Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 453

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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 453
Fire. Stained
Thud!
My body crumpled forward helplessly. The arrow embedded in my heart drove deeper still, and blood streamed from the wound without mercy.
I couldn’t believe what was happening. My eyes darted frantically, seeing nothing but unfamiliar feet beneath me.
My ragged breathing came in gasps, no better than some lowly creature, and I felt like a dying insect pinned to the ground.
“The King of Eriphony!”
“What—what is happening?”
“Who fired that arrow? Was it Bariel?”
“Unknown. It appeared from nowhere.”
“Retrieve the arrow and we’ll know. You there! Approach the King of Eriphony and examine the arrow!”
“This is not Bariel’s arrow. It’s made and used by Ruswena.”
“Shouldn’t we first confirm whether she lives or dies?”
“Survival seems unlikely. It struck near the heart precisely.”
“And do you intend to save her?”
“There’s no need for Bariel to do so. Ahem. She brought armed forces and caused a disturbance, daring to aim a bow at the Prince.”
“But she’s still alive. Her chest is rising and falling. Check her pulse! Confirm whether she—!”
The official’s voice cut off abruptly.
I fought desperately to steady my ragged breathing. Poison seemed to seep into every sense. My heart spewed black blood, strength drained from my limbs, and my mind became stained with shadows of death.
A soft sound.
Before me, someone knelt on one knee. I could see only up to their ankles, but I knew instinctively who it was—someone radiating elegance, arrogance, and the bearing to match.
Ian, who had collapsed after drinking the poisoned tea, stood alive and unharmed.
“Does it pain you, King of Eriphony?”
“You… you…”
“It is the weight of the lives you took.”
A soft touch.
When Ian’s hand lightly touched the arrow, indescribable agony washed over me like a wave.
Those golden arrows I had thoughtlessly fired from the hillside of the battlefield. The weight of the countless lives they had broken pressed down upon me with crushing force.
I crawled across the floor, screaming in agony.
“Aaaahhhhh!”
“And this is the weight of the anger held by the one who fired the arrow.”
“I—! Will kill—! Aaahhh! Stop! Stop it!”
A faint vibration. A hum.
As the arrow trembled slightly, I convulsed as if my heart would burst.
Kneeling is humiliation performed upon the ground, but this was humiliation driven beneath it. White foam gathered at my lips, and my eyes—once filled with will and authority—became bloodshot.
“Hyunyao. A spell that steals the breath from one experiencing intense joy or happiness. In nature, it borders on a curse. What’s required to activate it is death caused by the target. King of Eriphony, this arrow is none other than the one you yourself fired.”
“What are you—”
“You need not understand. You need only writhe in agony and die as painfully as possible, until the one who cast the spell is satisfied.”
Did you cast this, Ian? I wanted to scream, but blood rushed up my throat, and I couldn’t speak.
Then my gaze met Zaira’s, standing with perfect posture. Her small fists clenched the fabric of her clothes. Her brows furrowed with all her strength. And in her eyes burned a fierce, burning rage.
Eriponi instantly sensed that Zaira was the one who had cast the spell.
“You wretched creature—! Cough, hack!”
As if betraying her homeland weren’t enough, she had driven an arrow into the king’s heart? Eriponi crawled across the floor with a single obsession: to wring Zaira’s neck. The trail she left behind glistened with blood, making her appear like a serpent bleeding out its final moments.
“…!”
The instant Eriponi’s fingertips brushed against Zaira’s garment, the king’s hand went limp and fell. Her breath had ceased.
Everyone watched her final moments in silence. The King of Ruswena, Eriponi, lay dead on the floor, her gaze fixed downward. Ian slowly knelt and closed her eyes.
“Ruswena Envoy, listen well.”
He then addressed Ruswena, or more precisely, all the foreign delegates present.
“The King of Ruswena, Eriponi, has passed. She died by an arrow of her own making, shot by her own hand—therefore, no one bears responsibility for her death. All who witnessed this with their own eyes know the truth. The envoy delegation must decide whether to remain for negotiations or return to Ruswena. Bariel will express deep condolences for King Eriponi’s passing, but only that far. The negotiations cannot be delayed, no accommodations will be made, and no sympathy will be extended.”
She died by an arrow of her own making, shot by her own hand.
Though incomprehensible, what their eyes had witnessed was undeniable, so the envoy delegation could not easily find words to speak. Moreover, this was the imperial palace. Just moments ago, they had caused a disturbance through force, and Eriponi had attempted to kill the Prince. Under such circumstances, even execution would not be surprising.
They chose silence and looked toward Eldetr. The king was dead—surely the authority to decide now rested with him?
“Ah….”
Eldetr seemed unable to make a decision easily. What was peculiar was the emotion visible on his face. His lord had died, yet why did surprise appear before sorrow or anger?
Ian raised his eyebrows, urging a response. They had only thirty minutes of rest; the seconds ticked away relentlessly, and little time remained.
“Eldetr. Decide. If you say you will return to Ruswena, I will have the soldiers lower their spears and open the path. However, you must leave the king’s corpse here, and you must accept all terms decided in the negotiations without adding further opinions—unconditionally. Consider the price of aiming a bow at the Prince as paid with the king’s life. If—”
Zaira could not believe Eriponi was dead. She bowed deeply, looking down at her. The king who had disturbed their peaceful forest existence. It was her grandmother’s will that had walked into the abyss, but it was this king who had pushed her back. The king of the abandoned homeland and the enemy she had wished to kill, even at the cost of her own life.
