Chapter 2. The Bastard of the Bratz Viscount Family

'The Bratz Viscount Family is vulgar among the nobility.'

This was the general opinion of the Bratz family in high society. Perhaps it was because they were on the border with the barbarians, among many border viscounts.

In the distant past, the sound of war trumpets never ceased, but since a superficial peace was established, various exchanges have become frequent.

"Sir Ian, your table manners are excellent."

Ian, who was hurriedly chewing his meat, came to his senses at the old man's praise. Was it sarcasm? Did he eat greedily without realizing it because he was hungry? Ian unconsciously felt stung and cleared his throat, but the old man's praise was sincere.

"Your son has a fine disposition. It must be due to the excellent teachings of Viscount Derga, I suppose."

"Not at all, Sir Mollin."

Derga, the head of the Bratz family, while bewildered by the sudden change in his son's demeanor, did not lose his formal expression. Derga glanced at Ian and replied.

"In any case, since the blood of Bratz flows in him, it is natural. Please convey this well to the Emperor."

"Of course, Viscount."

At the two's cryptic words, Ian stopped chewing.

The Emperor? Me?

No, wait. Did he just say Bratz?

'Now that I think about it...'

The hands holding the fork and knife were too small and thin. The view from his seated position was also low.

Ian swallowed the food in the confusing situation and reached for the wine glass.

"Ah."

The glass contained not wine but a beverage. Moreover, the face reflected in the round glass was not his but that of a stranger. Ian almost spat it out, forgetting his dignity.

"Cough!"

As he coughed and picked up the napkin, the boy opposite him sneered.

"Tsk tsk. Look at that. I thought he was doing well."

"Che. You should take care of your brother when he makes a mistake."

The boy called Che pouted, displeased. Viscountess Mary, the viscount's wife, firmly grabbed Che's hand under the table to discipline her son.

This was not just a simple meal.

Sir Mollin was an official from the central imperial palace, and he was assessing whether Ian had the qualifications to be registered in the Bratz viscount family.

Mollin smiled kindly at Che and then refocused on Ian.

"Sir Ian, I hear you are studying philosophy these days."

Mollin's sudden question made Viscount Derga and his wife look flustered.

Ian couldn't even write his own name. He was the child of the viscount's rape of a commoner outside the manor and had not received proper education. Just at the start of the meal, he had been gulping down the finger bowl water.

"I'm not at the level where I can discuss it yet."

The viscount quickly interjected, pretending to defend Ian, but his gaze was subtly sharp.

'You fool. I told you to memorize it.'

There had been a crash course to prepare for Mollin's questions, but it seemed the lowborn had forgotten everything. The old man pressed on with a smile.

"Learning is like that. It becomes solid through the clash of opinions. Sir Ian, what have you been studying recently? At sixteen, I hear you don't go to school..."

The old man, nearly eighty, was both kind and robust. Having survived a lifetime in the central administration, where talent was constantly being weeded out, he was no ordinary man.

Given this, the viscount could no longer defend Ian. Everyone's eyes turned to Ian.

"Hmm."

Ian cleared his throat and wiped his mouth with a napkin. As the Bratz family expected, Ian was flustered.

But not because of Mollin's question, but because he realized this was the backyard of the border viscount's manor.

The Bratz viscount's manor?

In the body of a boy he had never seen before?

He suspected that the spatial magic of Naum was involved, but he couldn't be sure. Spatial magic creates a passage between points, so there was a necessary location constraint.

In other words, he had to go there.

But his last memory was of being in an underground prison. Moreover, he had never heard of borrowing someone else's body to move.

"Sir Ian?"

"Ah, my apologies."

At Mollin's urging, Ian reflexively answered with grace. It was a habit from the imperial palace. A smile conveying that he had been listening to the conversation. The border viscount and his family had never seen Ian smile like that.

"Philosophy. Philosophy..."

Ian muttered a few times as if in thought.

"May I answer for him, Sir Mollin?"

Che, unable to bear the wait, stepped in. It was maddening enough that the outsider Ian was the main guest at this prestigious meal, but to be registered in the viscount family as a lowborn was infuriating.

A foolish and pitiful act of youthful arrogance, wanting to draw the adults' attention from Ian to himself. His words trailed off under Viscountess Mary's stern gaze.

"Che, Sir Mollin was asking Ian."

She silently pleaded.

Son, please shut your mouth. This is all for you. The lowborn child must be registered in the viscount family for you to survive.

"I like Mr. Purn."

"Purn?"

Amid the commotion, Ian spoke softly. His appetite had vanished, and his utensils were neatly set aside.

Viscount Derga's face turned pale. It was a name he had never heard before. Rather than admit he didn't know, he should have said so! Where did he get such nonsense...!

"Yes. Of course, the Pope's office doesn't welcome it, but the humanism pursued by Mr. Purn is a very important question, isn't it? By reflecting on the truths created by humans, centered on humans, we can envision the true form of a ruler."

