The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations - Chapter 249

Chapter 249: Our Knights Will Wear These (1)

The leader of the spies broke out in a cold sweat, nervously darting his eyes around.

‘What’s this? He must have only caught a glimpse of us in passing, yet he remembers us? Out of all those workers?’

What terrifying observational skills. Although he’d never personally witnessed the lord’s capabilities, the thought crossed his mind that the rumors of him being near-master-level might actually be true.

‘What do I do? What am I supposed to say?’

The spies were flustered. They couldn’t afford to leave any impression on others. Blending into the background and avoiding notice was the cornerstone of being a spy.

Quickly regaining his composure, the leader answered.

“We became close while relocating. Being outsiders, we naturally needed someone to rely on.”

“Oh, really? No family?”

“No, we’re all alone. Some of us were orphans, while others lost their families during the war. Having no one else to lean on brought us closer together.”

The leader tried to keep his mind calm. He had carefully prepared a backstory for this type of questioning. No matter what was asked, he was ready to respond.

Their identities had been meticulously fabricated. Fake hometowns, false acquaintances—everything had been set up. Of course, all of it was tied to fellow spies.

Ghislain smirked and placed a hand on the leader’s shoulder.

“True, making friends is crucial when you’re living far from home. But all three of you seem to be in great shape.”

“…It’s a bit embarrassing, but I used to live as a rogue in the slums. I’ve since repented and am trying to be useful to the estate.”

“A rogue, huh? That’s a fancy way of putting it. So, just an unemployed thug?”

“…Yes.”

“And the other two?”

Ghislain turned to the other two spies, who straightened nervously before answering.

“I used to do odd jobs, mostly manual labor for a merchant guild. They had me work briefly as a guard because of my strength.”

“I mainly worked at construction sites. I also did a short stint as a labor battalion guard.”

They responded as trained, prepared for questions like these. They had even acquired relevant knowledge in case anyone probed further.

After all, their physiques could raise suspicions.

“Hm…”

Ghislain scrutinized the three men from head to toe with a suspicious gaze before speaking again.

“Take off your shirts.”

They couldn’t refuse, not in front of him. Hesitantly, the three men removed their shirts.

As expected, all three were well-built. Ghislain observed their upper bodies and hands briefly before making his next remark.

“No matter how I look at it, those are the bodies of men trained in swordsmanship. And your hands… they suggest knowledge of assassination techniques.”

The spies turned pale at his words. Despite the mild weather, cold sweat began to pour from them.

‘What the hell? How can he tell just by looking?’

‘He’s bluffing, right? He has to be. Please let it just be a bluff.’

Most spies learned swordsmanship and assassination techniques as part of their preparation, to carry out assassination orders or escape when compromised.

Of course, some spies didn’t train in combat. But those were the elite, the intellectual type who infiltrated as administrators or scholars.

Unlike the two subordinates whose faces turned ashen, the leader’s mind raced coldly and quickly.

‘Should I just confess and sell these guys out? I really wanted to settle down here! I even bought a house and saved up a lot of money!’

He had intended to abandon his previous life and make this place his home. He’d even started persuading his team members to do the same. The idea of being caught as a spy and dying here filled him with frustration.

No, this couldn’t be the end. Not after finally achieving home ownership.

“Actually, to tell you the truth…”

The leader hesitated but began to speak. However, before he could finish, Ghislain cut him off with a casual remark.

“Well, whatever. Whether you’re spies or not doesn’t matter.”

The three men stared at him in shock.

‘Was he just bluffing all along?’

‘What does he mean, “it doesn’t matter if we’re spies”?’

As the three struggled to process his words, Ghislain grinned.

“I’m a pacifist, you see. Killing people just because they’re suspicious? That’s something only a madman would do, right?”

“Y-Yes, that’s true…”

“And our estate is short on manpower. Killing strong, capable-looking men like you just because you’re suspicious would be a huge waste. Even if you were spies, I couldn’t bring myself to kill you.”

“Is that… so?”

“But I can’t exactly let suspicious people roam free either. So, I’ve prepared a special place for people like you.”

