Chapter 8 |
“Ian. My little child. Ahem.”
The private tutor coughed slightly and watched Ian’s reaction. Surely, the illiterate recipient of this letter must have asked someone else to read it for him.
The most natural choice was the private tutor.
Ian’s eyes sparkled in anticipation as he clasped his chin.
“Please continue reading, Teacher.”
“Are you doing well over there? Your mother is living comfortably, thanks to Count Dergha. Not having to work, she finds joy in every passing day. Devote yourself to your studies in gratitude to the Count. Master Chel, although your half-brother, should be treated with respect. Don’t forget that. Take honor in being a symbol of unity. Above all, build a solid relationship with the Cheonrye tribe. You and Master Chel are the hope of future generations.”
As the teacher recited the letter, he stealthily observed Ian’s reactions.
“…And I have one request.”
Yes. The main point of the issue.
Gureut leaves were a kind of stimulant used by the Cheonrye tribe.
They were chewed whole, or rolled into leaves and smoked. It was a mystery what plant it came from, or even how it was made, a secret of the Cheonrye tribe.
What was certain was that they would always bite into a leaf before heading into battle.
“And the flower from the pot you took such care of bloomed. I won’t be able to see you once you cross the border.”
“…Hmm.”
“The last sentence reads like this. Write down a verse of the song I often sang for you when you get this letter. I love you always. My son.”
Presumably, the dried flower petal in the pocket was the real gift sent by his mother. And likely, only the last paragraph was the real content of the letter. She must have put some thought into it. By demanding a secret code, she forced the Count to pass on the letter and send a reply.
‘It seems like she mixed in the task of smuggling gureut leaves with the letter….’
What was strange was Dergha’s approach. Why would he coax Ian with such a complicated method? If he threatened his mother’s life like he always did, Ian would comply. There would be no need to go roundabout like this.
“Master Ian?”
“Yes, teacher. Thank you. Please keep the contents of this letter a secret.”
“Of course.”
Dergha must have some hidden intentions. Ian made a resolution to uncover them.
The tutor pulled out a clean piece of parchment and asked, “Would you like to write a reply today?”
“No. I have a lot to say, so I need to sort out my thoughts. I’ll ask you another time.”
“Is that so? Your mother must be waiting.”
What’s he rushing for?
But it was problematic since he didn’t know the song.
‘If I write the wrong lyrics, there will be an uproar on my mother’s side. They’ll think something has happened to me.’
The shackles both bound Ian and offered him protection. What if his mother mistakenly committed suicide? He couldn’t predict what Dergha would do to ensnare Ian.
‘At worst, I could be confined until the day of the unity ceremony.’
It would probably be best to meet her in person.
Fortunately, tomorrow was the day for a luncheon with Molrin’s entourage.
If he played his cards right, he could have both an opportunity to leave the mansion and understand Dergha’s intentions.
“Ah, Your Excellency Molrin.”
“It’s been a week, Count Dergha.”
As previously arranged, Molrin arrived at the mansion with his aides. They were young, jovial men, clearly the juniors that Molrin was guiding in the central administration.
“Pleased to meet you for the first time, Count.”
“We sincerely thank you for your hospitality at the luncheon.”
The men introduced as Mack and D’gor kissed the back of the Countess’ hand. Countess Mary elegantly smiled and brought her son Chel forward.
“We hope you have an enjoyable time.”
“Ah, is this young master Chel? Then who might this be?”
Actually, there was no need for confusion.
As heard, Ian had bright golden hair that resembled sunlight. It was merely a formality for politeness’ sake.
“I’m Ian.”
“Nice to meet you. I’ve wanted to meet you ever since I heard about you.”
“Just call me Mack, young master.”
Chel seemed dissatisfied being addressed with the same honorific as Ian. But what could he do? He couldn’t act childishly in front of the adults and Ian. He just clung to his mother’s side and walked to the garden.
“This is indeed Count Bratz’s mansion. The garden is very beautiful.”
“To receive such a compliment from someone from the capital, it seems my luck is good today.”
The conversation flowed, each word seemingly measuring their elegance. There was no ill intention involved. It was a natural and habitual demeanor of the nobility.
“Master, I will serve the pre-meal food.”
“Do so.”
At the butler’s signal, the servants came in with a trolley.
“What will you have for aperitifs1?”
“The day is clear, so I’ll have Sherry.”
“What about young master Ian?”
At Mack’s friendly question, Ian almost unknowingly requested the same.
Sherry is a white grape wine. It was a rather ambiguous age for him to be drinking. He smiled gently and requested a fruit beverage.
“You look much better than last week,” Molrin chuckled kindly as he wiped his hands. Although his body was tied by the ritual of age, to the old man, Ian seemed utterly refreshing.
“I guess it’s because I was looking forward to today.”
“Haha, is that so?”
“Actually, I had a lot of curiosity about the capital. I felt a bit regretful as we only talked about me last time. Isn’t that right, Father?”
At Ian’s clever words, Dergha cleared his throat and stroked his beard. Meanwhile, the servants set up the pre-meal drinks and some simple salads.
“Indeed. What are you so curious about? People live the same lives, even in the capital. Today, I’m glad I brought Mack and D’gor. As an old man, I don’t know much about the youngsters’ affairs.”
Ian skillfully dodged the bullet.
What do the students in the capital study, how do they spend their leisure time, have they really seen a magician, et cetera. When talking about magicians, the eyes of Molrin, Mack, and D’gor sparkled.
“I’m especially curious about what you usually eat in the capital.”
