The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations - Chapter 298
Chapter 298: Now, Let’s Prepare for What’s Next. (1)
Harold kept failing, and it seemed the Ducal family was beginning to consider taking action against him.
That was why Harold, feeling pressured, had moved more quickly than expected. Of course, the Ducal family’s choice must not have sat well with Harold’s pride.
Curious about whether there was more to learn, Ghislain asked, “Is that it? Nothing else? Who were they planning to send?”
“Shut up! This land belongs to Count Desmond’s family! What you’ve done is a mistake! Do you think someone like you, aligning with the Royal Faction, can stop the Ducal family? You’re finished, you damned bastard without roots!”
Ghislain slightly furrowed his brow. It seemed the man had nothing more to reveal.
“Quite a foul mouth you’ve got there.”
“Your father is that beggar Zwalter Ferdium, and your mother’s a fallen noblewoman of dubious origins! Do you think gaining the title of Count and winning a war will change your bloodline? A garbage family like yours dares to challenge us, the Desmonds?!”
Arrogance was ingrained in his very being. The man still looked down on Ferdium and Fenris.
Zwalter bristled and began to step forward, but Ghislain was faster, pulling a hand axe from his waist.
Thud!
Before the steward of Desmond could utter another word, his head was split open, and he collapsed.
As blood poured from the fallen man, Ghislain muttered,
“Talking trash about someone’s parents in front of them? Not cool.”
The sudden attack silenced the onlookers, the people of Desmond’s territory who had been cautiously watching.
What kind of lord carries a hand axe and kills someone in broad daylight? The steward’s words might have been harsh, but fear was fear.
Ghislain noticed the unease among the onlookers.
“Oops. I shouldn’t start things off with such misunderstandings.”
He sheathed the hand axe and smiled brightly.
“Don’t worry; I’m not such a bad person.”
The townsfolk began trembling even more. Usually, the kind of person who says that is the scariest of all.
To them, it felt as though some terrifying being had taken over their land.
In stark contrast, the Fenris soldiers were brimming with pride.
They had fought and triumphed against Desmond, renowned as the strongest in the North. Even though they had the assistance of the Kingdom’s army and Ferdium’s forces, it didn’t change the fact that the Fenris soldiers were the key players in the victory.
Mounted once more on the Black King, Ghislain surveyed the soldiers who filled the area.
Due to Amelia’s swift maneuver that he had to stop, he had left the cleanup of the battlefield to others and had been moving non-stop. While they had occupied Desmond’s land, the whirlwind of activity likely left little time for the soldiers to feel the full weight of their victory.
War doesn’t end simply by winning. It only truly concludes when the one leading the war declares it over.
Now, it was time to truly proclaim their victory.
With a brief smile, Ghislain raised one hand and shouted,
“Through your dedication and strength, we have triumphed over Desmond!”
Every Fenris soldier stood tall. Especially the three spies who had defected from Desmond’s forces, who stood with a pride even greater than the rest.
“We’ve not only won the battle but have seized this mighty land! We’ve shown this kingdom just how strong we are and proved that no foe can stand against our might!”
Ghislain’s voice rose higher and higher.
“From now on, this place will stand as a symbol of our power and resolve. To you who have brought about this victory through your effort and sacrifice, I, as your lord, express my gratitude. Now…”
Pausing briefly, Ghislain looked around at all the Fenris knights and soldiers gathered.
Then, in a low but resolute voice that carried clearly to all ears, he declared,
“Fenris is the strongest in the North.”
“Waaaaaaaah!”
The soldiers erupted into cheers and shouts of jubilation. Their faces were filled with pride and confidence as they looked at one another.
The three former Desmond spies, in particular, embraced each other, weeping with emotion.
Every soldier, immersed in the joy of victory, sent endless cheers and gazes of respect toward their lord.
Leaving the soldiers’ roaring celebration behind, Ghislain and the key figures who had participated in the war moved into the castle.
It was time to handle the true aftermath of the war.
Zwalter looked at Ghislain with eyes full of emotion.
“You… you really did it. Just as you said…”
“It was thanks to your help, Father. You timed things perfectly.”
“No, no. If not for what you’ve done, how could we have fought like that?”
Zwalter’s eyes brimmed with tears. If they hadn’t been in front of others, he would have tightly embraced his son.
The Desmond Count’s family had held the position of Grand Lord in the North for generations. Harold, though not without ability, had led Desmond to its greatest golden age.
If it had been the old Ferdium, the very name Desmond would have been enough to make them tremble.
But now, Ferdium’s heir had conquered the Desmond lands and was about to become the Grand Lord who unified the North!
‘My dear… why did you leave us so soon…?’
Zwalter missed his late wife more than ever today. If she had been here to see their son’s achievements, no one would have been prouder.
The once-impoverished Ferdium family was now flourishing under Ghislain’s leadership. There had never been such prosperity in the history of their lineage.
