Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 479

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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 479
Fire. A Place Both Unfamiliar and Familiar
Though I managed to swallow a few spoonfuls of warm broth, my body remained stubbornly immobile. The exhaustion and injuries sustained in the Abyssal Sea seemed far more severe than I had anticipated.
The man stared blankly at me before stuffing the remaining porridge into his own mouth, devouring it with ravenous intensity as though not a single drop could be wasted—like a starving beast licking the bowl clean.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and fixed me with an unwavering gaze.
“You ate, yet you still can’t move?”
After deliberating for several moments, he roughly seized my wrist and yanked me forward. Just as I began to resist with a frown, protesting that he release me—
Creak!
Crash!
“Why are you taking so long?”
“Oh, Master!”
“He’s awake?”
“Yes, yes. He’s come to his senses. He’s finished all the porridge too. But this fellow can’t speak, and it seems he doesn’t understand anything either.”
The man’s owner burst through the door. Short in stature with a stocky build and a bald head, he appeared to be around the same age as the man, though his clothing seemed oddly familiar to me.
I immediately recognized it as my own garment. It had been hastily washed of bloodstains and dried, then crammed onto a body it didn’t fit—the buttons left undone, the shoulders stretched so taut they seemed ready to burst at any moment.
“Deaf and mute, is he?”
“He doesn’t speak, and he doesn’t seem to understand anything either.”
“Then how was he wearing such fine clothes?”
It was the outer robe I typically wore in my study. Though tattered from countless ordeals, the delicate embroidery in gold thread made its value unmistakable.
“What should we do with him?”
“Beyond the debt for saving his life, I need to recoup the cost of the porridge. Hmm. I can’t even put him to work like this. Better to sell him. The market opens this weekend—I’ll take him then. His face is decent enough; he should fetch a good price. Yes. Keep him locked up here.”
“I am—”
As the owner sniffled and turned to leave the warehouse, I opened my mouth. He seemed to place considerable importance on financial matters, so I judged it wiser to reveal my identity and offer appropriate compensation.
“Ian Hielo.”
“Huh? He can speak?”
The owner spun around in shock, while the man’s face went ashen.
“He’s talking!”
“Eek, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Master!”
“You were trying to deceive me!”
“No, no. It’s truly not like that!”
Crack! Crack!
The man flinched under the indiscriminate blows, desperately pleading for forgiveness, while I mustered what little strength remained to restrain the owner.
“Enough. Enough, please. He couldn’t speak earlier due to circumstances beyond his control—it’s not his fault.”
“Ha, ha. Enough? And who are you to say so?”
The owner’s head glistened with sweat from that brief exertion. A crude man indeed. I slowly pushed myself upright and straightened my posture.
“I am the lord of Hielo and Minister of Magic to the Imperial Palace.”
The owner’s eyes widened in disbelief, and he fell silent. The man who had been struck also froze, his swollen cheeks cradled in his hands, as though his thoughts had come to a complete halt.
A moment of silence followed. Then the owner clutched his belly and began to chuckle.
“A madman, that’s what you are!”
“M-Master. I think it would be far better if he couldn’t speak. Shall I knock him out again?”
There was skepticism in his eyes. Ian spoke calmly.
“Contact either the imperial palace or Hielo—whichever is closer—and inform them of my presence here. I shall reward you generously for your trouble.”
“Look at this guy, seriously.”
“Oh, Master! If that bastard gets hit, he’ll really die!”
“Then would you like to take the beating instead?”
“W-we need to sell him at the market, so it’d be a waste if he died. Yes, yes. So please, just bear with it a little longer.”
There was logic to that. The Owner, barely managing to compose his portly frame, crouched before Ian. A sound of fabric tearing echoed as his upper garment split, though no one acknowledged it.
“So you’re the Minister of Magic?”
“Yes.”
“Show me some magic.”
“…I lack even the strength to stand. How could I possibly cast magic?”
“That’s what I’m saying. Swindlers always have loose tongues.”
The Owner muttered while poking Ian’s forehead repeatedly with his finger.
“Listen here. Why is the Minister of Magic who vanished ten years ago here of all places? Who said it? That you looked somewhat similar to him?”
…Ten years?
Had so much time truly passed since I entered the abyss? Perhaps because it was a space of chaos, time itself had not flowed normally there.
While Ian examined his own hands in thought, the Man approached the Owner and asked.
“Was the Minister really that handsome?”
“I don’t know. That’s what they said, anyway. He rose to the position of imperial minister while still young, so rumors were rife.”
Though few would remember him now.
The Owner gave Ian’s forehead one final forceful push before standing up. His back was so torn that it was embarrassing to call what he wore clothing. He gestured to the Man and issued an order.
“Since his mouth is moving strangely, he’s not in his right mind. Watch him carefully so he doesn’t escape.”
“Yes, understood.”
Ian slowly rose and walked toward the warehouse door. His gait was so feeble that neither the Owner nor the Man seemed inclined to stop him.
“This place is…”
The sight beyond the door was not merely unfamiliar—it was bewildering.
Dingy walls built of mud brick, a roof raised with hay piles, and what appeared to be household members half-naked and squatting on the ground attending to chores. It was a village among villages, and Ian could not even begin to guess where he was.
“What good would it do you to know where this is?”
