Chapter 9. The Second Luncheon

"We can use rumors."

"Rumors?"

Ian glanced at Moline. It was as if he was saying, 'I will give you the answer you want, so listen carefully.'

"To be precise, rumors that make desires come true. For example, eating it will make your skin smooth and your hair shiny and thick. Or it helps with weight loss or gain. Or you could say it's effective for pregnancy, and they'll be eager to eat it."

Regardless of gender.

In fact, this was a method often used by the Central Office. Forming public opinion to balance the market, a very basic yet effective method.

"Interesting. However, the citizens of the palace are quick and clever. The rumor will be exposed soon. What will you do then?"

Mac moistened his lips with sherry and asked. That, too, was not a problem.

"We can set up guards."

Ian stood his index and middle fingers on the table to represent a person's legs. Then, he slowly drew a circle around the dishes.

"Set up a lot of guards, but leave some loose holes. Coveting valuable things is human nature. Even if what they're guarding is worthless, they'll steal it out of greed. They'll wonder, 'Why would such high-ranking people guard this day and night?' By then, it will be impossible to stop them, and everyone will naturally come into contact with it. However."

"However?"

"These are just secondary issues. The fundamental problem is whether a substitute food source will actually appear."

Moline, Mac, and Dego felt a jolt of static electricity in their minds. The Central Office was where all the prominent figures of the empire gathered. It meant that many people had seen it.

For those who claimed to have some knowledge, it was a promising answer, but they had never seen a child who had just shed his baby teeth answer so wisely. And wasn't he a child who had wandered the brothels until recently?

Only then did the three men recall what the primary issue should have been.

'Can the second child really cross the border instead of the first?'

They had overlooked it. Or rather, they had been arrogant. Since he was a bastard from the slums, he must naturally be inferior.

Whether he knew it or not, Ian smiled and brought the steak to his mouth.

"Indeed, it's delicious."

"Yes, it is. The weather is nice, so it seems even better."

What started as a light luncheon now had a different atmosphere. Ian noticed that everyone was paying attention to him.

'Let's leave it at this for now regarding Gula.'

Now it was time for the main event. Ian wanted to explore how Derga had manipulated things with letters and whether there was a chance to leave the mansion.

"Do you enjoy writing, Mr. Ian?"

The conversation resumed. Mac asked Ian, but his gaze naturally shifted to the lady and Chel. Even if they came to see Ian, it would be impolite to focus the conversation on one person.

"I heard that the lady has a keen eye for literature. I assume your children are also extraordinary."

"Oh, you flatter me. It's just short writing. But Mac, you've written two books, haven't you? I feel honored to receive praise from someone like you."

Her jest was joined by Dego.

"Lady, you don't need to be so modest. From what I've seen, Mac is much more skilled at writing letters than books. Anyone who receives his letter will cry and declare their love."

"Degor! That's a bit too much."

"Ahaha! Mr. Ian, if you need to write a letter, ask Mac. It will be very useful."

His playful wink was quite amusing. The lady laughed heartily, but Derga's expression was unusually dark. The content of the conversation was very uncomfortable.

'The Cheneri tribe demanded your personal letter.'

The timing was quite coincidental. It was as if they knew Ian had a reason to write a letter. Did they know? If so, how did they find out?

Derga took the initiative, moistening his lips with wine.

"By the way, I received a message from the Cheneri tribe."

"Oh? Really?"

"They asked for Ian's personal letters regularly."

Derga chose his next words carefully.

"I don't understand what they're so worried about. After all, we'll use the homogeneity potion. The barbarians are like beasts, completely incomprehensible."

Mac smiled and supported Derga.

"Beasts are always wary of the world. That's their life. They only follow the order of strength, don't they? It's common for the chief to change from spring to autumn."

Strength alone. A community where all hierarchies are determined by strength. The chief must always accept challenges, and only death brings peace.

"If they weren't like that, Bariel would have been even more troublesome."

They regulate their population, which is fortunate. Mac's words prompted Ian to ask.

"Then, is the current chief of the Cheneri tribe a competitor or a subordinate to the chief?"

The Cheneri tribe was suppressed before Ian ascended the throne and had a low status. When desert travelers occasionally went missing, it was either a sandstorm or the Cheneri tribe.

So the information he had was very fragmented and basic.

Shaking his head at Ian's question, Mac replied.

"No, neither. The chief is an old man named Winchen, who is so old that his age is unknown. The chief changes frequently, but she has held the position of chief for a long time."

