Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 674

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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 673. Firearms
“Lord Chroni. Please think carefully about this. This is truly a remarkable weapon. Its power has already been demonstrated in Hawanguk.”
“Hmm, please calm yourselves. Surely this is far too dangerous, is it not?”
Ian hesitated at the conversation drifting from inside the office. Chroni had summoned him, yet it seemed he wasn’t alone. Should I wait a moment longer?
I felt burdened about being seen with Chroni by people from other departments. I knew all too well what the Magic Department thought of me.
Uncle of the Vice Minister of Imperial Defense, a Mage who doesn’t serve the Magic Department, a potential traitor. Though Naum has been helping me in many ways, it remains difficult to overcome such prejudices.
“I’ll return in a moment.”
“Lord Chroni instructed that you should be shown in immediately upon your arrival, Lord Ian. You may enter.”
As I tried to step back, the Servants calmly guided me forward. Within their monotone voices, I felt an inexplicable pressure—as though Chroni’s commands were flowing directly from their mouths.
Creak.
“Pardon my intrusion.”
“Oh, Uncle Ian! Your timing is perfect!”
Chroni rose cheerfully, feigning coincidence. Yet I had clearly received a message asking me to come to the Imperial Defense Ministry office.
He approached me and gripped my shoulder lightly—with slightly more force than usual. I gazed at the Officials seated around the office.
Upon the massive table, a wooden box caught my eye. From here, I couldn’t discern what it contained.
“…Should I return later?”
At my question, Chroni burst into laughter and pulled me forward.
“No. This works out perfectly. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you. Take a look.”
With each step I took forward, the contents of the box gradually revealed themselves. It was something I had never seen before. As I turned to Chroni in bewilderment, he gestured for me to sit.
“These are firearms that have arrived from Hawanguk.”
“Firearms?”
Chroni lowered his voice, describing them as terrifying weapons.
“They grant tremendous power even to those who are not Mages, and can annihilate numerous opponents in a single volley. Moreover, with nothing but ammunition—explosive projectiles—one can attack dozens or hundreds of times without exhaustion.”
“Ah.”
I was astonished. Without thinking, I reached out my hand, but Chroni roughly caught my wrist.
“You mustn’t, Uncle Ian. It’s dangerous.”
He then turned to the Officials seated across from us and added:
“They say one cannot predict when or how they will discharge, which could threaten the very life of the user. Truly, these are foolish and terrifying weapons indeed.”
“Hmm, Lord Chroni.”
“Through research, we can—”
As the Officials began to protest, Chroni ignored their words and turned to me instead.
“Uncle Ian. As a Mage, what is your assessment? I hear that in foreign lands, this weapon is called ‘a force to rival magic.’ Do you believe that to be true?”
“Ah…”
My instincts had been correct. I should have turned back at the door. As a Mage, acknowledging a foreign weapon as ‘a force to rival magic’ would be a desecration of the divine, would it not? With the Magic Department already casting suspicious glances my way, a wrong answer would be catastrophic.
“…The source of a Mage’s power is the strength of God.”
“Yes, precisely! Exactly so!”
As I answered carefully, Chroni even clapped his hands in agreement. This was the answer he had wanted.
“Did you all hear that? As the Mage himself states, such weapons cannot possibly threaten Bariel. With Mages in Bariel’s service, what is there to fear? Yet some of you advocate for acquiring these weapons—I confess, your intentions perplex me greatly.”
“Lord Chroni, hear us out. This weapon has already spread from the East to Hawanguk. Soon it will proliferate among neighboring nations, and if that occurs, Bariel will be at a relative disadvantage—”
“But Bariel has Mages, does it not!”
Boom!
Chroni slammed his hand against the desk and shouted.
Powerful weapons are certainly beneficial to national defense. However, this principle only holds true when such weapons remain concentrated within the Imperial Defense Ministry. Can you even imagine what would happen if such destructive power fell into the hands of a mere farmer?
Whoosh.
Chroni took a moment to calm his agitation, then slid a document across the table.
“A petition bearing the signatures of the central nobility in opposition.”
Power is authority. And authority, being vast and intricate, fractures the moment a single variable emerges—Chroni understood this well. If firearms were formally introduced from abroad, the existing power structure would undoubtedly scatter to the winds.
Moreover, humans stand equal before death. Unless one is a Mage, even an Emperor’s breath will cease when his time comes. But if such a force—rivaling the power of God itself—were to fall into the hands of the corrupt? The very hierarchy, the system, even the history of the Empire could be rewritten.
And yet they would still bring it in? The Empire’s doom was as certain as fire. The existing power holders would be stripped of their authority entirely.
“Bariel will prohibit the importation of firearms. This is a matter of preserving the foundation of the Empire, and it is the Imperial Defense Ministry’s solemn duty to ensure it is accomplished.”
“Sigh, how frustrating. Lord Chroni. If you truly fear those beneath you, then manage it strictly—surely within the imperial palace alone—”
“Do you believe that would be possible? We share a border with Hawanguk.”
“That’s sophistry! Be honest!”
Were they not concerned that the Emperor might establish a separate military organization armed with firearms? If so, the Imperial Defense Ministry would never stand idle. The sword of the palace belonged solely to them.
“You should be the ones to be honest. Besides military advantage, what other benefit could importing firearms possibly bring?”
“It’s not about gain—it’s about preventing loss! Bariel will fall behind the times! While neighboring nations grow, Bariel will stagnate!”
“Let them catch up as they wish! Bariel has those who soar through the heavens, cleave the earth, and command the winds!”
