The Founding Monarch Became the Mastermind

Chapter 68

“Baron Bilbo’s conscript soldiers caused another rape incident at the Saint’s Inn last night!”

“How many times has it been now!? Cut that bastard’s dick off!”

“This time, it’s already been done!”

“Uh… that, well…”

“Sir Rex of Dorian, while drunk, caused a disturbance and got beaten up by the residents of the capital! Four of his teeth were broken, along with two ribs and a crack in his left shin!”

“Wow! So there are such formidable residents in the capital? Recruit them immediately! Damn it!”

“There’s a deserter from the unit Sir Cresto brought!”

“Didn’t they say there were only twenty soldiers left?”

“Yes! Now there are fifteen left!”

“Gyaaaah!”

Ten days.

In that time, which could be long or short depending on how one sees it, Count Pamel’s castle had turned into a chaotic scene reminiscent of Sodom and Gomorrah.

The force, which had numbered over 700 including the regular troops of the Pamel Count’s family, had dwindled to fewer than 500 due to deserters emerging every night.

Similarly, various incidents and accidents that occurred every night left dozens severely injured or caused physical and personal harm to the residents of the capital.

The damages the capital’s residents suffered had to be compensated by the Pamel Count’s family.

Of course, being the lord, he could have just brushed it off and suppressed it by force.

Initially, Count Pamel did exactly that.

But from three days ago, even within his own domain, Count Pamel could no longer wield his absolute power as he pleased.

* * *

“His Majesty the King is concerned.”

“……”

No matter how many vassal lords he had, Count Pamel was still a vassal of the Obla Royal Family, a subordinate of the king.

Though the Royal Family, the boss, couldn’t meddle in the affairs of large territories every time, as long as they paid a set tax every year, large territories generally enjoyed independent authority.

However, when the king himself sends an envoy to express concern, the situation changes.

Especially when the envoy arrives in the midst of gathering a large army to wage war against a duchy established by a brother-in-law of the Royal Family and one of the Six Heroes, known as the ‘Hero King.’

Thus, Count Pamel was forced to put on a façade of being a wise and just lord who does not harm his people.

‘Why now! Of all times, why send an envoy now and make a fuss!’

Count Pamel wanted nothing more than to beat the arrogant royal envoy unconscious and drown him, but he forced a smile, hiding his true feelings.

“It’s a joyous occasion that His Majesty has taken an interest in this distant land.”

“I believe the Count knows better that this is not a joyous matter. His Majesty has clearly stated his concerns.”

Looking at the envoy with slicked-back hair and a cold, calculating appearance that seemed incapable of bleeding even if stabbed, Count Pamel gritted his teeth inwardly.

“Moreover, because of the Count’s sudden assembly of troops without any justification, neighboring territories are anxious. I saw and heard it myself on my way here.”

“Anxious? Which… which territory is causing such a fuss?”

“The August Territory.”

“No, that place…!”

That’s where that Salen or whoever, supposedly a collateral branch of the Royal Family, had been playing the absurd game of being a champion of justice.

It was well known that he and his subordinates had practically turned the August Territory into a semi-royal domain, so of course, they’d side with the king!

Though he couldn’t say it aloud, Count Pamel kept his composure.

“The August Territory has had no disputes with us for hundreds of years. Why would I suddenly make the August Territory anxious now?”

“But the August Territory’s regent directly asked me to convey their anxiety.

As a frail woman, she’s already struggling and exhausted just managing daily affairs in place of Sir Salen, and the large military maneuvers in the neighboring large territory are making her so fearful that she can’t even sleep.”

“Ha….”

Count Pamel was left speechless.

While he had failed to glean any inside information about the Si-on Duchy, information about what was happening in the August Territory reached him even without effort.

It was through rumors that he learned that the acting lord was a woman, that she was rather pretty, and that she was a figure from the Information Guild.

He even knew her nickname now.

Wildcat.

He wondered how ferocious and unscrupulous she must have been to earn such a nickname despite being a woman and an acting lord.

And now, such a woman? Frail? Unable to sleep out of anxiety and fear?

‘This damn….’

Count Pamel, unable to discern whether the envoy truly believed this or was mocking him due to his utterly expressionless face, couldn’t argue with him.

He simply wished for this messed-up situation to end quickly.

If the Royal Envoy was truly an envoy, he should be accepting bribes and hospitality, yet this madman was even buying his own meals every day.

Count Pamel wished he would just disappear as soon as possible.

“Go back and tell His Majesty that there’s nothing to worry about. Let him know that it was the Si-on Duchy that first declared war.”

“I’m aware of that. However, the Count had already assembled his troops before the declaration of war. What was the reason?”

“Sir Tever, do not cross the line. Do I need to seek permission from the Royal City every time I assemble my troops in my own territory?”

Count Pamel, unable to restrain himself any longer, finally growled.

But Sir Joan Tever, Viscount and the second secretary to the current King of Obla, who had served the King for generations, merely sipped tea brewed from leaves he had brought himself, sitting with his back straight.

