The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Chapter 299: Chapter 298: Let’s Prepare for What’s Next (1)



It seemed the Duchy had begun preparing countermeasures against him as Harold's repeated failures mounted.

This was likely why Harold had acted so hastily. Harold's pride would never have allowed him to be comfortable with the Duchy's intervention.

Now that Ghislain's curiosity was partially satisfied, he probed further, just in case there was more to learn.

"Is that all? Anything else? Who were they planning to send?"

"Shut up! This land belongs to the House of Count Desmond! You've made a grave mistake! Do you think allying with the Royalist faction will allow you to stop the Duchy? You're finished, you wretched, a punk with no foundation!"

Ghislain frowned slightly. It seemed the man didn't know anything more.

"Quite the filthy mouth."

"Your father was nothing more than a beggar Zwalter Perdium, and your mother a ruined noblewoman of no consequence! Do you think gaining the title of Count and winning a war changes your foundation? Your trash family dares to look down on Desmond?"

The man's arrogance was deeply ingrained. He continued to belittle Perdium and Fenris.

Zwalter bristled and started forward, but Ghislain was faster, pulling out the hand axe from his belt.

Thwack!

Before the head butler could say more, his head was split open, and he collapsed.

As blood poured from the fallen man, Ghislain murmured, "Talking about someone's parents to their face is crossing the line."

The sudden attack left the Desmond townspeople watching from a distance holding their breath.

What sort of lord carried a hand axe and used it to kill someone in broad daylight? Even if the head butler's words had been harsh, the scene was terrifying.

Ghislain noticed the unease in the townspeople's expressions.

"Oops, I shouldn't start off by making people misunderstand me."

He stashed the hand axe and smiled brightly as he spoke.

"I'm not such a bad guy, so don't worry too much."

The townspeople trembled even more. Usually, someone who said such things was exactly the kind of person to be wary of.

It felt as if an unstoppable force had taken over their land.

In stark contrast to the frightened townspeople, the soldiers of Fenris brimmed with pride. They had fought and triumphed against the so-called strongest force in the North, Desmond. While they had received help from the Kingdom Army and Perdium forces, there was no denying that Fenris had been the primary driver of the victory.

Ghislain, now mounted on his horse, surveyed the soldiers who filled the area.

Because of Amelia, the task of organizing the battlefield had been left to others, and the rapid march to Desmond had left everyone scrambling. Though they had seized the land, there had been no time to truly grasp their accomplishment.

War doesn't end simply because you win. The one who leads the war must declare it finished for it to truly be over.

It was now time to formally declare their "victory."

Ghislain paused for a moment, smiling, then raised one hand and shouted.

"Through your dedication and strength, we have achieved victory against Desmond!"

Every soldier of Fenris stood tall. Especially the three defectors from Desmond, who stood with even more pride than the others.

"We have conquered this powerful territory! This is more than just a victory in battle. We have demonstrated to this kingdom how strong we are and shown that no foe can stand against our might!"

Ghislain's voice grew louder and more impassioned.

"From this day forward, this place will symbolize our strength and resolve. To all of you who have brought about this victory through your sacrifice and perseverance, I, as your lord, offer my gratitude! Now..."

He paused briefly, his gaze sweeping over all the gathered knights and soldiers of Fenris.

In a quiet yet commanding tone, his voice reached everyone's ears.

"Fenris is the strongest in the North."

"Waaaaaaah!"

The soldiers responded with thunderous cheers and shouts. Pride and confidence lit up their faces as they looked at one another.

The three defectors from Desmond hugged each other, even bursting into tears.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Bathed in the joy of victory, the soldiers looked at their lord with reverence and admiration, their cheers seemingly endless.

Leaving behind the deafening cheers, Ghislain and the key figures of the war moved into the castle.

Now, it was time to deal with the real post-war matters.

Zwalter gazed at Ghislain with eyes brimming with emotion.

"You... You actually won... Everything turned out just as you said..."

"It's thanks to your support, Father. The timing was perfect."

"No, no. Without all that you've done, how could we have fought this well?"

Zwalter's eyes glistened with tears. If not for the presence of others, he might have embraced

his son tightly.

The House of Desmond had long been a dominant force, holding the title of Great Lord of the North. Harold, despite his flaws, had led the house to its peak.

In the past, the name Desmond alone would have struck fear into Perdium.

Yet now, the heir of Perdium had seized Desmond's lands and was on his way to becoming the

Great Lord uniting the North!

'My dear... Why did you leave us so soon...?'

Today, Zwalter missed his late wife more than ever. She would have been overjoyed to see

their son like this.

