Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 464

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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 464
Fire. The Atan Clan and Berik
“Should we break through the barrier, Minister Tweller?”
Tweller fell silent, his fingers absently stroking his beard. If the Ministry of Magic had erected the barrier rather than Rutherford’s faction, caution was paramount.
Was this not a field judgment by our own forces? I couldn’t discern whether they were refusing reinforcements because the situation was too dangerous, or because reinforcements would make it harder to respond.
Regardless, what mattered was that the Ministry of Magic was currently rejecting their intervention.
“We wait for now.”
He issued instructions to his subordinates while holding a cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling upward as if guiding the path ahead.
“First, we need to identify their escape route. Intensify the search starting from the Secondary Palace. If this is indeed an entrance, the group that has secured King Damon and the Burgos Delegation will return here, so don’t just watch the front—keep your guard up on the rear side toward the Secondary Palace as well. Understood?”
“Yes, Minister!”
“And bring the mana-sealing stones just in case. Oh, and my axe too.”
Tweller’s subordinates moved with perfect synchronization. Having rushed here straight from the peace negotiations, wielding a ceremonial sword felt terribly inconvenient. He turned to look at Barsabe and Berik, asking:
“What will the two of you do? The Imperial Defense Ministry will respect the mages’ wishes and wait here.”
“Following His Highness’s orders, we should enter, but that alone could burden the mages. We’ll wait as well.”
“Aaaaah! Ian! Open the door! Berik’s here, right? Huh? Damn it. I was trying to help, but why won’t you let me in? Iaaaan! Ian Hielo! Hey, listen to me!”
“Berik!”
Thud!
Berik pressed his forehead flat against the barrier and barked noisily without cease. With too many eyes and ears around, Barsabe responded by grabbing the back of his head and twisting it. Though it had little effect.
“Iaaaan! My teeth are grinding again!”
“Shut up, you madman!”
“Minister, a report has come from the main gate.”
At that moment, Tweller’s subordinate emerged through the chaos. He seemed to be bringing some troublesome matter. When Tweller tilted his head to hear it, the subordinate covered his mouth with his hand and whispered.
“The Atan Clan has arrived at the main gate.”
“What?”
Berik briefly turned his gaze at Tweller’s exclamation, wondering what was wrong, but only briefly. He immediately resumed pressing his head against the barrier, whimpering for it to be opened.
“…Berik.”
“What?”
“Wasn’t the Atan Clan chieftain’s name Efdiram?”
“Probably? Honestly, names confuse me. There’s one crazy curly-haired fool among them though.”
From Tweller’s recollection, the Atan Clan had sided with Burgos during the Cliffford War. They had scattered the northern rift across Cliffford territory, and since they fed on monsters, their interests aligned—they welcomed the flood.
During the peace agreement, Count Ian had officially called them Bariel. The question was: why had they arrived now, of all times?
“They say they were delayed because they stopped by the northern territories, and they’re protesting loudly about why they aren’t being let in. We can’t explain the palace lockdown, but they’re too barbaric to convince with mere excuses.”
“Is there a possibility they’re in league with Rutherford?”
“Unknown. We can’t determine it.”
The Atan Clan and Rutherford. Could they be connected? Since the Atan sided with Burgos, it seemed unrelated, yet something felt off.
But from what I saw in Cliffford, they didn’t seem like the type to involve themselves in such petty political strife.
“Minister, the main gate is causing a commotion, and word is spreading among the imperial citizens. We must either let them in or convince them to wait reasonably.”
“Absolutely not let them in. In the current situation, if the Atan support Rutherford, it would be irreversible. It’s better to turn them away.”
“Yes. The peace negotiations are going well enough without the Atan Clan anyway, aren’t they?”
“It’s the fault of those who arrived late. We’ll refuse entry on those grounds.”
“Isn’t the reason you’ve contacted me now because you can’t refuse them? They’re unreasonable people, which is why this matter has escalated all the way to the Imperial Defense Ministry.”
“Even if it’s unrelated to Rutherford, bringing them into the palace during this chaos is absolutely unacceptable.”
