The Founding Monarch Became the Mastermind

Chapter 28

Si-on, who had stabilized the August Lord’s castle and its nearby village within a few days, began dispatching Stelman and the mercenaries to other villages located near the castle (within approximately 10 kilometers).

This distance was just right for leaving in the morning, finishing their tasks, and returning to the castle before sunset.

The mission of the mercenaries, accompanied by vassals or collateral members of the August Baron family as figureheads, was straightforward.

* * *

“The royal family and the Si-on Ducal Family have punished the acting lord for his heinous and indescribable crimes! For the time being, the August Territory will be governed by Piotr Si-on Kilburn, with Jang Oblas Salen ‘assisting’ him!”

The people of the territory, unfamiliar with difficult words like heinous, indescribable, and blasphemy, only grasped the fact that the acting lord, who had grown fat and greedy like a pig, had committed a grave sin and been removed from power.

Half of the people cheered, while the other half just accepted it without much reaction.

Surprisingly, no one grieved or was angry.

Getting beaten when struck, being plundered when taxed, and dying whether farming, grazing cattle, or gathering firewood were the fated daily realities for most people in this world.

But if someone appeared who could make them suffer a little less, be plundered a little less, and die a little less, they would shout their loyalty in praise.

High and mighty nobles, who had even sent knights (to the villagers, the Janstrick mercenaries on horseback looked like knights), were promising to beat them less, plunder them less, and let them die less.

Some cheered with hope for the future, while others, thinking one lord was much the same as another, didn’t cheer but at least felt some cautious optimism.

However, the next words jolted even those standing idly with vacant, dead fish-like eyes.

“Additionally, after Piotr Si-on Kilburn’s inspection, it was agreed that the taxes in the August Territory are somewhat excessive!”

“Oh?”

“Therefore, from this moment, all taxes on production will be reduced by 10 percent!”

“Oooh…!”

“Moreover, all fees related to agricultural tools used for sowing, cultivating, harvesting, milling, and even those used in livestock farming—cattle, sheep, pigs—will be abolished!”

“Owaaahhh!!!”

The tax rates in this world’s territories were truly brutal.

Fifty percent was the baseline, with some insane lords taxing up to 70–80 percent.

Some might argue, “Wasn’t it worse in the Middle Ages on Earth? That’s not so bad,” but that would be missing the broader picture.

Taxes were paid when a child was born, when using roads that the lord claimed to have built (even though they were already there), and when milling grain already taxed into flour.

In reality, it was common for farmers producing 100 units to be left with only 10–30, with the rest taken in taxes.

But now, 10 percent was being returned to the residents, and the usage fees for essential, costly farming tools and mills were being removed.

Essentially, taxes were effectively reduced by about 30 percent!

“From this moment, our village declares itself one with Piotr Si-on Kilburn! Any attack on Piotr Si-on Kilburn will be regarded as an attack on our village!”

Thus, it was not surprising that declarations of unity arose.

“Si-on! Si-on! Si-on! Si-on!”

“Kilburn! Kilburn! Kilburn! Kilburn!”

“Zeke Si-on (Long live Si-on)!”

Even if the last chant sounded a bit off, in any case, not even a week after Si-on occupied the lord’s castle, nearly all the residents of the August Territory had become fanatical followers of Piotr Si-on Kilburn.

* * *

“But wasn’t that too much of a tax cut all at once?”

Piotr, who had unknowingly become the idol of the August Territory without doing much himself, voiced his concerns.

However, Si-on, the mastermind behind this entire situation, remained composed.

“Why are you worrying about that?”

“Well, won’t cutting taxes so suddenly cause financial issues for the territory?”

“I’m asking why you’re worrying about it. Is this your territory?”

“Uh… no?”

“See? You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, um.”

Si-on paused what he was doing, chuckling at his great-grandson’s hesitation.

“You might not know, but even with these tax cuts, there’ll be no problem keeping this territory running.”

“Really?”

“There are about a hundred soldiers, three knights—no, now just two—and less than twenty administrative workers. It’s a miracle they’ve managed until now.”

“Yes, I see…”

Piotr, revealing his inner thought of “I don’t really get it, but I suppose it’s true,” listened attentively to Si-on.

“Why is this territory such a mess? Because the August family was hoarding more than half of the taxes collected. But now, we—or rather, I—have set up proper laws (by force). So what happens to the wealth that was flowing to the lord’s family?”

“…Ah!”

Naturally, it would be used to support the territory’s finances.

“Understand? Even with fewer taxes, the territory’s finances will improve.”

Si-on did not bother to mention that he (they) would be skimming off quite a bit of wealth in salaries, compensation, and rewards.

Even with those deductions, the August Territory’s finances would still be better than in previous years.

“But is it really okay for us to act on our own like this? No matter how you look at it, the August family is the rightful lord of this area.”

This was Piotr’s real concern.

One could say they had punished an unjust steward and established rightful laws, but in reality, wasn’t it just outright usurpation?

“Who am I?”

“Excuse me…?”

Si-on asked playfully as Piotr looked baffled.

“I’m asking, who am I?”

“Well, of course… uh?”

