The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations - Chapter 272

Chapter 272: He’s Already Made a Move? (2)

“Waaaah!”

“We’ve won again!”

“The enemies are retreating!”

The soldiers of Baron Valois’ fortress let out loud cheers as they watched Amelia’s troops withdraw.

It had already been several months since the war began. Despite having only a force of 1,000, they had been successfully holding back Amelia’s army of 5,000.

Baron Valois’s soldiers were known for being an elite force even before this war. With each consecutive victory, their morale soared higher and higher.

“Hahaha! They were all talk, but the Raypold Army turned out to be nothing special, huh?”

“A woman leading an army here in the North? Her men might as well cut off their manhoods!”

“Didn’t they already do that? That’s why they’re fighting so timidly, like little girls! What did they come here for? To play house? Hahaha!”

They laughed and mocked the retreating Raypold forces, brimming with confidence that they would never lose.

After all, while their opponent had the numbers, their leader was a newly appointed lord with no experience in warfare—a mere woman at that.

However, the only one not joining in the laughter was Baron Valois, the lord of the fortress. His expression remained grim.

‘What’s this? Why are they attacking so halfheartedly? Didn’t they come here to make me surrender and kill Young Lord Daven?’

At first, Baron Valois had also underestimated Amelia. After all, her attacks had been so easily repelled by his forces.

But as the battle dragged on, her true intentions became increasingly clear. Amelia was deliberately launching weak, half-hearted offensives, as though she was stalling for time.

The proof of this lay in the state of her army. The number of Raypold troops in the field remained virtually unchanged from the start. In other words, they had sustained almost no damage.

‘I can’t figure out what she’s planning. What is she aiming for?’

Her forces were more than five times the size of his. If they decided to accept losses and launch an all-out attack, he had no guarantee of stopping them.

And yet, they were merely toying with him, engaging in skirmishes that achieved nothing substantial. It was baffling.

‘We have enough provisions to hold out for now. We can last a bit longer. I still don’t understand why Count Fenris is helping us, though.’

Baron Valois had received a massive shipment of provisions along with Daven from the Fenris Estate. Thanks to that, there was no issue with food supplies.

The explanation given was that it was a gesture of friendship. However, in times like these, it was rare for such generosity to come without strings attached. Baron Valois was not naive enough to believe otherwise.

‘What does he stand to gain by helping us?’

As he mulled over his thoughts, Baron Valois pulled out a crumpled letter from within his coat.

It was the letter he had received along with the provisions from Ghislain.

— [Whatever happens, never leave the fortress to fight. Even if an opportunity seems to present itself, it is not an opportunity.]

He still couldn’t make sense of its meaning. So far, he had been holed up inside the fortress, defending against attacks. What kind of opportunity could possibly arise from that? And why would such an opportunity not actually be one?

No matter how much he thought about it, the words sounded nonsensical. But at the same time, he couldn’t ignore them outright.

‘Count Fenris is the rising star of the North. He even defeated Count Cabaldi with ease.’

The feats achieved by Ghislain had already spread far and wide, becoming the stuff of legend.

Having never met Ghislain in person, Baron Valois couldn’t determine whether the man truly had extraordinary foresight to see the future or if he was just spouting nonsense to sound impressive.

Baron Valois wasn’t the only one lost in thought. Over in Amelia’s camp, frustration and discontent had begun to bubble up among her subordinates.

“My lady—no, Countess! Damn it, why don’t we just crush them already? Let me go and smash their heads in! Why are we wasting time with these bastards?”

Vulcan, quick-tempered as ever, gripped his club tightly as he shouted. He could barely hold back his anger at the relentless taunts coming from the Valois troops.

At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to scale the fortress walls alone and slaughter them all.

But despite Vulcan’s fiery outburst, Amelia waved him off with a calm, disinterested expression.

“Quiet. You’re giving me a headache.”

“Meow.”

Bastet swiped its paw in the air as if to tell Vulcan to keep it down as well.

“Argh!”

