Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 471

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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 471
Fire. The Child of Mixed Blood, Roel
Philia rested her head against the rattling carriage window, gazing out at the distant sky.
It had been a fortnight since she departed Hielo’s domain by carriage. According to the coachman, they would arrive before late afternoon, yet the urgency that consumed her yesterday had dissipated like wind. Truly, a peculiar thing.
To be more precise, the prospect of entering the Imperial Palace unsettled me. I wondered whether Prince Gin remained in good health, how Romandro, Viviana, and the precious people of the Ministry of Magic fared, yet paradoxically, I did not wish to know.
Undoubtedly, it was because of Ian’s disappearance.
A soft rustle.
“Philia.”
“You’re awake?”
“If you wish to lean, lean this way.”
Nersaren gently cradled Philia’s forehead with his hand, warming it. She leaned naturally against his shoulder, smiling as though content, yet her gaze remained fixed beyond the window as she murmured.
“We’ll arrive at the capital soon, won’t we?”
“Yes.”
“…I’m frightened.”
Nersaren understood well what Philia feared. Ian had vanished in an instant, evaporating without trace. While some claimed he was dead and others insisted he would return, they had fled the capital at Gin’s urging, as though escaping.
For Gin, it had been political damage control, but for Philia, it was a form of survival instinct. Before confronting reality, before the world crumbled, she wished to flee.
“When we arrive at the capital, I feel Ian will come to greet us. He’ll say it’s been so long, that work kept him too busy to send word, that he’s sorry. Then I’ll tell him I was disappointed but understood. We’ll embrace, share a delicious meal together, and he’ll ask how I’ve been, whether I’m hurt anywhere.”
Philia’s eyes sparkled as this future unfolded in her mind, but the carriage’s jolt pulled her back to reality. How fragile a fantasy, shattered by something so trivial. It felt cruel.
“But once I confirm Ian isn’t there, I won’t even be able to hold such hopes anymore…. I’m frightened.”
“Philia.”
“I’m sorry, Nersaren. Isn’t it strange? I insisted on coming with you, yet here I am saying this.”
“No. It’s not strange. I’m grateful you followed me despite such fear.”
Nersaren embraced Philia and patted her gently. This journey was not merely to celebrate Gin’s coming of age. It was a sort of business trip ordered by Kakantir. Fearing they might be separated for a long time, Philia had packed their daughter and prepared to accompany him.
“I couldn’t send you alone. And besides, Kakantir seemed to wish for me to go with you.”
“Perhaps Kakantir prefers seeing you over me, given your deeper bond with the Prince?”
“Is that so? Aside from Ian’s affairs, I truly wished to offer my gratitude to the Prince. Despite having no lord, he never reclaimed the domain or sent a replacement. Thanks to that, I’ve continued to traverse the Great Desert freely. I cannot express how fortunate that is.”
Philia wiped her eyes briskly and smiled.
Had the imperial court appointed a new lord, they might have rebuilt walls between Hielo and the Cheonryeo Tribe depending on policy. Thus, the Hielo and Cheonryeo Tribe already intermingled had watched the palace with great sensitivity when Ian disappeared. Yet the capital showed no interest, as though to ease such concerns.
‘Was the palace like Philia as well?’
Indifference masquerading as neglect. Just as Philia believed Ian lived in the capital, perhaps the capital believed Ian lived in Hielo.
Nersaren sighed inwardly and grasped his wife’s hand. She must not suffer too greatly.
A creaking sound.
Then, the door connecting to the rear carriage opened, and a young girl appeared.
Her skin held the desert’s vastness, golden hair, and green eyes. Her delicate features resembled Philia’s perfectly. The child, though just awakened, sat across from her parents without whimpering.
“Roel. Did you sleep well?”
“…Yes.”
Despite her composed expression, her voice remained thick with sleep. Philia stretched her arms invitingly, and Roel stared at her mother for a moment before reluctantly settling into her embrace.
“We’ll arrive at the capital soon. You’ve endured the journey well these two weeks, my daughter. Once we arrive, let’s rest on a soft bed.”
“…Mother.”
“Yes?”
Whether it was due to inheriting the temperament of a warrior, or perhaps the bloodline of the Hielo name itself, Roel possessed a composure far beyond her peers—deep and contemplative, rarely speaking unless necessary.
Yet whenever she did initiate conversation like this, she often astonished both her parents and those around her. Just as she was doing now.
“It’s about Brother Ian.”
“Hmm?”
Philia’s eyes widened noticeably. Had she overheard the conversation with Nersaren just moments ago? The carriage was far too loud for that to be possible, wasn’t it? Moreover, she had clearly appeared to be sleeping until just now.
Philia unconsciously bit her dry lips.
“Brother Ian. The one who is above me.”
“Sorry, were Mom and Dad being too loud?”
“When we go to the Central, we’ll see him again.”
“…Roel?”
A small yawn escaped as Roel buried her head in Philia’s embrace. The child’s breath tickled the nape of her mother’s neck, yet Philia felt nothing.
Why was Roel saying such things? Had her own distorted perception of reality somehow influenced her daughter? As dizziness swept through Philia’s mind, Nersaren interjected. He brushed back the child’s hair and asked gently.
“Roel. The matter concerning Brother Ian is very important to your mother and to us. I’d like you to explain more precisely.”
At her father’s prompting, the child’s eyes fluttered open slightly as she murmured.
“It’s just as I said. When we go to the Central, we’ll see him. Brother Ian will be coming up soon.”
