The Founding Monarch Became the Mastermind

Chapter 138

As the bodies of the monsters captured by the orc warriors were transported, a small festival broke out in Burgos.

There were over five hundred small monsters and nearly a hundred medium-sized ones. Even if they were simply sold for byproducts, the profits would amount to nearly ten million Dien.

Never in Burgos' history had so many monsters been hunted at once. No, even across the entire northeastern region, this was likely the first time.

So, the local authorities pooled their money to slaughter pigs and sheep, providing beer and wine to the residents.

Even the Brownwood Orcs by the river received a generous share of meat and alcohol. Ten barrels of beer and over a hundred freshly slaughtered animals were sent to the orc district, where they, too, held a feast.

It seemed that Si-on’s earlier words about "the greatest happiness for the greatest number" had come true in Burgos.

However, one group couldn't exactly share in the joy.

That was the dwarven artisans and the craftsmen working under them, who had suddenly found themselves overwhelmed with work.

"I'm sorry about this. The dismantling is urgent, so once that’s done, make sure to take turns enjoying yourselves."

"We didn’t expect any rest when we came here. Just make sure we get plenty of beer."

The dwarven artisans, who still didn’t know Si-on’s true identity, grumbled.

"Don't worry about that. I'll make sure you get as much as you can handle. Ah, and once the dismantling is finished, take turns resting for a day."

"Keh! You're a hundred times better than the Mine Master, Sir Salen. Hahaha!"

Satisfied with their reaction, Si-on continued to encourage them before casually asking,

"By the way, how’s the iron ore here?"

"It's decent enough. The quality is slightly lower than Cheolsan’s, but it should be fine for making third- and fourth-grade weapons."

The reason Si-on had set up a workshop in Burgos was precisely because the surrounding territories produced fairly good-quality iron ore.

No matter how skilled the dwarves were, if the base material was poor, it would all be for nothing. Burgos had the right conditions for the dwarven artisans to fully utilize their abilities.

"You understand, it has to be good enough that veteran knights and mercenaries would want it. But it can’t be too good."

"We're regulating it carefully. By the standards of the duchy, it’s slightly below third-grade, but compared to the trash weapons around here, it's leagues better. Anyone who uses it even once will come back for more."

"Excellent."

Si-on nodded in satisfaction.

In response to the Monster Crisis, Si-on had ordered the production of weapons and armor in the duchy to be classified into three grades: first, second, and third.

First-grade weapons were luxury items reserved for the elite forces of the Si-on Duchy and were not for sale. Second-grade weapons, used by the duchy's regular army, were designated for sale outside the territory.

Although labeled "second-grade," these weapons were so superior that they could be sold at the same price as silver of equivalent weight in other kingdoms or territories. Naturally, wealthy nobles and knights were their primary buyers.

Moreover, due to limited supply, the final market price was two to three times what the ducal house sold them to intermediaries for, and even then, demand far outstripped supply.

Thus, the most commonly produced and sold weapons were third-grade.

But even these were nothing to scoff at.

The third-grade weapons matched the quality of those used by the former Si-on Duchy Guard and the current regular army of the Kingdom of Obla.

Their popularity was inevitable.

Take the northeastern region, for example. Until now, only estate knights and veteran mercenary captains had used weapons of similar quality to the duchy's third-grade gear.

Now, these weapons were being sold for half the price of what knights' weapons usually cost, so naturally, everyone was eager to switch.

For mercenaries, it was a game-changer.

Previously, their weapons would chip or break after just a couple of fights against large monsters, driving them to the brink of madness.

Yet, buying the weapons knights used was out of the question—they were simply too expensive.

A single sword alone would cost them three to four months' income. If they wanted decent armor and a shield as well, they'd have to empty at least six months' worth of earnings.

But when the dwarven artisans brought by Si-on began mass-producing weapons and armor in Burgos, everything changed.

Although there were minor differences, spears, swords, axes, daggers, shields, armor, greaves, and vambraces—any equipment containing metal—now matched the strength and quality of what knights previously used, but at half the cost.