The consensus was largely the same: the Atan Clan must not be allowed inside the palace. However, at the same time, there was a need to handle the situation appropriately so that the empire’s citizens wouldn’t become anxious. Tweller nodded toward Berik.
“Berik, I’d appreciate it if you’d go to the main gate and take charge of the Atan Clan.”
“Huh?”
Me? Why me?
Berik, who had been repeatedly rubbing his head against the protective barrier, froze. Half of his expression said ‘I don’t want to go,’ and the other half said ‘I don’t understand why this old man is ordering me around.’
“Since the palace is in danger, the chain of command is merely a formality. Right now, I’m requesting support from the Imperial Guards as the Minister of the Imperial Defense Ministry. If you refuse without proper justification, I’ll file a formal complaint after this crisis is resolved and have you disciplined accordingly. The severity of your punishment will depend on the importance of the situation, won’t it?”
“Wait, is your order stronger than Prince Jin’s order? I’m going to check on Ian, so how can I go anywhere! You go!”
“I too have received Prince Jin’s order to protect the palace. Your duty isn’t to check on Count Ian—it’s to support him, isn’t it? Helping the palace ultimately means helping Count Ian, doesn’t it?”
“Everything comes back to Ian. Damn it. You people suck him dry with work all the time anyway.”
“Berik! Your language is excessive! Apologize to Minister Tweller!”
“Forget it, this is ridiculous. I’m not going! Why should I go? If anyone’s going, you go!”
When Berik pressed himself flat against the wall and shouted that he wouldn’t leave this spot, Tweller pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Berik.”
He was bringing up something he’d prefer not to mention officially.
“You’re of the Atan Clan, aren’t you?”
“…?”
“You’re already acquainted with Efdiram, you’re Count Ian’s closest associate whom I’ve brought in, and you share identity with the Atan. I’ve determined that having you persuade them directly would be most effective.”
The eyes of the palace guards who hadn’t gone to war widened. The Atan Clan? They’d thought his eating habits were unusual, but his blood was different after all. But was that how the Atan normally were? Various whispers rippled through the crowd.
Barsabe glanced around, then grabbed Berik’s collar and whispered.
“Go and come back quickly. I’ll keep watch here.”
“Ugh, seriously.”
“We can’t just barge in recklessly. What if something happens to Ian or the Magic Ministry? That would be more productive than you standing here banging your head. I know the Atan temperament—you’re just as crazy as they come. Clean this up before problems arise. Ian will praise you for it later.”
“Argh! Damn it.”
Berik threw his head back with an exasperated sigh. He didn’t want to go, but he had plenty of reasons to. This was maddening. Setting aside seeing that lunatic Efdiram, he didn’t like the idea of being away from the crisis. What if something suddenly happened? Ian had called for him, and what if he wasn’t there when it mattered?
“If it were me, I wouldn’t waste time deliberating—I’d go and come back quickly.”
“…What do I even say when I get there?”
“Tell them there’s a situation and to wait politely. Don’t mention anything about what’s happening inside. And observe the Atan’s reaction—if it seems like they’re in league with Rutherford, report back immediately. We’ll need to request reinforcements from outside as well.”
“You pay me peanuts but give me mountains of work.”
“What are you talking about? You’re always breaking things, yet you eat like there’s no tomorrow. Did you forget all that?”
“I don’t care. I’m going! Get out of the way! Bring me a horse!”
“Minister Tweller! Berik is departing!”
As Barsabe saluted and called out with a grin, Tweller’s subordinates parted to either side. They clearly intended to send him off quickly before he changed his mind.
Neigh!
Clop!
“Let’s go! Quick there and quick back!”
When Berik yanked the reins hard, the horse whinnied and reared up, galloping away rapidly.
His figure vanished in an instant. Barsabe barely managed to wipe away cold sweat as she smiled. She’d been worried he might stubbornly refuse to go, but fortunately it had gone better than expected.
Zing. Zing.
“Barsabe. Look here, please.”
“The protective barrier is trembling. Why, why is this happening?”
“Huh?”
The moment Berik departed, the magical barrier began to falter. A visible tremor rippled through it—like a transparent pane of glass shuddering against a typhoon’s assault.