For the once-impoverished Perdium, Ghislain had sparked an unprecedented revival. It was a moment unmatched in the history of their family.

Unlike Zwalter's overwhelming pride, Viscount Clifton, commander of the Kingdom's 3rd Corps, and Viscount Idorian of the Investor Noble Alliance wore more nuanced expressions.

Clifton, in particular, was filled with indescribable emotions.

'I had only meant to keep him alive and bring him back... I never thought he was such a figure.'

As a member of the Royalist faction, Clifton was well aware of Ghislain's reputation.

A lucky upstart propped up by Marquis Branford, with a bit of cleverness and a knack for minor tricks-so the rumors had gone.

Yet the Ghislain he had seen in battle was no upstart to be underestimated.

'He's a monster. Few could rival him. He is truly the strongest in the North.' Throughout the war, Clifton had closely observed Ghislain, prepared to extract him from

danger if necessary.

But even that precaution now seemed arrogant in hindsight. Ghislain's martial prowess and tactical brilliance were beyond comparison.

'And with elite cavalry and a 6th-circle mage at his side... Even we, his allies, didn't fully understand

the strength of Fenris!'

Ghislain had been quietly amassing tremendous power. Yet high-ranking nobles in the Royalist faction continued to underestimate him.

Many even grumbled behind Marquis Branford's back, frustrated with his support for

Ghislain.

Clifton himself had subconsciously dismissed Ghislain. Though the young man had gained the title of Count, Clifton had seen him as nothing more than a lucky youth.

But not anymore. The more Clifton saw of Ghislain, the more fearsome he found him.

Sweating slightly, Clifton bowed his head to Ghislain.

"Congratulations on your victory, Commander of the Northern Army."

Officially, Ghislain held the title of Northern Army Commander. Though the chain of

command was different, his rank during wartime was technically higher than a corps

commander.

Clifton was now openly treating Ghislain as his superior.

Ghislain smiled faintly and responded.

"Thanks to you, commander, we were able to achieve this victory. I will not forget the Royal

Family's and Royalist faction's support. I'll ensure you are repaid for your efforts. I will also see to it that the family of the 2nd Corps commander is adequately compensated."

"Thank you. He will rest easier knowing that."

Baron Dorren had been a close friend of Clifton's. While Clifton appreciated Ghislain's

thoughtfulness, a heavy feeling lingered.

'Can we truly control this man?'

With the power of Marquis Branford and the Royalist faction, it should be possible. It had to

be. After all, that's why they had supported Ghislain in the first place.

Yet an inexplicable unease gnawed at Clifton. The memory of Ghislain fighting, like a

ferocious demon, refused to fade.

Such a man was not one to serve under anyone. The more they tried to rein him in, the more

violently he would resist and retaliate.

'Enough. This is not my decision to make.'

Clifton reminded himself he was a soldier. His duty was to serve the Royal Family and follow

their orders. His sword existed to carry out his master's will, not his own.

With Clifton's formalities concluded, Viscount Idorian stepped forward. "Ahem, my apologies for the delay in introducing myself. I am Viscount Idorian of the

Capital's Noble Alliance, representing the interests of the investors... I mean, the Investor

Noble Alliance."

"Thank you. I won't forget the investors' contributions."

"Yes, well, we've suffered some losses this time, as our troops were mainly private soldiers..."

Nobles are always sensitive about money. They had sent private soldiers to avoid direct losses, but since many of those soldiers had died, it was still a loss to them. Understanding this, Ghislain nodded and said readily, "I will ensure you are well-stocked with provisions for your return."

At those words, Viscount Idorian beamed. Though the drought had passed and recovery was underway, the price of food remained as precious as gold.

Count Fenris was known as a man of his word, and hearing this confirmation brought the

viscount undeniable joy.

"Hahaha, thank you very much. I look forward to working with you in the future."

"Oh, don't mention it. Aren't we always partners in this?"

They certainly were partners, having invested so much money together. Viscount Idorian

eagerly nodded in agreement.

"Of course, of course. We'll be partners for life."

Viscount Idorian abandoned any thoughts of withdrawing his investments. With Marquis

Branford backing Fenris and now with control of Desmond territory, who would dare touch Fenris? It seemed safe to trust and continue investing.

Thus, a somewhat heavy yet amicable atmosphere took hold. After discussing preliminary post-war measures, everyone dispersed to rest. There was a

need to confirm the casualties and begin reorganization, which would keep everyone busy for

the next few days.

Finally catching a brief respite, Ghislain saw Belinda approaching.

Ghislain greeted her with words of gratitude.

"Thank you. Because of you, we managed to delay Amelia's advance. If she had arrived first, it

would have been a real headache. She's the type who won't leave once she's settled in."

