The Founding Monarch Became the Mastermind

Chapter 8

While Jenna immediately began taking action with the funds Si-on had given her, Si-on headed to the last inn he had visited before entering the Dragon’s Wasteland.

He had an important matter to attend to, just as crucial as checking the reports stored at the Information Guild.

“Welcome! Will you be staying, or just here for a meal?”

As befitting a world where children’s rights were sold to the dogs, a boy who looked no older than twelve or thirteen greeted him at the entrance.

“I’ll eat later. I’m here to pick up my horses.”

“Excuse me? Horses?”

“Yes, two of them.”

“Uh…”

The boy hesitated and looked Si-on up and down.

But the boy, accustomed to working here at a young age and thus having a better eye and memory than his peers, quickly concluded that he had never seen this young guest before.

“Sorry, but are you sure you’re not confusing us with another inn?”

The boy asked as politely as he could. Even though Burgos was a relatively safe place, armed mercenaries were still scary.

“No, this is the right place. Twilight Inn of the Wasteland. When I was here last, a guy with a weird mustache and a bit of a limp took my horses.”

“Oh… Are you talking about Brother Caman?”

“I don’t know his name.”

“Sounds like Brother Caman. But he’s been working in the kitchen since last year.”

“That’s none of my business. Just bring my horses.”

Si-on pulled out two small tokens, each about the size of a thumb.

They were given to long-term customers who left their horses at the inn’s stables, and naturally, Si-on had received them when he entrusted his black and golden-yellow horses during his last visit.

“Oh? They’re real?”

“Would I have fakes? I told you it might take a while when I left them. Go tell the owner and bring my horses.”

“Uh… okay, just a moment.”

The boy had been taking care of guests’ horses—moving them to the stable and feeding them—for over a year, but no matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t remember this guest.

However, the tokens the guest showed were undoubtedly from the inn, so the boy, scratching his head, quickly ran inside.

Soon, the boy returned with the stout and burly innkeeper, whom Si-on had seen once before.

“Horses? There hasn’t been a single guest on horseback for three days.”

“I thought it was strange too, but he has the tokens.”

“Damn it.”

The innkeeper inspected the tokens in his hand and glanced at Si-on.

Though Si-on’s appearance, wearing a long hood to shield from the wasteland’s dusty winds, was similar to other mercenaries, his youthful and slender build caused the innkeeper’s eyes to change subtly.

He had underestimated him.

“These look a lot like our inn’s tokens, but are you sure they’re not forged?”

A smile crept onto Si-on’s lips.

It was understandable that they would speak to him informally, mistaking him for a man in his mid-twenties. He had encountered this many times and was no longer bothered by it.

But questioning the tokens as fake was another issue.

Still, Si-on decided to let it slide this time.

It had been more than six years, not just a few months, so it was expected that some complications might arise.

“I left two horses, one black and one nearly golden, six years and eight months ago. I made it clear it might take a while, and I paid for two years in advance. Here.”

Thud!

Si-on tossed something, and the innkeeper instinctively caught it.

“……!”

The innkeeper’s eyes widened at the sight of the gleaming gold coins inside the small pouch.

“The fee was 500 dien per horse per month, right? Twenty imperial gold coins should cover the care during that time. Keep the change.”

“Uh…”

Despite holding a sum equivalent to half a year’s income, the innkeeper’s expression wasn’t bright.

As soon as Si-on mentioned the horses, he remembered everything at once.

‘Shit… I’m screwed.’

It was true that this young mercenary—or knight—had left two horses here six years and several months ago and had paid two years in advance.

The problem was that when he didn’t return to retrieve them within six months, and then a year passed, the innkeeper had simply sold the horses.

‘Damn it. I thought he was dead in the Wasteland.’

Cold sweat ran down the innkeeper’s back. He had sold the horses, thinking their owner had died.

Selling or disposing of someone else’s horses was a serious crime.

Moreover, these were not ordinary workhorses but fine warhorses.

The black one, in particular, had been so vicious and unruly that it had caused injuries to the workers when it was sold.

If it became known that he had disposed of two warhorses without permission, he would have to compensate up to ten times their value—or face execution.

The twenty gold coins he had just received were the least of his concerns.

“Well, um, sir, the thing is…”

“My horses. You didn’t sell them, did you?”

Si-on’s eyes turned cold as he pieced together what had happened from the innkeeper’s changing expression.

“Well, you see… I thought you had died… When you didn’t come back for years, I just assumed.”