Those who could afford it bought entire sets immediately, while even mercenaries with little money managed to buy at least one or two pieces.

And if someone had absolutely no money?

There was still a way.

Burgos offered a system where mercenaries could rent equipment and, after participating in two or three hunts for free, the gear would be theirs to keep.

No food, no lodging, nothing but the weapons themselves were provided—but even that was enough to make mercenaries flock to the city.

Of course, not everyone was happy about this.

The blacksmiths of Burgos and the entire northeastern region, whose income had suddenly been cut in half or worse, were up in arms.

Some even carried their own weapons and dramatically threatened to kill themselves.

But once the dwarven artisans shared the secrets of heat-resistant bricks and new furnace-making techniques, and once Burgos declared it would not produce any metal goods other than weapons and armor, the blacksmiths quickly abandoned their protests.

Thanks to the dwarves’ teachings, their smelting and steelmaking techniques advanced significantly, and since blacksmiths weren’t limited to just making weapons, they were reassured by Burgos' stance.

In this way, Si-on and his dwarven artisans had not only improved Burgos but elevated the entire northeastern region's civilization.

And this was far more significant than merely addressing the Monster Crisis.

After all, throughout human history, advancements in civilization had always been tied to the mastery of ironworking. The same held true for this world.

"Grandfather, aren't you giving away too much?"

Even Sirvan, who didn't fully grasp the significance of this, asked cautiously, his face filled with concern.

"It's fine. If we advance too far ahead alone, it won't be good for us. While we can't completely suppress opposition, we need to do at least this much to avoid backlash."

"I see…"

Sirvan didn't fully understand, but he nodded. Philon, standing beside him, also looked unconvinced.

Si-on decided to explain to the two potential rulers who followed him. Even if others didn’t get it, these two needed to understand for the sake of the future.

"The truth is, the technology our dwarven artisans shared isn't that important. Even if we hadn’t taught them, they would have figured it out within a few years or learned it from somewhere else. That’s why the dwarves were willing to pass it down."

"I see…"

But the two still weren’t entirely convinced. As rulers, they wondered if it was truly the right decision.

"If we kept the technology to ourselves, only weapons made in the duchy or Burgos would sell, right?"

"Yes."

So wouldn’t it be better to strictly guard the secret and maintain a monopoly? That was their thought.

"Sure, at first. If only our weapons sell, our profits will skyrocket. But we can’t supply all the weapons and armor needed by the entire world. Someone will start producing lower-quality versions. And remember, most forges are directly controlled by local lords. If their products stop selling, their profits will shrink. That means they'll squeeze their subjects harder. Now, what happens then? With less money and goods in circulation, the economies of their territories will decline. And in the end…"

"……"

"They'll no longer be able to afford our weapons. Our potential customers will disappear."

"Ah…!"

"If the lords and their people are broke, in a year or two, sales of our weapons will drop significantly. No, it’s guaranteed to happen."

“So, we need to cultivate customers who will keep buying our goods and go beyond merely sustaining the economy of the Northeastern region—we must guide it towards moderate development. That, in turn, will lead to the continuous growth of Burgos and the Si-on Duchy, along with increasing profits.”

The two monarch candidates, who had an age difference akin to that of an uncle and nephew, couldn't hide their admiration as they nodded enthusiastically at Si-on’s explanation.

“It’s a fundamental principle. Also, we must carefully control the pace. If we’re not cautious, we might end up creating a formidable competitor with our own hands. Keep that in mind.”

“Yes, sir!”

Seeing two grown men staring at him with sparkling eyes was slightly overwhelming.

Knock, knock!

At that moment, a knock sounded, and someone quickly opened the door and entered.

It was Stelman.

“I have a report to make.”

As Stelman gave a crisp military salute, Philon turned to Si-on and spoke.

“We need to depart for the capital tomorrow, so we’ll go and make preparations.”

“Go ahead. And Sirvan, your role is crucial.”

“Leave it to me, Grandfather.”

Sirvan responded energetically.