“The capital is not particularly abundant. The specialties from each territory all go to the royal palace. Above all, there are hardly any farmlands in the central region.”
“So, unless the merchants distribute, there’s no other way.”
“That’s right. Therefore, the famine in the capital comes not from the land but from the wallet. Regulating appropriate demand and supply is one of the royal palace’s roles.”
Unlike Chel, who just rolled his eyes pretending to know, Ian casually lead the conversation. Mack and D’gor exchanged meaningful glances.
‘As they say, he’s remarkably sharp for a commoner’s son.’
His key insights and unusual concentration for a child were exceptional. Ian casually cut his steak and continued, “Food is fundamental and should always be abundant. It would be quite nice to discover new food.” He said it casually, as if discussing the weather.
Everyone was focused on Ian’s words. Count Dergha and the Countess wondered why he was so talkative today, and the guests seemed interested.
Particularly, the cornered senior official.
“It’s a new food. I’m curious about your culinary tastes, young master Ian.”
“I have no so-called culinary tastes. What I thought was inedible could turn out to be a precious ingredient.”
“Ahaha. Could such a dreamy event occur?”
“Who knows. The starving ones eat without discriminating, trying this and that. If you look carefully at that, you may make a good discovery.”
I don’t plan to tell him about the grulla right now. I planned to keep it a secret until the right opportunity arises, but I felt it was okay to give a hint. Then Mack added as if something came to his mind.
“Speaking of which, I heard they make stew with seafood shells in the slums. They say it tastes surprisingly good. Young master Ian, have you ever tried it?”
For the first time in the conversation filled with courtesy, a direct question was asked. Ian, who lived in the brothel due to poverty, could be said to be the poorest of the poor.
‘Surprisingly sharp.’
Ian swallowed his laughter.
The central government and the border are in a check-and-balance relationship. The imperial court implicitly approved sending Ian instead of Chel.
But what if Ian, who crossed over to the border, were to be questioned about his qualifications? If this results in harm to Bariel? Then they gain a pretext for effectively pressuring the central court.
So, the implication of the question was clear.
‘Ian. You’re from the slums, aren’t you?’
Attempting to make him admit to his lowly origins like an ostrich burying its head in the sand. There couldn’t be a more solid testimony than having three central bureaucrats hear it at the same time.
“Ian? Sir Mack is asking you.”
The countess urged him on with a smile. It seemed she had no idea about the political intentions in each word spoken. Of course, the same went for Chel.
“Well, I think he might not have-“
“Chel!”
As Chel began to stutter, Dergha quickly cut him off. With a clatter, the surprised Chel dropped his fork. However, Dergha calmly disciplined his son, “Didn’t Sir Mac ask a question to Ian? It’s not polite to interrupt. Be careful.”
It was a demand for silence.
Chel’s expression darkened and he clamped his mouth shut, while Countess. Mary secretly grabbed her son’s hand under the tablecloth. Her gaze at her husband was unavoidably sharp, as if saying ‘How could you yell for such a minor mistake? Isn’t he already disheartened from the mistake he made last week?’
“I’ve never tried it.”
“Is that so?”
Ian put down his knife and answered firmly.
For now. It was better to show a submissive attitude beside Count Dergha.
“Even though I was raised outside the mansion, my father always took good care of me. No matter what anyone says, I am proud to be a member of the Bratz family.”
“O-ho, that’s certainly true.”
A funny situation where everyone knew it was a lie, but pretended not to know and turned a blind eye.
Molrin laughed very satisfactorily. Seemingly satisfied with how well Ian detected the attack that came in without warning.
“Although I haven’t tried it, I would like to try it if I have the opportunity.”
Dergha frowned but couldn’t say anything. Ian’s answer was accurate, and his flow was quite natural.
“Is that so?”
“Where is the disdain in what comes from nature? If it can alleviate hunger, isn’t that a blessing in itself? Especially when they say it’s a delicacy.”
Molrin felt a strange sense of déjà vu at Ian’s response.
It was a claim he had certainly heard somewhere before…
“It sounds like something the Prince would say.”
D’gor had hit the nail on the head.
‘Prince? Who?’
From Ian’s point in time, several generations would have to pass to reach the current Emperor. And how many princes were there in between? They usually had more than ten children each.
In other words, even Ian, who was once an Emperor, wouldn’t know who the prince from 100 years ago was.
“It’s Prince Gale II (the second). He made such a remark quite calmly while discussing with the nobles about street food. Haha.”
Although he didn’t say anything at the time, there must have been quite a bit of criticism behind his back. A prince of a nation uttering such uncultured words.
But Gale II… It sounded incredibly familiar from somewhere…
“You two would get along well.”
“How could Ian dare to…”
“No, I think it’s a great opinion.”
Amidst Dergha’s pretense, D’gor chuckled and waved his hand.
He was sincere. In a time where tens of thousands of people starve to death each year, what’s the big deal about street food? The priority is to survive.
“Keeping up appearances can be truly scary. Regardless of it being street food, it has value and is consumed nonetheless.”
“That’s true. But the reality is even more grim. Even commoners don’t even glance at the food that the lower class eat.”
The Countess intervened in the lamentations of Mack and D’gor.
“Even if a new crop is discovered, it will take a while before it’s distributed, right?”
It was a decent topic, but the context was off. Without realizing it, Ian shook his head sideways.
“No, Mother. Actually, distribution is not the problem.”
“Really? Young master Ian, you seem to have an opinion.” Molrin’s tone seemed to test him.
Ian smiled as if to say why would someone who knows it all ask such a question.
- an alcoholic drink taken before a meal to stimulate the appetite.[↩]