The Founding Monarch Became the Mastermind

Chapter 43

“Yes, understood.”

“Good. Go and relay this to the mercenaries. Tell Stelman yourself.”

“Yes, Grandfather.”

Piotr left first.

Si-on then spoke to Friel.

“I’m counting on you. As I mentioned yesterday, just share information about me with the current Elders of Namsan and Gosan. Since anyone old enough to be an Elder would know me, they’ll accept it.”

Even if they didn’t, Bael, who had been closer to Si-on than any other elf living in the duchy, would confirm it, and eventually, the elves of Gosan and Namsan would follow.

“I will, Si-on.”

“Your role is very important. If warriors from Gosan or Namsan start seeing levels, make sure to pass on what I told you.”

“I’ll record every word they see and note any changes.”

“Good. I trust you. And any suggestions or feedback for our family or the duchy…”

“I’ll communicate through Sir Piotr.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll head back to my brothers now.”

When Friel went to join the Buksan Elf warriors, only Yonas remained.

Seeing the middle-aged great-grandson glancing nervously with a troubled expression, Si-on burst into hearty laughter.

“Why do you look like a puppy needing to poop?”

“What? Oh, no, Patriarch.”

However, sensing Yonas’s concerns, Si-on spoke without losing his smile.

“Are you worried because I told you to go to the ducal castle with Piotr without me? Blint at the castle and those under him will surely be suspicious. You’re afraid of what your brother might say too?”

“Well, that’s…”

Yonas wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t, so he lowered his head.

It was a situation that fit the saying “when whales fight, shrimp’s backs get broken” perfectly—although in this case, Yonas was less a shrimp and more like a marlin or a sunfish.

Si-on had instructed Yonas to accompany Piotr to the ducal castle.

Even though Stelman’s mercenaries would be with Piotr, having Yonas and Sirvan, who held high positions among the direct descendants of the Si-on Ducal family, would make it appear as though the ducal family was in the dominant position.

It would seem like a heartwarming story about the generous ducal family welcoming back a long-lost relative.

But Piotr didn’t just have Stelman’s mercenaries with him.

Warriors from the three elf tribes—Buksan, Namsan, and Gosan—would be joining under the direction of their respective Elders.

And as Si-on had just instructed Friel, the official conversations would go through Piotr.

This was Si-on’s way of empowering Piotr while he was away for a while.

It served as a means to ensure that Blint Si-on, the great-grandson of Si-on’s eldest son, Jang Theo, and the nobles at the ducal castle, would recognize Piotr as another “Si-on” and refrain from mistreating him.

The authority given by the three elf tribes, who were closely connected to the founding patriarch Si-on, would protect Piotr.

And that authority surpassed that of direct descendants Yonas and Sirvan, who were central figures in Paloma.

So,

—The ducal family generously welcomes back a distant relative.

This story would not hold up.

Instead, it would become:

—A rightful direct descendant of Si-on has been escorted by the main family.

Additionally, Blint Si-on, who was in conflict with his uncle Gede Si-on and the relatives from the port city of Paloma, would undoubtedly distrust Yonas and Sirvan, who had “escorted” Piotr.

Moreover, Gede, who had sent Yonas and his youngest son to August Estate to keep an eye on Piotr, would also doubt his brother and son.

Thus, Yonas found himself trapped between the two whales—Blint Si-on and Gede Si-on—who were vying for control of the Si-on Duchy.

What made matters worse was that Yonas, who was always confident, turned into a nervous wreck whenever he faced his brother Gede.

“Yonas.”

“Yes, Patriarch.”

“When it’s just the two of us, you can call me Grandfather.”

“Y-Yes! Grandfather.”

Despite his worries, Yonas was deeply moved and bowed even lower.

“I understand your confusion. But just remember one thing.”

“…….”

“You are a Si-on. And I am Si-on.”

“…!”

Si-on spoke calmly to his trembling great-grandson, whose eyes were wide open.

“Keep that in your heart, stand by Piotr’s side, and watch over him. Take your time in making your judgments and decisions. I trust you, Yonas.”

“Grandfather….”

Yonas’s voice shook as he called Si-on.

But that was it.

An absolute figure, Si-on himself, had said he trusted him.

All Yonas had to do was live up to that trust.

Yonas was Si-on too, after all.

* * *

“Let’s go, you guys.”

After parting ways with everyone, Si-on crossed the forest with only his beloved Blackie and Goldie.

Though it had been decades since his last visit, Si-on navigated the deep forest without losing his way.

Having wandered the Forest Without Echoes like his own home for many years, Si-on could use distinctive landmarks like towering trees and unusual rocks as guides toward Cheolsan.

Covering a distance in three days that would have taken a normal person over six days, Si-on heard a clanging noise in the distance around noon.

“What’s this? Sounds like metal clashing?”

With hearing and vision far superior to a normal human’s, Si-on recognized the noise as metallic.

He quickly spurred his horse toward the sound.