"Oh. That means..."

Ian murmured, surprised.

"She must be the spiritual pillar of the Cheneri tribe."

That was correct. Even if he only said one thing, he understood it perfectly! Mac's gaze of admiration did not waver.

"From what I've heard, the whole tribe regards her as a being connected to the heavens. She has very special abilities."

"Abilities? I heard they despise magic."

"It's hard to call it magic, and it's more like a gypsy. She's blind, but she can distinguish truth from lies by voice."

Ah, Ian's eyebrows softened.

'A blind chief who sees the truth.'

Now he understood Derga's intentions.

Gurut leaves are definitely contraband. It's something that can't be brought in no matter what. If Ian could smuggle it in properly, it would be a huge profit. After all, it's a plant that the Cheneri tribe always carries into battle.

Whether to enhance Bratz's military power or reduce the Cheneri tribe's combat strength, it would be an opportunity to tilt the balance of victory in Bratz's favor.

But what if he's caught in the middle?

Ian would be interrogated by the chief. He would confess that it was purely out of love for his mother. If the Cheneri tribe protested, Bratz would seek forgiveness through Ian and his mother's death. Since it has nothing to do with the viscount, it would be enough to console them with appropriate gifts.

'Would the Cheneri tribe declare war on this pretext?'

It was still unlikely. For now.

The destruction of Bratz would be in the next generation. There must be a reason for it. A full-scale war seemed impossible for now.

"Viscount, you must have heard stories about the chief. Right, Viscount Derga?"

"Yes, well, I've never actually seen the chief."

Derga cleared his throat and glanced at the child.

'But how does this kid know?'

The tutor reported that Ian was dull, but his occasional sharpness was suspicious. It was impossible to guess what was going on in that small head.

"The more I hear, the more fascinating the tribe seems."

Ian noticed his gaze and smiled even more brightly. He made sure there was no trace of suspicion. As Ian continued to cut his food naturally, Derga soon withdrew his suspicious gaze.

But what to do?

He had already figured out Derga's intentions. If Ian faced the chief, everything would be revealed.

'Well, I have no intention of doing that anyway.'

After that, meaningless conversations drifted away with the wind. Laughter erupted from Mac, Dego, and the viscount's wife.

"So, what Prince Gail, the Second Prince, said was, 'Throw that insolent brat into the pigsty immediately!'"

"Oh my! Is that true?"

"Yes, he's quite aggressive."

"Ohoho! How terrifying!"

Suddenly, Ian turned his head in curiosity.

Moline, Mac, and Dego were officials dispatched from the Central Office. All civil servants follow the emperor and the official heir in their duties. The fact that they were away from the capital for months was significant.

Either they were so important that they had the emperor's trust.

Or they had been removed from key positions.

While Derga, who was not well-informed about the capital, did not know, Ian had a strange intuition.

'Why do they keep mentioning the Second Prince?'

The official heir is the First Prince, so their lord should naturally be the First Prince.

Of course, other princes have followers, but most are far from the center of power.

However, the three men consistently talked about Gail, the Second Prince.

"Mr. Ian, what are you thinking about?"

"No, I was just enjoying your conversation and listening to it."

"Is that so? I must have misunderstood. Your face is so serious. Hehe."

Moline subtly drew Ian's attention. Although he was smiling, his eyes, which carefully examined the child, were sharp and persistent.

Was the golden eye he saw during the first luncheon just an illusion? He had heard that magic users have superior intellectual abilities. So, perhaps...

"Viscount Derga."

Moline wiped his mouth with a napkin and spoke. As if it were a signal, Mac and Dego stopped talking.

"I felt it last time too, but Mr. Ian's knowledge is truly remarkable, even surprising me. It must be due to the excellent educational policies of the viscount and his wife."

"...Thank you."

"Therefore, I have a small request."

At this, Derga, the cunning old man, took a sip of wine with a slightly uneasy look. How many times had he been put in a difficult position by the word 'request'?

A brief silence ensued as Derga chose his words. And Ian did not miss this moment.

"Would you like to see my room?"

Ian asked playfully.

It was not a noble way of speaking, but it was a child's playful gesture. It would be ungraceful to correct him with a stern face. Lady Mary glared at the back of Ian's head, as if itching to say something.

"That would be nice, but this time it's something else."

Everyone, including the viscount's family, focused on Moline's words. Only Mac and Dego seemed calm, as if they had expected it.