In times like this, it’s usually the one who shouts louder that comes out on top.

Being a native of Burgos and on good terms with the local influential families, the innkeeper, who had judged Si-on to be weak from his appearance, decided to brazen it out.

“You should’ve contacted us! What, do you think I feed and house horses for free? Let me put it this way—I kept them for an extra year, so that’s almost three years in total! Isn’t that more than enough?”

In truth, he had sold the horses the moment a year had passed, but the innkeeper had to keep pushing his case.

Who cared about the truth? What could this drifter mercenary do?

If he didn’t want to get beaten to a pulp and kicked out as a half-dead man, he’d better just let it go.

“Look! Let’s call this even for the horse sale. Those horses were weak and old, and they were hard to sell anyway. Now, take your money and leave.”

The innkeeper threw the pouch back at Si-on and turned his back on him.

Swoosh! Thud!

Suddenly, something brushed past the innkeeper’s right earlobe and struck the door with a loud noise.

“Eek!?”

Grabbing his burning ear, the innkeeper stumbled back, reeling from the sudden pain.

Step. Step.

Si-on pulled the dagger that was half-embedded in the wooden door and looked at the innkeeper.

“Stop spewing nonsense and bring me my horses.”

Si-on was a fundamentally rational person.

Despite having lived in this violent world filled with murder for so many years, he had tried to maintain a line, behaving like an educated and civilized person.

However, that line had blurred as he watched his wife and children pass away one by one.

And during his long search for the world’s secrets and mysteries, his attitude had shifted to a more careless, let-it-be approach.

Still, he continued to act reasonably toward those he respected or needed and toward ordinary people.

But if someone crossed that line and broke the rules first?

Imagine if someone in Korea had paid for a two-year parking permit in advance to park a Bugatti La Voiture Noire worth over 20 billion won—a car that money alone couldn’t always buy. Then, because the owner didn’t show up, the parking lot owner sold it as stolen goods.

Having lived for over a hundred years as an immortal, Si-on was more than ready to show what true power abuse and chaos looked like.

Especially after learning that the family and estate he and his wife had worked so hard to establish had been ruined by their descendants.

“I’ll give you one day. Either bring me my horses or use everything at your disposal to stop me. But just so you know, whatever the outcome, it won’t end there. Of course, there’s a small but significant difference between the two.”

“W-What the hell are you talking about…?”

“If you choose the first, you live. If you choose the second, you die.”

“……!”

The innkeeper, who had underestimated Si-on due to his delicate appearance, struggled to maintain his defiance under the unknown pressure emanating from him.

Though Si-on had not even unleashed his killing intent, the innkeeper turned pale and stumbled backward.

“Go. Either bring my horses or fetch someone to stop me. I’ll be waiting.”

With those words, Si-on strode into the inn’s pub.

“M-Master, are you okay?”

“What do you think? Go to the guards, you idiot!”

“W-What?”

“What do you think? Tell them there’s a robber causing trouble! Oh, and don’t bring them in right away—make sure they wait about ten minutes before coming into the inn.”

“Uh… okay.”

The boy felt something was off, but he couldn’t defy the person who fed and sheltered him, so he quickly ran to the guard station.

“You little shit… Threatening me? You’re dead, you bastard.”

Grabbing his bleeding ear, the innkeeper also hurried off somewhere.

Being a town, Burgos had everything one might need.

Including thugs and low-life mercenaries.

* * *

Si-on ordered a glass of the inn’s stale beer but only took a sip before crossing his arms and sinking into thought.

The innkeeper was barely on his mind anymore.

‘If someone bought Blackie and Goldie at the same time, they’d have to be wealthy or have a solid backing. If they have an eye for horses, they’d still be keeping them.’

Blackie was more of a demonic beast than a prized horse, and Goldie was also bought for a considerable sum.

While Si-on usually rode Blackie for travel and combat, Goldie served as a pack horse, though it could still function as a warhorse in emergencies.

Although nearly seven years had passed, both horses were about fifteen years old, with a life expectancy of around thirty, so they were still in their prime.

Especially Blackie, who was so exceptional that he would likely live well past thirty, just like his sire.

‘Whoever bought them will talk once I rough them up a bit.’

Si-on was furious, but that wasn’t the only reason he had threatened the innkeeper.

Since faking his death and leaving the Duchy, Si-on had faced several similar incidents.

Despite his anger, he was too experienced to act recklessly just because of his emotions.

Bang!

Suddenly, the pub door burst open, and a group of men stormed inside.

