The Founding Monarch Became the Mastermind

Chapter 21

“Brother! Brother!”

“Damn it, what is it?”

A man, who had dug a small burrow below a low hill and wrapped himself tightly in a sleeping bag without even lighting a campfire, groaned as he grumbled and rose up groggily.

“It’s a disaster! They’re gone. The Janstrick guys have disappeared!”

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

The mercenary, who had been following the Janstrick Mercenary Group from Alphmarine City under orders, observing their movements, widened his eyes in shock and jumped up.

The spy who had hurriedly climbed up the hill squinted his eyes toward the distant riverbank, frowning deeply.

“Where did they go? Where the hell did they disappear to!? Hey, what the hell were you doing?”

Since they were moving in pairs, the mercenary berated his longtime partner.

“They’ve been gone since before the sun fully rose, I swear!”

“You were supposed to keep an eye on them!”

“We’re by the river! With all the fog, I couldn’t see anything since dawn! How was I supposed to keep watch?”

“Did you hear anything?”

“Not a thing. Damn it.”

“Damn it…”

The mercenary scowled.

Though his eyesight was better, his partner had an exceptionally keen ear.

The fact that such a keen-eared partner hadn’t heard anything yet the target had vanished without a trace…

“…Did they know we were tailing them?”

The mercenary, having reached a conclusion, quickly descended the hill.

“Let’s go! Hurry!”

“W-Where to?”

Stuffing his sleeping bag hastily into his backpack, the mercenary yelled at his partner.

“To the client! We’ve got to report that we lost them!”

The two mercenaries quickly packed their belongings and ran toward the direction of Jetman Estate.

***

“What? They disappeared in the middle of the night?”

Baron Jetman, who was leisurely enjoying his lunch, scowled as he practically threw down his utensils onto the table.

“Yes, according to the spy’s report, it’s clear from the traces that they headed toward our estate.”

“Ha! What the hell were those idiots doing to let them get away? Didn’t we hire competent guys?”

“They’re recognized for their skills in tracking and reconnaissance. It seems the Janstrick group camped by the river, and the fog was too thick at dawn for them to see them leaving.”

“Tsk.”

“Still, as soon as they confirmed Janstrick’s disappearance, they rushed to report to us. Considering the time, they should still be near our estate. If we follow the traces, we can catch up by tomorrow morning at the latest.”

The final destination of the royal family member, Salen, was the Si-on Duchy.

And between the bridge Salen and the Janstrick Mercenary Group crossed and the path to the Si-on Duchy stood Baron Jetman’s castle.

If he deployed his troops from the castle now, there was a chance they could encounter them before sunset.

“Alright. Send the troops immediately. What about Sir Erwin?”

“He’s already on standby, awaiting your command.”

“Tell him to move out at once. Also, let him know that I’d prefer if he left just one prisoner alive, if possible.”

Extermination. No, in this case, slaughter would be the more fitting term.

“Yes, sir!”

The attendant, filled with fear, responded frantically while glancing at Baron Jetman, who bit into his rare steak, letting blood drip down from his mouth.

***

As the spies employed by Jetman Estate had speculated, Si-on and the Janstrick Mercenary Group crossed the river long before dawn and were passing near Jetman Estate around noon.

Having rested and slept for almost eight hours since early evening, the mercenaries were in excellent condition.

Moreover, following Si-on’s orders, the group did not rush their pace.

Even though most of them were riding horses, long hours of horseback riding were highly exhausting.

Therefore, Si-on directed them to move at a pace similar to walking, with an hour of travel followed by a 20-minute rest.

During these breaks, those mercenaries who had been riding carriages took turns using spare horses for scouting and reconnaissance tasks.

“Sir Salen, I have a question.”

“What is it?”

“Is there a need to send scouts every time, even though we’re not on a battlefield and we’re not unfamiliar with the path?”

Piotr, who had studied to become a knight but was still inexperienced, asked Si-on what had been bothering him today.

