Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor - Chapter 72

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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 72. Prince Gail Takes Action
Meanwhile, the moment Chielronia returned after completing her mission to deliver the imperial decree, she sought out Prince Gail’s office. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, yet his office perpetually carried an inexplicable chill.
“You’ve merely confined Mollin and his associates to the underground dungeons?”
“Yes, Your Highness. There has been no torture—merely confinement followed by inaction. That is what I confirmed.”
Gail folded his arms, his fingertips tapping rhythmically—a habit that emerged only when he was deep in thought. His sharp gaze, inherited from his mother, shifted toward the figure behind Chielronia. It was directed at Wesley, who was reading through documents.
“She appeared well-versed in imperial court etiquette?”
“Yes. The moment Your Highness mentioned it, her expression changed instantly. Even Advisor Romandro seemed unaware of what she knew.”
Just then, Wesley, who had been walking about while reading documents, turned her head sharply. Her beautiful black hair and crimson lips were, as always, flawless.
“It’s certain. She must have had a connection with Prince Marib.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions, Wesley.”
“There’s no other explanation. A child who lived in poverty at a brothel received brief education and crossed the desert. She could have barely learned the basics, yet imperial court etiquette? It doesn’t add up.”
Wesley’s words held merit from beginning to end.
“From the start, it was clear that Prince Marib recommended Ian as lord. How many people throw money at those with connections to Marib? Yet among all of them, this man Ian was chosen.”
“Wasn’t he said to be a mana user?”
“Even so, the degree is severe.”
Prince Marib was the empire’s acknowledged successor to the throne. Those seeking his favor formed lines long enough to circle Variel, each vying for his attention with flattery.
Especially since a lordship appointment represented a reversal of fortune—if Marib had wished, he could have granted it to someone far more influential.
“The fact that the territory is a border region also plays a role. Its characteristics are so pronounced that there are many restrictions.”
Before Chielronia, who spoke cautiously, Wesley tossed the report. Though there was a considerable age difference between them, Wesley was the Minister of Magic while Chielronia was merely one of many administrative officials. The hierarchy was clear.
“Regardless, you’ve done well. You may leave now.”
“…I shall take my leave.”
Chielronia bowed respectfully and departed from Gail’s quarters. Wesley, with a cigarette holder between her lips, murmured,
“Should we kill Ian?”
At her words, Gail laughed and rested his chin on his hand. Knowing she wasn’t joking made her statement all the more amusing.
“How?”
“When he arrives for the New Year’s Ceremony lordship appointment, I’ll bring him into the Ministry of Magic. There will be plenty of opportunities and methods.”
Smoke exhaled from her lips filled the room. Gail took the cigarette holder from her mouth. Wesley continued in a somewhat irritated tone.
“I don’t like how he’s interfering with matters, appearing as if he fell from the sky. Anyway, if he can’t repay the ten thousand gold contribution, he’ll become a slave of the Ministry of Magic. I’d prefer to eliminate him before that happens.”
Wesley wrapped her arms around Gail’s neck and whispered. A dangerously seductive smile followed, but Gail remained unmoved and simply turned his head away.
“No matter how I think about it, you’re not suited to be Minister of Magic.”
“Me, Your Highness?”
Gail had spoken literally, but Wesley seemed to misunderstand—interpreting it as meaning she was better suited to be the Empress beside Emperor Gail.
“If that is what Your Highness says, then so it shall be.”
Gail gazed out the window with a bitter smile. Wesley was perfect as a woman, but as a political colleague to govern alongside him, she fell far short. How could the Minister of Magic speak so casually about killing Ian?
Especially in an era when the number of mages was dwindling.
If she truly sought the revival and advancement of magic, even if Gail commanded her to kill, a true Minister of Magic would persuade him and seek alternative solutions.
“Gail. Look at me.”
Did this beautiful woman not understand that an Empress was also the Emperor’s political partner? Even if Gail were to push aside Marib and ascend to the throne, he could not be certain Wesley would stand beside him.
Gail brushed away the woman’s seductive touch and rose from his seat.
“Where are you going?”
“To my brother.”
“You mean Prince Marib?”
Prince Gail fastened his cuffs while staring intently at Wesley.
There it was again—that probing gaze, as if testing me. Wesley maintained her composure and kept her smile intact.
“Why didn’t Ian kill Mollin and just leave him be?”
“Well, he’s the Imperial Palace’s administrator, and if something goes wrong, we’d have to send down another investigation team, which would be troublesome. It hasn’t been that long since Captain Erika and that confrontation.”
“Hmm. I see. That makes sense.”
Prince Gail asked nothing further. He simply concluded that Wesley’s perspective extended only that far. There would be no second chances, no shared understanding between them.
Wesley followed after Prince Gail as he departed.
“Then why?”
“Why? I was asking because I didn’t know either.”
*Smack.*
Prince Gail pressed a parting kiss to Wesley’s lips, then turned away without hesitation. His subordinates trailed behind him like shadows, while the woman stood motionless, looking hollow.
She too was publicly lauded as the head of the Magic Division. Born a commoner, she had seized both wealth and power, her name etched into the pages of history. Yet before Prince Gail, she always felt infinitely small.
“Damn it…”
Her quiet curse scattered before it could even reach Prince Gail’s feet, let alone the servant trailing him. An invisible aura rippled and churned around her.
*Clop, clop, clop!*
“Your Highness, where shall I take you?”
“To Prince Marib’s palace.”
“Understood.”
Prince Gail replied curtly, and his subordinates rushed ahead, clearing the path so his pace never faltered.
‘Ian is keeping Mollin alive because of Marib.’
