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Episode 9
“Hey.”
“Y–Yes? You mean me?”
The lone remaining guard, who had been terrified by how calm Sion remained despite causing a huge commotion, jumped in surprise and reflexively spoke politely.
“Take care of those bastards, at least roughly. They won’t die, but if you leave them like that, they’ll end up crippled.”
“Ah, yes!”
The guard hurried to tend to the thugs who were lying on the floor, crawling like worms. Their bones were all shattered, so he didn’t really know what to do—but he at least laid or sat them down as comfortably as he could.
“Hhh… hhh…”
As the innkeeper sobbed in the corner of the pub, tears streaming down his face, Sion tapped the table with his finger.
‘This place is governed by an administrator, not a lord, right?’
Unlike in a noble’s domain, where the lord ruled with near-absolute power like a king, places run by administrators—appointed or dispatched from the royal capital—had a much more systematic legal and administrative structure.
That was one of the reasons Sion could hand over his royal identification plaque to the guard so casually.
Of course, that wasn’t the only reason he’d handed it over so easily.
‘Burgos. A backwater village, but it’s going to be a very important place for me.’
People of this world barely paid attention to such rural towns.
But Sion was different.
According to Derkios, the Dragon Wasteland was a critical quest region that every player would have to pass through.
‘I need to claim it early—at least leave some influence behind.’
That was why Sion deliberately handed his royal plaque to the guard.
‘Even if the guy runs off with it, that’s fine. The innkeeper selling my horse on his own isn’t that strong a pressure card anyway.’
A guard daring to steal a royal plaque and run?
That would give Sion legitimate grounds to interrogate (or beat) those responsible.
Of course, the best outcome was for the guard to hand the plaque to a higher official.
That was actually his primary goal, and no administrator—unlike some lords—would be crazy enough to ignore the royal family.
‘Let’s just wait and see how this plays out.’
In truth, Sion’s plan had already been set in motion the moment he arrived in Burgos.
“What’s this?”
The guard captain, a man in his early forties, asked lazily as he accepted the metal plaque.
“Well, it’s, uh…”
The guard trailed off with an awkward face.
By the book, he should have reported everything honestly and shown those unruly mercenaries a taste of state power.
But if he did that, justice would be served… and his little side business would be exposed.
“Hm? This is…”
The captain’s eyes suddenly sharpened as he examined the plaque closely.
His focus shifted to the plaque—much to the guard’s secret relief, since it meant he wouldn’t have to explain his illicit activities.
“Do you recognize it, sir? The man at the Cactus Pub who gave me this said to bring someone who could identify it.”
Since the captain was a former mercenary who had traveled widely in his youth, the guard was sure he’d recognize it—
“It’s real gold. Pure gold. Hooh…”
The captain’s eyes briefly glittered with greed, crushing the guard’s expectations.
But the man wasn’t stupid.
Anyone who could casually hand over a plaque made of pure gold wasn’t an ordinary person.
A moment’s greed wasn’t worth losing his peaceful, cushy position as captain of the guard in a quiet backwater town.
He cleared his throat.
“Hmm! Anyway, this person—no, this gentleman—told you to bring someone who could identify it, right?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm. He wouldn’t have said that for no reason. And if there was a commotion, there must be some explanation.”
Calling it a “commotion” was an understatement—several people were seriously injured—but the guard quickly explained.
“It’s the innkeeper at the Cactus Pub. The boy there told me everything.”
The captain stroked his beard and frowned as he listened to the summarized account.
“My word. So in the end, the innkeeper just sold the customer’s horse on his own?”
“Uh… essentially, yes.”
“What do you mean ‘essentially’? I’ve told you before: we only care about cause and effect. Circumstances aren’t for us to judge. That’s the administrator’s job.”
In short, he was dumping the problem upward.
The guard was impressed. Ten years in this post without major problems had sharpened his captain’s political instincts.
“As expected of you, Captain. So we’re passing this case along to—?”
“Yeah. Hand it over. I have a very strong feeling nothing good will come of getting involved. Send some men to keep an eye on the fellow—don’t antagonize him—also detain the thugs and the innkeeper. Patch them up so they don’t die right away.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll head to the administrator immediately.”
The guard turned to leave, full of admiration for his captain’s clean way of offloading responsibility.
“No, wait. I’m coming with you. If you go alone, they’ll just ignore you.”
“Captain…”
The guard was moved by this display of leadership—though in reality, the captain was calculating that he might catch a few benefits if he stayed close to this mysterious man.
“What’s this?”
“Yes, ah, this is…”
The administrator reacted exactly the same way the captain had ten minutes earlier.
Burgos’s administrator was technically a noble but not a titled lord. He wasn’t a royal envoy either, but the captain stood at stiff attention and reported respectfully.
That was because the post of Burgos administrator rotated among members of old local noble families.
“…And so, sir, I believed it best for you to examine it personally.”
“Is that so? Hm, let’s see…”
The administrator peered through a monocle perched between his sunken cheekbones and brow.
‘He could just look normally…’
The captain knew perfectly well the monocle was just a show to emphasize his noble status, even as a provincial aristocrat, so he wisely kept that thought to himself.
“A lion with a sword in its mouth. Hm. I’ve seen this somewhere…”
The administrator suddenly froze mid-examination.
“Do you recognize it, sir? Judging by the pure gold, it must be a distinguished house.”
