Beyond the Throne: The Monarch's Return

"Are you looking for this?"

The owner of the voice that suddenly appeared was unmistakably one of the gang following Johnson. But the real issue was the pocket he held.

'That's my mother's relic.'

As soon as Ian spotted the leather bag containing what he had been searching for, his eyes sharpened.

"Give it back to me."

His voice was harsh, cutting through the silence. The man flinched and took a step back, but Ian quickly grabbed a stick lying nearby, readying himself.

"I'll say it again. Give it to me."

The man's eyes flickered with unease under the piercing gaze of Ian's golden eyes—rare and intimidating, as if he were staring into the eyes of a wild beast.

"Don't do this, Kid. I didn't come here to fight."

The man tossed the pocket at Ian's feet.

"Look. The supervisor was kind enough to return it."

Ian ignored him and rummaged through the pocket, his heart sinking when he saw it was empty.

"Where is the item inside?"

He had no choice but to ask. The pocket was devoid of the relic, which was not only a vital tool for the future but also the only memento from his mother before she passed away.

Ian brandished the stick menacingly.

"You'd better not lie if you still want to walk on your own two feet in the future."

It was a half-threat, half-truth. Despite his childlike appearance, he had the technique to overpower a grown adult. Dealing with someone as weak as Johnson's lackey was no challenge. The man, seeing the determination in Ian's eyes, raised both hands.

"I told you. I have no intention of fighting. I'm just here to convey the supervisor's words."

"Supervisor?" Ian's eyes narrowed.

"Yes. Supervisor Johnson told me to come to the plaza if you want to get your belongings back."

Ian's mind raced. Johnson, the man he had previously beaten, was now calling him out in a public plaza. It was a trap, but Ian felt a grim satisfaction. It wouldn't be difficult; he'd just run into the Lord and handle it.

'You've set up this little trap to lure me out. I understand what you're trying to do.'

Ian's gaze remained icy.

"Okay. Lead the way."

He hid his intention behind a cold demeanor. Johnson had touched his mother's relic, and Ian couldn't forgive him for that.

Meanwhile, Johnson was fawning over the Lord.

"Hehe. My Lord, do you like the items?"

"Yeah. They're quite good. I won't forget your sincerity, Supervisor."

The Lord examined the necklace with a pleased expression.

"Take the soldiers you requested."

"I can't thank you enough for your kindness, Sir."

"This is nothing between us. Hahaha."

Johnson laughed along with the Lord but internally seethed.

'Damn it. I could have enjoyed myself at the bar all month with that.'

The item Johnson stole was a well-hidden artifact he'd claimed was a keepsake from a serf.

He couldn't believe he had to use such an expensive item merely to rent soldiers. It was wasteful to bribe a village chief like the Lord.

Yet, it was essential for maintaining his status as a supervisor.

The Lord stroked the necklace and asked, "I trust my supervisor and lend him soldiers. What are you going to use them for?"

"I'm trying to deal with a troublesome serf."

The Lord's expression soured.

"You're borrowing my soldiers for one serf? What am I supposed to think of this?"

Johnson whispered urgently to the Lord.

"Oh no, don't say that, my Lord. I don't know what trick he used, but he's become a different person overnight. He's swinging a stick around, craving blood."

The Lord was intrigued by the idea of a child knocking down a grown man.

"He must have been aided by a witch. Clearly, he aims to sabotage the Lord's precious Harvest Festival. He needs to be dealt with for the safety of this territory and to restore discipline."

"I heard he's still a child, yet you can't defeat him? Your swordsmanship is renowned."

"Indeed, but I couldn't use force; he might be using dangerous black magic."

"Black magic…"

Johnson whispered further, "Isn't the neighboring empire troubled by black magic? If our soldiers handle him…"

The Lord's eyes gleamed with interest.

"I might get a reward from the capital."

Johnson smiled as well.

Of course, he wasn't just speaking idly.

'Ian's sudden change must be due to black magic. Otherwise, there's no way he'd intimidate me.'

Johnson was certain that if he were to subdue Ian, he would be rewarded.

The Lord continued to fondle the necklace.

"There are slave traders in our castle now."

"!" The Lord smiled wickedly.

"Is it true he's attractive?"

"Absolutely. The Lord will be pleased."

"They better be satisfied. If not…"

"There's no chance of that happening."

Johnson pounded his chest confidently, and the Lord laughed heartily.

"Okay. Then take as many as you want."

"Thank you, Sir!"

The Lord's laughter continued.

"I do have a fondness for young children."

"Pardon?"

"They say breaking children's bones is quite enjoyable."

The two men exchanged sinister laughter, but Johnson's thoughts were dark.

'I'll have to dispose of him soon.'

The Lord's cold gaze was clear: a supervisor who mismanages young serfs should not survive.

'As expected, the Lord's soldiers are here.'

Ian surveyed the plaza, clicking his tongue. The area was crowded with villagers and soldiers, with guards stationed at every entrance to prevent escape.