Creak!
Slam!
The Owner pushed against Ian’s chest as if to send him back inside, shut the door, and locked it firmly.
Ian stood there for a while, then moved to the opposite side and peered through a gap. Given the number of household members, they seemed to be people of some standing in the region…
‘It seems I’ve fallen into a remote place.’
Yet there was one consolation: this place was Bariel.
Though magical power was depleted here, rest might allow some recovery. How long that would take in such a place, with meager provisions, remained uncertain.
‘Still, ten years.’
A long time. This place where Jin was—it was my past and simultaneously a future through which ten years had passed. Truly strange, was it not? Questions cascaded through Ian’s mind one after another.
Had the Prince matured? Were Berik and Romandro, and the Ministry of Magic, faring well? How had circumstances unfolded, and what had become of Rutherford?
Thud.
Then, through the gap, a lump of dried flour fell. The Man had placed it there as a meal. Whether from stinginess or genuine scarcity of food, he could not tell.
“Rest quietly. Then there will be no trouble.”
“Where is this place? Is it far from the Imperial Palace or Hielo?”
“Not that again? I don’t know where Hielo is, and we’re somewhat distant from the capital. Probably.”
Having never left the place where I’d spent my entire life, it was difficult to gauge the distance. Ian asked again with patience.
“So, where exactly is this?”
“Landroe.”
“Landroe?”
I’d never heard of it.
“That’s the name of our Owner.”
“Is he a nobleman?”
“To us, he’s higher than the King himself.”
This is maddening. I’ve truly fallen into quite a place. Based on the financial state and overall atmosphere, this fellow doesn’t even qualify as a lower-ranked noble.
Ian pressed his forehead briefly, then changed his question.
“Is the market far from here as well?”
“You’d need a full half-day’s walk to get there. I don’t have time for this. I have work to do. Eat that sparingly. The next meal is tomorrow, understand?”
All slave trading outside of the capital’s official markets is illegal. Yet selling someone who isn’t even a slave to such a place—wasn’t this human trafficking rather than mere slave trading?
“Sigh.”
Ian couldn’t fathom why he’d awakened in this place. Perhaps it was the will of God, but he couldn’t even begin to guess.
Was there any clue? As Ian continued peering outside through the gaps in the wooden structure, he heard the man and his household members chattering.
“Are we going to the mountain again today?”
“Yeah. We need to gather whatever we can find.”
“I should’ve gone last time! That blonde was quite pretty—we’d make some money selling him at the market, wouldn’t we? The Owner might even give us a piece of meat. Lucky!”
Ian easily discerned that the conversation was about him. It seemed he’d been discovered somewhere in the mountains, not near any settlement.
“Then why don’t you come with us today?”
“Ha ha ha! That’s just talk.”
“Don’t worry about the Moles appearing. We haven’t seen them in quite a while.”
“Still, if luck’s bad, we’ll run into them anyway.”
“If luck’s good, you find things like that, like I did.”
“Fine then. Just make sure to bring back some dead Dryads.”
…Moles. And Dryads.
Ian recalled something at the familiar combination of words.
A mountain. Where was the mountain?
Was there a mountain visible from here?
“Ah.”
There it was. In the distance, faintly visible—a mountain. The peculiarly dark green trees created an illusion as if dark clouds had settled upon the earth. It was Mount Raza.
‘The place where Lady Lien Merelof grew up as a child. Where spirits that share their fate with trees dwell, and the stronghold of the Dera Tribe.’
The Dera Tribe, with their mole-like appearance, were a reclusive people devoted to inventing throughout their lives. Perhaps, given that Bariel had almost no monsters, this was an unavoidable fate they’d chosen due to their different appearance from humans.
‘Now that I think about it, I remember. Lady Lien said so herself—after she killed her Dryad mother and descended from the forest, she immediately encountered slave traders and was sold.’
Could this be their doing? From their behavior, it doesn’t seem like they’ve done this just once or twice. Even if it’s not them, there must certainly be some small trading company operating in the market.
Ian pondered for a moment. Whether it would be advantageous to be sold to the slave market, or to escape to Mount Raza instead. If he went to the market, there might be a way to contact the capital, but given the level of these people, it seemed unlikely.
‘First things first—’
Whoosh.
Rest. I need to recover my mana first.
I stared blankly at the shriveled lump of flour, then turned away and closed my eyes. My hunger was intense, but eating something like that would only make me sick.
My mana would return in time—I reassured myself to stay calm. I just hoped it would come back at the right moment, when I needed it most.
* * *
Meanwhile, in the heart of Mount Raza.
The surroundings were thick with dark green leaves and white-stemmed trees.
The forest was so quiet it felt eerie. Was that rustling the wind, or some wild beast, or something unknown entirely? A young Dera Tribe member crouched hidden in the brush, sniffing the air. The scent of a stranger.
‘Probably came to steal something again.’
Likely one of those creatures living down the mountain—a human. He gripped his hammers firmly in both fists and lowered his body. Rustling through the leaves to clear his view, the human’s form became unmistakably visible.
Red hair and a face that looked foul-tempered. What an oddly distinctive appearance! As the Dera Tribe member bared his teeth and took an attacking stance, the human muttered.
“…Damn. I’m lost again.”

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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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