Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 58

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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 58. Allow Me to Introduce
“Then let’s have food prepared while we discuss. You won’t eat properly once you return, will you? I hope you’ll fill your stomach sufficiently here.”
Creak, bang!
“Th-that, that, a so-called nobleman…”
The moment the door closed, Romandro clutched his neck and groaned. At this rate, the Borderlands nobles might actually develop prejudices against him.
I retrieved the documents he’d been reviewing and examined them one by one.
“The prices are one thing, but the list itself doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Exactly. There are hardly any emergency crops.”
With a harsh winter looming, what we needed were emergency crops with short harvest periods and relatively abundant yields. Yet what Marquis Merelrof had presented contained only luxury ingredients primarily consumed by the nobility.
“This is absurd. Did he perhaps have a falling out with Count Derga?”
“I couldn’t say for certain. But regardless, the trade itself wouldn’t be welcome.”
They didn’t even have food for themselves, yet now an Advisor from the Imperial Palace had arrived and they’d be forced to provide provisions. Moreover, hadn’t they suffered losses from the battle in Bratz’s domain, whether knowingly or not?
“During the battle, some tried to flee toward Merelrof. The Butler of Bratz Manor also had his neck severed here. During that period, the gates were locked and no one could leave…”
With the forest right ahead, they couldn’t gather firewood, couldn’t hunt, couldn’t pick fruit. Trade must have suffered as well. I couldn’t know exactly what inconveniences they’d faced while isolated, but I could make educated guesses.
Romandro let out a groan and clutched his head.
“Advisor.”
“Hmm?”
I tapped the table slowly before calling out to Romandro. In truth, even without procuring provisions here, I had other methods.
“If I may be so bold, I suspect the support funds amount to approximately 3,000 gold coins. Am I correct?”
“That’s a sensitive matter, so I can’t say.”
“I know a far more valuable way to use this money than buying cream and olives here. If you would trust me and follow my lead, Romandro.”
Gula—the seed that had eliminated the great famine of Bariel, called the blessing of the gods. I possessed four sacks of such gula seeds.
Compared to other emergency crops, it boasted overwhelmingly short cultivation periods, abundant harvests, and nutritional benefits.
How could anyone spend precious funds like this on such things when we had perfect provisions?
“What are you saying?”
“I cannot use the precious support funds sent from the Imperial Palace in such a manner. This is wasteful, and moreover, it is extravagant.”
“I agree, but what alternative is there?”
I pushed the documents aside dismissively and asked Romandro’s subordinates to check if there were any eavesdropping ears. Once they’d left for the corridor, I whispered quietly.
“I intend to purchase something else here.”
“Something else? What?”
“People.”
At the unexpected answer, Romandro’s eyes widened and blinked rapidly.
“…Slave markets are only held in the Central region. Surely Marquis Merelrof isn’t hosting one?”
“No. That’s not it. I mean to purchase labor.”
Even without spending all 3,000 gold coins, it would be sufficient, I whispered. Romandro, still utterly confused, alternated his gaze between me and the trade proposal documents.
“Lend me your ear.”
I smiled slightly and whispered the existence of gula into Romandro’s ear. His expression gradually shifted to one of disbelief, but only briefly.
* * *
“You’re just leaving?”
“Yes, Count. The trade will be called off.”
Marquis Merelrof glanced at the food arranged on the table. Unlike what he had said about preparing it lavishly, it consisted mainly of boiled meat stew. A dish where not a single drop of broth could be wasted—the kind of cooking common folk typically prepared.
Through this, I intended to reveal my true feelings that the very proposal itself was distasteful. The Marquis stroked his beard and wrinkled the bridge of his nose.
“I’ve lost my appetite.”
“Shall I see you out?”
“That will do. Make some excuse.”
Publicly, I had not turned away from offering assistance. They simply chose not to accept it. Marquis Merelrof had been worried about what would happen if they came back willing to make a deal at that price.
‘Soon enough, the Cheonryeo Tribe, unable to endure the cold weather, will leave as well. When they’re all starving to death, there will be no way out.’
The reason Merelrof reigned like a king in the Borderlands was, quite literally, because the Borderlands lay beyond the gaze of the Imperial Palace. That was the greatest factor.
No matter what happened or how it unfolded, the Imperial Palace would remain ignorant—that physical and psychological distance.
But if someone from the Imperial Palace took the seat of Bratz’s lord?
‘Damn it. Just thinking about it….’
Merelrof, being the neighboring domain, would likewise fall within the Imperial Palace’s view. In that case, it would be better for Merelrof to seize Bratz instead. There was the burden of having to deal with barbarians geographically, but compared to having the Imperial Palace as a neighbor, it was far preferable.
The Marquis strode to the window and looked down below. Near the main gate, standing before a carriage, I could see Ian and the Advisor. The two were facing forward, discussing something.
* * *
“Perhaps he simply dislikes the very fact that someone from the Imperial Palace is in Bratz.”
“Too burdensome to have as a neighbor, then.”
“There are moral issues involved, but really, what does that matter? Once you’re dead, morality and all that becomes useless.”
Because of the distance, Marquis Merelrof failed to notice that I had seen through him so precisely. Romandro pondered for a moment, then nodded in agreement, as it was a matter of practical wisdom.
“Yes. That’s right. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
“By the way, the Butler seems to be taking quite long?”
“The Marquis must be finishing up his business.”
