’s shrewd words, Ian shrugged.
“Very well. Do as you wish. But Zaira, as you’ve seen and heard, I will soon be stepping down from my position as Minister. The issues raised are not the only reason. But I cannot remain in this Imperial Palace for long to meet everyone’s expectations.”
“How can this be? I came here trusting you.”
“I promise again that I will live up to that trust. Zaira. You and your family will live the life you desire in Bariel.”
Ian fixed his gaze on the note in Zaira’s hands as he spoke.
Even in his absence, he hoped Zaira would continue researching the abyss independently. Of course, for now the boy’s limitations were clear, being so young.
As days passed and years accumulated into a life, someday Zaira would be able to turn his faith into reality. The reality of saving a mage who had fallen into the abyss.
“I will be below, and you above.”
….
“Whether there is an abyss beneath the cracks, and if there is, how to save those precious to us. And whether there is a way to fill the torn earth anew. Let us look at the same place. Zaira.”
The boy seemed to be contemplating something, rolling his eyes. Since it was not a request demanding an answer, Ian straightened without hesitation and turned away. But the moment his foot stepped forward, Zaira spoke up.
“I want to come with you.”
That was not what he hoped for. As Ian’s brow furrowed, Zaira didn’t miss the moment and stepped closer.
“Logically speaking, shouldn’t I be the one going out directly to investigate the cracks?”
“You are too young.”
A puzzled expression crossed Zaira’s face at those words. Funny. The boy took a moment to compose himself, then continued calmly.
“…But I am Ruswena. You are the Minister of Magic born of Bariel. The fact that you’re going directly suggests you have considerable expectations about that place. Please take me with you. Rather than frustratingly shuffling papers up here, I prefer to run with my feet.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Now that you’ve said no, I want to go even more.”
“…You’re more troublesome than I imagined.”
“Whatever you imagine, I can show you more. I’m second only to my grandmother in magical power in our village. I’m far better than those mediocre fools wearing headbands.”
Zaira glared at the firmly closed door. Idiots. If you’re going to eavesdrop, at least hide your presence.
My conversation with Zaira wouldn’t leak outside, but their magical aura was far too distinct. It was like they were announcing “The red-headband group is here” to everyone.
Crash!
Rumble! Boom!
“Whoa! Waaaah!”
“Don’t push, don’t push!”
As Zaira strode forward and yanked the door open, Bariel’s Mages came tumbling out like a cascade, their ears still pressed to the door.
It was strange that I had singled out just one small boy and brought him into my office. They needed to know what conversation we’d had, where the Ruswena Mages stood, and how it might affect my faction during this strike.
“Is this also part of etiquette? I shall learn well.”
The boy turned back to me and smiled impudently before bowing respectfully.
Having experienced this several times already during the strike, I simply sat on the sofa without comment and picked up a file folder.
“It seems you’ve all come to the conclusion that you should finally help with my work. If you have nothing to do, move those processed reports.”
“That’s not it! Mama-yeon will struggle to the very end!”
“W-we are struggling, but… ah, since you’ve brought in a Ruswena Mage who isn’t even Bariel yet, we’re honestly worried and curious, so we came.”
“That’s right! W-we’re worried, no, curious! You said her name was Zaira, right? If you’re done talking with Ian, talk with us too? As you can see, we mages are doing something very important.”
As the Mage pointed to the red headband, Zaira sat on the armrest of the sofa with a contemptuous expression. What kind of ridiculous nonsense was this?
“I don’t want to.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t mind me and just continue with that struggle or whatever. I’m leaving the palace soon anyway, following Ian.”
Clink.
I set down my teacup with deliberate noise as a warning to exercise restraint. But the boy merely tapped his feet and continued chattering without pause.
“Honestly, I don’t understand. Why are you even striking? Does Ian want to keep you in the Ministry of Magic, but you don’t want to follow him to the Rift?”
Then, Akorelra pushed through the crowd of Mages and strode forward. She grabbed Zaira’s nose without hesitation and shook it.
“Hey, you cheeky little brat! When I saw you before, I knew you weren’t ordinary. You have the same tongue quality as Berik, don’t you? Huh?”
“Ow!”
“When Ian goes to the Rift, we go too. So from now on, behave with manners, Zaira. The Ruswena Mages are in the same boat as us.”

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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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