“Rumors can be utilized.”

“Rumors?”

Ian glanced at Mollin. As if telling him to listen carefully, as he would now provide the answer he wanted.

“To be precise, rumors that fulfill desires. Like if you eat it, your skin will become smooth, your hair will gain luster and thickness. Or that it helps with weight loss or gain. Or if you spread the word that it’s effective for pregnancy, people will be desperate to eat it.”

Regardless of whether they’re men or women.

In fact, this was a method frequently used by the central government. Forming public opinion to balance the market was a very basic yet effective method.

“Interesting. But the citizens of the palace are both vigilant and clever. A baseless rumor would quickly be exposed. What would you do then?”

Mac asked, moistening his lips with sherry. That wasn’t a problem either.

“You just need to set up a guard.”

Ian placed his index and middle fingers on the table to represent a person’s legs. Then he lazily drew a circle next to the utensils.

“Set up an ostentatious guard, but create a sloppy hole. It’s human nature to covet precious things. Even if what they’re guarding is worthless, people will steal it out of greed. Wondering why such distinguished individuals would guard it day and night. By then, even if you try to stop it, you won’t be able to, and everyone will naturally come into contact with it. One.”

“One?”

“These are just secondary issues. The fundamental question is whether a replacement food source will actually emerge.”

Mollin, Mac, and D’gor felt like static electricity was tingling in their minds. The central government was where all the empire’s brightest gathered. It meant countless people had seen it.

It was an answer one might expect from those with some scholarly background, but they had never seen a child who had barely shed his baby teeth respond so brilliantly. Wasn’t he a child who had been wandering the brothel district not long ago?

Only then did the three men recall the issue they should have considered first.

‘Instead of the eldest, can the second son really cross the border?’

They had overlooked it. No, they had been arrogant. Thinking that a bastard from the slums would naturally be inferior.

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

“It tastes great, as expected.”

“Y-yes, it does. I think it’s because the weather is nice.”

It had started as a light luncheon, but now the atmosphere was quite different. Ian noticed that everyone was focused on him.

‘Let’s stop here regarding Gulla for now.’

Because now was the real deal. Ian wanted to investigate why Derga had made a move with the letter and if there was a chance to leave the mansion.

“Do you enjoy writing, Sir Ian?”

The small talk resumed. Mac asked Ian a question, but his gaze naturally shifted towards the marchioness and Chel. No matter how much he had come to see Ian, it would be impolite to have a conversation too focused on one person.

“I heard the marchioness has a discerning eye for literature. I expect your sons to be extraordinary as well.”

“Oh my, you flatter me. It’s just short compositions. I heard you’ve written two books yourself, Sir Mac. Receiving praise from someone like you is embarrassing.”

D’gor interjected at her jest.

“Marchioness, there’s no need for that. From what I’ve seen, Sir Mac is far more skilled at writing letters than books. Anyone who receives his letters cries out in love with tears, you see.”

“D’gor! That’s going too far.”

“Hahaha! Sir Ian, try asking Sir Mac for help when writing letters. It will be very useful.”

The way he even winked playfully was highly comical. The marchioness laughed heartily as if it was the most delightful thing, but Derga’s expression was particularly gloomy. He was deeply uncomfortable with the content of the conversation.

‘The Cheonrye tribe has requested a handwritten letter from you.’

The timing was quite uncanny. 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 moistened his lips with wine and took the initiative.

“Speaking of which, a message arrived from the Cheonrye tribe.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

“They asked us to periodically send Ian’s handwritten letters.”

Derga carefully chose his next words.

“They’ll use the blood identification potion anyway, so I don’t know what they’re so worried about. Those barbarians are like beasts, utterly incomprehensible.”

Mac smiled brightly and supported Derga.

“Beasts are always wary of the world, by nature. That’s how they live. They’re creatures who only understand order through strength. It’s common for the chief you meet in spring to change by autumn.”

Strength alone. A community where all hierarchy was determined solely by strength. The chief had to accept challenges at any time, and only death brought peace to everything.

“If it weren’t for their temperament, Bariel would have been even more troublesome.”

They were regulating their own numbers, so how fortunate was that? At Mac’s words, Ian asked a question.

“Then, is the current leader of the Cheonrye tribe a rival to the chief? Or a subordinate?”

The Cheonrye tribe had been decimated and held a low status before Ian’s ascension to the throne. Occasionally, there were reports of desert travelers going missing, so if it wasn’t a sandstorm, it must have been the work of the Cheonrye tribe. That was all there was to it.

So the information he knew was very fragmented and basic.

At Ian’s question, Mac shook his head.

“No, neither. The tribal leader is an old woman named Winchen, and she’s so old that her age is unknown. The chief changes frequently, but she has held the position of tribal leader for a long time now.”

“Ah, that means…”

Ian muttered as if surprised.

“She must be the spiritual pillar of the Cheonrye tribe.”

