Chapter 12. Proposal

While Chel was at the tailor's, only Ian and Mollin remained in the parlor.

"Once we cross the border—"

In the quiet parlor, the sound of dishes clinking was pleasant to hear. Mollin's casual tone made Ian look up.

"You must miss this place a lot."

"Home is a place you can't leave even in death."

Was that too childish a response? He pondered for a moment, but Mollin didn't seem to mind.

"You seem very interested in the capital."

"Of course. Wouldn't any citizen of Bariel want to step on the capital's soil at least once?"

The significance of the royal palace and the papal office was extraordinary. They were the starting point of patriotism and the final destination of pilgrimages.

Even without such grand reasons, the capital held monthly small festivals and events. For a child, especially an illegitimate son from the slums, it must have seemed like a dream come true.

"Unfortunately, once we cross the border in a few months, there won't be any chance. So, has Young Master Chel ever been to the capital?"

Ian smiled and shrugged.

Probably not, right? This was the farthest border from the capital.

The debut of Bariel's noble heirs in society was under the emperor's jurisdiction. On a certain day in autumn when the rice was most beautifully ripe, a grand party was held for the young nobles about to come of age.

"I'm not sure. It might take a bit longer."

In a year or two, Chel and Ian would be of age to debut in society. But in a situation where even tomorrow was uncertain, it was impossible to plan for next year.

"If there's time, perhaps you could ask the viscount for a trip to the capital. Young Master Chel will have many opportunities, but you, Ian, won't, right?"

There was a subtle emphasis on Chel. It was as if he was comparing their situations to provoke a reaction.

But Ian remained calm. He wanted to cut to the chase, but everything had its order.

"I still have a lot to learn. I don't think I can manage it."

But Mollin was skeptical. Ian didn't seem like someone who would struggle with just a single character.

Ian smiled faintly and asked.

"Can we visit the royal palace if we go to the capital?"

"Of course. I'll specially request an invitation from His Excellency Gael. I remember you were curious about mages the last time."

Mollin's eyes sparkled, trying to gauge whether Ian's golden eyes were real or an illusion. But Ian was too busy mulling over the name 'Gael.'

'No matter how I think about it, the name is familiar.'

"Gael has many excellent mana users under him. It will surely be a good encounter."

"Ah."

Ian covered his mouth with a napkin and laughed awkwardly. The mention of 'Gael' and 'mana user' brought back a faded memory of a name.

"Indeed. It will be a very good encounter."

As emperor, there were only two types of people he needed to remember.

Those who had achieved great feats or those involved in treason.

Especially the latter, as dealing with the aftermath was crucial. Even after a hundred years, they were regularly investigated to ensure their bloodline was completely severed.

'Second Prince, Gael. A traitor. A failed one.'

That explained why the name was so familiar. And if Gael's identity was as such...

"Why do you ask?"

"It's nothing."

Ian narrowed his eyes and looked at Mollin.

Could he have seen the traces of mana in the parlor that day?

'One of the main figures in Gael's rebellion was the Magic Department.'

This had a significant impact on Ian.

The event where many precious mages were purged, Emperor Ian had to bear the burden. At that time, the number of mages, which had been around five hundred, was reduced to just a hundred in Ian's generation.

'Right. I even tore up a report once. Why did you involve mages in that mess?'

Now it was clearer.

The reason Mollin was approaching Ian.

From his approach, it was evident that he had noticed something in the parlor. By mentioning mana users, he was trying to win over potential mages before they joined the Magic Department.

"Is something bothering you?"

"It's nothing. Just..."

Ian observed Mollin. Whether Mollin was certain about the mana or not, it wasn't bad for Ian's current situation. If used well, it could be a welcome development.

Ian slowly fiddled with the brooch on his chest, making it obvious.

"My eyes are a bit irritated."

He then covered his mouth with his fingers, hinting that the conversation was being recorded. They needed to communicate silently.

"Do you understand? Just a moment."

Mollin was momentarily surprised but then stood up and walked to the table, holding up a small notepad and pen.

"Would you like to try this?"

"It's eye drops. Thank you."

He carefully handed the notepad to Ian and sat closer. The strokes of the pen were smooth and confident.

-Is it a mana stone?

Nod. Ian affirmed with a nod. Mollin briefly rubbed his temples and frowned. It was a rare item even in the capital, so how did a border viscount have it?

Swoosh.

But his handwriting was unhesitant. What he wrote was what he had repeatedly thought about.

-Do you want to cross the border?

No way. Ian shook his head. The sound of scraping the soup bowl was also picked up.

