Chapter: 338
As I absentmindedly stared out the window, I noticed the rare sight of a cloudless sky. It almost felt like summer, yet with not a single cloud in sight, I couldn’t tell if I should be happy about the clear weather or dislike the heat.
Of course, on a normal day, I’d think twice about leaving the building, but unfortunately, this calm weather felt irritating now. Is this what they call the calm before the storm?
“Soon, a severe cold front will hit the North. Make sure to remember that, nephew.”
Amidst all this, the Wise Duke’s words from our school trip resurfaced in my mind, making my head throb.
‘Damn.’
A sigh escaped me involuntarily. The Wise Duke trying to speak clearly after clearing his alcohol-induced haze was already a sign something was off, and of all things, it had to be about the North.
If he just commented, “Something might happen soon,” I could comfort myself with the idea it was still speculative. But the Wise Duke pointedly specified the North. No matter how lighthearted the Wise Duke may seem, he wouldn’t joke about such things, meaning it was effectively a definite situation.
To make matters worse, ever since we returned to the Academy after the trip, Marcilio’s expression has been far from reassuring.
‘The dukes are aware.’
What with the Wise Duke’s hint and Marcilio’s silence, it only seemed right to assume all five dukes must have heard something.
However, aside from the dukes, there was no unusual activity anywhere else. Even the second manager in charge of information had nothing to report, and when I casually probed the head of the information department not long ago, he evaded my questions entirely. It looked like the dukes were the only ones with information, perhaps because the Empire was controlling the news.
In such a situation, it’s impossible to access information. If the Emperor decided to enforce an embargo, the head of the oversight department would be in big trouble for defying him.
‘Of all times, now…’
It drives me mad. We’re supposed to make a pilgrimage soon to commemorate the end of the war, and to meet those guys in such an uneasy atmosphere isn’t something I look forward to.
The North, which I had only just calmed down by defeating the Kagan, had started stirring up trouble again. Just how could I explain such a disturbance to those people? With what face could I say the peace achieved through bloodshed was once again threatened?
‘Should have killed him.’
I rubbed the back of my neck and let out a resigned sigh. If there’s trouble brewing in the North, it’s definitely that bastard Dorgon who’s behind it.
Counting the times I’ve clashed with him, I’d probably need all ten fingers to tally them up. I had more chances to get rid of him than I could count, yet I failed to do so right until the very end. If another rival had survived, I wouldn’t be feeling so lost right now.
That other rival would merely be a chieftain or a warrior without any justification to control the North. But Dorgon is the heir of the Gaar tribe, which first united the nomads, a blood descendant of the Kagan, and one of the main figures opposing the Empire. With that crazy title to boot, his mere existence stands as a symbol against the Empire.
‘If he properly incites a rebellion, I bet tens of thousands will rally!’
Gathering that many people would make it impossible to handle with just a small elite force. In this world, no matter how skilled an individual is, they cannot overpower a group.
Kagan might have been the only one to defeat a group, but even he perished, highlighting the group’s strength. Thus, if the North’s anomaly turns out to be disastrous, the Empire will have to squeeze its military forces again just three years after the end of the war. It’s maddening.
“Brother, we’re here!”
“Oh, you’ve arrived?”
While I was organizing my thoughts by drumming my fingers on the desk, the club members who finished their class rushed in.
‘Let’s wait.’
Recomposing my stern expression, I forced a smile. Yes, waiting is the best move. If I can’t get any information despite my struggles, then I must wait for the news embargo to lift. Acting out might just provoke the Emperor’s wrath.
And well, if—just if—it’s determined that the North’s upheaval can be handled by an elite few, then…
…I’m not expecting much.
For these past few days, I’ve been trying to keep a smile on my face. If I looked even a tad expressionless, Marcilio would catch on. It’s just my default expression, though.
But I understand. If he has to keep quiet about something important, while his partner wants to know everything but can’t, that would be incredibly awkward for him. I also know that if I let my personal feelings influence my judgment on such a matter, it would make everything much more troublesome—something both Marcilio and I are aware of.
So what can I do? I have to pretend everything is fine and keep smiling. I actually don’t feel anything about the information embargo now, so it genuinely doesn’t bother me.
“Baby, I plan to attend the memorial this time too. Would you like to join me?”
Instead, I subtly indicated that “there’s no way the information embargo will lift before the pilgrimage.” This seems to be the best Marcilio can hope for.
“I’d love it. I still haven’t found a teleportation mage, so thanks for that.”
As I expressed my gratitude with a still-smiling face, Marcilio returned it with a smile of his own.
Thanks to that bastard Dorgon, this is such a hassle. He’s only inconveniencing Marcilio.