Si-on, who secretly found his great-grandson’s appearance and willingness to ask questions without hesitation, very much like his youngest daughter, smiled as he answered.

“You’re right. If this were just a simple journey, there wouldn’t be a need. But we’re not just traveling; we’re choosing our battleground.”

“Ah…”

“Understand? We know the path, but not the terrain, which is why we send out scouts. Even if Jetman’s forces show up here, knowing the terrain allows us to maintain formation and maneuver accordingly.”

“Yes, I understand now. So those mercenaries aren’t scouting for enemy movements but are observing the terrain.”

“Exactly. Their job is to find the terrain I’ve instructed them to look for.”

“I see. But none of the spots you mentioned have shown up yet, have they? I see the scouts keep going out.”

“No, we’ve found a couple.”

“What? Then why…”

“We still need to keep moving. The closer we are to Jetman Castle, the quicker their reinforcements can arrive, right?”

“Oh!”

Si-on spoke softly to his great-grandson, who squinted slightly before nodding as if he had figured something out.

“Our goal is to get out of here safely. However, since there’s a high chance Jetman will attack, we’re preparing for that and, incidentally, hoping to deal a significant blow if possible. You want to become a knight, right? Command troops and achieve victory on the battlefield?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then you must cultivate the ability to distinguish between strategic and tactical objectives. A knight doesn’t necessarily need to be an excellent tactician, but having a certain level of understanding is crucial to becoming a great knight.”

“…I will remember that.”

Si-on felt pleased seeing his great-grandson respond with determined eyes and a clenched fist.

‘Well, I was never that great at tactics or strategy myself.’

During the Dark Dragon War, it wasn’t Si-on who devised the grand plans for major battles.

Si-on preferred fighting alone, and even after he gained some insight into the battlefield, commanding a force larger than a few hundred was his limit.

Once the Si-on Duchy’s forces exceeded the thousand mark, Si-on had appointed a separate supreme commander.

‘I wonder how that guy will fare.’

Si-on glanced at Stelman, who, despite his fierce appearance, had a composed look as he observed his surroundings.

He was the spitting image of his father, which meant his individual combat prowess was bound to be exceptional, but leading troops was a different story.

“By the way, how many do you think Jetman will send?”

In response to Piotr’s continued question, Si-on glanced at him and replied.

“If they have a capable knight or leader on their side, they’ll send about three hundred, with around 40 to 50 mounted.”

“Because most of them would be cavalry?”

“Exactly.”

“But… what if more than that show up?”

“Well, of course…”

I’ll take care of them all.

Suppressing his true intentions, Si-on shrugged.

“We’d run.”

“Pardon?”

Piotr, who had been observing Si-on for a while, knew him as a knight of considerable skill.

He was also a person of high status as a member of the royal family.

To hear such a person casually mention retreating… Piotr felt a twinge of disappointment.

Sensing Piotr’s thoughts, Si-on spoke in a slightly stern tone.

“A great knight should avoid battles they think they’ll lose whenever possible. Even in unavoidable situations, you must work to gain an advantageous position before engaging. Otherwise, you and those you are supposed to protect will perish. Keep that in mind.”

“…I’m sorry. I’ll definitely remember that.”

Startled at having his inner thoughts read, Piotr quickly apologized.

“Good, that’s all you need to know.”

Si-on’s expression relaxed as he reaffirmed one of his great-grandson’s strengths.

‘No matter how I look at it, it’s strange.’

Piotr glanced at Si-on’s changing expressions and tilted his head slightly.

Even though there wasn’t much of an age difference, Si-on’s attitude toward him was like that of an uncle or even a father, which still felt a bit odd.

‘But…’

He didn’t know why, but it didn’t feel unpleasant.

If it had been someone of a similar age other than Si-on, he would have likely challenged them to spar just to test their skills more than ten times already.

“Scouts are returning!”

At that moment, hearing someone’s shout, Si-on and Piotr turned their heads simultaneously.