Vulcan couldn’t hide his frustration. He couldn’t understand why Amelia’s attitude had suddenly changed.

Initially, she had planned to quickly capture Valois’s fortress. But mid-march, she received a certain piece of news and abruptly shifted her strategy.

—[ Count Desmond has issued a decree for military mobilization. ]

Since then, they had been acting as though they were on a leisurely outing, doing nothing but passing the time.

Provisions were plentiful, so maintaining their position wasn’t a problem. However, her subordinates, who didn’t know the reasoning behind her actions, were growing increasingly irritated.

Several of them repeatedly proposed launching a full-scale assault to end things, but Amelia dismissed the idea every time. Then, one day, she issued a new command.

“Pull the army back a bit further and dig traps all around the area.”

Ordering the army to retreat and dig traps during a siege was a baffling command. None of her subordinates could understand Amelia’s intentions.

In the end, Bernarf, catching the disapproving gazes of everyone around him, had no choice but to step forward. Someone had to take the brunt of Amelia’s irritation, and Bernarf, already accustomed to it, volunteered himself.

“Uhm… My lady? Aren’t we in the middle of a siege? Baron Valois doesn’t seem like he’s going to come out of his fortress. And there’s no one left to help him either. The only one who could intervene is Count Fenris, but even he must know that Count Desmond is mobilizing his forces. No matter how bold he is, he won’t make a move.”

“Meow!”

Bastet let out a loud yowl, glaring fiercely at Bernarf. It was as if the creature was chastising him for daring to question Amelia’s orders.

‘Damn it, why does this damn cat even follow us to battle, just to torment me?’

As Bernarf trembled in frustration, Amelia spoke dismissively, as if it wasn’t worth explaining.

“We’ve stalled for too long.”

“…What?”

“Soon enough, someone will start underestimating us. When they do, we need to take full advantage. Baron Valois will eventually leave his fortress, and when he does, we’ll kill him.”

As always, Amelia was looking several steps ahead. But no matter how hard Bernarf tried, he couldn’t follow her train of thought.

The only one who seemed to understand was Conrad, known for his sharp mind. He nodded in agreement, clearly grasping her intentions.

Seeing this, Vulcan and Caleb, not wanting to appear clueless, also nodded along. Bernarf, caught up in the mood, pretended to understand and nodded as well.

Amelia let out a small scoff at their synchronized gestures before turning to Conrad with a question.

“What about Desmond?”

“He sent another mobilization decree. He’s ordered Baron Valois to be dealt with later. His priority is Count Fenris.”

Amelia frowned for a moment at this news.

“Why would he suddenly do that? Is this the Ducal Family’s will? Are they planning to spark a civil war in the North while the Kingdom’s army is watching so closely?”

“I’m not sure. As of now, there’s no sign that the Ducal Family is preparing for an internal conflict.”

Amelia had access to more detailed information about Count Desmond than the Royalist Faction, as they were nominally working together. However, the exact intentions of the Ducal Family remained unclear since Desmond was still acting as the intermediary between them.

After a brief moment of thought, Amelia spoke again.

“For now, let’s stall for just a little longer. Excuses to delay will keep coming, anyway.”

Conrad bowed his head slightly and carefully asked, “Do you think they’re really planning to start a civil war in the North?”

“It’s not impossible. A lot has gone wrong because of that bastard Ghislain. But there’s something odd about this… Why start with the North?”

The Kingdom’s army was monitoring Count Desmond closely. A simultaneous, multi-front conflict might make sense, but starting here in the North would only heighten the Royalist Faction’s vigilance unnecessarily.

Harold was a cautious man, someone who always adhered strictly to the orders of the Ducal Family. If he was taking action, it was likely because the Ducal Family had given him specific instructions. A man like Harold wouldn’t act recklessly on his own.

There was simply too little information to fully understand the situation. As Amelia continued to deliberate, Conrad added his thoughts.

“Count Fenris won’t be able to handle Desmond. There are rumors that he’s gathering troops on a large scale, but the difference in power is still too great.”

“Well, thanks to that, our situation has improved.”