He was set to accompany Philon to the capital regarding the issue with the orcs. Officially, his purpose was to report on the matter in place of Si-on, the 'Governor of Burgos,' but in reality, he had been entrusted with a highly significant mission by Si-on.

Heading to the capital after such a long time and being personally assigned an independent mission by the revered Founding Patriarch filled Sirvan with immense pride.

“Then, please continue your discussion.”

After Sirvan and Philon left the office, Stelman spoke with a slightly stiff expression.

“The scouting party has spotted a group of orcs.”

“Is it them?”

“Yes. According to the report, they had darkish skin, so it seems certain. It’s undoubtedly the Black Wind Clan.”

“They arrived later than expected. What’s their number?”

Si-on wasn’t surprised at all, as he had already anticipated that they would follow the Brownwood Clan along the riverbank.

“Twelve. It’s likely a scouting or advance unit.”

“That’s probable. The main pursuit force must be farther behind. Still, they’ve done well to track us this far. When were they spotted?”

“About an hour ago. The scouts confirmed the numbers and immediately rushed back.”

“An hour, huh? Perfect.”

“Huh? What do you mean by ‘perfect’...?”

Si-on responded to Stelman’s puzzled expression with a cold smile.

“By now, those bastards should be heading back to regroup with their main pursuit force. It’s the perfect chance to follow them.”

“……!”

Stelman’s eyes widened before he broke into a grin.

“That makes sense. I’ll get the men ready immediately.”

The prospect of engaging in a real battle for the first time in a while fired Stelman up.

However—

“What are you talking about? I’m going alone.”

“What!?”

“This might take several days. Besides, everyone has tasks to handle. Are you all planning to abandon your duties to come along?”

“Ah, well, that’s…”

Indeed, every single member of the Peregrine Division, including Stelman, had responsibilities to fulfill.

They had so much work that even if they left for just two days, chaos would ensue.

The most pressing issue was providing combat support to the Northeastern territories, which absolutely had to proceed as scheduled.

“I’m the only one around here with nothing much to do.”

“But, Your Highness, if you leave, there’ll be problems with reporting structures and final decisions…”

Stelman, having picked up some official terminology, tried to argue with difficult words.

“The plans are already finalized. All that’s left is stamping approvals. And we have the Administrator, don’t we?”

“Oh.”

That was true.

Although Swart, the Administrator, always seemed like he was busy buttering up Si-on, in reality, he was the one handling all the administrative work that followed Si-on’s grand strategies.

In fact, in Burgos, Swart might be even more crucial than Si-on himself.

“Stick to the plan and carry out your duties as scheduled. Just inform the Administrator. Only the two of you should know that I’m going after the orcs.”

“…Understood.”

Leaving behind the disappointed Stelman, who had lost a chance to fight alongside him, the most leisurely half-retired ancient monster in the busy city of Burgos quietly exited his office and headed for the back gate.

Blackie, whom he had stationed in advance for such occasions, snorted and welcomed his master.

Since mobility was crucial for this mission, Goldie was left behind.

Si-on swiftly mounted the saddle, pulled his hood low, and rode out through the back road.

Once he was completely out of sight of people, he spurred his horse forward.

Ten minutes later.

After fully leaving Burgos behind, Si-on dismounted.

“Well done. Take a break, drink some water after I unload the gear.”

Si-on untied a bundle wrapped in brown leather from Blackie’s back.

As he quickly unraveled the cords, the contents were revealed, and he gazed at them with a nostalgic look.

“It’s been a long time. Seventy years? Or has it been even longer?”

What lay before him was a pitch-black full plate armor.

Long ago, Si-on had worn this very armor as he massacred orc warriors in Orcland.

But why would someone who had already transcended into the realm of superhumans bother wearing plate armor?

There was a reason. A very important one.

“The Black Wind Clan… I know exactly why you added ‘Black’ to your tribe’s name.”

Was it simply because their skin was dark?

That might be part of it.

However, the moment Si-on heard that the Black Wind Clan was slaughtering other orc tribes, he immediately realized the truth.

They were imitating him.

They were mimicking the Black Massacre of Orcland—his former self.

“Then I suppose it’s time to show you the original.”