Chroni represented the nobility, and they already stood at the center of Gaia. Rather than risk chaos by introducing new weapons, they had decided to reject them outright.
Only then did Ian realize the truth—he was being used as the ‘evidence’ supporting Chroni’s argument.
“This will not do. I shall submit a petition directly to His Majesty.”
“His Majesty will not permit it either. I am certain of it.”
The Officials hardened their expressions and rose from their seats. Then they issued a firm warning toward Chroni.
“You are making a grave error, Lord Chroni. You are making a decision for yourself, not for the Empire.”
“How insulting, to speak thus to one who draws a salary from the state.”
“You will come to regret this. Future Bariel will record today’s choice as a grave mistake.”
“No. It will be praised as a most prudent decision.”
Their contemptuous gazes passed over Chroni and flowed toward Ian standing beside him. Ian had merely added a single remark, yet he found himself bound together with Chroni in their judgment.
Two Servants approached and carefully covered the firearms crate, then moved it with caution. Ian’s gaze followed them.
‘Curious.’
A new weapon so powerful that Officials feared foreign military strength. Its true power remained beyond my comprehension. Ian gazed toward the closed door and murmured.
“Would it not be acceptable?”
“What do you mean.”
“These firearms you speak of. Other nations possess royalty and nobility as well. If they have accepted such weapons, it suggests considerable future value. Wouldn’t it be wise for Bariel to swiftly introduce and study them—”
“Uncle Ian.”
Tap. Chroni lightly tapped the desk and frowned. His silent rebuke conveyed a clear message: cease this presumptuous and overstepping talk.
“Interests are not so easily defined. The Magic Department will not welcome firearms either, so you must conduct yourself carefully.”
The name given when imported from abroad was the reason. ‘A force to oppose magic.’ Whether true or not.
“…My apologies. But if importation were to occur, would it only be possible through Hawanguk?”
“That appears to be the case for now. Cliffford and Ruswena are also known to be in contact with Hawanguk. I cannot fathom what the eastern Mages have been doing, allowing such things to run rampant.”
Ah. Perhaps they all fell victim to those firearms? Chroni’s face filled with ridicule as he turned away.
“Don’t worry about it. Though my position is what it is now, when the time comes, I’ll be flexible about it.”
For now, there are simply more reasons to oppose. The nobles’ support born from fear of rebellion among the lower classes, preventing the Emperor from consolidating power—such things.
But who knows? When he no longer feels fear within the palace walls, perhaps then he’ll welcome the existence of fire cannons.
‘A force to oppose magic.’
Intriguing. But not now.
Chroni handed over the nobles’ petition and asked Ian a question.
“Is there anything else you wish to say?”
“….”
“Hurry back. It won’t look good if someone newly appointed to the Magic Department is seen wandering outside their post.”
* * *
“Ian.”
At the Mage’s call, I snapped back to attention. Memories of Chroni always consumed my grasp on reality.
The Mages looked between me and the Hawanguk army with worried eyes and asked.
“Will it be alright to go?”
“No, wait a moment.”
I gestured for everyone to stand by, then furrowed my brow. It wasn’t entirely clear, but the appearance seemed slightly different from what I’d seen a hundred years in the future. That must be the early form of the fire cannon.
“That’s a weapon called a fire cannon, brought from the Eastern lands. It shoots like a bow, and when it hits, it explodes with devastating force….”
There’s something I don’t understand. Why has this already reached this era? Fire cannons didn’t spread from Hawan to other nations until a hundred years from now.
I pondered this, and then one possibility occurred to me. The existence of ‘Shatima’.
‘Did sending Prime Minister Shatima back to Hawan change the future?’
In the original era, there was no internal strife in Hawan. It meant there was no situation where they desperately craved internal strength.
Those who seek find answers, so whether it was through Prime Minister Shatima’s faction or the Royalists, they must have sought foreign aid while devising methods to suppress their opponents.
‘Then it was probably brought in through the Royalist faction.’
Didn’t Shatima return home with Bariel’s backing? The Royalists couldn’t request support from Bariel, and more fundamentally, they needed something to counter the Mages.
‘Toollun’s puppet arts, and Eastern fire cannons.’
I’m not certain if the puppet arts were intentional. But what mattered was that the Royalists devised a clever strategy, and it worked reasonably well.
“…Fire cannons—”
I murmured, searching my memory.
“They’re as fast and powerful as magic, stealing the opponent’s breath in an instant. But they lack accuracy and are unsafe, potentially causing damage to our own forces.”
“If accuracy is poor, isn’t it finished then? We can put up a barrier, close in, and smash them, right?”
In theory, yes. But since history has already been twisted once, there may be something that escapes my predictions.
I rolled up my sleeves and gestured.
“Heil, Berik, and I will handle the Hawan side. You all push forward toward Ruswena. As long as you’re careful of Idgal and the Dragon, there shouldn’t be major problems.”
“Yes, understood, Ian!”
“Be careful!”
“Berik! You follow Ian!”
“Where to!?”
“There! Toward Hawan!”
At the Mages’ shout, Berik spun around. He immediately kicked off with all his strength, racing across the field toward the Hawan side.
“Heil. Let’s go.”
“Yes, I shall provide protection.”
Ian unfurled a protective barrier of mana and soared toward the Hawanguk forces. In that instant, thick smoke billowed from the cannon ports in the distance.
“…?”
Something was decidedly amiss. The cannons of a hundred years hence would never produce such copious smoke.
“Everyone, take aim—!”
“Aim!”
As Ian flew forward consumed by doubt, Erika, who had noticed this, swept her hand in a grand arc.
“Fire!”
“Fiiiire—!”

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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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