He weaved through dense fir and spruce trees and navigated the underbrush as tall as a person. Emerging through the forest, Si-on began to hear voices amid the metallic noises.

“Get him! Catch that dwarf bastard!”

“Don’t kill him! Shit! Whatever happens later, just don’t kill him right now!”

“Aaah!”

Curses and shouts mingled with screams.

“Speed up.”

Whether it understood Si-on’s words or was spurred by the excitement of battle noises it hadn’t heard in a long time, Blackie snorted and charged through the forest at full speed.

Whoosh!

Slicing through the short underbrush, Si-on arrived at a large clearing that could accommodate dozens of campers.

“Huh?”

“What the—?!”

The people in the clearing, who had been fighting with spears, swords, and metal-clad bludgeons, turned their gaze to the unexpected intruder, Si-on.

Si-on quickly assessed the situation.

About twenty humans, armed with high-quality weapons and armor, had captured or injured ten dwarves, who lay bleeding.

One dwarf, the only one still standing, made eye contact with Si-on and ran toward him.

“Help! Save me!”

It had been a long time since Si-on heard the dwarves’ distinct awkward dialect and peculiar accent. But there was no time for nostalgia as the humans wielding long spears and clubs chased the dwarf.

“Catch him!”

The dwarf, whose short legs made him slower than the humans, sprinted desperately, covering about ten meters in no time.

One of the humans chasing him swung his arm broadly.

“Damn it!”

A dark baton spun through the air, aimed at the dwarf’s back.

At that moment, Si-on, who had already prepared himself just before the baton left the attacker’s hand, moved.

Thud!

Blackie’s hooves struck the ground as he leaped over the dwarf, and just before his hooves touched down again, Si-on’s sword moved like a ghost.

Clang!

As the baton, cut in half, clattered to the ground, Blackie landed and snorted, standing protectively over the dwarf as he faced the humans.

“What the…?”

“…!”

As the shocked humans watched, Si-on spoke.

“You’re no bandits. Mercenaries, are you?”

The armed men flinched, seemingly caught off guard, and then glared at Si-on with cold expressions.

“You must know this is near the Si-on Duchy’s mine. You attacked a dwarf scouting party fully aware of that. Who’s the lunatic that gave you this job?”

“Kill him!”

At the shout of the man who appeared to be the leader, over ten mercenaries, including the two chasing the dwarf, brandished their swords and spears and charged.

Or rather, they tried to.

Almost simultaneously, Blackie charged at them.

Thump, thump, thump!

Without any preliminary movements, Blackie closed the gap at high speed as soon as he set off.

And Si-on, mounted on his rare, extraordinary steed, swung his sword with an expressionless face.

Not just one sword, but with both hands, he wielded two blades at blinding speed, his reins left loose.

Swish! Slash!

The terrifying sound of swords cutting through the air mingled with the thunder of hooves, sending chills down the spine.

In about four to five seconds, Si-on had torn through the mercenaries.

The mercenaries in Si-on’s path collapsed, spraying blood.

None had even managed to scream.

All of them lay in heaps, their necks half-severed or their bodies split in half like bundles of straw.

“Crazy…!”

Before the stunned leader could bark orders at the remaining mercenaries,

Si-on redirected Blackie straight toward the group guarding the captured dwarves.

“Argh!”

The mercenaries here were all hardened killers, seasoned by

countless battles.

But even for those who had made a living by the sword, the shocking sight and the relentless charge of the man who had caused it drove them into a panic.

“Ugh!”

“Get out of the way!”

Too busy dodging the crazed Blackie, the mercenaries didn’t realize that unlike the first assault, Si-on wasn’t inflicting fatal wounds on them but instead was herding them in a particular direction.

Si-on was driving the mercenaries into one place.

And the first to realize this was their leader.

“What the hell are you doing, idiots?! Form ranks! Group up in threes!”

As he shouted, the leader drew a crossbow from his back.

A bolt was already loaded, so he quickly released the safety and aimed at Si-on.

“You son of a…”

The distance was barely twenty meters—impossible to dodge.

The leader pulled the trigger, and the bolt shot forward.

In that instant,

“…!?”

The leader realized it.

As he pulled the trigger, he locked eyes with Si-on.

Then, as if time had slowed, he saw the target’s arms blur into motion.

The leader knew what was happening.

It was the last thing his brain registered.

Clang!

The bolt was loosed, followed almost immediately by the sound of Si-on’s twin blades.

One blade deflected the bolt with its flat side, while the other slashed through the air like a beam of light.

Though slower than the bolt fired from the crossbow, the blade moved at a speed no human could react to and pierced the leader’s forehead.

Thud!

The sword lodged halfway through the leader’s skull, protruding from the back of his head, and he fell backward.

Thump.

As the leader fell, Si-on released the killing intent he had been suppressing for the dwarves’ sake.

The low-frequency curse that only those targeted could hear instantly paralyzed their nervous systems and bodies.

Toward the mercenaries isolated in a distant corner, Si-on, the ageless and deathless old monster, extended his lethal greeting.