It was purely a personal preference.

To Ian, the well-being of the people, not starving to death, was more important than philosophy or humanities. His philosophical studies were just a formality, so he was reciting a name he remembered from the so-called 'prominent' intellectuals.

Viscount Derga rolled his eyes and looked at Mollin. The old man hesitated, then leaned closer to Ian.

"How do you know Sir Purn?"

"Excuse me?"

But it was Viscount Derga who answered. Mollin chuckled and shook his head.

"Ah, I see. Being on the border, I assumed the news from the capital would be late, and I was being arrogant. I apologize to Viscount Derga and Sir Ian."

"No, no."

Mollin had noticed that the viscount didn't know Purn. If he had known, his expression would have been one of displeasure rather than the bewildered look he had.

"Sir Purn is the youngest son of the Hawkman viscount family, who just had his coming-of-age ceremony. Though young, he is a genius who entered Barial University as the top student. He caused a stir in society by discussing humanism at a recent academic debate in the imperial palace."

Being on the border, the news is indeed late.

It took a full two weeks by carriage from the capital to Derga's border territory. A fact unknown to the viscount and everyone else.

Everyone was surprised and looked at Ian, who was equally amazed.

'Purn just had his coming-of-age ceremony? I thought he was over a hundred years old...'

Not only in a strange body, but it seemed he had traveled back in time by nearly a century. An incredibly, extremely surprising situation, but he showed no outward signs. His demeanor as an emperor helped him maintain composure.

"Yes, you like Sir Purn's philosophy. But you mentioned that the Pope's office doesn't welcome it. What do you mean by that?"

"Humanism, the idea that nothing is more important than humans, is not favored by the Pope's office, which worships God."

"Ah, I see."

A perfect answer.

Mollin felt the fatigue from the two-week journey dissipate.

"It was worth the trip. I didn't know the new son of the Bratz viscount family was so intelligent. The Emperor will surely be pleased."

In fact, it wasn't a big deal for a noble to register a bastard. Given their high status, it was common for nobles to bring in illegitimate children, and it was a regular gossip in the tedious social circles.

But Mollin's next words were strange.

"And the Chonrye tribe will also welcome it."

'Chonrye tribe?'

Ian searched his memory for the familiar name. The Chonrye tribe refers to the barbarians to the east of the border. His intelligence being welcomed by the Chonrye tribe?

...Then.

'It seems I'm a hostage.'

A bastard sent to the Chonrye tribe, who share a border, as a token of peace.

'I understand the situation now.'

The viscount, smiling wickedly, placed his hand on Ian's hand. Knowing the situation, he seemed like a devil in the guise of a kind father.

"Ian, I believe without a doubt that you will be a symbol of peace."

Peace is a formal agreement.

Traditionally, the leaders send their own children, but the unpredictable barbarians outside the border could turn at any moment.

In fact, the viscount's second brother had died crossing the border for peace when he was young. It was said to be an accident, but the truth was unknown.

How could he send his only legitimate son, Che, in such a situation? He had hastily brought in the ignored Ian to register him.

'Of course, the imperial palace must have noticed.'

However, they couldn't just send anyone, so they were testing Ian's intelligence through Mollin.

The smarter the child sent, the more diplomatic leverage, which would benefit both sides.

Of course, the autonomy of the Bratz family in the border region took precedence, so it was partly a formal procedure. But it was also partly a way for the imperial palace to monitor local nobles.

"Ah."

Ian immediately grasped the situation.

Even before his death, the Bratz family had repeatedly exchanged hostages to maintain peace.

In the end, they were brutally exterminated by the Chonrye tribe.

It was a disaster that the messenger from the capital took two weeks to reach. By the time other lords and the emperor arrived with their armies, it was too late.

'Was it my great-grandfather?'

That was the incident during the time of Ian's great-grandfather.

The emperor drove out the Chonrye tribe and divided the land among the nobles and knights who fought with him, bringing the matter to a close.

"Ian?"

Viscountess Mary called Ian.

As if urging him to remember his duty in response to the viscount's words.

Ian smiled and moistened his mouth with water. Whatever the situation, one thing was clear: Ian was alive, having been resurrected in the body of some unknown child.

"Yes, Father."

Ian's crisp answer made Viscount Derga smile in satisfaction. Everyone, except Che, laughed heartily, blessing the peace Ian's presence would bring.

"Let's eat."

Derga finally relaxed and continued the meal.

Ian looked around to feel the reality of the situation. More than anything, the pounding of his heart reminded him that he was alive.

'I have no idea what's going on.'

If this was Naum's magic, there was a way to confirm it. He could go to the imperial palace annex and investigate for traces of Naum's magic.

But the distance from the border Bratz to the capital was more than two weeks, and for a child soon to be sold into the desert, it was a world as distant as eternity.

Yes, it was a world 'that was.'