“Where is he? Which bastard is it?”

“Damn, it’s too dark to see properly. Hey, old-timers, stop drinking in the middle of the day and get out.”

With a look that clearly marked them as thugs, the men kicked chairs and tables, driving the few patrons out while grumbling.

“There! It’s that guy.”

The innkeeper spotted Si-on in the corner and pointed.

The boss of the Black Hounds—the only gang in Burgos with double-digit members—swaggered over to Si-on.

“What the hell are you? A mercenary? Damn, you look more like a pretty boy whore tagging along with mercenaries.”

The boss’s lackeys snickered at his remark.

Si-on’s appearance was undeniably handsome, though not particularly feminine.

In fact, he had a distinctly masculine and rugged face.

However, as an immortal, his skin was unscarred, and his face free of wrinkles, making him look more like a young noble who had never seen hardship rather than a battle-worn mercenary.

This made the Black Hounds, who had crawled up from the gutter, view Si-on with disdain.

Even without the innkeeper’s payment, they likely would have picked a fight with him if they had seen him outside.

Screech.

The boss dragged a chair and sat down directly in front of Si-on, who still had his arms crossed.

With a scowl, the boss sneered at Si-on.

“Hey, you little shit. Do you know where you are, causing a scene? Apologize to old man Bol and pay up. You’ve got some money, so show some respect.”

Si-on smirked.

Not because he found it amusing.

“Is there some kind of handbook?”

“What? What the hell are you talking about?”

“You low-life thugs always say the same lines. Is there a manual for being a third-rate gangster? Oh, but you probably can’t read anyway…”

“You son of a—!”

The boss pulled out a hidden dagger from his sleeve and swung it.

In that instant, Si-on, who had been sitting with his arms crossed, moved his hand in a blur.

Whack!

Si-on struck the boss’s hand with the edge of his palm, caught the blade between his thumb and index finger, and flipped the knife around in a smooth motion.

But no one else saw it.

To the boss and his gang, it simply looked like the knife had somehow switched hands after a single blink.

“You started this.”

Si-on grinned at the boss, who froze in shock.

“Huh… Urgh…”

“Ack, it hurts! Please stop…”

It didn’t take long for the boss and his thugs to end up writhing on the pub floor.

Maybe a minute at most?

Si-on had precisely struck their weak points, shattering kneecaps and ankles of those who tried to run.

When the boss’s nose was smashed in, and both knees were shattered, the innkeeper collapsed on the spot, rubbing his backside against the floor.

“Huh, huh…”

As Si-on approached, the innkeeper tried to crawl away.

Grabbing the last of his hair, Si-on yanked his head up.

“Ah! Aaargh!”

The innkeeper wailed, his scalp burning under Si-on’s inhuman grip.

Si-on slapped him across the face repeatedly, then pulled his bloodied face closer and spoke in a low voice.

“I told you, didn’t I? If you chose the second option, you’d die.”

“Huh… P-Please…”

Just then, the pub door burst open, drawing Si-on’s attention.

“There! That’s him!”

The boy had brought the guards.

“What the hell’s going on? Hey! You there, drop him!”

The guards, startled by the carnage inside, raised their spears and shortswords at Si-on, shouting.

“Hey! Go get the others!”

“Y-Yes!”

One of the guards gulped and stared at Si-on, who remained completely unfazed, even in the face of armed guards.

Seven thugs had been beaten into a bloody mess, and Si-on hadn’t even flinched when the guards showed up.

This realization made the guards quiver in fear.

At the same time, the guard realized that Si-on was someone he couldn’t possibly handle on his own.

“H-Hey, listen. Just put him down. If this escalates, you’ll only get hurt. We’ll figure things out, but for now, just…”

“Sure.”

Si-on dropped the innkeeper without hesitation and sat back down.

“Huh…?”

The guard was flabbergasted by Si-on’s calm demeanor.

Given the situation, the brutality of the scene, and the formidable aura Si-on exuded, the guard had expected this to escalate further, not end so simply.

Thud.

Si-on tossed something in front of the guard.

The confused guard hesitated, and Si-on spoke.

“Bring someone who can recognize that, from your direct superior to the highest authority in town.”

“Uh…”

The guard carefully picked up the object and examined it.

It was a palm-sized golden plate, embossed with an intricately carved lion standing on its hind legs with a sword in its mouth.

Though it looked familiar, the guard did not recognize it as an emblem reserved for the direct royal line of the Obla Kingdom.