The Founding Monarch Became the Mastermind

Chapter 27

As Piotr left with a face revealing his conflicted emotions, Si-on found himself alone.

Si-on looked out the window of the lord’s office, considering visiting Baron Lyle August, who was still nominally the lord of this place, but quickly dismissed the thought.

‘At least not for now.’

Lyle was said to be suffering from a serious illness compounded by dementia, leaving him lucid for less than an hour a day.

Having witnessed the deaths of many over the years, Si-on knew well how cruel it could be to deliver the truth to someone on the brink of death.

Lyle August, Si-on’s grandson-in-law, was not an evil man, just somewhat incompetent.

According to the information Olrot provided, Lyle and his wife, Si-on’s granddaughter Roana, had a decent marriage up until her death.

Lyle had remarried due to having no sons, and the blame couldn’t rest solely on him when the son from his difficult second marriage turned out to be a crippled fool.

Of course, it’s not entirely accurate to say a father bears no responsibility for a wayward child, but Si-on decided there was no need to confront a senile man who was close to death.

“Maybe he knows and is just pretending not to.”

So let him quietly end his life in the illusions he has crafted.

Recalling the faint image of his granddaughter’s smiling face, from the time she was an infant grinning up at him to her shy smile on her wedding day, Si-on resolved to show mercy to Lyle August.

“But your son won’t be so fortunate.”

As if Lyle August were right in front of him, Si-on muttered softly.

He had a sense.

In other words, an intuition that over his time in this world, Si-on had come to realize was sharp and precise.

And right now, that intuition was signaling that Anserman August was somehow involved in the death of Si-on’s first grandson, Byron, the former Duke of Si-on.

Although this suspicion was partly based on information Olrot had gathered, Si-on felt that even without it, Anserman seemed like the type prone to “accidents” and easily exploited by others.

“The most important thing is to find evidence… but a confession would be better.”

Si-on knew over a hundred ways to make a tight-lipped suspect confess.

After all, he had learned more than just killing techniques from his many teachers.

* * *

Si-on left the office and headed to the room where Anserman August was confined.

Though he had been beaten badly in public, Anserman was still officially the acting lord, so they hadn’t thrown him in the underground dungeon but instead locked him in his usual bedroom.

Receiving salutes from the mercenaries guarding the door, Si-on entered the room.

“Eek!”

Anserman, pacing anxiously with a bruised face, recoiled in fright the moment he saw Si-on.

Without a greeting or a second of respite, Si-on abruptly spoke to Anserman, who was stumbling backward in fear.

“Anserman August, you have two choices.”

“Ch-choices?”

“First, tell me everything you know about Brian Si-on’s death and live confined in this place for the rest of your days.”

Si-on had not beaten Anserman just to vent his anger.

For a man like Anserman, who had lived his whole life acting with impunity, the violence he experienced was an unforgettable event that would haunt him forever.

And knowing the person who provided that experience was right in front of him sometimes made it impossible to control his own body’s responses.

Like right now, when he was hit with a blunt question without warning.

“……!!!”

Seeing Anserman’s wandering eyes and trembling body, Si-on was convinced.

This bastard was involved in Brian’s death.

“Wh-what are you talking about? Wh-what do I have to do with the Duke’s passing…?”

Had Anserman met Si-on under normal circumstances, in a typical formal introduction, he wouldn’t have reacted so stupidly and immediately.

Even if Si-on hadn’t been slipping on the gloves he had worn when he beat Anserman while he spoke, Anserman might have tried to maintain some semblance of his dignity as the acting lord.

However, confronted with his fear of Si-on, the direct questioning, and the symbolic gloves—representing the violence he’d endured—Anserman’s body rebelled against his will.

His behavior, to Si-on or anyone else observing, was practically a confession.

“Second, you can keep up this pathetic lie and end up with your head on a pike at the castle gate.”

“Gah!”

Anserman, who had been frantically spitting out excuses without realizing he was obviously lying, suddenly froze.

“Back to the first choice. Who was it? Who killed Brian?”

Si-on released just a hint of killing intent.

For a strong-willed person, it might feel unsettling, but to someone like Anserman, who was broken and terrified, it was enough to make his heart race and his hair stand on end.

“Ugh… I-I don’t know. I-I really don’t…”

“Let’s rephrase the question. Who comes to mind first among the Si-on family?”

“……!”

Anserman’s eyes shifted away from Si-on to somewhere else.

Noting this natural reaction of someone recalling something, Si-on smirked coldly.

“Shall we make a bet? I’ll stake your neck that the person you’re thinking of, or someone sent by them, will come here within a few days.”

‘My neck? Isn’t it usual to stake your own?’

The thought crossed Anserman’s mind, but he didn’t dare voice it.

Foolish though he was, Anserman wasn’t a complete idiot.