Though the specifics remained unclear, Desmond targeting Fenris was favorable for Amelia.

The harder Ghislain fought, the more damage Desmond would take.

Amelia had always been skilled at adapting to circumstances. Now, she planned to exploit the situation to maximize her gains.

Whether Fenris or Desmond emerged victorious, both would inevitably suffer losses. When one of them was left battered and exhausted, a sudden betrayal could deliver a devastating blow.

With a cruel smile, Amelia concluded, “We just need to sweep away the small fry while the two of them fight it out and wait.”

This was turning into a very favorable situation for her.

* * *

“Yaaaahhh!”

The Fenris Estate echoed with the constant roar of soldiers.

The army was composed entirely of volunteers who had gathered to protect the estate, and their morale was sky-high.

Interestingly, the Plunder King of the North and his Forty Thieves vanished as soon as the recruitment drive was completed. The consensus among the troops was that they had fled because the army had grown too large.

Ghislain watched the training soldiers with a satisfied grin.

“Good! Excellent! They’re even better than knights!”

The training regimen set by Ghislain and Gillian was far from easy for ordinary people. Yet, the soldiers gritted their teeth and endured it.

Their unyielding determination stemmed from a shared belief: no one else would protect this estate if not them.

Ghislain had great admiration for such resolve. While individual soldiers might be insignificant, together their combined willpower could forge an immense strength.

Despite the harshness of the training, none of the soldiers regretted volunteering for it.

“Man, I’d heard the rumors, but now that I’m actually getting paid, it’s no joke!”

“And the food? It’s on another level! They’re serving the finest meat and bread.”

“Check out this armor! Don’t I look like a proper knight now?”

With benefits and treatment incomparable to those of other estates’ residents, it became much easier for the soldiers to persist.

In particular, the calm, silvery armor had become a symbol of the estate’s forces.

Thanks to the estate’s high productivity, every soldier was equipped with gear equivalent to that of knights in other territories.

This was gear so expensive that commoners wouldn’t even dream of laying their eyes on it. Naturally, these excellent benefits and privileges bolstered their pride.

As the soldiers displayed unwavering enthusiasm, a ripple effect spread to the knights who were less committed and had been reluctantly conscripted.

“Why the hell aren’t you training harder?”

Suddenly, Ghislain stormed into the training grounds, and the knights found themselves in deep trouble yet again. Lately, their lord had taken to showing up unannounced and resorting to fists first.

“Argh! My lord! Why are you blowing up at us again?”

“We’ve been training hard too! We’re even helping train the soldiers!”

“Can’t you see us coughing up blood? We’re exhausted to death over here!”

The knights insisted they were doing their best, but in truth, they had grown lazier than before.

Part of the reason was the sense of superiority they felt while training the soldiers, but the main cause was the shiny new armor they’d received.

Wearing equipment far superior to their actual skills gave them a false sense of security.

“Man, with this gear, I feel like a top-tier knight!”

“Wearing this, it’s not like I’ll die anytime soon, right?”

“I could probably take down most knights myself. I feel like I could kill a thousand soldiers alone.”

These kinds of thoughts naturally affected their personal training routines.

Ghislain, well aware of this complacency, refused to leave the knights alone for even a day.

“If you rely only on your armor, you’re just going to get yourself killed! Without enough mana, you won’t even be able to use it properly!”

The armor required mana from its user to activate its abilities. But for half-baked knights, operating the armor properly was impossible.

It was obvious they would burn out quickly, and if they didn’t train hard enough, their lives would essentially have an expiration date.

Thus, Ghislain had no choice but to push them harder.

“If you slack off, I’ll send you to the Shadow Mountains. Keep that in mind!”

“Got it! Just stop tormenting us already!”

Though in stark contrast to the voluntarily motivated soldiers, the knights, reluctantly or not, ended up training hard under Ghislain’s iron-fisted oversight.

Meanwhile, Claude and the other retainers were deeply engrossed in preparing for war. They meticulously inspected everything, ensuring nothing was overlooked and making contingency plans for unavoidable crises.