*
The World Tree incident caused by the head of the oversight department has relatedly become a very serious matter.
“With the return of the Mukgwangdae, the Blue Claw Knights, and the Black Mane Knights, all forces operating in the North have returned. Although there are some injuries, there have been no fatalities due to our focus on withdrawal.”
“Treat them based on the severity of their injuries, not their rank.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Answering briefly to the report of the successful withdrawal, the Emperor inclined his head and dismissed the Minister of Special Services.
At least we escaped the horrors of five years ago. If we were to engage in the war, the forces of the Special Services would undoubtedly have made a mark but prevented the unnecessary loss of precious lives. This can be deemed a successful response.
‘…Successful, huh.’
What a shameful thought to attach the word “success” to the Empire’s forces retreating in haste. I’d have laughed at that thought had I not been before the Emperor.
However, it’s the North we’re talking about. Getting the upper hand here was a victory that handed an unimaginable blow to the Empire, not one of those glorious ones among the Eastern Kingdoms. The name “North” is still akin to a nightmare for the Empire’s leadership.
“Crown Prince.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Judging from the Emperor’s expression, it looks like he’s feeling quite tense, more than before.
“Those who have never been united will never unite forever. But those who have been once can band together twice or even thrice.”
It might sound somewhat abrupt, but this is clearly aimed at the nomads of the North.
Because they never formed a unified faction, they were suppressed by the Empire or the previous settled states. Those nomads were united under the false Prophet and dared to raise a rebellion against the Empire. Despite the rebellion ending in failure, they will not easily forget that experience of unity and revolt.
That is why the Emperor is treating this situation as the second uprising of the false Prophet. It would be foolish to think that those who have once revolted will not do so a second time.
“What should we do about those who continually seek to unite?”
I lowered my head at his words. The current Emperor, no longer a weary monarch preparing to pass down authority, stands as the Empire’s sole ruler, waiting for the heir’s response.
“Punish them decisively so that they realize they are nothing more than a page in the long history of the Empire.”
Those once-ignored vermin that threatened the Empire’s celestial mandate, sitting right in the North that the Empire must conquer. Such extreme responses signify that compromise is out of the question against these foes.
Though a leader should weigh all possibilities and seek the best option, this approach might seem too reckless. There might still be ways to settle things peacefully.
“My thoughts align with yours.”
But the Emperor wanted such a response.
Because it’s the way to assert the imperial authority and the conviction of heavenly mandate.
*
The Boyar wine for the memorial service was prepared by the Minister.
Last year I said I would handle it, but I was unable to find any on the market, so I had to ask the Golden Duke for assistance. The year before, I managed to secure twelve bottles, so it seems he thought it better to take care of this alone to avoid a repeat of that mess.
“Have you got everything ready?”
“I just need to show up.”
Thanks to that, I could move around this year with my hands free. Anyway, wouldn’t it make more sense for someone present in the city to handle the preparations than a pilgrim coming from afar? They probably think so too.
And besides, when else can I enjoy servant-brewed wine? Gerard is already chomping at the bit to scrounge off the Minister’s wallet once the war is over; getting served Boyar wine every year makes that wish come true.
“I’ll finally get to see Erich again.”
Seeing Marcilio smile gently made me feel a sense of awe toward the first manager.
From quickly calling him “sister” to enticing him to use pet names for himself, it’s actually remarkable how they managed to grow so close through mere communication. It’s just surprising.
‘Was the Crown Princess also so smitten?’
I decided to think along those lines. If Marcilio was enchanted, why couldn’t the Crown Princess fall under the same spell?
“Now, let’s get going.”
“Sure.”
Nodding, I grasped the hand Marcilio extended. Technically, most magicians above a certain level can teleport without physical contact, but I figured it was better to hold hands. A little skinship now and then is a good thing.
And, holding onto my hand, Marcilio peeked cautiously and spoke up.
“By the way, baby, if I also visit that child’s grave—”
“It’s alright. Let’s go some other time.”
I firmly rejected Marcilio’s tentative request. The “child” he meant was Hecate. While I acknowledge that lovers should visit Hecate’s grave, now is not the right time.
“There’ll be ministers present during the pilgrimage. It’d be awkward to introduce my partner with an old superior around, right? Let’s schedule a good day later for all of us to go together.”
“…Alright, if that’s how you feel.”
There’s no need to turn an important occasion into something akin to flea market chatter. Luckily, Marcilio seems to respect my wishes.
‘It really is a strange situation.’
Introducing your partner at a memorial site where an old superior is present? That sounds absurd no matter how you spin it. And adding any other motives to a pilgrimage made for those people would be downright rude.
In any case, they’ll probably be in the city during the break, so we can go then.
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