"It wasn't much. You gave me plenty of notice, so preparing was easy. But honestly, it's

fascinating. You're not going to tell me how you knew this time, are you?"

"Well, I just know Amelia very well."

"Oh my, is that because you used to chase her around back in the day?"

"... That's not it. Or... maybe it is?"

On second thought, he had indeed chased her around in his past life-but that was to kill her.

Belinda burst into laughter for a while before continuing.

"The dwarves complained endlessly about being dragged here so suddenly."

Galbarik and the dwarves had barely finished crafting bows before being roped into digging

traps, grumbling the whole time.

It was Belinda who half-forced them into it with a mix of persuasion and fists. If not for her

efforts, this victory might have been incomplete.

Ghislain had tasked her specifically with tying up Amelia's movements, leaving the method entirely in Belinda's capable hands.

'I knew there was something fishy about your past.'

Since he never got an answer no matter how often he asked, Ghislain simply smirked and let it

go.

"Well, it all worked out. Let's move on to the next step."

"Yes, now we need to quickly secure and integrate this newly acquired land. The head butler is sure to cause a fuss, given how many of Desmond's vassals we've eliminated." "We couldn't leave them alive anyway. Most of them were pawns of the Duchy."

This wasn't like the Count Cabaldi territory, where the vassals were merely corrupt. Here, the

vassals were genuine agents of the Duchy.

They needed to be thoroughly purged. Even lower-level officials couldn't be trusted until their backgrounds were thoroughly vetted.

As usual, Fenris's administrative officers would be worked to the bone. "Hmm, we're going to be short-staffed again. Piote can't handle all this on his own. It's

fortunate we've been steadily training administrators at the academy."

"At least Bishop Forisco sent ten priests to help this time." "Right. Make sure they're well accommodated. While they're here, we might as well build

some small temples across the region to make their stay more permanent."

"Great idea! See? Our young master is so smart!"

With the territory now significantly larger than before, there were plenty of places for the

priests to be dispatched. Knowing Piote would be uncomfortable meeting them, Ghislain planned to station them far apart.

Even though Bishop Forisco hadn't offered any, Ghislain and Belinda discussed this plan as though it were already decided.

The two of them always had an uncanny alignment in these matters.

"To move things along, we'll need to relocate Claude's residence here. I wonder if he'll

complain about moving again."

Unlike other northern territories, Desmond was vast and resource-rich. It made sense to

center their operations here, but that meant Claude had to come.

As Ghislain expected, Claude was whining-but for entirely different reasons.

Unaware of the war's outcome, Claude anxiously chewed his nails. "What should I do? Should I escape now? But how would I go alone?" No matter how he thought about it, victory seemed impossible. While his lord was

impressive, Count Desmond was no slouch, and the disparity in forces was overwhelming.

Escaping while he still could seemed like the wisest choice.

"But I don't want to go alone!"

Claude, who lived by the motto that the outside world was dangerous, had no confidence in

returning to his hometown alone.

To make matters worse, he didn't even have his usual bodyguard.

"Damn it! I shouldn't have let Wendy go!"

The soldiers and trainees guarding him now were nothing compared to Wendy. He had often

wished she would leave him alone, but now that she was gone, he felt unbearably vulnerable.

And terrified. Claude was not a brave man. "Ugh... When they come here, they'll kill me first!"

Claude had been nicknamed the "Bribe King of the North," alongside Ghislain, for all the

trouble they caused. There was no way Count Desmond would spare him.

If Wendy had been here, he could have fled the moment news of defeat arrived. He had begged

Belinda to leave Wendy behind.

- "I can't live without Wendy! Please don't take her!"

- "Oh my, what's this? After being stuck together all the time, have you two become a

couple?"

"It's not that! I mean I'll literally die without her!" Despite his pleas, Belinda had merely scoffed and taken Wendy with her.

As Claude wallowed in despair, wondering if he should flee, the long-awaited news finally

arrived.

"The lord has won! A great victory!"

A messenger ran around the estate shouting, his face beaming with joy as he tirelessly

delivered the news to everyone.

"Waaaaah!"

The vassals, servants, and townsfolk all cheered loudly. No one cheered louder than Claude.

"Aaaaaah! I'm saved!"

Just as Claude reveled in relief, another messenger hurriedly approached him.

"Head Butler!"

"What?!"

"The lord has summoned you immediately!"

"Already? Why? Didn't we just occupy the place?"

"There's too much work to be done."

"... How much?"

"A mountain's worth."

The elation Claude felt vanished instantly. His shoulders slumped, and he muttered

despondently.

"I suddenly want to die."

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