Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 586

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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 585
Fire. The King of Toollun
Crash!
“Nakina!”
“Call the Healing Mages! Hurry!”
“Y-yes. Just a moment.”
“Gasp, this person… they’re really from the Imperial Guards?”
As the flames of the Agiar barrier extinguished one by one, Nakina landed gracefully while cradling Barsabe, gasping for breath. The Mages on duty rushed over in alarm, and upon seeing Barsabe’s condition, they froze in shock.
“This is insane, truly.”
Before the Healing Mages arrived, the Mages without exception grasped Barsabe’s hands and shared their strength with her.
Yet no amount of magical power could help if the body itself was completely destroyed. They carefully wiped away the dried blood with warm cloths, and beneath them discovered a massive wound that had been hidden.
“What in the world did these bastards do?”
“This is definitely torn, isn’t it?”
“There are stitching marks… hmm. Nakina! Were the Puppeteers there with her too?”
Nakina gulped down water while giving only a short nod. Sweat—or perhaps water—streamed down her jaw. The Mages could tell without her speaking how frantically she had moved.
“Call Captain Akorella too. This won’t do with just Healing Mages. We need to throw everything we have at this.”
“Forgive the intrusion, Barsabe!”
“Good heavens, Barsabe! What of Captain Jairot and Berik?”
“Is everyone safe?”
Crash!
Upon hearing of Nakina’s return, the Imperial Guards burst through the Mages’ tent. They gasped at the sight of Barsabe’s mangled form and searched for the absent Jairot and Berik. Surely they weren’t losing another comrade?
“Captain Heil and Berik are pursuing Rutherford, while Captain Jairot is holding back his subordinates and the Ruswena Mages. We need immediate reinforcements.”
“What’s the location?”
“That is—”
“There! The Imperial Defense Patrol is returning!”
Neigh!
Clatter clatter!
The extinguished torches flickered back to life one by one. The Agiar residents who had been trying to sleep despite their fear emerged from their buildings, and the resting soldiers jolted awake, instinctively donning their armor.
“Ten kilometers to the north, in the cliff region! Following the cliff face will take longer, but it will be more precise!”
Mage Knights and Mages possessed superior mobility, so this posed no problem. The Imperial Guards who received their orders rushed out en masse, and soon encountered Tweller, Ian, and Jin who had been informed of the situation.
“Your Majesty.”
“Have Captain Simon lead half the guards to provide support. The objective is to capture Rutherford alive, but avoid any further unnecessary casualties.”
“Yes, I shall obey your command.”
Crack!
“Minister Tweller, lead the soldiers and follow the patrol to rejoin Captain Jairot. Since the enemy are Mage Knights and Mages, avoid direct combat and prioritize encirclement.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Not a single one will escape.”
“And Ian.”
Ian adjusted his clothes and studied Jin’s face. Despite the exhaustion that should have weighed on him, his eyes sparkled brighter than ever at the news of Rutherford’s discovery.
“Bring Rutherford to me. Thus, let us unravel your destiny bit by bit.”
“It won’t take long.”
Before the sun rose, I declared with certainty that I could settle matters with Rutherford. They were like rats fleeing across a field hemmed in by cliffs, while Bariel was the eagle pursuing them.
As I nodded lightly and soared into the sky, the Mages followed in my wake.
Zing! Whoosh!
Glimmering mana traced arcs through the air, leaving luminous trails, and Tweller, the Officers, and the Imperial Guards began moving with urgency.
In the tent, the Healing Mages tending to Barsabe’s wounds briefly glanced up at the unexpected commotion.
Slowly.
Barsabe’s eyelids opened gradually. Even breathing itself felt laborious, yet her eyes darted rapidly across the surroundings. Then her fingertips twitched. As if sensing some signal, her jaw trembled violently.
“My. Look at this.”
The Healing Mage noticed her change and gently shook her shoulder, but Barsabe couldn’t respond, her mind adrift in confusion.
Her head spun dizzily. It felt as though the back of her skull had opened. A passage connecting the Agiar she perceived with her eyes to something beyond had opened within her mind. Barsabe furrowed her brow, straining to comprehend the humming voices.
‘What is this? What are they saying?’
Something mixed with the Healing Mages’ words. She wanted to cry out for them to speak slowly, one at a time, that she couldn’t understand, that her vision was blurring—but in that instant—
An unknown voice pierced her confusion, striking sharply into her mind.
—I can see clearly.
* * *
In Toollun, the sun rises three times a day.
Not literally, but symbolically. Morning, noon, and evening. When a massive golden bell rang at fixed intervals, people gazed skyward as if the sun had just risen and offered their prayers.
Dong. Dong.
“Has it already gotten this late?”
“Shh. Be quiet during prayers.”
A Merchant Group from a foreign land, visiting the royal palace for an audience, froze at the sudden bell toll and looked around. Officials walking the corridors, Servants attending to chores, even those engaged in sparring stopped and knelt to begin praying.
The foreigners stood awkwardly, observing the scene in silence.
“How long does this go on?”
“Three times a day, three times each. It’ll be over soon.”
“But they’re all….”
They were all bowing their heads in the same direction. They immediately recognized that location as where the highest tower in the royal palace stood. It was where the King resided, and where they would soon be going.
“They say the King appears in that tower three times a day. For them, it holds the same meaning as the sun rising, so they show such devotion.”
“Honestly. A day isn’t long enough just for work, let alone this.”
“Ahem. In Toollun, the penalty for blasphemy is severe. How could a merchant not even understand his trading partners?”
“I’m not the merchant—my master is. I’m just here to inspect the goods before the transaction. And frankly….”
What is all this? It seems like a cult.