As Count Pamel, further incensed by his attitude, was about to say another word, Tever set down his teacup and spoke.

“There is no need, of course. However, Count, it is highly unusual for a royal vassal to assemble a force of this scale, comparable to a full mobilization, without any particular reason. You must be aware of that. And, as of last night’s information…”

“…!?”

Tever, who had silenced Count Pamel, put on a worn, gold-plated monocle and pulled out a document from his coat.

“You’ve been recruiting mercenaries from Beskara and Kobbio. And there are even reports of wandering Elves near the borders of the Count’s territory. The former has credible witnesses, and while the latter has somewhat lower reliability, I plan to investigate further.”

“No, that’s….”

Trying not to reveal how shocked he was, Count Pamel attempted a brazen excuse, only to be stunned when he saw the emblem stamped at the corner of the document Tever placed on the table.

‘The Information Guild! Then?’

It was that woman.

The wildcat, the acting lord of the August Territory, had fed information to this annoyingly incorruptible envoy.

‘That damn bitch!’

“But.”

Tever’s low voice momentarily interrupted Count Pamel’s fury that was on the verge of exploding.

“His Majesty is generous. He has stated that he will mediate once the dispute between the Pamel County and the Si-on Duchy is resolved.”

“…Does that mean whatever happens here, His Majesty won’t interfere?”

Hearing that the King planned to step in only after everything was settled, Count Pamel’s heart pounded.

The King would demand something in return for his mediation, but that was of little concern.

That’s how kings operate.

They extort more cleverly and thoroughly than minor lords and with greater finesse than grand lords.

The important thing is that they ensure the end result as well as they extort.

“I personally think differently. However, yes, His Majesty seemed inclined that way.”

“I express my respect and gratitude for His Majesty’s wise decision. Ah, just to confirm, are you saying His Majesty formally stated it?”

“I swear on my honor.”

“Good.”

Revived from the brink of despair, Count Pamel twisted his lips into a smile.

After enduring endless stress and even having to face the King’s envoy, whose every word brought stomach pain, it felt as if a tremendous weight was lifted off his shoulders.

It was like that feeling when a severe hangover made his stomach churn, and he craved something stimulating like spicy ramen or jjambbong (spicy seafood soup) to settle it.

But that doesn’t really soothe the stomach; it merely numbs it temporarily with intense spiciness.

The official stance of the medical field is that spicy food is like poison to the stomach during a hangover.

Yet, countless Korean heavy drinkers, oblivious to this fact, indulged in jjambbong the day after overdrinking yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

Count Pamel likewise downed a special spicy jjambbong from Royal Noodles, flavored with ‘Settle it between yourselves until it’s all done; we’ll step in later,’ and his brain was numb.

* * *

“Why! Why the hell hasn’t the Si-on Duchy’s forces arrived yet!?”

Count Pamel’s castle was still filled with screams.

“Should we go meet them halfway?”

“Would you?!”

“We will! The Count has ordered us to depart tomorrow!”

“Hell yeah!”

“Wooooooo!!!”

Forgetting that the fate of the Count’s territory was at stake, the retainers and officials of the Count’s castle shouted in joy.

At this rate, it seemed likely that the Pamel family would go bankrupt or that the residents would revolt even before the battle with the Si-on Ducal House could begin.

“We march! Get ready quickly!”

“What about provisions? Water?”

“Just bring water! We’ll kill those Si-on bastards and loot their supplies anyway!”

“Gather all the conscripts in one place! No, actually, tie them all up just for tonight!”

“What about the knights? They’re out of control.”

“Get them drunk and put them to bed early! The hangover will clear up on its own while marching!”

The retainers, who had been under more collective stress than their lord, Count Pamel, gave orders that would have been unimaginable just a short while ago.

The stress from the Count filtered directly down to his retainers, who in turn vented their frustrations on the lower-level officials and staff.

It was like a group of college students scrambling to finish a group project on the last day with every team member, including the professor, being completely incompetent.

“Why, why are you doing this?”

“Hehehe. Show me your back, show me your back.”

“What? Wha—ah!”

“Bind them all and throw them into the tent!”

“You fools! Do you know who I am?!”

“A country knight we won’t ever see again after tomorrow, right? Here, drink up, bottoms up! Drink, drink, drink!”

“Gulck… gulk!”

No longer wanting to think, they forcibly tied up the conscripts and threw them into tents, while knights who were usually troublemakers were force-fed alcohol.

Thus, the only forces in the capital of Pamel County that were properly prepared that night were about 300 of the Count’s direct knights and soldiers.

They, too, quickly fell asleep early in preparation for tomorrow’s march.

For the first time in a long while, the residents of the capital, freed from their torment, also sank into a peaceful and deep slumber.

In the end…

“…What on earth is this?”

While trying to infiltrate the Count’s castle, avoiding the thousand enemy troops and the tenfold more residents of the capital, Nogwe, who had still maintained a suitable level of tension, couldn’t help but be taken aback.