Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 6

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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 6. A Stroll
“Huff! Huff!”
The moon still hung pale in the pre-dawn sky.
I sat by the window, gazing absently at the world outside. My mind churned with too many thoughts to sleep, and some commotion had jolted me awake.
“Align to the left!”
“Align to the left!”
“Forward, march!”
The voices belonged to Bratz’s soldiers heading out for dawn drills. I rested my chin on my hand, observing their formation with meticulous attention.
‘Quite a number for mere soldiers.’
An endless stream of them poured through the Main Gate in succession.
Judging by the typical ratio of soldiers stationed at a manor versus those deployed across the territory, Count Derga appeared to maintain an excessive military force.
‘It’s awkward to reduce troop numbers. He must find it troublesome as well.’
Other borderland lords reduced their soldiers upon establishing peace treaties.
Displaced soldiers could return to their original occupations, till the farmland, sell goods, and pay taxes to their lord once more. Peace treaties were instruments that brought both tranquility and economic benefit.
Yet Count Derga had maintained peace treaties since his predecessor’s time without reducing his forces. It was merely a hollow, faithless formality of peace.
The Count’s second brother had been ambushed and killed while crossing the border, and I myself had been sent as a sacrificial offering, expected to perish.
‘It would be better to break the peace treaty altogether.’
An army could only be sustained if the territory’s people engaged in economic activity. Currently, the soldiers far outnumbered what the population could support.
Thus, frequent warfare would actually restore balance. Continuous conflict would reduce the military burden on the territory’s people, and a successful conquest would bring new labor and capital.
Of course, the assumption of defeat was another matter entirely, but the fate of a man whose mind grows ever more inflated is predictable. This needed to be resolved beforehand.
‘War or peace.’
One or the other must be chosen decisively, for an ambiguous situation satisfying neither would only compound everyone’s suffering.
Even Hena exemplified this. Though she worked at the Count’s Manor, she was on the verge of starvation without my errands to sustain her.
Creak.
I straightened my clothes and stepped out of my room. In the corridor, I spotted a servant nodding off. He was likely the night attendant assigned to watch over me.
“You there.”
“Y-yes, Ian?”
“The air is cold. Go inside.”
Was this a dream or reality? The servant wiped his mouth and blinked. It was the first time I had ventured outside at dawn. Until now, confirming nothing had gone amiss during the night had simply meant handing over my breakfast tray…
“W-where are you going, sir?”
“I thought I’d take a stroll.”
At this ungodly hour? Could there be some hidden scheme?
As the attendant’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, I smiled faintly and gestured with my chin. My gaze was utterly cold.
“What are you staring at?”
It was a command to lower his eyes and step aside.
The attendant straightened and bowed his head, though unease remained etched on his face. Letting me wander when the manor was so quiet felt dangerous, yet he had no legitimate reason to detain me.
“Um, Ian sir…”
“You may follow if you wish.”
I granted permission without further discussion and proceeded down the corridor ahead. Whether I forbade it or not, he would follow regardless, and besides, the manor held countless unknowns. It seemed prudent to have him accompany me and learn its layout.
“Is that Guest House locked?”
“Since it’s for guests, we sweep and clean it daily.”
“You’re dancing around the word ‘open.’ Then what about that place?”
“The Armory’s security is paramount.”
He certainly knew how to keep his mouth shut.
The Servant watched my expression while refusing to answer directly. It was clear he’d rush off to report the moment this inspection ended. Though I could see it plainly, I paid it no mind. I had no intention of doing anything problematic.
The real problem lay elsewhere.
“Sigh.”
I exhaled heavily and straightened my posture. I’d been working diligently to gather information, but the first problem I’d identified was the Boy’s physical condition.
An untrained body. I’d suspected as much, but it was worse than expected. Simply walking through the Manor left him this exhausted. Before meeting the Cheonryo Tribe, he’d surely collapse from fatigue near the Border.
And the second problem.
‘There doesn’t seem to be any gula either.’
I’d checked both the well-maintained Garden and the sparsely populated Backyard, but found no gula.
Being a plant strong in reproduction and survival, they must have torn out and burned every specimen they found. It wouldn’t be visible anywhere inhabited except deep in the mountains. Since I couldn’t leave, this was also problematic.
“Master Ian. Morning has broken. Shall we have breakfast?”
The Servant suggested with a long yawn. It was time to end his night shift. His manner was rather rude for a Servant, but given my circumstances, it was understandable. I nodded and followed willingly.
“Yes. Let’s go to the Main Residence Dining Hall.”
“Pardon? The Main Residence Dining Hall?”
I understood the meaning behind the Servant’s question.
Hadn’t I taken yesterday’s evening meal on a tray in my room? Ian would have eaten every meal that way.
But I had no intention of continuing that. I was quite hungry, and I needed to interact with the Count’s family members who held my life in their hands.
“My goodness. Master Ian? Good morning?”
“What brings you here…?”
The Servants bustling about the dining hall entrance looked flustered upon seeing me. Judging by the number of place settings, there appeared to be two people inside.
“I’ve come to eat.”
“The Countess and Young Master Chel are present.”
“What about Derga—I mean, Father?”
“He went out yesterday and hasn’t returned yet.”
Tsk. I clicked my tongue briefly, but truthfully, it wasn’t a bad situation. With Derga absent, I could handle the two of them more easily.
“Open the door.”
At my command, the Servant reluctantly pulled the handle. The ornate interior of the dining hall was revealed.
The eyes of the two people waiting inside showed opposite reactions. Chel’s widened in surprise, while Mrs. Mary’s narrowed with displeasure.
“What is this about?”
Her tone was sharp.