But Ian's concern wasn't the soldiers.

'I didn't expect the Lord to be here.'

Ian frowned as he saw the Lord alongside Supervisor Johnson.

'He's definitely not a good lord.'

The Lord, who secretly sold serfs to slave traders and lured pretty women into servitude, had managed to maintain his position due to the remote location of his territory.

The presence of such a man next to Johnson was no surprise.

Johnson shouted triumphantly, "This is your grave today, Ian! How dare you tarnish the Lord's honor by defying your supervisor!"

Ian laughed.

"Never mind. Where are my mother's belongings?"

The necklace sparkled in the Lord's hands, confirming that it had been handed over to him.

'You've already given it to the Lord. That's why the soldiers are here.'

Despite the unexpected appearance of the Lord, Ian was relieved to see the relic within reach. The nobles who had it in the past belonged to the faction of the Third Prince, who had persistently opposed him.

'Given that I owe the Duke for locating it, and it's been my greatest weakness.'

In this life, he intended to correct everything from the start.

Ian, determined not to make a scene, said calmly, "Please return it. It's my mother's only keepsake."

He didn't kneel, despite his current status as a serf. He was once a member of the royal family.

'If I had been unaware, would I have lived my entire life as a serf?'

He would never bow down to anyone, knowing his true identity.

Johnson, furious, demanded, "What kind of slander is this? Kneel right now!"

Ian's gaze remained cold.

The Lord watched with amusement.

"Is he the serf you mentioned?"

"That's correct, My Lord."

"His eyes are too clear for someone using black magic."

"Indeed. Let's attack him. Then you'll see it's not mere swordsmanship a serf could possess."

The Lord stroked his chin, evaluating Ian's attractiveness.

'He's unusually beautiful. The slave traders will surely be satisfied.'

The guard captain moved immediately, interpreting the Lord's interest.

"Everyone, attack!"

Soldiers advanced with spears, starkly different from Johnson's bare-handed approach.

Ian clicked his tongue.

'I didn't expect them to attack a child.'

Yet, standing still meant suffering. Ian lifted his stick and began parrying the soldiers' strikes.

Johnson, watching with excitement, yelled, "Look at that! How can a serf fight like this?"

"We shall see."

Ian fought impressively. Though a child, his evasive maneuvers and precision strikes were exceptional.

The guard captain, embarrassed, shouted, "What are you doing? It's just one child. The Lord is watching! Do it properly!"

Realization struck him.

Ian's skills were beyond what the local soldiers could handle. Even the guard captain might be outmatched.

'But if I step up and fail…'

The Lord would never forgive him.

As the guard captain hesitated, Johnson, growing increasingly enraged, drew a knife.

"What are you all doing? Can't you see the Lord's displeased? Stab him! Stab him!"

"But he could really die."

"It's fine. Do it now!"

"Yes!"

Just then, the necklace twisted slightly as the Lord clutched it too tightly, revealing a hidden compartment.

The Lord's eyes widened in shock.

"Th-this?"

The inscription inside the necklace shocked everyone. A mere serf shouldn't possess such an item.

The Lord nearly dropped the necklace, shouting in embarrassment.

"No, wait, no way! How could this be—?"

Everyone turned to the Lord, pausing their actions. Even the soldiers halted.

In that moment, Ian seized the opportunity, darting to the Lord and snatching the necklace from his grasp.

The guard captain shouted, "My Lord!"

Ian smiled, slipping the necklace into his pocket.

"It's well received."

With his goal achieved, Ian prepared to leave without a second glance.

Johnson's rage was palpable.

"How dare you—"

The Lord, however, realized the gravity of the situation.

"Stop him! Get that necklace back!"

Ian slipped through the commotion, but the soldiers struggled to react. His skill was beyond their capacity.

As Ian departed, the scene fell into chaos.

As Ian prepared to leave, a new figure stepped into the plaza. He was tall and imposing, with a stern expression that commanded respect. This was Galon, the Duke's Knight, known for his strategic mind and formidable presence.

Ian, who had just secured the necklace, was about to make his exit when Johnson's fury erupted. Johnson, unable to tolerate Ian's audacity, charged at him with a knife. He grabbed a nearby serf and shoved him into Ian's path, causing a brief struggle.

Ian, momentarily pinned by the serf, quickly pushed him away and tried to grab a weapon. But Johnson, intent on finishing Ian off, moved faster. Just as Johnson's knife was poised for a deadly strike, a sudden slash cut through the air.

Johnson's arm flew up, and he screamed in pain. Galon's commanding voice echoed across the plaza.

"If anyone moves one step further from there, I'll cut off both arms."

Galon's presence was enough to bring the chaos to a halt. The soldiers and the Lord alike fell silent, their attention riveted on the Duke's Knight. Ian, recognizing the familiar figure, felt a wave of relief and joy.

"You're late," Ian said, his voice tinged with genuine gratitude.

Galon, with a cool and calculated gaze, had arrived just in time to avert disaster and protect Ian.