The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations - Chapter 278
Chapter 278: Live Together, Die Together (1)
The first clash in a war is more significant than one might think.
It is based on the strength assessed during this initial engagement that the course of the war is planned.
Harold found himself deep in thought as he looked at Baron Hutton, who had returned with severe injuries.
“They’re stronger than I expected.”
He had thought they would be easily overrun. However, the Fenris forces, beyond their ferocity, displayed individual soldiers of exceptional strength.
Among them, the enemy commander stood out as especially formidable; this was evident even from a distance. To counter this, Harold had sent out their strongest asset, but even so, Baron Hutton had returned gravely wounded.
“Are you all right?”
“…My apologies, Count.”
Baron Hutton, his face pale, could not even rise properly.
Even after quickly downing a potion, his wounds showed no sign of healing. Such was the nature of injuries caused by mana. The energy disrupted the body’s recovery, prolonging the damage.
The stronger the opponent, the longer their energy lingered, making it difficult for potions or holy power to provide swift healing.
Harold watched Baron Hutton for a moment before asking,
“What’s your assessment? After experiencing their strength firsthand, would deploying more troops be enough?”
“Capturing the fortress is certainly possible… but the casualties would be considerable. Reducing losses will require time.”
“Hmm… but we don’t have much time left.”
“Still, there is no advantage to suffering heavy losses, is there?”
He wasn’t wrong. Capturing Fenris and killing Ghislain wouldn’t end things. They would still need to take Ferdium and wage prolonged battles against the Royal Faction.
If more than half their forces were lost in the process of capturing Fenris and Ferdium, it would become nearly impossible to withstand the Royal Faction’s forces.
Maintaining at least 20,000 soldiers would be crucial to prevent others from seizing opportunities against them.
“That woman, Amelia, isn’t cooperating anymore. I told her to join us immediately,” Harold muttered bitterly.
Had Amelia joined them in time, their options would have been broader. But now, Raypold was holding off several northern lords, making it truly impossible for her to move.
This left Harold with no choice but to deliberate.
“Should I take more time?”
It felt like fighting an army of ten thousand with barely a thousand troops. Forcing their way through such formidable elites would come at a steep cost.
He couldn’t afford to incur significant losses here, nor could he allow morale to plummet among his forces.
Yet, the surrounding situation left little time to spare. The fortress had to be taken swiftly.
While Harold pondered, Baron Hutton cautiously suggested, “What if we… tried to persuade them?”
“Persuade them?”
“Yes. From what I’ve heard, most of the Fenris troops come from humble origins. Especially that Gillian and his knights—they’re former mercenaries.”
“Hmm…”
“It’s clear that Count Fenris spent a fortune to recruit them. You can tell just by looking at their equipment. They’ve likely been well-treated within the estate, and enormous funds must have been poured into keeping such skilled individuals in service.”
Harold nodded in agreement.
High-ranking mercenaries were notoriously expensive to hire. However, that so-called Grain King of the North would certainly have had the means to sustain them.
Noticing Harold’s interest, Baron Hutton continued with more confidence.
“At the end of the day, they are bound by money. While they may honor their contracts, loyalty is not something mercenaries are known for. It’s unlikely they hold any deep devotion to their current master.”
“So, you suggest we offer them better terms to sway them?”
“Yes. They are well-equipped and highly skilled, so their morale is high, but they must know they can’t win against us. The foremost virtue of a mercenary is not loyalty—it’s survival.”
“There’s logic in that.”
“The commander of that fortress, Gillian, is far too talented to remain under Count Fenris. If we could persuade him, our future efforts would become significantly easier.”
“You want me to put trust in a dog that betrayed its master?”
“Mercenaries aren’t bound by loyalty. They deliver only what they’re paid for. If we take Fenris, we can offer them better terms. Considering how fiercely they fight despite being mercenaries, Gillian seems to have at least a degree of integrity.”
Baron Hutton desperately tried to persuade Harold.
Though Gillian had inflicted serious wounds on him, Baron Hutton couldn’t deny the man’s skill was extraordinary.
He was someone who could fight evenly with Baron Hutton himself, renowned as one of the finest swordsmen in the North.
Had he been in peak condition—or had they not been pressed for time and fought to the bitter end—Baron Hutton admitted he might have lost.
It pained him to think of such a talent being wasted in a place like this.
Harold nodded a few times in agreement.
“Indeed, someone capable of holding their own against you isn’t common in the North.”
Baron Hutton had been the swordsmanship mentor of Viktor, who aspired to become the greatest swordsman in the North under Harold’s command. Even the famed Yurgen, once called the North’s greatest swordsman, wasn’t someone Baron Hutton considered superior to himself.