While the lord exuded confidence in victory, the more pragmatic retainers had to consider how to respond if the worst happened.

Most assumed that if a civil war broke out, Count Desmond would target their estate first. The grudge he held against them was no small matter.

One day, Claude, staring intently at a map, turned to Wendy and spoke with a serious expression.

“Wendy, want to run away with me?”

“…What?”

“I don’t think I can escape to my hometown alone. You’re good at fighting, right? Protect me. If I go alone, I’ll probably get robbed and killed on the way.”

Wendy gave him a look of utter contempt as he suddenly put on a pitiful expression, pleading with her.

Unbothered by her disdain, Claude shouted dramatically, “If civil war breaks out, Count Desmond and the Ducal Faction nobles will all come rushing here! Not even the lord will be able to win!”

“…Please stop whining.”

“I don’t care anymore! How are we supposed to beat the Ducal Faction? And Count Desmond? I must’ve been out of my mind to think we could win against him!”

It was easy to forget just how many grudges the estate had accumulated. Claude, for one, deeply regretted not fleeing earlier.

The retainers, of course, were well aware of their lord’s impressive track record—his ability to fight and the string of victories he had achieved thus far.

However, Count Desmond was a completely different caliber of opponent. His territory wasn’t called the strongest in the North for nothing. It wasn’t just a matter of numbers—his knights and soldiers were renowned for their exceptional skill and discipline.

Thus, even as they busied themselves preparing for war, the retainers couldn’t help but feel the tension eating away at them.

‘This time, even the lord might struggle. We’ve made predictions and prepared as much as we can, but Desmond is too strong. If a civil war really breaks out, can we even win?’

Most of them shared similar thoughts. Until now, they had been swept up in the estate’s rapid growth and failed to fully grasp the seriousness of the looming danger. But now that war felt imminent, their worries were growing day by day.

Claude, in particular, had already tried to run away several times, only to be immediately caught and dragged back by Wendy.

Shoving him forward with a firm hand, Wendy said, “Focus on preparing properly first. Worry about how to escape after we lose. Besides, it’s not like we’ll be fighting this war alone. The Kingdom’s army will help us.”

“They’ll cut my head off as soon as we lose!” Claude wailed.

“Then make sure we don’t lose.”

Despite Claude’s complaints, Wendy didn’t so much as blink.

Officially, Claude held the title of Chief Overseer, but within the estate, he was treated like the lord’s personal slave. Though technically the second most powerful figure in the estate, in reality, he was at the bottom in every other sense. With tears in his eyes, Claude had no choice but to throw himself into the preparations for war.

* * *

While the estate was busy with training and war preparations, something unexpected happened. Suddenly, emissaries from several northern lords arrived, all seeking an audience with Ghislain.

These emissaries practically forced their way in to meet him. After the usual polite formalities, they quickly got to the point.

“We’ve come from the Zimbar Estate. I am here to deliver an excellent proposal to the Count on behalf of the other lords.”

“And what is it?”

Ghislain’s expression remained indifferent, his disinterest plain to see. The emissary clenched his fists tightly, struggling to contain his irritation. The young lord’s lack of respect was notorious, but knowing this didn’t make it any less infuriating.

Still, there was something to gain here, so the emissary swallowed his pride. Not that losing his temper would have done him much good, anyway.

“Do you have any interest in expanding your territory? We’re here to assist you in that endeavor.”

Though they hailed from relatively minor estates, these emissaries represented no less than six territories. Combined, they could muster a significant force.

Hearing their offer, Ghislain’s expression shifted slightly, his interest piqued.

“Judging by the fact that you’re all here together, it seems you’ve already decided where to attack. So, who’s the target?”

Taking a deep breath, the emissary allowed a meaningful smile to creep across his face before answering.

“Raypold. The usurper Amelia, who violated northern traditions, rebelled, and drove out her father and brothers. We propose we attack her together.”

Ghislain looked at the emissaries with a face full of derision and let out a mocking laugh.