Wesley’s words were half correct, at least.
If Mollin died while the Cheonryeo Tribe was involved, the gravity of the matter as perceived by the capital would skyrocket. It could become an issue warranting the dispatch of regular troops, not merely an investigation team.
That’s why Ian had deferred the decision to Marib. It was a choice that demonstrated perfect understanding of the power dynamics between Marib and Prince Gail, a carefully calculated move.
In any case, Mollin’s life hung by the thread of Marib’s will, and to Prince Gail, his life was far too valuable to waste. There were few individuals the administrative branch had successfully recruited, and experienced veterans like Mollin were rare indeed.
*Neigh!*
The carriage lurched forward with the horse’s sharp cry. Prince Gail, who had been gazing thoughtfully at the sky, opened the window and issued a command.
“…Wait. Change our route.”
“Sir?”
“We’re not going to Marib. We’re going to Father instead.”
“You mean the Emperor’s palace, Your Highness?”
“Yes. Make haste.”
At their master’s command, the horses slowly wheeled around the corner and retraced their path. Their heads now pointed east toward the Emperor’s residence instead of north toward Prince Marib’s palace.
* * *
The estate bustled from dawn onward.
It was the day Kakantir and fifty-five warriors would return to the Great Desert. Though they could meet whenever they wished, it was never easy, and no one could hide their reluctance.
“Once you leave, when will we see each other again?”
“Thank you for everything until now.”
“Here, this is…”
“I’ve packed dried meat and water. Please take care on your way back.”
“Kakan! What should we use for Kusile’s saddle?”
The mansion’s front gate was in utter chaos, as bustling as a marketplace. I hurried to prepare for departure as well, accompanying them to the border. As I made final checks on gifts, compensation, and provisions, I noticed Hena in the corner with distinctly reddened eyes.
“…Farewell.”
“I’ll come back.”
The fingertips of the two—a man and woman—clasped lightly together. Tenderness dripped from the gesture, making their feelings unmistakably clear. Without thinking, I turned my head away and pretended not to notice.
Berik, witnessing this, began scratching inside his ear.
“What did you see that for?”
“Berik. Come here.”
“Aha, look at that? He—!”
“Berik! Shut your mouth, you tactless fool!”
Smack!
It was Romandro who struck Berik’s head. I followed with a glare as a warning. Berik, looking aggrieved, kept rubbing the back of his head while muttering incessantly.
“My head’s become the neighborhood punching bag, damn it.”
“It seems we’ve grown quite attached to these people.”
“Bonds form even in fleeting moments, and the Cheonrye people come and go with the seasons.”
A connection that arrives in the sweltering summer and departs in autumn.
I paused to consider, then nodded. It wasn’t a bad development. After all, the best way to solidify an alliance with the Cheonryeo Tribe or achieve cultural fusion was through marriage.
‘…Was that too political a judgment?’
I restrained myself while watching Hena continue to sniffle.
‘Lord Ian. Your choices will alter someone’s life, so listen to the voice beneath the words. Do not merely confirm the matters brought before you—you must feel them with your own heart.’
Suddenly, Naum’s counsel from before my return flashed through my mind. My only friend and mentor, the mage Naum, who had stood by the Emperor’s side until his fate was exhausted. I clenched my teeth and turned away.
“Lord Ian. Preparations are complete.”
“Very well. Let’s depart.”
“Open the front gates!”
“Let’s return! To our great desert!”
“Wooooah!”
“Farewell to you all!”
“See you in Cheonrye, friends!”
The Cheonrye people remaining at the mansion laughed heartily and waved their hands. Among them was Nersaren as well. Kakan departed the mansion with dignified bearing. The estate villagers, having heard the news, came out to see them off.
“Thank you so much! Travel safely!”
“We’re truly grateful for everything!”
“We don’t know what we would’ve done without you!”
Whoooosh!
Wildflowers and fallen leaves swirled from all directions. Even Gula, swaying in a single line with the wind, made for a magnificent sight.
Kakantir rushed to the front and gazed down at the boy offering him a bouquet. This was the same child who had stumbled and cried at his feet when they first entered Bratz. The boy remembered that brief encounter.
“Th-thank you.”
The boy’s hands trembled slightly. Kakan accepted the bouquet and was about to leave when he paused, turning his body once more.
“Demosha.”
He did not look at the boy’s face. Kusile began moving again. It wouldn’t be long until they reached the border.
And then, at last, the moment of true parting arrived.
“This is where we part ways, Sir Ian.”
“Kakan. Thank you for all your efforts.”
This was the place where I had been sold as a peace offering. Two massive boulders marking the border, and an abandoned small temple.
“I will begin the Merelrof matter as soon as we return to Cheonrye.”
“I would be most grateful for that.”
“Go to the capital and do well. Otherwise, this day will be our last.”
“I will do my utmost. This is Gula and a token of my gratitude.”
Kakantir looked at me briefly, then took only the Gula seeds. In his right hand, a bouquet of flowers swayed conspicuously.
“My hands are full. Never mind that.”
“Ah.”
“Let’s go! To Cheonrye!”
“Demosha!”
“Demosha! Safe travels!”
Berik joined the warriors’ chant with a loud cry. They galloped fiercely into the desert and vanished. Their movements were swifter than wind and lighter than sand. Berik and I watched their receding figures for a long while.
“…Let’s head back too.”
“All right. What shall we do when we get there?”
“What do you mean, what?”
At my laughter, Berik smiled as well and took hold of the reins.
There’s plenty to do. Gula cultivation work and….
‘The Merelrof fermentation process.’

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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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