While Zwalter was overwhelmed with joy, the expressions of two others were far more complex: Viscount Clifton, commander of the 3rd Legion of the Kingdom’s Army, and Viscount Iderean, representing the Capital’s Noble Investors’ Union.
Among the two, Viscount Clifton’s emotions were especially turbulent.
‘I had only planned to save him and bring him back alive… but to think he’d turn out to be someone like this.’
As a member of the Royal Faction, Clifton was well aware of the reputation Ghislain had among the nobles.
He was considered a lucky upstart, propped up by the Marquis of Branford, possessing a bit of cleverness but nothing more.
But the Ghislain he witnessed during the war was no mere upstart worthy of such dismissive opinions.
‘He’s a monster. Few could stand against someone like this. This man truly is the “Greatest Sword of the North”.’
Even as he fought against Desmond’s forces, Clifton had kept an eye on the Fenris troops fighting in the center. In the worst-case scenario, he had resolved to save Ghislain at all costs.
But even those worries turned out to be arrogant assumptions. Ghislain’s martial prowess and tactical acumen were leagues beyond Clifton’s capabilities.
‘And then there’s the aerial cavalry and a 6th-circle mage… Even we, as allies, didn’t fully understand the might of Fenris!’
Ghislain had been building a formidable force, yet many of the high-ranking nobles in the Royal Faction still underestimated him.
In fact, the number of nobles criticizing Marquis Branford for backing Ghislain had grown.
Even Clifton had harbored a subtle disregard for him until now. Though Ghislain had risen to the rank of Count, Clifton had dismissed him as a lucky novice.
But not anymore. The more Clifton observed Ghislain, the more terrifying he found him.
Sweating nervously, Clifton gave Ghislain a slight bow.
“Congratulations on your victory, Commander of the Northern Army.”
Technically, Ghislain held the title of Commander of the Northern Army. Although the command structure differed in reality, his rank in wartime superseded that of a Kingdom Army Legion Commander.
By bowing, Viscount Clifton was acknowledging Ghislain as his superior.
Ghislain responded with a faint smile.
“Thanks to your assistance, we were able to secure this victory. I won’t forget the support of the Royal Faction and the Kingdom. I’ll make sure to repay the favor. I’ll also ensure proper compensation for the family of the 2nd Legion Commander.”
“Thank you. That friend can now rest in peace.”
Viscount Doren, the fallen commander of the 2nd Legion, had been a close friend of Clifton. While Clifton appreciated Ghislain’s thoughtful words, his heart grew heavy.
‘Can we really control this man?’
Perhaps the Royal Faction, together with the Marquis of Branford, could. They had to. That was why they had supported Ghislain up until now.
Yet a vague unease lingered in Clifton’s chest. After witnessing Ghislain in battle, the fearsome, demonic image of him refused to fade.
A man like this didn’t belong under anyone. The more someone tried to leash him, the more viciously he’d rebel and retaliate.
‘Enough. This isn’t for me to decide.’
He was a soldier. His duty was to serve the Royal Family and follow their orders. Like a sword wielded by its master, he wouldn’t act on his own judgment.
As Clifton stepped back, Viscount Iderean approached.
“Ahem, I apologize for the delayed introduction. I am Viscount Iderean, representing the Capital’s Noble Investors’ Union… and, well, the victims of this war.”
“Thank you for your contributions. I won’t forget the assistance provided by the investors.”
“Yes, well… we did bring only our private soldiers for this campaign, but… we’ve suffered some losses.”
The nobles from the Investors’ Union were predictably sensitive about finances. Though they had sent troops to avoid incurring too much loss, the death of many private soldiers still constituted a significant expense.
Understanding their concerns, Ghislain nodded and replied with ease.
“When you return, I’ll make sure you’re well-stocked with provisions.”
At Ghislain’s words, the viscount beamed. Though the drought was easing and conditions were slowly improving, the cost of food remained as high as gold.
Iderean already knew that Count Fenris was someone who kept his promises, but hearing it confirmed still made him happy.
“Haha, thank you very much! I look forward to working with you in the future.”
“No need to mention it. After all, we’re in this together, aren’t we?”
It was true; they had invested heavily in Fenris. Iderean nodded enthusiastically.
“Of course, of course. We’ll stay partners for life!”
Iderean abandoned any thoughts of withdrawing his investment. With the Marquis of Branford backing Ghislain and the conquest of the Desmond territory complete, who would dare challenge Fenris now?
He was confident that investing in Fenris was a safe bet for the future.
With that, the conversation shifted into a half-heavy, half-pleasant atmosphere as the participants discussed post-war plans. Eventually, the group dispersed for some much-needed rest. It was time to tend to the casualties and reorganize, a process that would keep everyone busy for the next few days.
—
Now able to take a breather, Ghislain was approached by Belinda.
Ghislain offered her a grateful smile.
“Thanks. Because of you, we were able to delay Amelia’s advance. If she had arrived first, it would have been a real headache. Once she settles in somewhere, she’s impossible to budge.”
