🔊 TTS Settings
With the funds he had received, Jenna immediately sprang into action that very day, while Sion headed to the inn he had stopped at one last time before entering the Dragon Wastelands.
He had business there that was just as important as checking the reports piled up at the information guild.
“Welcome! Are you planning to stay the night, or just have a meal?”
True to this world where child labor laws meant nothing, a boy of maybe twelve or thirteen greeted him at the entrance.
“I’ll eat later. For now, I’m here to pick up my horses.”
“Huh? Horses?”
“Yeah. Two of them.”
“Uh…”
The boy looked him up and down, slightly confused.
But as someone who’d been working in a place like this from a young age, his eyesight and memory were sharper than most kids his age, and he quickly concluded that this young man was a first-time customer.
“Um, excuse me, sir, but… are you sure you didn’t mistake this for another inn?”
The boy asked politely and carefully. Burgos was a fairly safe town, but armed mercenaries were still scary.
“No. This is the right place. Twilight Inn of the Wastelands. Last time I was here, a guy with a weird mustache and a limp took my horses.”
“Oh… are you talking about Brother Kaman, by any chance?”
“I wouldn’t know his name.”
“I think that’s probably him, yeah. But… he’s been working in the kitchen since last year.”
“That’s not my problem. Just bring my horses.”
Sion held out two thumb-sized wooden tokens.
They were proof given to customers who left their horses at the inn for long periods. He had received them when he entrusted Blackie and Yellow before heading into the Wastelands.
“Huh? These are real?”
“Of course they are. I told the owner back then that it might take a while before I came back. So go tell him and bring my horses.”
“Uh… okay, wait here.”
The boy had been working at the inn, tending to guests’ horses, for over a year, but he had never seen this man before.
Still, since the tokens were undeniably real, he tilted his head and hurried inside.
Before long, he returned with the plump, burly innkeeper whom Sion vaguely remembered.
“What the hell are you talking about? We haven’t had a single guest ride in for the past three days.”
“I know, that’s why I was confused too—but he’s got the tokens.”
“Tch.”
The innkeeper turned the wooden tokens over in his hands, then gave Sion a quick, appraising look.
Sion wore a long hooded cloak like most mercenaries, to block the wasteland dust, but his youthful, handsome face and lean build made the innkeeper’s eyes change subtly.
He thought Sion looked easy to push around.
“They look like ours, yeah. But how do I know you didn’t forge them somewhere?”
Sion’s lips curled into a faint smile.
He was used to people casually talking down to him because he looked like he was in his mid-twenties. It didn’t even bother him anymore.
But accusing him of forgery was a different story.
Still, he decided to let it slide for now.
It had been over six years since he’d last been here—issues like this were to be expected.
“Six years and eight months ago, I left a black stallion and a golden-yellow horse here. I clearly said I might be gone for a while, and I paid two years in advance. Here.”
Thud!
Sion tossed something, and the innkeeper reflexively caught it.
“…!”
His eyes widened at the sight of shining gold coins inside the small pouch.
“The boarding fee was 500 Dien per horse per month, right? Twenty imperial gold coins should cover all the costs you’ve incurred. Keep the change.”
“Uh…”
Even though he’d just received a fortune equal to half a year’s income, the innkeeper’s expression didn’t brighten.
Because the moment Sion mentioned leaving horses years ago, the innkeeper remembered exactly what had happened.
‘Shit… I’m screwed.’
The young man standing before him had indeed left two horses here over six years ago. He’d paid for two years in advance too.
The problem was… the innkeeper had assumed the man would return within six months.
When he didn’t show up after a full year, the innkeeper sold the horses.
‘Damn it. I thought he died out in the Dragon Wastelands.’
Cold sweat trickled down the innkeeper’s back.
Selling or stealing someone else’s horses was a serious crime.
And those weren’t ordinary draft horses either—they were valuable warhorses.
Especially the black one—it was vicious and hard to handle. When they sold it, it caused so much trouble that several stablehands were injured.
Getting caught for this meant paying ten times the horses’ value at minimum… or execution at worst.
Twenty gold coins were the least of his worries.
“Ah, well, sir, about that…”
“…Don’t tell me you sold my horses.”
The shift in the innkeeper’s expression was all Sion needed to understand what had happened.
“W-Well, I thought you were dead! You disappeared for years—I assumed—!”
In situations like this, the loudest guy usually wins.
The innkeeper, a Burgos local with plenty of friends among the town’s influential families, decided to bluster his way through.
“You should’ve contacted us! What, you think I feed and board horses for free? And you know what? I actually took care of them for another year! Total of three years! I did more than enough!”
In truth, he’d sold them right after the first year, but he wasn’t going to admit that.
‘What’s he gonna do? Some wandering mercenary?’
“If you’ve got a problem, take this back. Consider it what the horses sold for. They were old and weak anyway, hard to get a good price. Now get lost.”
The innkeeper threw Sion’s money pouch back and turned away.
Whoosh! Thunk!
Something whizzed past the innkeeper’s right ear and embedded itself into the door with a loud crack.
“Eek!?”
Warm pain blossomed from his earlobe as he staggered back.
Step. Step.
Sion walked over, pulled his dagger out of the door, and stared at the innkeeper.
“Stop talking crap and bring me my horses.”
Sion was a rational man by nature.
He had spent decades surviving in a brutal, violent world while trying to maintain his civility and reason.
But that civility had worn thin after losing his wife and children, and after years spent chasing the world’s mysteries, he’d stopped caring so much.
He was still reasonable toward those he respected or ordinary people—but if someone crossed the line first?
It was like someone had sold a Bugatti La Voiture Noire worth hundreds of millions, after being paid for two years of valet parking, just because the owner hadn’t shown up.