In no other nation had he seen people pray to their king three times a day. Even Cliffford showed something similar at dusk, but those were prayers of gratitude for completing a difficult day without incident. They weren’t worshipping or serving any particular person.
At the Merchant Group’s murmuring, the Man guiding them through the palace clicked his tongue and gestured with his eyes.
“If you had two lives, you could keep grumbling like that. I’m leaving now.”
“No, sir. I misspoke.”
“Toollun has been sensitive about these matters lately. Since we’re from the same country, I’m explaining this in detail. Otherwise, the moment you entered the palace gates, you would’ve been arrested for blasphemy.”
“I understand. My master also acknowledges your efforts. He said he would treat you to a fine meal after we leave the King’s presence, so please let it go.”
“Hmph.”
While they whispered quietly, the bell toll ceased. People went about their business as if nothing had happened, and the two men quickened their pace.
Slowly.
“This way.”
A beautiful palace where the color of dry sand and soft curves blended together as if alive.
The King’s Servant, who had been waiting in advance, greeted the two men, and they removed their hats and bowed respectfully.
“We are somewhat late. We were unaware of the prayer hour.”
“I shall inform His Majesty. Please wait in the audience chamber.”
Creak.
At the Servant’s direction, the doors of the audience chamber swung open to both sides, revealing the interior clearly.
The throne came into view first. Notably, a massive silhouette cloth hung before the throne, seemingly intended to prevent one from gazing directly upon the King’s face. According to their culture, the King was none other than the sun of Toollun itself.
‘Good heavens, what absurdity.’
The Merchant clicked his tongue inwardly. Though I had traveled through many lands buying and selling goods, I had never encountered a place as exasperating as Toollun.
‘Not even a legitimate dynasty, and they raised a King by haggling conditions among themselves? Yet they speak of him as the sun.’
Shouldn’t deification have at least some basis for understanding? Knowing how the current King ascended to the throne, I could muster no respect regardless of what he did. I merely wished to verify the goods quickly, leave, and rest from the journey.
“Masha.”
A signal announcing the King’s arrival.
The two men prostrated themselves on the ground and bowed their heads. Light, delicate footsteps. Fabric brushing against the floor. Then came the jingling sound of accessories clinking together. And then—
“Raise your heads.”
A young girl’s innocent voice.
The Merchant lifted his head and looked up at the King behind the silhouette. Though not clearly visible, judging by the small stature and voice, the child appeared to be merely thirteen or fourteen years old.
The child greeted them with a somewhat excited tone.
“Yes. You come from the Makiaru Merchant Group?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. The Group Leader is currently outside Toollun procuring the items you have ordered, so I, the Deputy Leader, have come in his stead. I humbly beg your understanding.”
“Understanding for what? There should be no problem in receiving the goods, correct?”
Is this right? No matter that he was a King, being merely a child, he lacked any sense of dignity or majesty. The Merchant stammered before barely managing a response.
“Yes, yes, of course.”
Moreover, due to Toollun’s unique method of selecting Kings, I knew very well what kind of life this child had lived. A small village in the outer districts where commoners gathered, outside the palace walls.
‘Kumasha.’
Kumasha is the name of the one true God whom Toollun believes in and follows. Long ago, the God embraced all the world’s evil for Toollun’s sake, descended underground, and locked himself away. Yet periodically, he manifests in human form to watch over Toollun, it is said.
‘That is precisely Toollun’s King. Eyes like a deer’s and a jaw as soft as a peach—what else was it? There are dozens of criteria for appearance, and above all, a young child who will not weep even when confined alone underground for a hundred days, and who knows how to pray with composure, they said? Whether the current King or the previous one, they all bear the same name—Kumasha. They bring a child from the streets and call him King, so… it’s remarkable the nation functions at all. How can one bow their head to something so young and lowborn?’
Hmm. But there was one more crucial condition I’m forgetting—what was it?
The Merchant tilted his head, lost in thought. A brief silence fell over the audience chamber, and just as the guide was about to nudge the Merchant’s side.
“Your Majesty. Forgive the intrusion. This concerns a matter related to Agiar.”
“Ah, yes. I was waiting for this! Listen, you may depart for today, and I shall write a letter to your master which you will carry and deliver.”
“Ah, yes, yes. I understand, Your Majesty.”
Whoosh.
Kumasha rose from the throne and left the audience chamber. Fearing the King’s face might be exposed, the Servants lifted the fluttering cloth on both sides and hurried along with the child’s pace.
Rustle.
As the wind blew, the child’s face briefly appeared between the cloth. White hair, skin pale as snow, and eyes of a faint pinkish hue. Having left the audience chamber, the child smiled brightly and instructed a Servant.
“Write a letter and have it sent.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“The Deputy Leader’s manner was presumptuous and displeased me. Next time, bring me his head as tribute.”
The Servant who received the order hurried away in quick steps, and the Boy soon arrived at his own chamber, pushing the door wide open with his own hands.
Creak!
“Any news?”
“Your Highness.”
A vast space, crammed from floor to ceiling with puppets. Tens of thousands of them were piled up like mountains of refuse.
“There is one report. It appears Bagvan has died. The strings connecting him to his puppet have been severed.”
“How unfortunate. Is that so? I had a feeling his time was coming. He’s been struggling far more than before to move the puppets.”
“However, it seems the other Puppeteers have created a rather useful puppet anew.”
“What is it?”
“I cannot say with absolute certainty at this moment, but it appears to be one of the Imperial Guards. Since it is connected through a puppet, would you care to look through it? With fortune, you may be able to see Emperor Bariel.”
Oho! An Imperial Guard!
The Boy bounded about lightly with excitement, then concentrated his mind. His pale pink eyes, which had been a faint hue, began to stain with the color of blood, glowing crimson.

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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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