“Oh, it wasn’t much. You gave me the heads-up, so I could prepare easily enough. Though I’m still curious—how did you know? You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“Well, I just know Amelia pretty well.”
“Oh my, is it because you used to chase her around back in the day?”
“…That’s not it. Or is it?”
Come to think of it, in his past life, he had chased her. Though it was more about trying to capture and kill her.
Belinda laughed heartily before continuing,
“You wouldn’t believe how much the dwarves grumbled about being dragged here out of the blue.”
Galbarik and the dwarves had been forced to switch from crafting bows to building traps the moment they were brought in.
It was Belinda who had soothed them—half with words, half with fists—and ensured everything was ready. Without her contributions, the victory might have been incomplete.
Ghislain had only asked her to hold Amelia back. How she accomplished it, he left entirely up to her.
‘She’s always so suspiciously competent.’
Even though he’d asked her many times, she never revealed her methods. Ghislain just gave up, chuckling softly.
“Well, it’s good that everything worked out. Let’s start preparing for the next steps.”
“Yes, we need to secure this area and fully integrate the newly acquired territory as soon as possible. Though I imagine the Chief Overseer is going to kick up quite a fuss. We’ve wiped out nearly all the retainers here.”
“We couldn’t let them live anyway. Most of them were directly tied to the Ducal family.”
Unlike Count Cabaldi’s territory, where retainers were simply corrupt, here, many were actual agents of the Ducal family.
Ghislain knew he had to root them out thoroughly. Even the lower-level officials couldn’t be trusted until their backgrounds were fully vetted.
As always, the Fenris administrative staff would likely end up working themselves to exhaustion.
“Hm, we’ll be short on manpower again. Piote can’t handle all this by himself. Still, it’s fortunate the academy has been training more administrators.”
“True, and Bishop Porisco sent ten priests this time, didn’t he?”
“Yes, make sure they’re treated well. We should consider building small shrines in a few places to encourage them to stay longer.”
“That’s a wonderful idea! Our young lord really is brilliant!”
With the territory now much larger than before, there were plenty of places to assign the priests. To avoid any awkwardness with Piote, Ghislain decided to station the priests far from him.
Even though he hadn’t planned to allocate anything to Porisco, Ghislain and Belinda acted as if it were an obvious move.
When it came to such matters, the two always worked seamlessly together.
“Well, if we want to move quickly, we should relocate Claude’s base here too. Though I wonder if he’ll whine about not wanting to come.”
Unlike other northern territories, Desmond’s land was vast and resource-rich. It made sense to make it their central hub for future development, but that required Claude’s presence.
As Ghislain suspected, Claude was indeed grumbling—but not for the reasons he imagined.
Having not yet heard of the war’s outcome, Claude was nervously biting his nails.
“Ah, what should I do? Should I run away now? But how can I escape alone?”
No matter how he thought about it, he was certain they couldn’t win. Though his lord was extraordinary, Count Desmond was no slouch either, and the disparity in forces was too great.
Running seemed like the only sensible option.
“But I don’t want to! I don’t know how to get back on my own!”
Claude had always lived by the principle of avoiding danger. He didn’t have the confidence to return to his hometown alone.
On top of that, his usual guards were nowhere to be found.
“Damn it! I should’ve kept Wendy with me!”
His current guards were a few estate soldiers and trainees—not exactly reassuring compared to Wendy.
When she was around, she constantly nagged and watched over him, and he had wished for her absence. Now that she was gone, he found the emptiness unbearable.
Not to mention, he was terrified. Claude was, at heart, a very fearful man.
“Ugh… they’ll kill me first when they get here!”
Alongside Ghislain, Claude had been dubbed the “Bribe King of the North.” Together, they had done everything possible to anger Desmond. There was no way Desmond would let him live.
If only Wendy were here, he could have escaped the moment bad news arrived. Her presence would have been a huge relief.
In fact, he had begged Belinda to leave Wendy behind.
— “I can’t live without Wendy! Please don’t take her!”
— “Oh my, what’s this? Always stuck together—are you two a couple now?”
— “That’s not what I mean! I’ll literally die without her!”
Despite his desperate pleas, Belinda had scoffed and dragged Wendy away anyway.
Just as Claude was sinking deeper into despair, the long-awaited news finally arrived.
“The lord has won! A great victory!”
A messenger ran through the estate, shouting the news with a radiant smile. He seemed determined to deliver the message to everyone in the estate without rest.
“Uwaaah!”
The retainers, servants, and even the commoners in the estate erupted into cheers. And none shouted louder than Claude.
“Waaaah! I’m saved!”
But before his joy could fully settle, another messenger arrived in a hurry.
“Chief Overseer!”
“What?!”
“The lord wants you to come immediately!”
“Already? Why? He just occupied the place!”
“He says there’s too much work to do.”
“…How much?”
“Enough to form a mountain, apparently.”
Claude, who had been jubilant just moments ago, hung his head low.
Suddenly, he wanted to die.