The man before him had already concluded that Anserman had chosen the second path, not the first.

“What about you, Anserman?”

Feeling like a dangerous beast was baring its fangs at him, Anserman finally managed to open his mouth.

“I… I…”

* * *

After attending the funeral for those who had died in the last battle, Si-on returned to the lord’s castle with a few others.

About a dozen had died, and their families were deeply moved when Si-on respectfully laid the dead to rest and stayed until the ceremony was over.

The fact that the person occupying the lord’s castle was part of both the Si-on ducal family and the royal family caused a significant stir in August Castle and the town.

Most ordinary people in this world never travel far from their hometowns throughout their lives.

For such people, having a royal family member attend a funeral was a once-in-a-lifetime event.

Moreover, this nobleman, who bore the most esteemed bloodline of the kingdom, not only covered all funeral expenses but also provided consolation money to the families of the deceased.

“The acting lord may have been incompetent and committed grave errors, but those who bravely followed his orders are blameless. I was moved by their noble honor. While honor cannot be bought with money, for the families of these men who were sons or fathers to someone, I hope to at least acknowledge their honor with some gold.”

With those words, Si-on handed out compensation to the bereaved, which was not a huge amount—about half a year’s wages for a knight or soldier.

But what mattered was that the “incompetent” acting lord didn’t even attend the funeral, nor did he offer any support.

In contrast, the “competent” occupier of the castle was directly looking after the families of those who had died fighting against him.

Moreover…

“I’ve added a little extra as a token of my regard. In the names of Si-on and Kilburn, please accept my heartfelt condolences. Your brother was a brave man.”

The handsome young man, said to be the grandson of the first Duke Si-on’s daughter, personally handed each bereaved family a gold coin while shaking their hands firmly, winning their hearts.

‘I’m not exactly thrilled by this, but what choice do I have? That’s how this world works.’

In a world where human life wasn’t highly valued, even the slightest consideration or sincerity could easily move people and make them grateful.

In a society driven by status and rank, having someone of high nobility show such compassion was an overwhelming honor for the common folk.

Thus, not long after Si-on and the Janstrick Mercenary Group took over Baron August’s castle, the residents began to view Si-on and Piotr as their new “rulers.”

“It feels… strange somehow.”

Piotr, who was born and raised in the Lagos Territory, governed by his father, Baron Kilburn, didn’t quite understand the current situation.

If someone had invaded Lagos and occupied the territory and castle, Piotr and the residents would never have accepted it quietly.

But here in August, not only the residents but even the nobles who served the August family were bowing to the reality, with some fawning over Si-on and Piotr.

“It’s because your father, Sir Kilburn, was such an excellent lord.”

“Oh, really?”

Piotr felt slightly pleased as Si-on praised his father.

“I’ve visited many territories and met many lords, but Sir Kilburn was one of the most competent I’ve encountered. Growing up in such a place, it’s understandable you’d find this situation baffling. But tell me, were the other territories we passed through much different?”

“Hmm. They were quite similar.”

“Exactly. Most territories are more or less the same. People get taxed here and there, beaten when told, and conscripted when needed. The situation’s slightly better in the directly governed lands, but most territories are like this.”

“Is the Si-on Duchy like that too?”

“No. It’s different there.”

Si-on straightened his back unconsciously, speaking with pride.

The Si-on Duchy, which he had built from the ground up, was fundamentally different.

“Oh, really?”

Piotr’s gaze seemed to question why Si-on spoke so proudly about a land that wasn’t even his own, prompting Si-on to regain his composure with a cough.

“Ahem! It’s best if you see how different it is for yourself.”

“Yes. Hearing you say that makes me quite eager to see it.”

‘Whatever you imagine, it’ll exceed your expectations, kid. You might never want to leave. Heh heh.’

Even if he wanted to leave, I wouldn’t let him.

The cunning old monster, concealing his wicked intentions for his great-grandson, simply wore a warm smile.

“You mentioned that someone might come soon, didn’t you? It’s probably someone from the Si-on family, right?”

“Yes. That’s a given, but others might come too.”

“Huh? From other places too…?”

“You’ve been with me for over a month now, haven’t you?”

“Yes. It’s been about a month and a half. But why do you ask?”

Si-on, shifting his gaze to the simple kingdom map on the wall of the lord’s office that marked a few key locations, replied.

“A month and a half—no, two months is more than enough time for word about us to spread.”

Specifically, for those few who know who I am to hear about me.

Si-on was certain that some, if not all, of that select few would react in some way.

And one of those “someones,” whether they intended it or not, would be a great help to his plans.

“In that case… could it be that the royal family has already heard about Sir Salen?”

“Of course. Someone in the royal family has definitely heard by now. Heh heh.”

That’s precisely why I’ve been stirring things up.