It was the correct answer. He understood perfectly with just a single hint! Mac couldn’t hide his admiring gaze.

“From what I’ve heard, the entire tribe considers her to be a person who has reached the heavens. She possesses a very special ability.”

“Ability? I heard they despise mana.”

“It’s a bit difficult to call it mana. If you had to compare, it’s similar to a gypsy. She’s blind, but she can discern truth from falsehood through voices.”

Ah, Ian gently curved his eyebrows.

‘A blind tribal leader who sees the truth.’

Now he understood Derga’s true intentions.

Gureut leaves were definitely prohibited items. No matter what method was used, they couldn’t be brought in. If Ian smuggled them in properly, it would be a tremendous gain. Wasn’t it a plant that the Cheonrye tribe made sure to bring when entering battle?

Either increase the military power of Bratz or decrease the combat power of the Cheonrye tribe. Whatever it was, it would be an opportunity to tilt the scales in Bratz’s favor.

But what if he was caught in the process?

Ian would be interrogated by the tribal leader. He would confess that it was purely out of concern for his mother. If the Cheonrye tribe protested, Bratz could seek forgiveness through the deaths of Ian and his mother. It would be a matter completely unrelated to the marquis, so they could console them with an appropriate amount of condolence.

‘The possibility of the Cheonrye tribe declaring war using this as a pretext?’

It was still slim. For now.

The annihilation of House Bratz would happen in the next generation. Surely there was a reason it occurred then. He could surmise that an all-out war was unlikely at the moment.

“Marquis Derga, you must have heard about the tribal leader as well, right?”

“Ah, well, actually, I’ve never seen the tribal leader myself.”

Derga coughed roughly and glanced at the child.

‘But how does that boy know?’

The tutor had reported that Ian was dull, believing it without doubt, but the occasional sharpness he displayed was suspicious. He couldn’t even begin to guess what thoughts were going through that small head of his.

“The more I hear, the more fascinating this tribe seems.”

Ian noticed his gaze and smiled even more brightly. So that not a hint of suspicion could be found. As Ian naturally continued his knife work, Derga soon withdrew his doubtful eyes.

But what to do about this?

Now that he had figured out Derga’s intentions. If Ian were to appear before the tribal leader, everything would inevitably be revealed.

‘Well, I have no intention of doing that anyway.’

Afterward, meaningless conversations came and went, scattered by the wind. Laughter erupted from Mac, D’gor, and the marchioness at the center.

“So, His Highness, the Second Prince Gale, said, ‘Throw that insolent brat into the pig pen at once!'”

“Oh my, goodness! Did he really say that?”

“Yes, he’s quite a belligerent person.”

“Ohoho! How dreadful!”

Then, at one point, Ian turned his head in puzzlement.

Mollin, Mac, and D’gor were officials dispatched from the central government. All public officials followed the emperor and the official successor in carrying out their duties. For them to leave the capital for months like this carried deep significance.

Either they were so important that they had the emperor’s trust…

Or they were far removed from key positions.

In fact, Derga, who was not well-versed in the affairs of the capital, had no way of knowing, but Ian had a strange hunch.

‘Why do they keep mentioning the Second Prince?’

The official successor was the First Prince, so naturally, their lord should also be the First Prince.

Of course, it wasn’t as if other princes had no followers, but most of them would be far from the center of power.

Yet the three men consistently brought up a Second Prince named Gale.

“Sir Ian, what are you thinking so deeply about?”

“No, I was just listening to your stories with interest.”

“Is that so? I must have misinterpreted. Your face was so solemn. Hoho.”

Mollin subtly drew Ian’s attention. Although he was smiling, his eyes scanning the child were sharp and persistent.

On that day, during the first luncheon, had the golden eyes he saw truly been an illusion? He had heard that mana wielders had outstanding intellectual abilities compared to ordinary people. In that case, could it be…?

“Marquis Derga.”

Mollin spoke as he wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin. As if it were a signal, Mac and D’gor stopped their conversation.

“As I felt last time, Sir Ian’s scholarship is truly remarkable, surprising even me. It must be thanks to the marquis and marchioness’s excellent educational policy.”

“…You praise us too much.”

“So I’d like to make a small request.”

At those words, Derga took a sip of wine with a slightly uneasy look.

That sly old fox. How many times had he made things difficult with the word “request”?

A brief silence arose as Derga chose his words to respond. And Ian did not miss this opportunity.

“Would you like to see my room?”

Ian asked playfully.

It wasn’t a noble way of speaking, but it was a child’s jest with manners. Scolding him sternly would be inelegant. Marchioness Mary glared at the back of Ian’s head as if her mouth was itching to say something.

“That would be nice, but this time it’s something else.”

Everyone, including Marquis Derga, focused their attention on Mollin’s words. Only Mac and D’gor remained composed, as if they had already anticipated it.