The Founding Monarch Became the Mastermind

Chapter 136

Philon felt as if he were dreaming.

He already knew all too well how incredible Si-on was.

The man had once been called a Hero, so his prowess as a knight went without saying.

Moreover, considering how he had arranged the succession of the Si-on Duchy, orchestrated events in the two neighboring estates, and even managed to sever Earl Rundel from him, it was evident that his intellect was extraordinary.

However, this was an entirely different matter.

This was the realm of national strategy.

Philon could no longer fathom the extent of Si-on's broad and far-reaching vision.

Moreover...

‘How shameful.’

It seemed that kings—sovereigns—should be people like him.

Philon had merely wanted to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps and ascend the throne, without giving much thought to what he would actually do once he got there.

What if he became king and a crisis like the Monster Catastrophe struck the kingdom?

He didn’t even want to imagine it.

There was no doubt that he would have left everything to his ministers—or rather, to Earl Rundel—and spent his days indulging in pleasure with his mistresses.

"Your Highness, Crown Prince."

"...Ah, why are you calling—no, Si-on?"

Philon, lost in self-reproach and turmoil, snapped back to reality.

Si-on's gaze, which seemed to say, I know exactly what you’re thinking (and in truth, he did), made Philon shrink even further.

For decades, he had lived as a puppet, and it was none other than Si-on who had made him realize that fact—making it all the more unbearable.

However, what Si-on said next was truly unexpected.

"Your Highness's role is crucial in this matter."

"Me? Are you serious?"

"Of course. This will be the first time in the kingdom's history that an orc tribe is officially recognized as an ally and granted territory. Who else has the authority to formally propose and implement such a measure?"

"The governor could handle it directly..."

"If I take on yet another major initiative, the royal capital will start looking at me unfavorably. As they say, the nail that sticks out gets hammered down."

That was true.

No matter how much he had the king’s backing and was being elevated by Duke Lloyd, standing out too much was unwise.

Even Duke Lloyd’s own faction would begin to view him with a touch of wariness.

Isn't that guy getting a little too full of himself?

Philon, despite being a puppet, had been deeply immersed in royal capital politics. He understood this much.

In fact, even he had often cast skeptical glances at anyone in their faction who seemed to be getting ahead of themselves—excluding Earl Rundel, of course.

"It would be best for Your Highness to take the lead in this matter. And who knows?"

"Knows what?"

"You might end up becoming the Governor of Burgos—not just temporarily, but officially."

"…!"

Me? Governor of Burgos? Seriously?

No, wait. I’m the Crown Prince—why would I care about some governorship…?

"And perhaps Burgos could become the center of the northeastern region. With the most royal of royals serving as its governor, the royal capital wouldn’t treat it like an ordinary directly governed territory."

Now that he thought about it, a governor wasn’t such a minor position after all.

As Philon’s ears twitched, growing more tempted by the second, Si-on delivered the finishing blow.

"Although the northeast is less fertile and more underdeveloped than the kingdom’s western and southern regions, it is still undeniably royal territory. Furthermore, due to its proximity to Orcland in the north and the Dragon Wastelands in the east, it has long been regarded as a strategically vital region. And now, with monsters running rampant, who would be the most appropriate figure to manage and take responsibility for this region?"

"Hmph! I shall personally take charge and present this proposal to the royal capital!"

"You’ve made a wise decision."

Si-on smiled in satisfaction at Philon's words.

The royal knights who witnessed this scene were moved.

Back when Si-on had expelled Earl Rundel and acted somewhat discourteously toward the Crown Prince, they had felt a tinge of resentment toward him.

Of course, their private meeting had quickly made them realize the sheer gap in power between them—but that was one thing, and this was another. Just because someone was an exceptional swordsman didn’t mean they could be disrespectful to royalty.

But now, look.

Sir Salen was indeed a loyal subject of the kingdom!

He was willingly offering his own achievements to the Crown Prince.

Watching this noble scene unfold, the royal knights found their lingering resentment toward Si-on (mostly stemming from how he had beaten them) melting away like snow.

However...

‘I despise dealing with nuisances. If he steps up now, it’ll make my life much easier.’

The ancient schemer, who dreamed of ruling from the shadows, had his own plans.

Moreover, this decision wasn’t purely for his own benefit.

Though Philon had found a renewed sense of purpose, he still lacked confidence.

In times like these, one needed to act.

And if the task at hand was something only he could do—something that he was the best suited for—it would be all the more effective.

Any shortcomings or uncertainties could simply be covered by Si-on himself, working discreetly from the shadows, as a true mastermind should.

This way, everyone benefited—him, Philon, Burgos, and even the Brownwood Orcs along the river.

‘At this point, I might as well call this the very embodiment of utilitarianism—pursuing the greatest happiness for the greatest number.’

If this world had a Nobel Peace Prize, he was convinced that he would be its rightful recipient.

With such absurd thoughts filling his head, the ancient schemer smiled contentedly.

But the world was never a place where everyone could be happy.

There were always those who, consumed by jealousy, could only find satisfaction in trampling on the happiness of others.

"The Brownwood bastards completely fled into Obla's territory?"

"Yeah. The last traces we found led toward a human city below the Wastelands."

True to their tribal name, Black Wind, the orcs in the tent had noticeably darker skin than the average orc. Gathered around a large bonfire, they murmured among themselves.

"Were they captured? That means they’re as good as dead."