This immortal man who’d lived over a century was more than ready to show them what real wrath looked like.
Especially after hearing how his descendants had ruined the family and territory he and his wife had built with their sweat and blood.
“I’ll give you one day. Either bring me my horses, or throw everything you have into stopping me. I’ll tell you now—either way, this won’t end there. The difference between the two is… small, but significant.”
“Wh-What the hell are you talking about—”
“If you choose the first option, you live. If you choose the second, you die.”
“……!”
The innkeeper clammed up at the sheer pressure radiating from Sion.
He hadn’t even released killing intent, yet the man was pale and trembling.
“Go. Bring my horses… or bring someone who can stop me. I’ll be waiting.”
Sion strode into the tavern attached to the inn.
“Boss, are you okay?”
“Okay? Hell no! Go tell the guards—now!”
“Huh? Tell them what?”
“What do you think!? Tell them some thug’s threatening us! And don’t bring them right away—wait ten minutes first, then come in.”
“Uh… okay.”
The boy didn’t think that was right, but he couldn’t disobey his employer. He ran off toward the town guard post.
“You bastard. Threatening me in my own place? You’re dead.”
The innkeeper muttered curses as he hurried off too.
Burgos was a proper town. Which meant it had everything—including gangsters and scummy mercenaries.
Sion ordered a mug of stale beer, took a single sip, then crossed his arms and fell into thought.
The innkeeper barely crossed his mind anymore.
‘Whoever bought Blackie and Yellow must’ve had money or power. If they had any sense, they’d have kept them.’
Both horses were exceptional warhorses, especially Blackie, who was practically a monster.
Even after seven years, at around fifteen years old, both were still in their prime, given a horse’s lifespan of thirty years.
Blackie, being special, could live even longer.
‘Whoever bought them… I’ll make them talk.’
Yes, he was furious—but this wasn’t some thoughtless outburst.
He’d gone through similar situations many times after faking his death and leaving the duchy.
He was far too experienced to act on emotion alone.
Bang!
The tavern door slammed open and a group of thugs stormed in.
“Where is he? Who’s the bastard?”
“It’s so damn dark, I can’t see. Hey, old men, stop day-drinking and clear out.”
The gangsters kicked at chairs and tables. The few customers grumbled but quickly went outside.
“Ah! That one. That’s him!”
The innkeeper pointed at Sion sitting in the corner.
The boss of the Black Dog Gang, the only gang in Burgos big enough to have over a dozen members, swaggered over.
“What’s this? You a mercenary? You look more like some pretty boy whore who tags along with mercs.”
His goons laughed.
Sion was handsome, but not effeminate—his face was strong and masculine.
Still, his smooth skin and youthful appearance made him look like a noble youth rather than a battle-hardened fighter.
The gang, used to the gutter, naturally resented people like him. They probably would’ve picked a fight even without the innkeeper’s bribe.
Creak.
The boss dragged a chair over and sat down right in front of Sion, scowling.
“Hey, asshole. You know where you are? Apologize to the old man while I’m asking nicely. And you’d better pay up, too. You look like you’ve got money. Show some sincerity.”
Sion chuckled—not out of mockery, but genuine amusement.
“Do you guys follow a script or something?”
“What? The hell are you babbling about?”
“You thugs always say the exact same lines. Is there a handbook? ‘The Idiot’s Guide to Being a Third-Rate Gangster’? Oh wait—you probably can’t even read.”
“You son of a biiitch!!”
The boss swung a hidden dagger from his sleeve.
In that instant, Sion’s blurred hand moved.
Papak!
He struck the boss’s hand with a knife-hand chop, twisted the dagger free, and aimed it at him—all in a single motion.
None of the others even saw what happened.
One blink, and suddenly the boss’s dagger was in Sion’s hand.
“You started this.”
Sion grinned at the stunned boss.
Moments later, the gangsters were writhing on the floor, groaning in pain.
It hadn’t even taken a minute.
Sion struck pressure points precisely, broke knees and ankles of those who tried to run, and flattened the boss’s nose.
The innkeeper collapsed in terror as the gang leader’s knees shattered.
“Uh… uhhhhh…”
When Sion approached, the innkeeper tried to crawl away.
Sion grabbed his hair, yanking his head up.
“Ah! Aaagh!”
The pain was worse than if his scalp were being ripped off.
Sion slapped him repeatedly, then pulled his bloodied face close and whispered:
“I told you, didn’t I? If you choose the second option, you die.”
“P-Please…”
Just then, the tavern door burst open. Sion’s gaze shifted.
“There! That’s him!”
The boy had returned with the town guards.
“What the—!? Hey! Drop him, now!”
The guards, stunned by the scene inside, pointed their weapons at Sion.
“You! Go get reinforcements!”
“Y-Yes, sir!”
One guard remained, swallowing nervously as he aimed his sword.
Seven thugs lying in heaps, and this man… not even flinching.
He instantly knew he was no match for this person.
“L-Listen. Put him down. If this escalates, you’re the one who’ll lose. Let’s talk this out first—”
“Sure.”
Sion dropped the innkeeper without hesitation and sat back down.
“Huh…?”
The guard was thrown off by how calm he was.
The carnage, the aura—it all screamed ‘danger’. He’d expected things to blow up, not de-escalate like this.
Thud.
Sion tossed something at the guard’s feet.
Confused, the man bent to pick it up.
“Bring me someone who can recognize that. Your superior. Or the town’s highest authority.”
“Uh…”
The guard picked up the golden emblem.
He didn’t recognize it, but it was palm-sized, decorated with gold, and engraved with a lion standing on its hind legs with a sword in its mouth.
He had no idea it was the royal emblem of the direct Ovela royal line.
(To be continued)
