Chapter 60: The Emperor, Father

As he grew older, the emperor yearned for freshness. The renovation of his bedroom was part of this desire. One wall was replaced with glass, allowing him to take in the evergreen garden year-round. Sometimes, he was so still that it seemed he might have passed away, and now Marius felt that way.

“Father?”

The emperor turned his head with a gentle smile at his son’s voice, his deep wrinkles filled with kindness.

“Did you call for me?”

“Yes, Marius. You seem very busy lately.”

“Always, especially in summer.”

Marius naturally sat down in front of the emperor, responding. It was a private space and a private summons. Marius observed his father’s complexion and asked,

“Is something the matter?”

“...No, it’s just that it’s been too long since I’ve seen your face.”

“I find that surprising.”

“Marius.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Is there anything between you and Gael?”

The emperor’s fondness for Gael was an open secret. Marius knew the truth but the emperor never mentioned Gael’s name in front of him. It was his way of handling succession and his children.

“No, nothing. Why do you ask?”

“...I had a dream last night. Carolina appeared.”

Unlike Marius, who was the legitimate son of the empress, Gael was the son of the first concubine. She was a noblewoman of unknown origin who had risen to her position through her beauty.

“A person who never appeared in my dreams before...”

The emperor’s voice was tinged with moisture. Marius inwardly sighed. If he had known this would happen, he should have used work as an excuse not to come. He turned his gaze away, trying to hide his expression.

A single peach tree stood there.

“She handed me a peach and, sobbing, asked me to call for Gael.”

“Father.”

“If there’s no problem, then it’s fine.”

The emperor patted Marius’s hand, unilaterally ending the conversation. Despite his gentle smile, the emperor’s arrogant communication style remained. Marius nodded and left his father’s bedroom.

Creak.

“Prince Marius?”

When Marius didn’t move after leaving the room, his advisor called out to him in confusion. The prince approached the line of servants.

“Is there any problem with the emperor’s bedroom management?”

“Pardon? No, there isn’t, Prince Marius.”

“Then why is Father’s sleep so restless?”

“Pardon?”

The servant seemed to be hearing this for the first time. Just as he was about to ask, Marius slapped his cheek.

Smack!

“If I hear this again, I’ll cut off the heads of everyone involved.”

“I will keep it in mind.”

Father and son might not realize it, but they were strikingly similar. They could be as warm as spring, but suddenly, without warning, a chill would come. The servants breathed a sigh of relief as Marius’s shadow disappeared.

“Are today’s schedules finished?”

“Yes, Prince. However, you should go to the office, not the bedroom.”

Schedules finished?

Marius frowned, and the advisor quickly added,

“A message pigeon arrived from Romandor.”

“I’ll check it tomorrow. I’m tired today.”

“I understand, but the report is quite shocking...”

The advisor knew how the superior felt after being reprimanded by the emperor. However, the group that went with him included Molin. If Marius found out, Gael would also know.

“Briefly.”

It was an answer indicating he would decide after hearing it. The advisor, as requested, summarized the report succinctly.

“Derga’s illegitimate son, Ian, has rebuilt and taken control of Bratz with the help of the Thalier tribe. Captain Erica has left the territory.”

“...What?”

“Moreover, he is a magic user.”

Marius stopped walking and turned to the advisor. The advisor insisted that the report was entirely true, showing his innocence through his expression.

“It’s chaos.”

“Indeed.”

“I’m going to the office.”

“Yes, I’ll prepare.”

Marius clenched his teeth and tied his hair up. It was a night of the full moon.

* * *

The day after the full moon.

In the back alley of a tavern in the Merelop territory, one could easily come across strange information.

“What? They’ll exchange Gula for money in Bratz?”

“Shh! Keep it down! Someone might hear.”

“But why? What do they need the weeds for?”

“How should I know? They’re barbarians, after all. Logan, who lives in the red brick house, brought six bundles and received two gold coins.”

“There’s a deadline, but the nearby forests are already stripped. We’ll have to go deeper to pick Gula.”