“What and where might that be?”

Ghislain glanced at Gillian beside him and spoke.

“Send all these guys to the ‘Labor Assault Corps.’”

“Yes, my lord.”

At the shocking command, the trio of spies immediately dropped to the ground, groveling.

“Please, my lord! We’ve done nothing wrong!”

“We’ll work hard!”

“Please spare us!”

The spies wailed in desperation.

The ‘Labor Assault Corps’ was infamous for being assigned to the most dangerous tasks in the estate. Members underwent military training and were rumored to serve as the vanguard in times of war.

With the looming certainty of a confrontation with Count Desmond, they knew being forced into the vanguard would mean death at the hands of their supposed allies.

Despite their desperate pleas, Ghislain shook his head.

“Why are you so scared? It’s just another work assignment. Only a little more demanding. Prove your innocence by working hard there.”

The three men were dragged away, looking utterly dejected. While they were relieved to avoid immediate execution, the inevitability of death in wartime loomed large.

Moreover, they would suffer before their deaths. Rumors about Kaor, the man in charge of the labor battalions, described him as a relentless taskmaster.

Even as he was being led away, the leader gritted his teeth.

‘I won’t die! No matter what, I’ll survive! I’ll live to enjoy a peaceful life in my house!’

Before owning a house, he had been a loyal spy to Count Desmond. But after acquiring a comfortable home, his perspective shifted. He wanted to marry, have children, and live happily in his later years.

It all came down to property. Spy wages would never have been enough to buy a home in Count Desmond’s expensive territory, especially when one mistake on the job could cost his life.

‘I’m done with that life! Here, I can earn more just by working honestly than I ever could as a spy!’

Even the strongest loyalty crumbled under the allure of financial stability.

He believed that if he worked diligently in the labor battalion, he might eventually be released. After that, he could save money and lead a comfortable life.

Determined, he made up his mind.

‘I will survive! I’ll even kill as many of Desmond’s men as I can in the war and claim credit for the victory!’

A legendary traitor was about to be born.

* * *

When Ghislain returned to his office after sending the spies to the labor corps, Galbarik and a group of dwarves burst in, tears streaming down their faces.

“My lord! My lord!”

“What’s this about?”

The dwarves, looking like scruffy goblins with beards, appeared haggard as usual. Yet, their faces shone with happiness rather than exhaustion.

“Oh, could it be?”

Ghislain’s eyes glimmered with anticipation. Receiving the hopeful gaze, Galbarik grinned widely and shouted.

“We’ve done it! We’ve finally succeeded in creating Galvaniium!”

“You did it!”

Ghislain’s face lit up with joy. It had taken a long time, but unlike the large hatchery, he had been certain this would succeed.

After all, Galbarik had managed to figure it out even in his past life without knowing anything about the materials.

With a confident expression, Galbarik responded to Ghislain’s smile.

“That’s right! It worked perfectly when we followed your guidance! Hahaha!”

Galbarik’s laughter echoed proudly. While Ghislain had provided assistance, the discovery of a new technique was a monumental achievement.

Galbarik carefully pulled a metal ingot from his pocket and handed it over.

“This is Galvaniium! Check it for yourself!”

Ghislain took the ingot and examined it thoroughly.

It was exceptionally lightweight. No one would believe that this alloy could be as durable as iron.

Ghislain drew his sword immediately, swinging it with moderate strength and without channeling mana.

Clang!

The sword bounced off without leaving a single scratch.

“Ah!”

It was perfect. Ghislain couldn’t help but admire it. It was identical to the Galvaniium he remembered from his past life.

With a satisfied grin, he spoke.

“Excellent. It’s flawless. Just like the one made by the legendary blacksmith.”

“Then introduce me to that blacksmith!”

“…I told you, I don’t know where they are.”

Ghislain turned away, feigning ignorance. It was hard to explain that he’d see the blacksmith every time he looked in the mirror.

Galbarik, slightly disappointed, glanced at a nearby mirror to groom his beard before continuing.

“Anyway, this is an achievement that will go down in history! And what’s more important is that we are the only ones who can produce this for now!”