“That’s right. I’m Salen, a member of the Oblas royal family.”

Even though he was of a collateral branch, he was still royalty.

A royal had been struck first by the lord’s demand to disarm, and upon resolving that issue, had “coincidentally” uncovered the misdeeds of the lord’s family—such a course of action was quite natural.

“…Or so we can claim.”

“I see.”

“Of course, once the royal court hears of this, they won’t just let it slide. They’ll try to intervene, that’s what a king does.”

“Listening to you, it sounds like you already have a solution in mind?”

Si-on smiled at his perceptive great-grandson.

“We just need to establish a proper successor. The royal court doesn’t get deeply involved in matters of territories far from the royal domain.”

“Uh… doesn’t that contradict what you just said? You mentioned the royal court would try to intervene somehow.”

“They’ll intervene, but not deeply. If the royal family meddled in every succession dispute, do you think the lords would stay quiet?”

“Definitely not.”

Lords were loyal subjects of the king and paid taxes, but they were essentially independent entities—loyal subordinates and partners of the king.

If the king interfered in the family affairs of dozens of lords, not just one or two, they would have every reason to revolt.

“The royal family acts as an arbitrator. They listen, but unless directly requested, they won’t overreach.”

“…It’s complicated.”

“Yes, very complicated. That’s politics.”

“Politics…”

“You’ll need to learn some of it too.”

Piotr looked at Si-on in admiration.

“You truly are someone who was born and raised in the royal family.”

Even as a fellow noble, Si-on seemed to operate on a different scale.

“Ahem. Well, that’s true.”

Though Si-on actually knew little about politics, he had picked up bits from observing his wife, a princess, handle diplomatic matters.

During his time managing the duchy, his wife had overseen most diplomatic issues, and Si-on had usually followed her lead.

“So, should we wait until someone from the royal court arrives?”

“There’s no need for that.”

It would take time, and if Si-on’s predictions were correct, the royal court was likely in chaos right now.

“We just need to wait for someone from the Si-on Ducal Family.”

“And with that person….”

“We’ll head to the Si-on Duchy.”

Whether they would go as honored guests or as suspected enemies forced into an uneasy alliance was yet to be seen.

‘But it doesn’t really matter either way.’

However, Si-on’s prediction was partly right and partly wrong.

* * *

“August Territory? Where is that even?”

Philon, the crown prince of the Kingdom of Obla, frowned.

In his forties but still vigorous and full of energy, he spoke arrogantly as he lounged, attended by beautiful maids.

“Do I really need to know about some backwater territory’s situation, especially right now?”

“There are reports that Duke Lloyd has shown interest in the August Territory, Your Highness.”

“Hm?”

Philon’s indifferent expression changed slightly.

Duke Lloyd.

A relative of Philon, though personally his nephew, and the second in line to the throne.

Moreover, in Philon’s view, he had been acting suspiciously rebellious lately.

“What’s a duke doing snooping around in some backwater? Foolish brat. By the way, where’s Laurianne? I summoned her ages ago, what’s she up to?”

Philon’s dismissive remarks about his seven mistresses had the gathered nobles barely suppressing their sighs.

‘That foolish brat is your biggest rival!’

Some nobles choked down the thought that nearly escaped their throats.

They were the nobles who supported Philon.

To be precise, they were followers of Philon’s father, the former crown prince who passed away two years ago, loyal to Philon out of both honor and self-interest.

However, Philon, who had been largely insignificant until a few years ago, had grown into a formidable presence the moment his father died.

Unfortunately, his prominence had come with a negative connotation.

Despite being old enough to die at any moment, the king was still alive, yet the crown prince was constantly embroiled in scandals involving alcohol, violence, and women—a dire signal.

The nobles present had made every effort to contain the rumors within the capital, but it was becoming increasingly impossible.

Philon’s misconduct had worsened, and as the first in line to the throne, his actions were now under intense scrutiny.

“This is not a matter to take lightly, Your Highness.”

“What do you mean, Lord Rundel?”

Though not yet king and in a private setting, Philon addressed his uncle as “Lord,” but Earl Rundel, knowing the immense losses he’d face if his foolish nephew didn’t ascend the throne, pressed his throbbing temple.

“A peculiar piece of information has recently reached me.”

“Peculiar information?”

Philon’s curiosity was piqued as Rundel continued, making eye contact with the other nobles.

At Earl Rundel’s unspoken command—the leader of the “Ensure the Crown Prince Philon’s Safe Ascension” group—the nobles swiftly exited the room.

“You too.”

The maids, intimidated by Earl Rundel’s fierce aura, hurried out, leaving only Philon and Earl Rundel in the lavish chamber.

“What is it? What are you planning to say?”

Rundel sighed at his nephew’s curt tone, remembering how he had pampered Philon since he was a child, precious like gold.

“This information is highly confidential and must not reach any other ears.”

“So, what is it?”

“Whale.”

“Whale…? What kind of nonsense is that?”

“Whale is currently the most critical term in the upper echelons of the Information Guild.”

A former data collector, dismissed from a crucial post, had struggled until his whispers finally reached the deepest corners of the capital.