I responded with casual composure.
“Good morning, Mother. A fine morning to you.”
After a light greeting, I took a seat across from them.
Chel fidgeted and glanced at his mother, unaware of the hostile glare Mrs. Mary was directing at me. Her expression was so malicious that I wouldn’t have recognized her as the same kind woman I’d seen in the Garden yesterday.
“Take your meals in your room.”
Despite her words dripping with venom, I calmly leaned forward toward the table.
“Indeed, I did so last night. But as I chewed on a piece of bread, I reflected and realized it wasn’t quite proper.”
“What?”
“Because I drank from the finger bowl yesterday, Lord Mollin was quite shocked, wasn’t he? With only two children in the Count’s household, we’ve managed to make mistakes across the board.”
At his words, Chel’s face flushed crimson.
Mrs. Mary set down her knife roughly and clamped her mouth shut. It was a warning glare—one that promised a beating if he didn’t hold his tongue.
“Father also instructed me to apply myself to learning. He said it would be difficult to master etiquette while eating alone from a tray, so it would be better to dine together like this.”
I wove the deception with remarkable subtlety, making it seem as though Count Derga had intended this, when in truth he had not.
“Mother?”
“…Sit.”
Her expression suggested she’d been seething since morning.
Mrs. Mary gripped her fork and knife irritably, cutting into the frittata. Chel’s appetite seemed to have vanished entirely; he sat quietly, stealing glances at me. I smiled warmly and met his gaze.
“It truly is better to eat at the table than from a tray, isn’t it? Wouldn’t you agree, brother?”
“Huh? Y-yes…”
The portions were far more generous. I satisfied my hunger with elegant, practiced movements. Yet I observed the lady closely—her jewelry, her dress, every adornment she wore was something worthy of praise even in the era of Emperor Ian.
The servants below had nothing to eat and were eyeing even a bastard’s rice bowl, yet this lady indulged in luxury.
Altogether, it was a household in complete disarray.
“Mother, I have something to ask of you.”
“Can’t you just eat and be quiet?”
“Please change my room. I would also appreciate a candle.”
“Ha!”
Only then did the lady look at me, letting out a hollow laugh as though astounded.
“You don’t know your place. Change your room? And what do you need a candle for? You’re too dull to learn even a single character, yet you waste resources. You’re just like your mother—lowborn and vain.”
It transcended insult and ventured into sheer excretion of filth.
Chel’s body visibly stiffened. He was clearly worried that I might grow angry and reveal golden eyes, unleashing some incomprehensible power.
“My mother is the Countess, so it’s only natural that I resemble her. Everything you say is correct.”
Yet I laughed brightly and landed a blow. You’re describing yourself—the lowborn, vain woman.
The lady didn’t immediately catch the insult due to my courteous tone, but soon realized the true meaning and her face flushed red.
“…You!”
“Lord Mollin asked me to show him my room when he visits next week.”
The lady was trembling, about to shriek something shrill. I cut her off cleanly. It was a lie, but a manageable one—a useful lie.
“We cannot show such a room to an honored guest, can we? Even if we changed it just for that day, someone as perceptive as he would immediately notice something amiss. It’s not as though there are no other rooms, and giving me one now would be advantageous in many ways, wouldn’t it?”
“How dare you look me in the eye!”
“If I show deficiency due to my dullness, the burden will fall entirely on brother Chel. Surely that’s not what you want, Mother.”
Though merely a formality, Lord Mollin was a central bureaucrat sent from the Imperial Palace. It was only natural to keep watch over provincial nobles. If things went wrong, I might truly have to send Chel in my stead.
“I will do my best, Mother.”
I smiled and chewed my meat slowly. The message in my eyes was clear: now be quiet and support me in every way.
The Countess was beyond bewildered. In merely a day, how had that corpse-like thing become so audacious?
Crash!
The lady kicked back her chair and stormed out, clearly displeased. Chel hesitated, glancing nervously, before rising as well.
“Brother?”
“Huh? Y-yes…?”
Chel turned back as he quietly slipped out the door.
“Please don’t concern yourself with what happened yesterday. Everyone makes mistakes, do they not?”
“Well, that is true, but…”
“Only petty people dredge up the past.”
On the surface, Chel’s words were meant to comfort me about my mistake, but their true meaning was clear: forget what you saw yesterday. Chel simply nodded silently and hurried away.
‘There will be quite a bit of food left over.’
I raised an eyebrow as I gazed at the abundant table before me. After setting aside only what I would eat, I pushed the rest to the side—for the servants.
“Mm.”
I savored the food at a leisurely pace while observing the world outside. Sitting alone in this spacious dining hall brought a peace I had never known in my previous life—a tranquility I had never experienced before.
Then, suddenly, I caught sight of my reflection in the windowpane. A small, frail face, utterly unfamiliar.
‘Ian.’
If Emperor Ian is here, then where has the illegitimate son Ian gone?
I rested my chin in my hand, face to face with the composed boy’s reflection. The magnificent trees in the Garden swayed with elegant grace.
Meanwhile, that same late afternoon.
The Countess, indignant yet resigned, had my belongings moved to the Guest House. As servants rummaged through my room to pack my meager possessions, they discovered a peculiar piece of paper.
“What is this?”
It was what I had written the previous night—a history of Bariel. But it had been submerged in a water cup, the ink thoroughly smudged and the paper soaked and torn. The contents were completely illegible.
“Was young Master Ian studying?”
“But why would he soak it in water?”
“Why? I’d be embarrassed too if I were him.”
The servants, unaware of what the paper contained, tossed it into the waste bin. Everyone in the Manor remained convinced that the illegitimate Ian was illiterate.

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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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