The captain felt smug. Clearly, he’d been right not to handle this himself.
“Where is he!?”
The administrator suddenly shot to his feet, startling the captain.
“Eh? Where, sir?”
“Where is the person who had this!?”
“Ah, yes. He’s being… kept at the Cactus Pub for now.”
Technically “under surveillance,” but the captain was glad he’d posted guards there.
“Good. Let’s go. Hurry!”
“Yes, sir. I’ll escort you.”
The captain moved quickly. The administrator had never personally gone to meet anyone except a count’s son once, nearly ten years ago.
And if this man was important, the captain might get some tidbits too. He cautiously asked:
“So… which noble house is it? I don’t recognize the emblem.”
The administrator suddenly stopped and glared at him with a mix of contempt and pity.
The captain instantly regretted asking.
“You ignorant fool. You’re the captain of the guard and you don’t know this crest?”
‘You didn’t recognize it right away either,’ the captain thought silently, forcing an awkward smile.
Then came the thunderous answer:
“It’s the royal family, you dolt! The rulers of our Obla Kingdom!”
“Oh my! Our pride! Burgos’s pride! The pride of our glorious kingdom! What honor brings a noble member of our great royal family to this humble place!?”
The administrator practically flew toward Sion, who was sitting cross-armed in his chair, and bowed so low his back looked like a willow branch.
‘What the hell is this now?’
Sion had expected someone high-ranking like the administrator to show up if the guard didn’t run off with the plaque, but this level of fawning surprised even him.
Still, it meant things would be easier.
“Are you the administrator here?” Sion asked calmly.
“Yes, indeed! I am Inola Schwart, appointed as the Fourth Administrator of Burgos by His Majesty the King,” the man replied, bowing deeply.
“A pleasure, Administrator Schwart.”
Sion nodded slightly without standing or even revealing his name or title.
Under normal circumstances, such behavior from a man who appeared to be in his mid-twenties toward a 40-something noble would be rude—but no one, not even the administrator himself, dared object.
In fact, the administrator’s last doubts vanished.
‘Probably a cadet branch, but definitely royal. His manner, his clothes, his gear… it all fits.’
Even in this rural area, nobles were acutely aware of true aristocratic behavior.
He immediately recognized that Sion’s leather armor, boots, and sword—though slightly worn—were of very high quality.
“I’ve been briefed by the captain.”
“That’s good. I’d have been annoyed if I’d had to explain again.”
“Oh, heavens, of course not! I’ll handle this matter personally to ensure your journey to the capital remains trouble-free.”
“If you do that well, Burgos will have only good rumors reaching the capital—and the palace.”
Sion’s meaning was clear, and the administrator understood perfectly. His smile grew even broader.
“I’m grateful for your gracious words, my lord. Then I’ll question the innkeeper myself.”
“Go ahead.”
The administrator bowed and went to interrogate the innkeeper, who had been subdued along with the thugs.
A few minutes later, he returned—his face now full of discomfort instead of confidence.
“My apologies for keeping you waiting, my lord.”
“It’s fine. But judging by your face, things didn’t go smoothly?”
“Well, the thing is…”
He trailed off awkwardly. Sion spoke in a low, firm voice.
“Administrator. Whatever the matter is, speak honestly. There is nothing in this kingdom the royal family need fear.”
“Ahem! Since you put it that way, I’ll be frank. It seems the horse the innkeeper sold was purchased by the Kilburn Baron family.”
“The Kilburn Barony?”
The name sounded ordinary, but faintly familiar. Sion tilted his head.
“Yes. They’re the lords of Lagos, not far from here. Apparently, one of their children received it as a birthday gift.”
“Hm…”
Sion tapped the table thoughtfully. A small gesture—but the administrator, watching closely, read significance into it.
“I can’t allow any more disrespect toward you,” the administrator hurried to say. “I’ll send someone to the Kilburn Barony immediately. Even if they paid, it was stolen property. Once they’re reimbursed, they’ll surely return the horse.”
He forced a smile, but Sion detected the subtle shift in tone.
“Is that so? But it sounds like you’re not entirely confident.”
“…!”
The administrator flinched, then sighed heavily.
“Phew… This is embarrassing. As you know, even though I’m Burgos’s administrator, I can’t force a noble house to obey. And the Kilburn family have been Lagos’s lords since before the Dragon War…”
In short: they had clout.
A mere administrator with no title couldn’t order around a long-established noble house with prestige and history.
In fact, depending on the situation, he couldn’t even casually speak first to them.
‘And yet he still said he’d send someone?’
That meant either:
1️⃣ He disliked the Kilburns,
2️⃣ He really wanted to curry favor with Sion,
or both.
Based on his earlier behavior, the second was a given. So Sion needed to confirm the first.
“Do you really think a proud noble house will entertain talk about some embarrassing incident from years ago? If the visitor isn’t noble, they’ll be lucky not to get thrown out.”
“Ahem.”
The administrator’s evasive cough told Sion enough: he indeed had little fondness for the Kilburn family.
“Don’t bother sending messengers and complicating things. Come with me instead. How about it?”
“Oh! If you insist, of course I’ll gladly accompany you.”
His immediate, cheerful acceptance made Sion chuckle faintly.
Now, the administrator owed him a favor.
(To be continued in the next episode)
