Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 5

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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 5. The Plan
“Ian?”
The boy called out to Ian while gauging his mood. His complexion wasn’t poor, but there was something sharp about his demeanor today. Rumors had circulated that Ian seemed different from his usual self, but the boy hadn’t expected it to be this pronounced.
“Ah. Yes.”
Only then did Ian understand Chel’s attitude as well.
After all, he had been holding the boy’s mother’s life as collateral, so those vicious words had tumbled out readily. Ian smiled gently and expressed his gratitude to the boy.
“That’s all. I have nothing to convey.”
“Yes? But sir…”
The boy’s eyes widened as if witnessing something unprecedented.
Wasn’t this the Ian who always bundled up countless trivial stories whenever he left? The servant couldn’t read or write, so he would sketch rough pictures to solidify his memories.
“My father has gone out.”
“The Count, sir?”
Today was a day for a special luncheon with Mollin. This meant the Count’s schedule differed from his usual routine. The servant, who had been leaving at regular intervals, seemed to have overlooked this detail.
“It would be troublesome to encounter him by chance. Besides, you’re still quite young, aren’t you? Don’t venture out.”
From what I’d heard, people kept mentioning the red-light district, which had been a dangerous place even in my time. A hundred years ago, it must have been far worse.
If luck turned sour, even a healthy man could collapse from poison and have his pockets emptied. I couldn’t send the boy to such a place.
“Will you be alright, sir?”
“Hmm? What do you mean?”
“You weep late into the night every day…”
The boy knows I weep late into the night? Is there someone sharing my room? If not, it meant there was someone outside my room in the dead of night.
‘So I’m being watched as well.’
It was fortunate. I’d discovered this before making a mistake. I smiled gently and answered.
“I’m fine. I won’t weep anymore.”
“Then, the errand fee…”
“The errand fee?”
If anything, it looked like the servant might weep instead. He fidgeted with his fingertips, his expression troubled. I unconsciously patted my pockets, but found nothing.
“If I can’t bring food today, my younger siblings might starve. I’m truly fine, so please let me run this errand. This time, I’ll bring back your message without a single word out of place.”
The errand fee wasn’t money after all. Of course. In the past, the boy had been born and raised in poverty, and now he was semi-forcibly confined to this manor. He wouldn’t have a single coin to his name.
“Please, Ian.”
Then what was given to me in this manor? It was three abundant meals a day.
‘That’s right. Now that I think about it, he was far too thin.’
The Cheonryo Tribe were hardy and fierce barbarians. They were so strong that even one of them could stand against dozens without clear superiority. Thanks to this, the tribe alone had established itself as a thorn in the side of the Bariel Empire.
The standards of build were already vastly different, so sending a scrawny boy like me would certainly invite gossip.
As a result, meals were provided equally compared to the Count’s household members. That was everything given to me, and it served as currency to communicate with the outside world.
“I have five younger siblings in total. If I can’t bring back the errand fee, my siblings will have to fill their bellies with gruel.”
The servant pleaded with his hands pressed together. I could guess the territory’s circumstances were dire, but I hadn’t expected it to be this severe.
Yet my own safety wasn’t even guaranteed at the moment. I couldn’t simply indulge the boy’s circumstances without limit. I pondered briefly, then nodded.
“Very well. But there’s a condition. This time it’s an advance. I’ll give you the errand fee first, and later when I need it, you can do the work for me then.”
“Ah!”
The boy bowed repeatedly, clearly delighted by the proposal.
So there was someone here willing to help me. Though we were bound by a transactional relationship, what did that matter? Having an ally in any form was better than having none.
“And I’d like to call you something more comfortably.”
I decided it was time to learn the boy’s name and probed gently. The implication behind my words was clear—I would likely be asking for his help often in the future.
Understanding my intent, the boy answered with a bright smile.
“Call me Hena! Everyone in the manor calls me that!”
I had previously referred to him as “you there” or “hey,” but now, as if he’d been waiting for this moment, Hena introduced his name clearly and deliberately.
* * *
My room was at the far end of the third-floor corridor.
The moment I opened the door, a musty smell wafted up. The small window seemed woefully inadequate for ventilation. It was clear this was a servant’s quarters, not a guest room.
Creak.
The old chair groaned, but it didn’t distract me. Fortunately, cheap paper and a pen lay in the corner. The traces of the boy’s writing practice were evident. His handwriting was more drawn than written, if I’m being honest.
‘Imperial Year 1100.’
From Hena, I was able to learn the exact date.
Since I had existed in 1198, I had traveled back nearly a century. My rough estimate of about 100 years had been correct. I exhaled wearily and brushed back my golden hair.