Ian glanced at Zaira and continued speaking.
“If you choose to continue participating in the negotiations, I will respect that as well. However, you must understand that the crime of causing a disturbance in the imperial center will be addressed separately, and you will not be free to leave the palace after the proceedings conclude. This statement will be disseminated through messengers as an official declaration of Bariel.”
They stood at a crossroads of choice.
If they left Bariel now, they could return to Ruswena, announce the king’s death, and discuss the succession. But in the negotiations, they would be at an absolute disadvantage. Cliffford, Burgos, and Bariel were not so lenient as to accommodate nations that did not participate.
On the other hand, if they remained to continue participating in the negotiations? News of the king’s death would reach Ruswena, and rebellion might be attempted. A defeated king who died abroad and never returned—wasn’t the palace left as an empty house without its master?
‘And even if I participate in the negotiations, there’s no guarantee I can achieve the desired outcome.’
When Eldetr did not choose easily, Ian tilted his head as if somewhat surprised.
“Eldetr. Is this truly a matter for such deliberation?”
“…Is it not natural?”
“Though you are of the royal family, you….”
Ian began to say something, then closed his mouth. He had discerned the desire hidden within Eldetr’s heart.
Eriponi and Eldetr were cousins. Yet in Ruswena, where legitimacy was paramount, the possibility of Eldetr inheriting the throne was extremely slim. Had there been such possibility, he would not have left the palace to serve as a university professor.
He had returned at Eriponi’s summons, but regardless, there were others who would succeed Ruswena besides Eldetr.
‘As the king’s advisor and closest confidant, the proper course would be for all those in high positions to be replaced and step down following the king’s death. The very fact that he deliberates suggests he has no intention of stepping aside. He could claim to act for royal legitimacy. But wouldn’t it be more fitting to return first and inform the next successor of the situation as a messenger of Ruswena, not of Bariel?’
He would be placed at a disadvantage in the negotiations, but that was preferable to the legitimacy being shaken. External problems are national problems that everyone can solve together, but internal problems are palace problems. There are limits to resolving them.
Ian withdrew his pocket watch and clicked it open to check the time.
“Ten minutes remain. Decide and inform us. Have everyone clear this place.”
“Yes, Ian.”
“We will move King Eriponi’s body first.”
“We will transport it safely by magic, so please clear the way.”
“Move aside, move aside!”
The mages obeyed the command without showing a trace of surprise at Ian’s appearance, despite having been dead. Everyone else, however, alternated their gaze between the corpse of Ian lying on the ground and the living Ian standing before them.
“Your Highness. Are you unharmed?”
Ian adjusted his collar and moved closer to Jin, matching his gaze to the boy’s eye level. The boy stared back with glistening eyes wide open, saying nothing. He wondered if what he was seeing before him might be a ghost.
“How is this possible? Your corpse is lying right there.”
“It is an illusion crafted by the Mage’s order, Your Highness. Those who soar through the heavens and cleave the earth—surely they can conjure a single corpse.”
“Then you didn’t die? You’re alive?”
“Yes. I am as you see me now. My apologies, Your Highness. I had no intention of placing you in danger. The circumstances were merely staged temporarily due to the requirements of the Hyunyeo magic, and I fear I startled you. I did not anticipate that you would come running like this.”
“Of course you didn’t…”
If Ian had died, of course—of course I would rush here in a single stride. Jin’s brow contorted as he seized Ian’s arm.
“Count Ian!”
“My apologies, Your Highness.”
“You are… a fool!”
“…Your Highness?”
Taken aback by the unexpected words, Ian faltered, and the Mages managing the situation hesitated as well. The boy’s eyes glistened with tears as he opened his mouth wide and cried out.
“A complete blockhead!”
“Your Highness.”
“…Insane. Did you just hear that?”
“…Pretend you didn’t. Do you want to die?”
“How could I possibly pretend I didn’t hear that? It’s not easy.”
This was hardly the same boy who, moments before, had hurled profanities at a king of a nation, demanding he kneel or threatening to sever what lay beneath.
While Ian continuously soothed Jin, Zaira rested in the embrace of the Mage family.
The burning embers of vengeance had reached their end and crumbled to ash. That ash was acrid, cold, and stained. When the thirst for vengeance burned, it seemed intense enough to obliterate everything, yet why did such deep stains remain in its aftermath?
“Zaira, are you alright?”
“…Yes.”
“Your body?”
Zaira gazed down at her own palms and shook her head.
“No problem. For now.”
“You must be careful going forward. You are still young, yet you have already squandered so much time.”
Zaira knew well that the price of Hyunyeo magic—a curse-like incantation—was half of one’s given lifespan.
Not knowing how much life remained, she could not discern how close death’s threshold had drawn. She could only conjecture that thirty to forty years of her existence had evaporated.
“Your Highness, let us move to another room. There are many eyes watching.”
As Ian supported Jin and entered the nearby reception room, the corridor where the two lords had vanished filled with whispers. News that Bariel had accepted Cliffford’s proposal, speculation about Ruswena’s future, murmurs about revising negotiation strategies—all of it swirled in the air.
Zaira turned her back, carrying within her heart the path forward through the rift.

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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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