“I doubt it. From what I saw, I don’t think he’s seeing you out.”
Ian clicked open his pocket watch and muttered. Now that I had confirmed Merelrof’s position, all that remained was to return to the domain and introduce Gula to Romandro.
“Oh my.”
Just then, a woman emerged through the back door of the garden. A noblewoman with platinum blonde hair gathered up and adorned with all manner of ornate accessories.
“…Countess Merelrof?”
“Ian! So you are Ian?”
“It is an honor to meet you.”
Ian concealed his bewildered expression and offered a greeting to the back of her hand. Unlike Marquis Merelrof, she was a woman brimming with vitality. Since she was on friendly terms with Mrs. Mary, I had assumed she would be around middle age, but she appeared far younger than expected.
“I am Lien Merelof. Yes, I heard you had come, but are you leaving already? Do stay for a meal.”
The woman was young, yet everything about her—her position and all else—stood above Ian and Romandro. It was an entirely natural condescension, and since I understood this, I felt no displeasure. Just a thought that her manners were somewhat lacking.
“I am grateful for the Marquis’s kind invitation, but I have mountains of work awaiting me, so I’m afraid I cannot join you. I do hope we might have the opportunity another time.”
Swish.
The Countess waved her ornate fan with a smile of unclear meaning. Ian and Romandro exchanged glances, sharing some unspoken look. What on earth was this Countess doing? Now that I thought about it, something felt off about the atmosphere.
‘The dress that doesn’t match the season, and that gaze that seems somehow misaligned….’
It was the kind of impression one would get meeting someone in an alley—the sort you’d want to turn back from. An impression one could rarely obtain from such a beautiful Countess.
“Advisor?”
“Ah. I am Romandro.”
“How delightful. I thought I would never hear your name.”
“My apologies.”
“Is this your entire party?”
She twirled her fan with a graceful gesture as she asked. Half of those who had come with them had already descended into the central district ahead. To purchase the ‘people’ Ian had suggested.
“We were concerned about being late, so we departed early. We’re waiting for the Butler.”
“Ah, I see. The Bratz domain has been properly settled then? My husband never tells me anything about that.”
“Yes, thanks to your support.”
“Oh my. And I’m curious about something.”
“Please, speak freely, Countess.”
The Countess drew closer, concealing the lower half of her face with her fan. The servants appeared to keep their heads bowed, their ears and eyes deliberately shut.
“Who is using Mrs. Mary’s room, by any chance?”
“Mrs. Mary’s room?”
“There was something I lent her that I never got back.”
Shh. The Countess Merelrof’s tone grew progressively quieter, as if signaling him to lower his voice. Ian recalled Mrs. Mary’s final moments and let out a soft exclamation.
“Ah.”
Mrs. Mary had mentioned there was something in Merelrof that could be of help. She hadn’t revealed what it was, but the fact that she’d said so right up until the moment she left the Manor suggested it wasn’t something that would be carelessly lost.
The Countess Merelrof’s eyes gleamed as she pressed him further.
“Well? Is the room intact?”
“…It should be. She didn’t venture out much. If you wish, you may visit whenever you please.”
“Is that truly acceptable?”
“Of course. It’s a room without a master now—who would object?”
At Ian’s words, the Countess’s eyes curved with satisfaction. Just then, the Butler emerged carrying a small box, and the Countess turned her head as if nothing had happened.
“My lady?”
“The guests are departing—where is the Count?”
“Ah. He finds himself unable to leave due to urgent matters. He asks for your guests’ understanding, and this is a small token of goodwill from Merelrof. He also sends word that should you require any assistance as neighboring domains, you need only ask.”
The Butler bowed respectfully, and the Countess covered her mouth with her fan, smirking slightly. The Butler certainly had a talent for smoothing over the Count’s blunt words. Ian accepted the box with a nod.
“Please convey my gratitude.”
“Then, we shall take our leave. Ahem.”
Romandro also offered a brief farewell and climbed into the carriage. As they passed through the Main Gate, the Countess kept her gaze fixed upon them without wavering.
Clop-clop-clop.
“What is this token of goodwill?”
“By the smell of it, dried meat, I’d say.”
“Remarkable—it seems the rumors about the Borderlands do have some basis after all.”
He was referring to the social circles’ prejudice that Marquises of the Borderlands were crude and barbaric. Understanding the implication, Ian smiled faintly, and Romandro confirmed the Manor had receded into the distance.
“That Countess is rather peculiar herself.”
“I didn’t realize she was so young. I had assumed she was the same age as Mrs. Mary.”
“The Count seemed rather aged, though. Is this his first marriage?”
“I’m not entirely certain about that…”
“Never mind then. Now, tell me in detail—you mentioned there’s a crop with only about a month left until harvest?”
Romandro pressed close to Ian’s side, his voice brimming with anticipation. To think such an extraordinary crop existed in this place!
Perhaps that’s why they say: to see the center of the world, go to the Capital; to see the world’s changes, go to the Borderlands.
“Where did it come from? The Great Desert? Yes, something from the desert would have such vitality, wouldn’t it? What’s its name? What do they call it?”
“You should know about it too, Advisor.”
“Hm? Know about what?”
“Gula.”
“…Gula? That common weed Gula you’re talking about?”
Unlike Ian, who wore a faint smile, Romandro’s face had fallen into despair. It was clear his mind was flooded with the thought that everything was ruined.

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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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