"Doesn't seem like it. Most of the tracks belonged to orcs."

"Then they went in of their own accord? Have they lost their minds?"

The warriors of the Black Wind tribe’s vanguard cocked their heads in confusion.

They were part of a pursuit squad tasked with tracking down the remnants of the Brownwood tribe.

"They’re either insane or they have a plan."

"A plan?"

The large-built orc warrior with rough, black skin and several sword scars spat out the tough flesh of the wasteland cave goblin he had been chewing and muttered.

“Did I overcook it? Tastes awful. Anyway, those Brownwood bastards must be thinking of killing humans and settling there. Or maybe they’re planning to cooperate with them.”

“Hrm? Does that even make sense?”

Orcs were aggressive and hostile toward humans, but that didn’t mean they killed every human on sight without reason.

Of course, if a human trespassed into their territory, they would split their skull open without question, but in border areas—especially those near human lands—even orcs refrained from recklessly hunting humans.

Through generations of oral tradition, they knew all too well that if they made the wrong move, hundreds or even thousands of those ‘knights’ riding warhorses would swarm in.

Even though orc warriors had far superior physical abilities and brute strength compared to humans, they weren’t without weaknesses.

And their greatest weakness was their slowness.

Of course, in terms of sheer speed, many orcs could run as fast as, or even faster than, humans.

But the real problem was that humans—especially knights—rode horses.

Most orcs were simply too large and heavy to ride horses properly.

Moreover, it was even rarer to find a horse that could withstand the frequent roars of intimidation, the ‘Orc Fear,’ that orcs emitted during battle.

Furthermore, both Orc Land and the borderlands between orcs and humans were mostly flat wastelands.

There were some canyon areas, but since orcs weren’t a settled people, they had little concept of fortification.

As a result, battles were almost always fought on open plains.

No matter how powerful and resilient an orc warrior was, under such conditions, they were at a clear disadvantage against knights.

Therefore, the idea that the Brownwood Tribe, with only a few hundred members left, would attack a human city, slaughter its inhabitants, and settle there was simply absurd.

“Then they must have cooperated with the humans?”

“That doesn’t make sense either.”

“Hmph! Those cowards who do nothing but flee after losing battles? I wouldn’t be surprised if they crawled under the humans' legs.”

“Well, that’s true. Then isn’t this matter settled? No need to concern ourselves with it any further.”

Whether they had gone mad and attacked the human city or literally crawled under the humans' legs, the Brownwood Tribe was finished.

That was why the warriors of the detachment turned to their leader—the largest, blackest, and most scarred warrior.

Their gazes seemed to say, Let’s stop wasting time chasing cowards and go find a real battle instead.

“No. That’s not it.”

“What do you mean?”

The scarred warrior reached out his large, thick hand.

Kiiaaak! Kkyat!

A scrawny cave goblin, gripped in his hand, shrieked in terror.

The warrior shoved the already broken-legged goblin straight into the campfire, pressing down firmly.

Kkiiiaaaaaaak!

A horrifying scream tore through the night outside the tent, but the orc warriors paid no heed.

Before long, the screams died down, replaced by a thick, indescribable stench of burning flesh and blood filling the tent.

Tearing off the half-roasted goblin’s head, the scarred warrior chewed on its chest with a crunch and spoke.

“Whether the Brownwood bastards attacked the human city or crawled under their legs, it’s good for us.”

“Hrm? Why’s that?”

“They’re weaklings compared to us, but against frail humans, they’re more than strong enough to win.”

“That’s true. No matter what, the Brownwood Tribe is still made up of strong orcs.”

The warriors pounded their chests with pride.

“Exactly. The Brownwood bastards will take over that human city. Then we’ll go there and crush them.”

“The humans won’t just sit by. They’ll definitely retaliate.”

“Then we negotiate and withdraw. We’ll tell them we were just eliminating traitors to the orcs. The humans won’t have anything to say against that. In fact, they might even be grateful—we’d be returning their city to them.”

Uooohhh…!

The warriors murmured in admiration. As expected of the chieftain’s son, their leader truly thought differently.

“So, the Brownwood bastards crawled under the humans’ legs? That makes them traitors to the orcs, meaning we have a reason to wipe them out. And…”

Paratu, known as the most intelligent among the chieftain’s sons, wiped his blood-stained mouth and smirked.

“We get to kill the remaining Brownwood scum and expand our territory at the same time.”

With more than 200 warriors in the pursuit squad alone, and over a thousand warriors in total, the Black Blade Gale Tribe’s next chieftain candidate burned with ambition.

“Kyaaaah!”

“It’s the orcs! The orcs are coming!”

Burgos fell into chaos at the sight of hundreds of orcs charging toward them.

The Peregrine Division and mercenaries were immediately mobilized, while the city guards and even able-bodied young men among the residents armed themselves and climbed onto the walls.

However, as soon as Si-on and Philon stepped forward, the situation quickly stabilized.

Of course, Administrator Swart, the city officials, and the Burgos elites were left utterly speechless by what Si-on said.

“Huh? You want to accept those orcs?”

“Why?”

They were so shocked and frightened that they didn’t even manage to properly convey the deference due to their governor, stammering out a half-formed question instead.

“Because those orcs will hunt the monsters swarming in from the wasteland for us in place of our own forces.”

“Ah! Aah…!”

Naturally, the esteemed Governor needed only a single sentence to enlighten the ignorant.