Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor

Chapter 70

The atmosphere outside was lively.

Ian is becoming the new lord!

Congratulations, Ian!

Lets have a drink, come on! Hey, Cheonrye tribesmen, join us!

Now we must call him Baron. Ha ha!

The news of Ians appointment as the lord spread quickly, bringing the local residents rushing to celebrate. The mood was festive, and the night seemed to stretch longer with joy. Ian watched the scene from the window, smiling faintly.

Chielonia, unable to have a deep conversation with Mollin, had to leave. Only meaningful glances, interpretable through years of shared experiences, were exchanged.

Huh, really!

While everyone, including Ian, was in a celebratory mood, Romandro alone couldnt quite join in, uncorking a bottle of wine. Pop! With that sound, he shook the bottle.

Baron, I can understand. Given the size of the territory, a count would have been too much, and a viscount not enough.

Furthermore, in reality, the border regions, regardless of their official titles, often held powers akin to those of a count. Just below the ranks of dukes and marquesses in the royal family. The minimum threshold for autonomous governance.

A border baron, quite an unfamiliar term.

But to pay 10,000 gold coins within a year? Anyone whos seen the tax reports from Bratz would know its an impossible calculation.

It was a deliberate move.

The intentions of the Emperor who approved it were unclear, but the person who initially suggested it likely assumed a failure to repay.

And that person is likely Gale.

Isnt the annual tax collection from Bratz 10,000 coins? To add another 10,000! With the situation as it is, how can they demand double the taxes? Even the Emperor seems indifferent, ignoring the plight of the Bratzs residents amidst the power struggles.

Romandro vented his frustration. On one hand, he looked at Ian sympathetically. The local residents might be oblivious, but this seemed like a fate of enjoying sweetness for a year only to fall back into slavery.

Better to live as a lord with no regrets!

But that wasnt all. Surely, when he goes to the capital for the appointment ceremony, he will also have to register as a magic user and undergo management as a magician.

Its been what, three or four months? Thats all the peaceful time he has in the territory.

There are still a few months until the new year.

No, what three or four months? Hes been busy rebuilding the territory! Maybe hell get a month to relax after the snowfall!

Why are you getting so heated, Lord Romandro?

Ian tried to calm him down by refilling his wine.

Anyway, Ive achieved my goal of becoming the lord here. Its time to enjoy when we can.

Boom!

Ian!

Just then, Beric burst through the door, shouting. His flushed face could be from excitement or alcohol. Beric, along with a few from the Cheonrye tribe, stumbled in.

Pigs! Lets catch pigs!

You said you wouldnt allow it, Beric!

Ah, come on! Just asking!

Alright. Its a mood. Go ahead and try.

Yay! Look at this! What a day!

The room erupted into noisy excitement.

As Beric rushed out shouting, Kakantir and Nersarn appeared. They approached Ian with bright smiles.

Congratulations, Lord Ian.

Thank you. Its all thanks to the help of the Cheonrye people.

Ah, it really worked out.

Unexpectedly?

Yes, if I must say so. Ha ha ha!

It was a day of confirmation that supporting Ian over Dergha was the perfect choice. They were no longer just barbarians from the borderlands but would now be treated as a friendly nation, expected to achieve economic and cultural growth. This place was like a gateway to Bariel.

May I take a look at the Emperors letter?

Of course.

Ian unfolded the mantle given by Chielonia, revealing the current Emperors name, Klai Verocion, at the bottom.

Im not sure.

Ian pondered over the name of his predecessor several times, but nothing significant came to mind. It was a time of chaos. In a century, numerous emperors had come and gone; even Ian himself had only held the throne for three years.

Hmm?

What is it?

Nothing.

What caught Ians attention was the Emperors seal. It was subtly different in size from what he used to use. He rubbed it with his fingertip, and the more he did, the more vividly he recalled the familiar sensation.

He had used that seal daily.

So familiar with it, Ian found this subtle difference increasingly bothersome.

Is the seal different?

But that seemed impossible. The Emperors seal had been the same for over a thousand years since the founding of the empire. He had never heard of it being lost, and if it had been

I would have known.

Ian continued to examine the seal, torn between certainty and doubt.

There was only one conclusion.

The seal had been changed at some point.

But why? What could have prompted such a change?

Romandro, watching from the side, chimed in.

It must have worn out.

Is something bothering you?

Well, uh. Now that youre appointed a baron, I suppose I should address you

Romandro muttered, glancing at Kakantir. He hadnt realized it when they were alone, but with outsiders present, the reality set in. Baron Ian was, in many ways, above Romandro now.

Its not official yet, so please be at ease.