-It's unreasonable. With Chel, the legitimate heir, here, wouldn't it be unfair? Ian, you don't even have a mother. If you leave Bariel, the viscountess won't let it go.

It matched what he had expected.

By mentioning Ian's only weakness, his mother, he was trying to provoke a deep-seated resistance. They wanted Ian to stay here instead of Chel.

'If he saw me using mana, he would try to pull me into Gael's side to strengthen their forces. If not... there's only one reason.'

Since they were traitors, it was clear.

They wanted to set Ian up as a puppet to take over the Brats family's territory. Despite the chaotic management, the number of soldiers was several times more than other regions.

Most importantly, the key to a successful rebellion was speed. If they could establish a base here before other border nobles sent reinforcements, they could effectively block them.

'But there's a question. What about Derga?'

In any case, getting the viscount's cooperation was the fastest and most certain way.

'The current power lies with the First Prince, so Derga and I are in a state of mutual restraint. The approach of the Second Prince's faction isn't necessarily bad, right? They wouldn't mention treason outright, just subtle power-building. But from the way they're trying to lure Ian, it seems the Second Prince's approach failed.'

In a short time, Ian had come to know Derga.

How could a greedy and politically sensitive man like him reject the Second Prince's advances? It would be more plausible if he was playing both sides. But from Mollin's attitude, it seemed he had outright refused.

Ian looked at Mollin calmly.

-Are you offering to help me?

-If you wish.

Why?

Why is Derga uninterested in the power struggles in the capital?

Suddenly, Ian recalled the documents he had seen in the office. The military ratio was abnormally high, and the taxes were bomb-like, but it seemed manageable. It made him wonder if there were special resources in the territory.

'This guy... could he be...?'

Could he be embezzling the taxes paid to the royal palace?

If so, everything would fit. His attitude of avoiding the capital, the abnormal economic structure, and the busy non-agricultural work.

Tap tap.

Mollin lightly tapped Ian's arm to draw his attention. He wanted a response to the last note. Ian wrote his reply with small hands.

-What do you want from me?

You're a good communicator. Mollin mentioned the golden eyes he had seen that day without hesitation.

-By any chance, Ian, are you a mana user?

-I don't understand what you mean.

Ian firmly denied it. Revealing that he was a mana user would bring more harm than good. Besides, the other party was plotting a rebellion with the Magic Department. It was wise to keep it hidden until he could protect himself.

Mollin tapped the notepad silently. The old man's eyes were sharp, trying to catch a lie.

-That's a shame.

-Are you going to back off because of that?

-Of course not. We need Ian. If you help us well, we'll oppose your registration in the capital. Then there would be no reason to cross the border.

"Is the suit comfortable?"

At that moment, Dergo's voice came from outside. Clearly, he was about to enter, signaling the end of the conversation.

Mollin calmly gathered the notepad and put it in the ashtray. He then placed a small flame inside and sealed it with the lid.

Creak.

"Huh?"

Chel, who had just tried on a new suit, hesitated at the door. The atmosphere was strangely stiff. Mollin smiled kindly and greeted Chel.

"Indeed, the tailor's skills are excellent."

"Sir Dergo gave it to me as a gift. T-thank you."

"It's my fault for spilling water. Finish your meal quickly. By the way, why hasn't Mac come yet?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the door opened again. The guard was nowhere to be seen, only Mac.

"He said he'd drown in the wine barrel, not by water. I asked him to taste it, and he got carried away."

Mac's cheerful words instantly livened up the lunch atmosphere. Ian smiled and continued eating the remaining meat, while Mollin signaled to his two subordinates.

'What do you think?'

'He's as sharp as expected.'

At the first luncheon, Mollin had conveyed Gael's intentions to the viscount, but Derga's response was lukewarm.

Feeling perplexed, he opened the door and met Ian's golden eyes.

If handled well, he could be valuable. Especially if he was a mana user, it would be a godsend.

But since the child denied it...

'Keep an eye on him.'

Mollin raised his left eyebrow and instructed Mac and Dergo.

Meanwhile, Ian looked at the fork in his left hand and the knife in his right. It felt as if the royal palace and the entire Tianli clan were in his hands.

Swoosh.

Then the steak in the middle would be the Brats. If he used both, he could cut it cleanly.

"The meat is, as always, excellent."

Ian added, smiling contentedly. He then naturally continued.

"The guards are asleep, so we can't go far today. How about a walk in the park after lunch? I'd like to see the lake you mentioned, Sir Mollin."