As Galbarik pointed out, this technology was unique to Fenris territory. Although no secret lasted forever, it wouldn’t spread anytime soon.

“Good. Let’s start mass-producing Galvaniium. Teach the method only to the most skilled and trustworthy artisans. Pay them several times the usual wage so they have no reason to complain.”

“Understood!”

Galbarik nodded enthusiastically. The creation of Galvaniium marked the dawn of a new era for Fenris territory.

“Understood! I will make sure not a single piece of information leaks. Don’t worry about it!”

Galbarik knew full well that this territory would eventually have to face Count Desmond in battle. That meant the secrecy of this technology was paramount.

He also fully understood the implications of Ghislain’s instructions.

“Trustworthy” artisans and “several times their regular pay” essentially translated to keeping the artisans confined and forcing them to work.

With enough manpower, mass production would be no issue. The territory had already built massive foundries and forges in preparation for this day.

“Then, I will begin the preparations and training for mass production immediately! If you’ll excuse me…”

Galbarik and the dwarves tried to make a hasty exit. They knew there was no benefit to lingering in conversation with the lord.

But Ghislain grabbed Galbarik’s shoulder and smiled.

“Why are you leaving so soon?”

“To start production quickly…”

Sensing trouble, Galbarik and the dwarves avoided making eye contact and muttered under their breath. Their pleading expressions were evident—they hoped to be dismissed.

“Come on, you know our style by now. You’ve succeeded with Galvaniium, so it’s time to move on to the next task.”

‘You’re not human…’

Galbarik felt tears well up.

Creating Galvaniium had been a grueling process, and now they were expected to mass-produce it. On top of that, there was already talk of another task.

‘I shouldn’t have promised to work so hard!’

Yet, the dwarves’ pride wouldn’t allow them to refuse. They never seemed to realize that this very pride was their downfall.

“Fine… What is it this time?”

“We’re making equipment.”

“Equipment? Didn’t we already plan to replace all weapons and armor with Galvaniium versions?”

The plan was indeed to upgrade all the knights’ and soldiers’ equipment with Galvaniium. The same applied to everyday tools and other iron goods, except for items like portcullises, where sheer weight was an advantage.

But Ghislain had something even more extraordinary in mind.

“We’re not just switching materials for the current equipment. I’m talking about creating entirely new designs. I also want to add new weapons, but let’s start with the armor and helmets for the knights. Take a look at this.”

Ghislain handed Galbarik a set of blueprints he had prepared in advance.

Galbarik carefully examined the schematics for a while, his face filling with curiosity.

“What’s with the grooves on this armor and helmet? Don’t tell me…”

“Exactly. We’re embedding Runestones into them.”

“You’re planning to carve magic arrays into armor and use Runestones too? And you want 400 sets of this? Are you sure about the cost calculations?”

Ghislain nodded firmly, and Galbarik’s astonishment grew.

If these blueprints were followed, each set of armor would be worth enough to allow an ordinary person to live a life of luxury for the rest of their days.

Producing 400 of them would exceed the budget of a typical territory for decades. These would undoubtedly become the most expensive items in the territory’s expenditure.

“I’m not great with finances or administration… but if you make this, won’t it completely drain the estate’s funds? The Galvaniium alone is costly, but the Runestones are the bigger issue. Using them means we’ll have fewer to sell.”

Galvaniium was still in its initial production phase and required significant resources, resulting in high production costs.

Converting all of the territory’s iron equipment and tools would already demand an astronomical sum.

Adding Runestones to the mix would cause an uproar among the retainers. Claude, in particular, would almost certainly protest vehemently.

Galbarik, clearly uneasy about the idea, pressed further.

“The combat power will improve, sure, but this seems excessive. No other territory has equipment like this. Wouldn’t it be better to use that money to expand the army and buy more weapons?”

“Our knights will wear these.”

Ghislain wasn’t aiming for ordinary knights who merely wielded mana.

He envisioned a corps of knights capable of fighting anywhere, under any conditions—a force with unparalleled versatility in combat.