The only reason they had never crossed swords was that, as the lord of an estate, Baron Hutton rarely had the opportunity to engage in direct combat. If war had ever broken out between them, the outcome would have been unpredictable.
After considering Baron Hutton’s argument, Harold finally nodded firmly.
“Very well, I’ll give it a few more days.”
From Desmond’s camp, a messenger carrying a white flag immediately set out.
Gillian glared at the envoy and asked, “They’re asking us to surrender?”
His face was still pale, and his body was wrapped in thick bandages as his wounds had yet to heal. The pain and exhaustion etched into his features made it clear that continuing the fight would be difficult.
The messenger looked him over briefly, then spoke in an arrogant tone, though the words themselves were polite.
“Indeed. The Count promises to treat you with the utmost respect.”
The words might have been courteous, but the expression on the envoy’s face was not. His attitude seemed to sneer, What do you people think you can do?
He continued, speaking as though bestowing a great favor.
“I understand most of you are former mercenaries. We’re offering you greater pay and better treatment than you currently receive. It’s natural for mercenaries to move to an employer who offers better terms, isn’t it?”
Lucas, standing beside Gillian, tightened his grip on his spear. The other knights reacted similarly.
They were well aware of how they were perceived by outsiders. They had lived their entire lives under contempt and scorn.
But this? To be so openly insulted as faithless scum—it was unbearable.
A chilling tension filled the air, and murderous intent began to radiate from the knights. The envoy and his attendants felt a stabbing pain, as if sharp needles were piercing their skin.
The envoy stepped back slightly, a smirk still on his face.
“Surely… you don’t truly believe you’re knights, do you?”
“…….”
“You’re not knights. You’re nothing more than mercenaries who’ve grown a bit stronger—men without chivalry. Face reality. There’s no need to throw your lives away for a flimsy contract, a meaningless sense of loyalty, or wounded pride.”
The envoy’s voice grew loftier as he cast a condescending gaze over the knights.
“Survival is a virtue for mercenaries. There’s no reason to waste precious lives here.”
The strategy was clear: shatter their illusions and force them to confront reality. Fear of their inevitable defeat would do the rest.
Flattery wasn’t necessary when the outcome was already decided. The only thing needed was a dose of reality.
“Abandon Count Fenris. Sign a new contract with us. If you’re concerned about penalties for breaking your contract, we’ll cover those costs. It won’t take long for us to recoup them, after all.”
“You bastard…”
Unable to hold back his anger, Lucas stepped forward, his murderous intent blazing around him like a fiery aura.
The envoy’s words hadn’t just insulted them—they had cut deeply.
In the past, such mockery might have been shrugged off with laughter.
But things are different now.
Having grown alongside Ghislain, Lucas and the other knights had developed a sense of pride. They could no longer endure such humiliation and shame.
The other knights breathed heavily, their bodies trembling with rage. They wanted nothing more than to cut the envoy down.
All eyes turned to Gillian.
If anyone would refuse to tolerate such indignities, it would be him—the most knightly of them all, the one who served his lord with unwavering loyalty.
“Tell your count to give us some time. I need to persuade the others. And when you come back, bring real terms—not just words.”
“…!”
The knights were momentarily stunned into silence.
The envoy, meanwhile, smirked as he glanced around at the flabbergasted knights.
“A wise decision. I encourage the rest of you to think carefully as well. There’s no need to throw your lives away here for nothing.”
With that, the envoy departed. A heavy silence lingered in his wake.
Moments later, Lucas raised his spear to Gillian’s neck, his voice trembling with fury.
“Trainer… are you saying your life is worth saving now?”
The tension in the air thickened once more, as if the knights were prepared to strike at any moment depending on the response.
One by one, the other knights began raising their spears.
“I didn’t think you were a coward. Did you lose your nerve after getting stabbed hard by the enemy?”
“Are you saying you’re going to betray our lord?”
“It’s because of thoughts like yours that people call us rootless scum all our lives.”
Gillian crossed his arms, scanning the knights with a calm gaze.
“What’s the matter? It’s a good opportunity. Anyone here want to surrender along with me?”
“You bastard!”
Swish!
Lucas lashed out without warning, thrusting his spear straight at Gillian. But Gillian simply tilted his head slightly, dodging it with ease.
Lucas didn’t stop there. He immediately swung the spear again, aiming for Gillian’s face.
Thunk!
Gillian effortlessly caught the shaft of the incoming spear. Lucas furrowed his brow and struggled to pull it free, but it wouldn’t budge.
Still holding the spear, Gillian turned his gaze to the other knights. Judging by the murderous intent on their faces, none of them seemed inclined to surrender.
He let out a small chuckle and spoke again.