Is that really alright?

Of course. I dont even have a surname yet.

Ha, ha! I cant wait for winter. I never thought Id go to the capital before the New Years party. I need to write a letter to my wife.

Romandros voice was filled with excitement at just the thought. He had expected to return only after the year ended, so the prospect of completing his mission earlier was naturally thrilling. Kakantir also expressed his intention to return.

We plan to gradually reduce the number of Cheonrye warriors here. The cold weather is setting in, and our warriors long for the Great Desert.

Ah, so youre saying youll be returning.

I will return soon, but Nersarn will stay here longer.

However, this seemed to be news to Nersarn. His expression stiffened as if he was about to faint, likely due to his aversion to cold weather and the concept of snow.

By the way, I heard the central government demanded 10,000 gold coins.

Yes, thats correct.

Can you manage it? Wed like to help, but thats beyond our capabilities. Unless it was the heads of 10,000 enemies, maybe.

It sounded like a joke, but also not. It seemed entirely within their capabilities. Ian, not wanting them to worry, raised his wine glass.

Theres no problem. Theyve given me a year, and it only took me a couple of months to rise to a lordship in the Great Desert.

Life can change overnight, so a mere 10,000 gold coins in a year seemed entirely feasible. More importantly, Ians goal was to go to the Imperial Court. Whatever happened next was uncertain, which meant there was no reason to worry now.

Indeed, the gods dont pose unsolvable problems. Once youre at the central government, there will be opportunities to seize.

I believe so too.

Ian emptied his glass and glanced out the window. The festivities of the residents were still ongoing, showing no signs of tiring despite the late hour. It seemed the beleaguered territory needed such an event to rejuvenate its spirits. The joy of the people was palpable.

Now that youve received the lordship decree, shouldnt we spread the good news to the neighboring areas?

The neighboring areas. Ian looked at Kakantir, thinking. The closest was here, and next

Ah, yes.

That left Merellof. They had sent a letter of protest regarding the assassination attempt but received no response. The silence was so complete it bordered on ignorance.

I should write to Merellof. Now that the official lordship decree has arrived, I expect theyll respond this time.

* * *

What? He received a title?

The letter just arrived.

Merellof almost snatched the letter from his butlers hand. He read the handwritten letter stating that Ian would be officially appointed at the end of the year and bestowed the title of baron. At the bottom was a disingenuous thank-you note saying, Thanks to the esteemed Count Merellof.

Really, the worlds gone mad. A low-born from the brothels now parading as a noble.

Should we send a congratulatory response? We still havent replied to the previous letter about the attack he reported What should we do?

He was referring to the letter sent by Romandro about Ians attack. Merellof had scoffed at it then. If Ian had sent it directly, accusing Merellof of killing his people, he would have reacted immediately, but since Romandro was the sender, he chose to ignore it.

Why bother? Just tell the servant to send a message. Its a waste of paper and ink.

Yes, my lord.

Merellofs disregard was absolute. Even though Ian had been officially appointed as a noble, the appropriate neighborly acknowledgment was lacking. While they were rivals, in times of trouble in the borderlands, they only had each other to rely on.

The butler resigned himself to writing and sending a cheap response. Merellof threw the letter aside and continued reviewing documents, planning for the winter revenues of his territory.

Butler.

Merellof suddenly seemed puzzled.

Has there been no word from Bratz about food supplies?

No, sir. We havent received any correspondence on that matter.

Strange. With a worse harvest than last year, even Merellof faced challenges. Fortunately, foreign trade would bring some relief in the colder months, but Merellof wondered about Ians lack of response.

Planning to feed on corpses, perhaps? Tsk, tsk.

Merellof scoffed, flipping through the papers. As the butler bowed and left, Merellofs wife signaled him with her fan from the end of the hallway.

Lady. What can I do for you?

A letter from Bratz?

Yes, from Lord Ian. Hes been officially appointed as a baron.

Oh!

The Countess uttered a small exclamation of surprise.

What did the Count say?

About?

The response.

The butler hesitated, knowing he planned to draft a basic reply himself. The Countess, realizing his intention, smiled and nodded.

Please do. And separately, I think we should send a gift. Have the treasure vault opened.

My lady, the Counts permission for

She snapped her fan shut abruptly, her previously airy laughter turning serious.

Im on my way to get his permission.

Theres no need to go that far, my lady.

The butler hurriedly tried to dissuade her. The Count had already given up on replying to a man he considered unworthy of a gift. But the Countess firmly dismissed his concerns.

Nevertheless, it must be done.

Leaving these meaningful words behind, the Countess entered the study.

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