“Coming up?”
Nersaren suddenly recalled Kakantir’s sigh—that time when he had been deliberating whether to assume the vacant chieftain’s position after Winchen’s death.
Nersaren possessed more than sufficient qualifications, but throughout their history, a chieftain had to sustain both the position and the entire Cheonryeo Tribe through exceptional abilities.
“From below where Brother fell, rising upward.”
“W-who told you that?”
“I saw it. With my own eyes.”
“…!”
The whispers of the warriors echoed through Nersaren’s mind—their concern that if Winchen died, there should be someone to care for the Cheonryeo Tribe next, yet none appeared.
Philia clutched Roel close and froze, while Nersaren ran his hand through his hair in bewilderment. He gazed quietly at the child. Her bronze skin proclaimed her a Celestial Warrior, yet her golden hair and green eyes bore witness to Bariel blood flowing through her veins.
“Y-yes, Nersaren.”
Philia called to her husband quietly, uncertain what to do. If Roel were to follow in Winchen’s footsteps, the child’s end could be easily foreseen. Someday, depending on Silasque’s existence, she would be caught in a cycle of breaking and blooming.
Yet it was too brilliant and sweet to dismiss as merely a child’s dream. Philia could not firmly deny the content—that the vanished Ian would return.
“It’s alright, Philia.”
Nersaren, understanding this as well, could not claim the child had merely dreamed. If she truly possessed such extraordinary abilities, as a father he would worry, but as a member of the Cheonryeo Tribe, he could only feel relief.
Nersaren embraced both Philia and Roel together, exhaling his complicated emotions in a sigh.
“…”
Only Roel, nestled securely in her parents’ arms, gazed out the rattling carriage window with an unbothered expression. In the distance, a massive fortress began to come into view.
The Central, spoken of only in tales—the heart of Bariel.
* * *
Gin tossed the documents lightly onto the table. Thump. Though a small sound, to the officials seated in neat rows on either side, it felt like the heavens were collapsing.
Those who sensed the Prince’s foul mood fixed their gazes upon the table. Making eye contact at times like this would only invite trouble.
“Who submitted this proposal?”
“I-I did, Your Highness.”
“To halt construction of the Ministry of Magic’s annex?”
Tap, tap. Gin posed the question in a leisurely voice, as if he hadn’t heard it the first time.
I had heard that she was a talent being newly cultivated by Quintana, the Minister of Administration. Perhaps that was why—she was doing exactly the same thing Quintana had done when she was young.
“Why?”
“Ah, yes, well! That is, I have documented it in the report, but the construction costs for the Magic Ministry’s annex continue to increase day by day. As construction progresses, costs rise exponentially with time, do they not? While completion draws near, the supply of mana stones arriving from Burgos diminishes steadily. Thus, I believe it prudent to temporarily suspend the project and resume at an appropriate time.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, Your Highness. Above all, this year is crowded with major events, including your coming-of-age ceremony…”
“The budget was generously allocated from the time of groundbreaking ten years ago. While some fluctuation may occur with rising prices, it should not present any significant burden, should it?”
“Ah, that is—”
“The number of mages, already insufficient, has been halved for the past ten years now. Do you resent constructing this annex for them?”
“Your Highness. That is not it!”
“Is that so? Then perhaps this is the scheming of those who find Count Ian’s return inconvenient.”
The official’s eyes darted about, gauging the atmosphere. Those who had held their positions long remained silent and still, while the newly appointed ones sent signals of support.
So it was true—one of the Prince’s major reasons for refusing to abandon the annex construction was connected to the Minister of Magic. But the man had been gone for so long with no word of return. What in the world was this obsession? Seeing it directly, it seemed he was clinging to hollow dreams and wasting effort on meaningless pursuits.
Amid the muddled intentions swirling about, Jin slowly pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.
“How often does this cycle repeat itself, I wonder.”
“I, Your Highness?”
“At this point, it is fair to say the existing officials’ intentions are opposed to the Magic Ministry’s annex. Each time a new person arrives, you push them forward to speak in your stead, so while the speaker changes, the content remains identical. It is tiresome.”
“Ahem. That is not so, Your Highness.”
“Yes. It is a misunderstanding.”
“How have you all endured, watching the Magic Ministry’s annex site for ten years? Remarkable. I commend you for that much, at least.”
The justification the Magic Ministry’s annex construction possessed had steadily diminished over the ten years. Even when Ian was present, opposition had been fierce, and now the reasoning could scarcely be found at all.
For ten years, I had pushed forward by imperial authority alone. Now the time had come to see it through, and I could not stop here. As always, I was resolute.
“Rejected.”
“Your Highness. But Burgos—”
“After my coming-of-age ceremony, I shall go to Burgos myself.”
Jin declared this quietly, silencing all objection.
Going to Burgos personally—what did that mean? It meant bringing Burgos under Bariel’s dominion, which signified that Jin would enter history directly, and moreover, it foreshadowed the Emperor’s death.
The end of the Emperor, who had lain bedridden for so long, was becoming visible. As the officials whispered and exchanged glances, a sound came from outside.
Knock, knock.
“Your Highness, an urgent dispatch.”
“Speak.”
Jin naturally assumed it would be news of his father the Emperor’s death. He had instructed Xiaoxi to announce the report in the middle of the meeting, after all.
But the content that came was different from his expectation.
“It is an urgent dispatch from Minister Troller: a man using the name Rutherford has been spotted in Burgos.”

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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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