“You idiots. If they’re willing to give us time, refusing outright would only put us at a disadvantage.”
“Huh?”
The knights looked puzzled, their anger clouding their judgment until now.
Gillian’s sharp eyes scanned the group.
“Good to know none of you are actually considering surrender. But our pride can wait. Save your rage for when we face the enemy. Right now, stalling for time is what will help our lord.”
“Ah…”
“So, our trainer can set his pride aside and act shamelessly when needed.”
“Who would’ve thought he had such foresight?”
The knights, their misunderstanding cleared, lowered their weapons and began to chuckle awkwardly.
Gillian shook his head as he watched them.
“Fools.”
And yet, perhaps that was why Ghislain valued them. They were always straightforward with their emotions, pure-hearted men who wouldn’t stoop to underhanded tricks.
“The enemy won’t give us much time anyway. Use this opportunity to recover your mana and stamina.”
The knights scratched their heads sheepishly and withdrew.
Harold, upon hearing the report from the envoy, nodded in satisfaction.
“As expected of lowborn scum. They know nothing of honor and only chase after money.”
If the opponents had been true knights, Harold would have been more cautious. But his prejudices blinded him.
It wasn’t uncommon for men of such origins to switch allegiances for better pay and conditions.
“Still, this works in our favor. It’ll reduce the damage. Their skills are impressive, so offer them generous terms.”
The envoy confidently reported his progress. All Harold needed to do was wait patiently.
Two days later, the envoy returned to the Fenris camp, emphasizing the remarkable terms they were offering.
“This should be more than satisfactory. But have you still not finished convincing everyone?”
Gillian put on a slightly troubled expression.
“The terms are appealing, but a few remain unconvinced. Please allow a bit more time. Some may not fully understand the conditions yet.”
The envoy scanned the camp and spotted a group of knights with disgruntled expressions gathered on one side.
Though more knights had visibly sided with Gillian, it seemed not all were persuaded yet.
The envoy, narrowing his eyes, issued a sharp warning.
“Tsk… We don’t have unlimited time, either. If some won’t budge, leave them behind. No one else will offer terms this good. I’ll return tomorrow.”
Day after day, the envoy returned to press Gillian. And while the number of knights aligning with Gillian increased, the progress was painfully slow.
Eventually, the envoy realized something was amiss.
“These bastards are dragging this out to negotiate for better terms!”
Grinding his teeth, the envoy cursed their greed.
Even in the middle of a war, these filthy lowborns are pulling such tricks.
Left with no choice, the envoy sweetened the deal even further.
Yet Gillian continued to insist on more time, claiming he wanted to bring everyone over.
A full week passed in this back-and-forth. After receiving a final warning from Harold, the now-desperate envoy stormed back to the Fenris camp.
“How much longer do you need?! We can’t give you any more time! Today is the last day!”
“One man remains.”
The envoy turned his head to see a knight standing off to the side, arms crossed with a sullen expression.
“And who is that?”
The knight spoke in a solemn tone.
“I am Lucas, a spear-fighting prodigy.”
“Why are you holding out alone? Is it out of pride?”
“I don’t feel like talking because I’m angry.”
“What are you angry about?”
“Do you really not know why I’m angry?”
“….”
The envoy, about to explode, forced himself to remain calm. Today was the deadline, and failure meant his own death. In a placating tone, he said, “If I’ve offended you, I apologize. Please, just tell me what’s bothering you.”
“What exactly are you apologizing for?”
“….”
“Do you even know what you did wrong, or are you just saying sorry?”
“….”
“Forget it. I don’t feel like talking anymore. You’ve just made me angrier.”
The envoy clenched his fists, suppressing his rising fury. He knew that if he failed to secure their surrender today, he would be as good as dead.
Left with no choice, he spent hours pleading with Lucas, desperately trying to uncover the source of his anger.
Finally, Lucas, his mood slightly improved, spoke curtly.
“The terms don’t interest me. I have specific conditions of my own.”
“And what might those be? The current terms are extremely generous. If you follow Count Desmond, you’ll live in luxury for the rest of your life.”
“That’s not enough. I want a noble title and a small estate. I want to become a lord—that was my mother’s dream for me.”
“You… You lunatic…”
The envoy gaped in disbelief. For a man of low birth to demand such outrageous conditions—it was absurd.
Turning to Gillian, the envoy shouted in frustration.
“Just kill this fool! Haven’t the others already agreed?!”
“I refuse,” Gillian replied coldly.
“What?!”
“We live together, and we’ll die together. I cannot accept your proposal.”
The envoy’s face turned deathly pale as the truth dawned on him.
“‘Live together, die together?’”
It became clear: these men had never intended to surrender at all.