Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 66

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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 66. Ruffians
I and the mansion’s servants moved every Gula seed we’d accumulated to the plaza. What had been merely four sacks had swelled to well over a hundred.
The seedlings we’d cultivated for research were also carefully wrapped in paper and loaded onto carts, requiring six or seven trips back and forth.
“Good heavens. How did we gather so much?”
“We searched every nearby mountain and field, so this is what we found.”
“Are you truly distributing all of this for free?”
I gestured for them to form a line, and they moved about in an awkward attempt at order. Beside me, one of Romandro’s subordinates shuffled through documents. Since distributing Gula was quite the undertaking, it would take considerable time.
“Listen well. The Gula seeds will be divided according to the size of the fields you’re cultivating. Households with larger families will receive additional seedlings, and I hope you’ll actively share cultivation and cooking methods with one another to reduce the burden on the mansion’s workers.”
“They’re giving us seedlings too!”
“Shh. Keep it down. I can’t hear.”
“We can’t hear from the back!”
I raised one finger and shouted louder.
“For now, I’m distributing Gula seeds free of charge, but next year at harvest time, I’ll collect an additional ten percent tax. Furthermore, all transactions involving Gula with outsiders must go through the mansion exclusively. Violating this will result in a fine of fifty gold coins.”
“Fifty coins, she said.”
“My goodness, that’s frightening.”
For a typical tenant farmer, earning one gold coin per month was average. Though startled by the seemingly harsh penalty, upon reflection it didn’t seem like such a problem.
“What about trading among ourselves?”
“That’s fine. The important thing is outsiders. You cannot sell even a single root to outsiders, let alone seeds.”
“Well then, that shouldn’t be an issue.”
“Right. Outsiders are just the desert tribes and… who else? It’s hard to find anyone besides Merelrof anyway.”
“Exactly. No, no problem! No problem at all!”
“You there, you owe me a debt. Pay it back with some Gula.”
I continued my announcement, speaking even louder.
“And if you report violators, I’ll offer a reward. Those dissatisfied with the additional tax need not receive Gula rations.”
“How much is ten percent?”
“One sack added for every ten sacks of wheat.”
“What about fifty sacks?”
“…Five sacks. Those unable to calculate should inquire with the staff.”
Everyone counted on their fingers, worried about their increased taxes for next year. But one had to survive the present to face next year, so when the Gula distribution began, the man standing first in line made his request.
“Aolden Farma.”
“Ah. You’re the one managing the farmland by the riverside over there.”
“How much will you give me?”
“Here. Five baskets.”
Though merely five baskets, considering their reproduction rate, it was sufficient. As latecomers shuffled their feet and pressed forward, I pushed them back and spoke.
“Those who don’t receive Gula today need not worry. There’s a second distribution planned.”
Since external sales were prohibited anyway, everything cultivated would eventually return to the mansion. It was only a matter of time before all the estate villagers of Bratz were cultivating Gula.
“Next!”
While helping with the distribution, Berik whispered from behind.
“Ian. Wait, you need to go back to the mansion. One of the conspirators has regained consciousness.”
“…I’ll go shortly.”
I gestured to Romandro’s subordinates as a sign of gratitude, then slipped out of the square. With Gula and everyone else gone, the mansion felt far quieter and emptier than usual.
Tap, tap, tap.
“You’ve arrived?”
“One of them regained consciousness? What about Petreio?”
The physician, drenched in sweat, wiped his face with the back of his hand and sighed. In all my years, I’d never seen a patient in such a horrific state. This was truly…
“There’s no hope. At best, he has until today.”
“…Stubborn bastard.”
Berik peeked through the door crack at Petreio. A man reduced to a bloody pulp, barely gasping for breath. The fact that he wouldn’t talk even in this condition meant he was the type who’d take his secrets to the grave.
Whoosh.
“What about the other one’s condition?”
“Crystal clear. The moment he woke up, he started weeping and pleading…”
Begging for his life, palms pressed together desperately. It was Ian and Berik who’d nearly died, yet to any outsider, it would’ve looked like they’d kidnapped an innocent man.
When I opened the door and stepped inside, the man who’d been scraping at his barley porridge froze.
“Ah…”
“It’s Ian. Glad to see me from this morning?”
“Please spare me! Please spare me!”
Crash!
The porridge bowl flew, and the man’s head smashed straight into the floor as he continued begging. Sobbing and wailing like a madman. I sighed and asked.
“What’s your name?”
“C-Colin, sir.”
“Keep talking.”
I sat in a chair and nodded. He wiped the barley porridge from his mouth and cleared his throat.
“Well, I’m Colin, I’m twenty years old, I have two older brothers and three younger ones.”
“…You’re killing me. I don’t care about that.”
“Hey, want your head cracked open with that porridge bowl?”
“Eeek!”
When Berik shouted menacingly, the man’s hands started wringing frantically again.
“So, I’m an errand boy for gambling dens, and I overheard the guards talking. They said someone was handing out bundles of money looking to hire mercenaries.”
“Where are you from?”
“I-I’m from Merelrof…”
I figured as much. There was no other way to recruit people from nearby. At my smile, Berik kicked the man’s shin hard.
Crack!
“Aaaaah!”
“So? Who was this person?”