Barsabe, bewildered, refocused her concentration. The solid force that had held firm now wavered uncertainly, as though chaos had erupted among the mages themselves.
In the instant Barsabe tilted her head in confusion—
Crack.
“Hm?”
A distinct sound of fracturing echoed from somewhere within. Startled, Barsabe stumbled backward, and the terrified soldiers retreated even further.
“M-Mage Knight! Is something wrong?”
“Fall back! Something’s amiss! Withdraw!”
“The disturbance seems to be coming from inside, but I cannot determine its nature.”
“Will it hold?”
Boom! Crash!
As if in answer, a deafening roar erupted from within. What manner of battle were they waging in there? Barsabe fastened her armor securely, ready to deploy at a moment’s notice.
Whoosh!
Tap-tap-tap!
Meanwhile, Berik waved frantically at the palace gatekeepers visible in the distance. His sprint had brought him there faster than expected—a feat made possible by the precaution of clearing the entire surrounding area in preparation for combat.
The gatekeepers, who had been holding their position against the Atan Clan at the main entrance, recognized Berik and their faces brightened.
“It’s Berik!”
“Here! Come this way!”
Boom! Crash!
Bang! Bang!
“Why won’t you open this? We didn’t come here recklessly—the Minister of Magic summoned us, damn it!”
“Should we just break it down? Seems doable.”
“S-stop this at once! Any damage and you’ll face capital punishment under the strictest laws of the realm!”
“Give us some food! I’m starving to death—might as well die this way or that way, what’s the difference?”
“Open the door! The door! Is this how the Empire treats its guests? Huh? Unbelievable. You summon us, we travel far, and this is what we get?”
Sigh. This is quite the commotion.
Berik clicked his tongue and descended calmly. To an uninformed observer, it would have seemed a riot was underway. The massive palace gate shook as though it might be torn asunder, and the gatekeepers, knowing it would not yield, wore expressions of deep anxiety.
Berik roughly shoved open a small window that connected to the outside.
Thwack!
“Quickly, this—”
“Enough of your noise.”
“What? That’s a familiar face. Captain! The door’s open here!”
“Look, look! These fools are keeping an important person waiting—oh, it’s Berik?”
Through a gap barely wide enough to see eyes and nose, Berik and Efdiram exchanged glances. There was no warmth in their regard.
“Where’s the master? You mutt.”
“Master’s busy. So shut up and wait.”
“From what the passersby were saying, when the palace gets locked down like this, there’s chaos inside, right? It was like this during the rebellion too. Is something wrong?”
“Despite appearances, you’re surprisingly scholarly.”
“If you don’t want to end up dead, watch your tongue.”
“Can’t even break down a door.”
“…Show me?”
The moment Efdiram’s eyes turned golden, Berik flinched backward. Right. She was a Mage. I almost got myself killed.
“No! Never mind, just wait a bit longer. If you keep causing trouble, you’ll only lose out. Damn it, shut up. Let’s keep this civil!”
Perhaps sensing his retreat, Efdiram’s eyes gleamed. And as if she’d found something deliciously interesting, her breathing grew ragged.
“Something’s definitely wrong. Sending a mutt who doesn’t know the first thing about hospitality to this extent—something so fucked up is happening in the palace that even our commotion would be a burden. Am I right?”
Caught! Just as Berik tried to play dumb, Efdiram gestured toward the interior with her chin. Whatever it was, amusement filled her expression.
“The moon’s risen.”
“The moon?”
A deep, dark moon so opaque that nothing inside could be seen.
When had it appeared?
Berik understood perfectly what it meant. It was something that appeared whenever a Mage traveled long distances. Rutherford’s Mages were likely trying to escape.
“Hey, hey! Don’t worry about it.”
“I can ignore it, but you can’t, can you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“If that’s the cause of the commotion, then someone’s about to flee, which means the Ministry of Magic will chase them down. Otherwise, the Ministry itself has something to handle. High odds it’s being driven by Ian’s magical power.”
Efdiram pressed her face against the gap, giggling. Stupid mutt! You’re not grasping the situation, are you?
“Your master’s trying to leave right now. Idiot.”

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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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