Chapter 8: Intentions

"Ian. My little one. Ahem."

The tutor cleared his throat and glanced at Ian. The recipient of this letter, Xia, was illiterate, so he must have asked someone else to read it for him.

The most natural choice would be the tutor.

Ian, with his bright eyes, propped his chin up.

"Please continue, sir."

"Are you doing well there? Your mother is comfortable thanks to Lord Derga. She doesn't have to work and is happy every day. You should also study diligently with gratitude to Lord Derga. Young Master Chel is your half-brother, but don't forget that you must respect him. Consider it an honor to be a symbol of peace. Above all, strive to build a strong relationship with the Chonrye tribe. You and Young Master Chel are the hope for the next generation."

The tutor glanced at Ian as he read the letter.

"And there is one favor I ask."

Yes, and the main issue.

"The Chonrye tribe smokes something called gurul leaves instead of cigarettes. Your mother also wants to try it. Can you secretly bring some seeds when you come back next year on your birthday?"

Gurul leaves were a kind of stimulant used by the Chonrye tribe.

They chewed them finely or burned the leaves. The exact plant and how it was made were unknown, a secret of the Chonrye tribe.

One thing was certain: they would bite a leaf when they went into battle.

"And the flower in the pot you tended so carefully has bloomed. Once you cross the border, you won't be able to see me anymore."

"Hmm."

"The last line reads: If you receive this letter, write down a line from the song your mother often sang. I love you always, my son."

Judging from the context, the dried flower petal in the pocket was the real gift from his mother. Also, the last paragraph was the real content of the letter. She had used her head. By asking for a code, she made it impossible for the Duke to deliver the letter and receive a reply.

'It seems that while sending the letter, she also asked Ian to smuggle in gurul leaves...'

What was strange was Derga's approach. Why use such a complicated method to manipulate Ian?

If he had just threatened Ian's mother's life as he had done before, Ian would have complied. There was no reason to take such a roundabout way.

"Mr. Ian?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you. Please keep today's letter content a secret."

"Of course."

Derga must have had more hidden intentions. Ian was determined to find them out.

The tutor took out a clean piece of parchment and asked.

"Will you write a reply today?"

"No. I need to organize my thoughts as there is a lot to say. I'll ask you next time."

"Is that so? Your mother is waiting, you know."

He was urging him.

But even if he wanted to write, he didn't know the lyrics of the song, so it was difficult.

'If I write the wrong lyrics, my mother will be in trouble. She'll know something is wrong.'

The chains bound Ian, but they also protected him. If his mother misunderstood and committed suicide, what would Derga do to manipulate Ian?

'In the worst case, I might be imprisoned until the day of the peace ceremony.'

It seemed best to meet her in person.

Fortunately, tomorrow was the luncheon with Lord Mollin.

If used well, it could provide an opportunity to go outside the mansion and learn about Derga's intentions.

* * *

"Oh, Lord Mollin."

"It has been a week, Lord Derga."

As instructed, Mollin arrived at the mansion with his entourage. There were two young and hearty-looking men, clearly his juniors from the central administration.

"Nice to meet you, my lord."

"I am truly grateful for your hospitality at this luncheon."

The men introduced as Mac and Degor kissed the back of the Duchess's hand. Lady Mary smiled gracefully and presented her son, Chel.

"I hope you have a pleasant time."

"Ah, this must be Young Master Chel? Then this one is?"

Actually, there was no need to be confused.

As he had heard, Ian had radiant golden hair. It was just a formality.

"It's Ian."

"Pleased to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

"Call me Mac, young master."

Chel's expression showed he was not comfortable being addressed the same way as Ian. But what could he do? He couldn't complain in front of the adults and Ian. Chel just stuck close to his mother as they walked through the garden.

"Indeed, it is the Duke of Bratz's mansion. The garden is very beautiful."

"To receive such praise from someone from the capital, it seems we are lucky today."

A conversation that subtly measured each other's status ensued. There was no ill intent; it was a natural and habitual way for nobles to interact.

"Sir, we will serve the pre-meal dishes."

"Very well."

At the butler's signal, the servants brought in the trolleys.

"What would you like for the pre-meal drink?"

"Since it's a clear day, I'll have sherry."

"What about Young Master Ian?"

At Mac's kind inquiry, Ian almost said the same thing without thinking.

Sherry is a white wine. It was an awkward age to drink. He smiled and asked for a fruit drink.

"You look much better than last week."

Mollin wiped his hands and smiled kindly. Though Ian was bound as a peace offering, to the old man, he looked fresh and vibrant.

"Perhaps I was looking forward to today."

"Ha ha. Is that so?"

"In fact, I had many questions about the capital. Last time, I only talked about myself, which was a bit disappointing. Right, Father?"

At Ian's cheeky remark, Derga cleared his throat and stroked his beard. Meanwhile, the servants set up the pre-meal drinks and a simple salad.

"Indeed. What are you curious about? In fact, the capital is just like any other place where people live. I'm glad I brought Mac and Degor today. As an old man, I don't know much about the young people's affairs."

Ian started with a trivial topic.