The scout team, which had been sent back in the direction they had come from, was riding quickly toward them.

“It seems they’ve spotted Jetman’s forces.”

The only reason a rear scout would rush back like that was likely this, so Si-on muttered softly.

“Jetman’s troops have appeared from the northwest! More than two hundred in number! About twenty cavalry units, with the rest a mix of infantry! They’re about four kilometers away!”

A concise report that captured the essentials.

Furthermore, estimating such a distant figure by mere sight proved once again that they were not just any average mercenaries.

As Stelman approached, Si-on, without needing to hear a second report, quickly issued orders.

“Move at a trot. If the forward scouts haven’t found suitable terrain, merge them back in and keep sending scouts ahead.”

“Shouldn’t we move faster to widen the gap?”

Piotr, possibly tense from the impending battle, uncharacteristically questioned Si-on’s orders.

Had a veteran like Stelman asked the same, Si-on would have outright rebuked him, but since it was an honest question from an inexperienced great-grandson, Si-on answered promptly.

“If we do that, the horses will quickly tire. And remember, we have baggage wagons. Considering the time it takes to find the terrain we need and prepare for battle, it’s better to maintain distance at a trot. Let’s go!”

“Yes, sir!”

Following Si-on’s command, the Janstrick Mercenary Group pushed their horses into a trot.

A horse’s trot averages about 13 kilometers per hour. Unlike the gallop or maximum pace, which can only be maintained for a few kilometers before exhausting the horse, the trot can sustain riders for a long time.

‘But even a trot wears out the horse if prolonged. The Jetman forces have likely been trotting steadily to catch up to us.’

In contrast, their own horses had mostly been walking and taking ample rest at designated times, so they were still full of stamina.

They could maintain a trot for the next 20 to 30 minutes without getting too tired, and even if they did, a short break would easily rejuvenate them.

However, the prolonged trot had likely accumulated fatigue on Jetman’s horses and troops.

‘If only we could find the right terrain.’

As he mused, pushing his horse onward, Si-on’s ears picked up the sound of hooves coming from ahead.

His hearing, having long surpassed human limits, allowed him to detect it, but since the others couldn’t, Si-on pretended not to notice and continued riding until he met the scouts sent forward.

Upon seeing their allies moving, the forward scouts quickly approached and reported.

“There’s a terrain fitting Sir Salen’s description to the southwest, about two kilometers from here.”

“Good. That’s great news.”

Si-on nodded in approval, and Stelman stepped forward.

“Then we’ll go ahead and prepare.”

“Do that. I’ll handle the baggage wagons.”

“Yes, sir. We’ll go then.”

Stelman and the mounted mercenaries rushed ahead.

“Alright, we’re moving too. You, guide us along the way.”

“Understood!”

One of the forward scouts stayed with Si-on, while the other accompanied Stelman.

This was precisely why the scouts were organized in pairs.

“How’s the terrain you found? Did you check it yourself?”

When Si-on asked, the returning scout nodded.

“Yes, I went in myself. It’s a bit inconvenient for people and horses to move around, but it’s manageable. However, if someone tired were to stumble into it, they’d be in for a rough time.”

“Great work.”

Si-on smiled with satisfaction.

Most of the Janstrick mercenaries he had hired were knight-level fighters accustomed to mounted combat, capable of overwhelming several times their number of infantry.

But mounted enemies were a different matter.

If Si-on were to engage Jetman’s forces, his primary concern would be the knights and mounted mercenaries of Jetman’s side.

‘I’d love to see how we fare in a cavalry vs. cavalry scenario, but that’s for another time. Testing a valuable force by throwing them into the grinder right from the start won’t do.’

I’ll handle the troublesome elements myself.

So you lot, show me how you fare against the foot soldiers.

And if you fail to prove yourselves…

‘Your journey will be hell.’

An ominous smile appeared on the old warrior’s face, and Stelman shivered involuntarily at the same moment, feeling an unknown chill.