“I-I don’t know! What’s the point of knowing each other? Money changes hands, work gets done. I never even met them. I got paid by the guards.”
Berik glanced at me.
“What should we do? Kill him?”
“Please spare me! Please spare me! I’ll do whatever you ask! Aaaaah!”
“Goodness. We haven’t even touched him and his screams are spectacular.”
Berik kicked the man away from where he was clinging to my feet. From the looks of it, he didn’t seem like the type to hold his breath and end himself to keep silent. I tapped my fingers together thoughtfully.
‘Merelrof….’
“Ian?”
“Confine this one. And is there no one outside?”
“Yes? Lord Ian. There are people. Please speak.”
“I will send a letter to Merelrof. Prepare the horses.”
I emerged to the ground floor and issued instructions to the servant. Then I climbed directly to the reception room and knocked on the door. Romandro, who had been drafting reports inside, startled and greeted me.
“What is the matter? Has Petreio died?”
“No. He still draws breath. One of the conspirators has awakened, and confessed to being from Merelrof. Most of them are likely his men. They were apparently hired as security for the gambling den. I wish to write a letter—would you assist me?”
Romandro set down his pen and attempted to discern my intentions. Why would I ask him for help merely to send a letter? His suspicion confirmed, he raised an eyebrow.
“You wish to create justification?”
“One could see it that way.”
“Heh. Indeed.”
I sat across from him, and Romandro turned the report he had been writing and passed it to me. It was a letter of recommendation for a lordship appointment. It was densely filled with commendations regarding the discovery of Gula, the alliance with the Great Desert, and the reconstruction of the estate.
“Does it please you?”
“I hope it pleases Prince Marib and His Majesty the Emperor. Just in case, when you send it, include one of Mollin’s possessions. Do you have a ring?”
“Yes. Then what shall I write to Merelrof?”
He drew out fresh paper and dipped his pen in ink.
“I suggest beginning with ‘The one I recommended as the next lord has been attacked.'”
This was precisely why Romandro, the imperial advisor rather than I, would be writing. My current status was too humble; even if I raised a complaint, there was a high likelihood it would not be accepted.
However, being mentioned as the ‘next lord’ and having the advisor write on my behalf due to my injuries—this was something Merelrof could not easily overlook.
“The attackers of the lord’s successor are thugs from Merelrof. One of the conspirators survived and confessed, revealing this truth. I believe this is a matter substantial enough to create misunderstanding between us.”
Scratch, scratch.
If I had already been the lord?
It would have been a matter where raising soldiers posed no problem, but since reality was otherwise, I had no choice but to borrow Romandro’s authority. Merelrof might brazenly claim that his own estate villagers had been killed and use it as leverage.
Count Merelrof seemed entirely capable of such a thing.
“I request that he send men to verify the bodies, take custody of them, and cooperate actively in the investigation.”
“Excellent. The ink flows beautifully, and it’s good.”
“And I think it would be wise to add a condolence payment.”
At my words, Romandro scratched his nose with the quill.
“How much would be appropriate? Would one hundred gold coins be fitting?”
“It is adequate, but since we’re doing this, it would be better to offer more. After all, he has no intention of accepting it anyway.”
This was a man who had rudely rejected even food trade requested on humanitarian grounds. He might demand two hundred coins, only to whittle it down and grudgingly accept twenty.
“Let me see, hmm….”
Romandro pondered briefly, then finished the letter with elegant prose. He pressed the ring seal upon it and handed the sealed letter to me.
“Is everything prepared outside?”
“Yes, Lord Ian. The horses are ready.”
“Deliver it to Count Merelrof. Be careful.”
The servant tucked the letter carefully into his garment and left the reception room. It would likely take some time to receive a proper response.
“Since this is for justification, I would prefer if there were no reply to the letter at all.”
At Romandro’s words, I smiled broadly.
That was precisely what I wanted.
“I suspect we won’t receive it until winter. By then, their gula will have dried up, and farming will be difficult, so they’ll surely want gula itself before long.”
When that time comes, if I bring up this matter, it will serve as an initial reason for refusal, and secondarily, it will become justification for raising the price of gula.
Just as Marquis Merelrof had done, they would end up returning it.
“The thought of that man paying an exorbitant price for weeds already makes me laugh. His expression will be quite a sight.”
But my situation and theirs were different. I didn’t need to purchase his provisions, but they couldn’t back down unless they found a substitute.
Romandro then finished the report to send to the capital.
“But here’s the thing. Being appointed as a lord is one matter, but now that it’s been reported to the capital that you’re a mana user, won’t you need to spend considerable time there?”
Getting the appointment was the primary concern, but even after that, problems weren’t entirely absent. There was no way the capital would send a mana user like me down to a provincial post.
“Then who will oversee this place?”
“It’s not uncommon for a lord to spend extended time in the capital.”
“That’s true, but that’s only when there’s a butler.”
I simply laughed instead of responding.
For now, it was something to think about after returning to the imperial palace. There was no harm in confirming whether this unbelievable regression was related to Naum’s magic before restructuring my plans.
“I’m not certain. Let me think about it after becoming a lord. Besides, the title conferment ceremony will take place during the New Year’s celebration anyway. I do hope Prince Marib will lend his support.”
At my mention of Marib’s help, Romandro’s expression became enigmatic—neither affirming nor denying, but ambiguous.

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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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