What the students in the capital studied, how they spent their leisure time, whether they had really seen a wizard, and so on. When the topic turned to wizards, Mollin, Mac, and Degor's eyes sparkled.

"By the way, I'm curious about what they usually eat in the capital."

"The capital is not particularly special or abundant. All the specialties from the regions go to the palace. Most importantly, there is almost no farmland in the center."

"Without the merchants' distribution, there would be no way, then."

"That's right. Therefore, the famine in the capital comes not from the land but from the empty wallets. Regulating supply and demand appropriately is one of the roles of the palace."

Unlike Chel, who only pretended to know, Ian calmly chimed in and led the conversation. Mac and Degor exchanged meaningful glances.

'For a commoner bastard, he is quite sharp.'

His insightful questions and focus beyond his years were not ordinary. Ian cut his steak calmly and joined in.

"Food is the most basic necessity, so there should always be a sufficient supply. It would be great if we could discover new food sources."

It was a casual remark, like talking about the weather. Everyone focused on Ian's words. Derga and the Duchess wondered why he was so talkative today, and the guests seemed interested.

Especially Lord Mollin.

"New food sources. I'm curious about your insights, Mr. Ian."

"It's not much of an insight. What we think is inedible might turn out to be a precious ingredient."

"Ah ha. Could such a dream come true?"

"Who knows? A starving person will eat anything to survive. If we look closely, we might find something good."

He didn't plan to reveal the gula just yet. He intended to keep silent until the right opportunity, but he thought it was okay to drop a hint. Mac seemed to have an idea and added.

"Speaking of which, I heard that the poor in the slums make stews with seafood shells. They say it's surprisingly tasty. Have you tried it, Mr. Ian?"

It was the first sharp question in an otherwise friendly conversation. Ian, who had lived in a brothel due to poverty, could be considered the poorest of the poor.

'Surprisingly sharp.'

Ian suppressed a smile.

The center and the borderlands were in a mutual check. The palace tacitly approved of sending Ian instead of Chel.

But if Ian's abilities were questioned after he joined the Chonrye tribe? If it caused damage to Barial? It would give the borderlands a reason to pressure the center effectively.

Therefore, the question had only one intention.

'Ian. Are you from the slums?'

By making Ian admit his origins, which had been whitewashed, it would serve as solid testimony with three central officials present.

"Ian? Lord Mac is asking you."

The Duchess smiled and urged him. She seemed unaware of the political implications in a single word. Chel, of course, was the same.

"I doubt I-"

"Chel!"

As Chel stammered, Derga quickly reprimanded him. Clang. The startled Chel dropped his fork. But Derga sternly disciplined his son.

"Lord Mac asked Ian a question. It's not polite to interrupt. Be careful."

It meant 'shut up.'

Chel pouted and clamped his mouth shut, and Lady Mary grabbed her son's hand under the table. Her gaze at her husband was sharp. How could he yell at his son for such a minor mistake, especially after he had been demoralized last week!

"I have never tried it."

"Is that so?"

Ian put down his knife and answered firmly.

For now, it was better to show a compliant attitude next to Duke Derga.

"I grew up outside the mansion, but my father always took good care of me. I am proud of the Bratz family's bloodline, no matter what others say."

"Ah, indeed."

Everyone knew it was a lie, but they pretended not to notice.

Mollin smiled very satisfied. He praised Ian for seeing through the unexpected attack so well.

"Even though I haven't tried it, I would like to if I get the chance."

Derga frowned but said nothing. Ian's answer was clear and the flow was quite natural.

"Is that so?"

"Indeed, what is the difference between high and low when it comes to food from nature? As long as it can satisfy hunger, it is a blessing. Moreover, it is a delicacy, isn't it?"

At that moment, Mollin felt a sense of déjà vu.

He had definitely heard this argument somewhere before...

"You sound like the prince."

Degor scratched the itch.

'Prince? Who?'

By Ian's standards, the current emperor had to go back several generations. And there were many princes, usually more than ten.

In short, even Ian, who had been an emperor, didn't know who the prince from 100 years ago was.

"He's talking about Prince Gael, the second prince. He said it very calmly while discussing the street food of the nobles and the commoners. Ha ha."

He probably didn't say anything in front of them but criticized it behind their backs. How could a prince of a country speak without manners?

Still, Prince Gael. It sounded very familiar, as if he had heard it somewhere...

"If the two of you meet, you would get along well."

"How could I dare to?"

"No, I think it's an excellent opinion."

Derga, trying to save face, waved his hand.

He was sincere. In an era where tens of thousands of people starved to death each year, what was the big deal about street food? Survival was the priority.

"The concept of face is truly terrifying. Even street food has value and is consumed."

"That's true. But the reality is even more grim. Even the commoners look down on the food eaten by the poor."

Lady Mary joined in as Mac and Degor sighed.

"Even if a new crop is discovered, it will take a long time to spread, won't it?"

It was not a bad topic, but the context was wrong. Ian involuntarily shook his head.

"No, Mother. In fact, the problem is not with the spread."

"Is that so? Mr. Ian, you seem to have an opinion."

Mollin's tone was like a test. Ian smiled as if to say, 'Why are you acting like you know everything?'

* * *