“Great. I’ve never heard of paying for weeds. They must be crazy.”

“What do you know? Isn’t this good for us? My wife has been nagging about wanting meat lately.”

Everyone was whispering about who would pick Gula, but there was no one among the lower class of Merelop who didn’t know the story. The same was true for the residents of Bratz.

“What? Gula?”

“There’s a notice. One gold coin for three bundles.”

“Isn’t that a waste of money?”

“They didn’t give a reason!”

They were puzzled but fulfilled Ian’s request perfectly. They scoured the mountains and fields, filling bags with Gula, which they usually stepped on, and brought them to the mansion. Day by day, the Gula seeds piled up in the warehouse, reaching almost to the ceiling.

“How many bundles today?”

“Forty-nine bundles.”

“Faster than I expected.”

Ian, satisfied, moved on. In the restricted garden at the back, Gula cultivation research was in full swing. Although it grew well in all but the coldest environments, there must be an optimal cultivation method.

Ian had never grown it himself, so research was necessary.

“There’s almost no difference in growth speed between those given a lot of water and those not. We might need to try different soil types.”

“Then we should bring some soil from the riverbank.”

“Ian, look at this. The sprouts are already out.”

Hana and Romandor’s subordinates, covered in dirt, stood up as Ian approached. Tiny sprouts, about the size of a finger joint. Ian smiled and patted Hana’s shoulder.

“Good job.”

“By the way, Romandor ate more Gula again. Ian, please talk to him.”

“Again? I already told him yesterday.”

“He thought no one would see.”

Since then, Romandor had been eating Gula at every meal. Ian had to intervene.

“Alright. I’ll talk to him again.”

Ian left the garden, planning to grow as much Gula as possible before winter. It would likely be the most prosperous year-end for the residents of Bratz.

“What are you thinking about?”

Beric, who had followed, asked while walking ahead. Before Ian could answer, Beric snapped his fingers and answered himself.

“Let me guess. You’re thinking about the old man, right? He’s been unusually quiet, like a mouse. It’s strange.”

“Ah, yes. You’re right.”

Ian briefly wondered who the old man was, but quickly realized it was Molin.

“He hasn’t come out?”

“His subordinates are running around, but I haven’t seen the old man in a while. They say he’s eating well.”

They had attached a mana stone brooch to the bed in their room, planning to retrieve it during cleaning. But since they never left the room, it had been delayed. It was time to retrieve it directly.

“Tell Romandor to inform everyone to have dinner together today.”

“Everyone? What if they refuse?”

“It’s a mandatory meeting. Retrieve the mana stone during that time.”

Beric nodded and stepped back.

They might have heard the rumors about Gula. Even if they knew, Ian needed to officially inform the royal envoys, specifically Molin’s group, of his plan. It seemed that Romandor was writing reports, and Molin was doing the same.

Knock knock.

“Ian, may I come in?”

“Come in, Ian.”

It was around lunchtime, so everyone gathered quickly. Romandor stood up to greet him, while Molin’s group looked quite displeased.

“The weather is nice today.”

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s just that it’s been a while since I’ve seen your faces. I wanted to check if you’re comfortable and also to share some news.”

By calling Molin’s group ‘guests,’ Ian made their positions clear. This was his space.

Mack sneered.

“You look busy. Very busy.”

“Oh, did you hear from Romandor?”

At Ian’s question, Mack and Degor’s expressions darkened. If Romandor considered them equal colleagues, he would have shared the discovery of Gula.

But they were treated like unwanted guests, hearing nothing. Ian had imposed a gag order on the mansion’s residents, but not on Romandor.

“Ahem. Not yet.”

“My apologies.”

Romandor cleared his throat awkwardly. Just as Mack was about to speak, the dining room door opened, and the food was brought in.

“Sir Molin, you need to report to the center, so I’ll explain. It’s not grand. I’ve discovered a new crop to help us through the winter.”

Not grand, Beric thought, smirking. He had been talking about the great famine of Barial with Romandor. While Ian talked to the three men, Beric signaled the servants.

“Is this crop Gula