‘Where do I even begin with this…’
Whether it was Naum or not, I had clearly fallen victim to someone’s spacetime magic. Otherwise, this was a hallucination I saw at the moment of death.
‘For now, all I know is that the person I’ve possessed shares my name.’
But it was difficult to attach great significance to that. The name Ian itself wasn’t rare or special.
Scratch, scratch.
To clear my head, I began jotting down the major events onto the paper. If this was a hallucination or another world, things might unfold differently than I expected.
“Hmm.”
I proceeded without difficulty to chronicle the history of Bariel that would unfold. There were gaps here and there, but it didn’t matter. The absence of memorable events simply meant peace had prevailed.
“Still, for a boy who studies, there’s surprisingly little paper on his desk?”
The clean paper was soon filled with my dense handwriting. The remaining sheets were covered in what appeared to be the bastard Ian’s crooked scrawl—illegible to me. I sighed and tried to decipher what it was, though I doubted I’d succeed.
‘These are letters, right? There’s a pattern, so he wrote something… but is it Bariel script?’
Knock, knock.
At that moment, hearing a presence outside, I quickly slipped the papers into a drawer and turned around. If anyone who could read found these, it could become problematic.
“Come in.”
“I’ve brought your evening meal, Ian.”
Ah, it’s Hena.
I smoothed the crumpled papers in the drawer and gazed out the window. The sun was already setting. Being early spring, the evening sky bore the deep traces of winter. The luminous stone affixed to the ceiling began to glow.
“Hena.”
“Yes?”
Luminous stones were far cheaper than candles. They merely glowed dimly in the darkness, enough to make out shapes.
“Could you bring me a candlestick?”
“Ah, that is… anything brought into your room requires the Count’s permission.”
The boy’s troubled answer came from beyond the door. Judging by the sparse, shabby state of the room, it was unlikely anything would be granted. After all, wasn’t this boy himself the very “mistake” my father had made outside? I could well imagine how much of an eyesore I was to them.
‘Should I be grateful just to not starve?’
“…Should I go ask?”
The probability of receiving leftover candle wax versus being interrogated about why I needed it.
Which of the two held greater prestige? On the very day my proud son Chel made a mistake in the drawing room.
“No. That will do. You may leave now.”
“Then I shall take my leave.”
I heard Hena’s footsteps fade into the distance.
I picked up my pen again. I attempted to write several more times, but the darkness had grown so thick that I could no longer even see the inkwell. I leaned back against my chair and gazed toward the door.
Creak.
A small tray sat before the door. Two chunks of rye bread, a single piece of cheap ham, and water.
“Well, well.”
This was the meal Hena had left me after taking her servant’s portion—the bare minimum. No wonder I lacked strength, eating like this. I clicked my tongue and brought the tray inside.
It was hardly satisfying, but when one’s stomach was empty, what choice remained?
I softened the bread in water and ate slowly. Come to think of it, even orphans from the battlefield never ate so poorly. Back then, at least there was gula soup….
“Ah!”
It felt as though a breeze had blown through the fog that had clouded my mind. Everything became clear, and I scratched at the itch that had been bothering me.
Yes, I had noticed something odd when I saw the kitchen.
The midday meal had been abundant, yet something felt lacking.
‘There was no gula.’
Gula was a vegetable rich in nutrients, eaten even as a meal substitute. Its taste aside, it was so versatile in cooking that every Bariel citizen kept it as an essential ingredient.
The ‘discovery’ of gula was an event so significant it marked a turning point for the Empire itself.
It had reduced the annual death toll from starvation by nearly eighty-five percent. Both economically and in daily life, Bariel would be divided into the era before and after gula’s discovery.
‘In the original timeline, gula wouldn’t be discovered for another fifty years.’
A discovery, not an invention.
Not creating something that didn’t exist, but recognizing what already did. Gula, which had come from the Eastern lands, was toxic in all parts except the seeds, so it had never been recognized as edible. It had simply been discarded in mountains and fields, naturally taking root.
‘No one knew how to prepare this strange Eastern food. Not for fifty whole years.’
But I knew how to make gula edible. That meant if I simply ‘discovered’ gula, I could erase Bariel’s great famine from history itself.
“Good heavens.”
I suddenly wished this was all real.
Not a magical illusion, but truly having come to Bariel’s past. So that I could change history.
‘Ian. It’s alright. There are always opportunities, always. The Divine does not pose unanswerable questions.’
Naum’s final words echoed in my ears. I didn’t yet understand the details, but somehow I felt I could find the answer. Whatever it might be.
‘For now, I’ll simply survive by any means necessary.’
And then, to the Imperial Palace—to find traces of Naum.
This was my first resolution.

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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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