The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Chapter 374

“AAAAAAHHHHH!”

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The Marquis of Rodrick screamed furiously, slamming his chair repeatedly onto the floor. His entire body trembled uncontrollably with rage, while his vassals stood silently with their heads bowed, too fearful to speak.

“Twenty thousand! I sent twenty thousand soldiers, and they still couldn’t capture that damn brat!” he roared.

One of the braver vassals cautiously stepped forward to speak.

“M-My Lord, with the confirmation that Count Fenris has indeed reached the level of a Master, it would be prudent to deploy stronger knights and more seasoned soldiers—”

“Do you dare to offer me excuses?! Kill this fool immediately!”

“My Lord, please, I wasn’t—”

SHING!

Before the vassal could finish his plea, a knight swung his blade, severing the man’s head. The body crumpled to the ground without even a final scream.

The great hall was plunged into even deeper silence, suffused with an atmosphere of dread.

Although the Marquis of Rodrick was infamous for his ruthlessness, such blatant execution of his vassals within the great hall was rare. It was an indication of just how deep his fury ran.

“Huuh… huuh…”

The Marquis’s heavy, erratic breaths echoed in the silence. No one dared approach him or utter a single word.

After several moments of strained breathing, he finally spoke, his tone laced with venom.

“So, the siege was successful, but those damned mercenaries ambushed our rear? Is that correct?”

One of the other vassals, trembling but determined to answer, spoke up.

“Y-Yes, My Lord. We prioritized capturing Count Fenris, so we left the mercenaries unchecked. As a result…”

“And how did that brat manage to summon reinforcements? They arrived precisely during the battle, didn’t they?”

“It appears someone slipped through the lines to deliver a message to them,” the vassal replied hesitantly.

The Marquis’s breathing grew harsher, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“A siege, and you couldn’t even prevent someone from escaping? Tenant! Explain this failure!”

Tenant, the commander responsible for recommending the late Howard, was left with no defense.

“I have no excuses, My Lord. The failure is mine.”

The Marquis glared at Tenant but refrained from punishing him further. Even in his anger, he knew Tenant was one of his most capable knights.

“What about the deserters?”

“Out of fear of punishment, many have fled. Some have formed gangs, while others have disappeared into distant regions.”

“Ugh…”

Following the battle at Daeker Fortress, bandit gangs had sprung up across the western territories. The remnants of the shattered Rodrick army had turned into marauding thieves, pillaging villages wherever they went.

These groups varied in size, from as few as a hundred to as many as a thousand. Given that nearly 10,000 soldiers had scattered, it was no surprise.

The smaller territories were the ones suffering the most from this lawlessness.

“The local lords are requesting aid. Their forces alone cannot handle the bandits,” a vassal reported.

“Damn it…”

The Marquis had long suppressed the lords under his banner, ensuring they could not grow too powerful. Their forces were deliberately kept small, with the understanding that the Marquisate would send reinforcements when necessary.

Protecting his vassals was not just policy—it was an obligation as their liege.

But now, instead of pursuing Fenris, the Marquis had to organize punitive expeditions to deal with the chaos.

Grinding his teeth, the Marquis muttered bitterly, “That brat has completely outmaneuvered me.”

Multiple territories had been devastated, leaving the Marquisate scrambling to recover.

Losing a single battle had caused far-reaching consequences. The loss of 20,000 soldiers was devastating even for the Marquisate, but the blow to its prestige was even worse.

“To think I’ve suffered such humiliation because of that brat from the north…”

For a grand lord like the Marquis of Rodrick, this was an unprecedented disgrace. Even the Royalist faction would begin to see him as weak.

For now, his priority was stabilizing his internal affairs and reassuring his vassals that the Marquisate remained strong and unshaken.

“Tenant, organize punitive expeditions and eliminate the bandits. Leave no survivors.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“Prepare the entire army for a full mobilization. We will march on Fenris.”

“…”

The vassals exchanged nervous glances but dared not voice their objections. To oppose the Marquis now would mean courting death.

If war broke out, the Marquisate would have to coordinate closely with the Duchy, as their original strategy was to swiftly breach the Royalist front lines and march on the capital.

The Marquisate’s proximity to the capital and the deployment of Royalist forces in the south to counter the Duchy made the western front relatively weak. However, a campaign against Fenris would disrupt those plans.

Tenant, seeing the tension among the vassals, spoke carefully.

“If we act prematurely, it will disrupt the Duchy’s strategy. A march on the north would provoke the Royalist faction into action.”

“And you’re suggesting I let that brat run free?”

“We could wait until after securing Cardenia. Preparing for the northern campaign after—”

“That’s too late!”

The Marquis’s voice thundered with fury once more.

“By then, the nobles of this kingdom will mock me endlessly! They’ll say the great Marquis of Rodrick lost 20,000 soldiers to a brat and did nothing about it!”

“Count Fenris is a Master. The rumors will spread soon enough—”

“And what of it? He led only 400 soldiers! How will I excuse losing to that?”

Tenant had no response. While the Count being a Master complicated matters, failing to capture him despite overwhelming numbers was an inexcusable humiliation.

Even worse, allowing the mercenaries to roam unchecked had compounded the disaster.

The Marquis turned his piercing gaze on Tenant.

“Do you not understand the ridicule we face? They already whisper that our army is undisciplined and untrained, that we’re nothing but cowards.”

While the Marquisate’s strength made war unnecessary for years, this defeat lent credibility to those rumors. The nobles who envied the Marquisate would seize this opportunity to tarnish its reputation further.

“For the pride of the Marquisate, we must act decisively!” the Marquis declared.

“Send word to the Duchy. We’ll split our forces. One army will march on the capital, and the other will crush Fenris. Begin preparations immediately.”

Tenant closed his eyes briefly. No matter how strong the Marquisate was, dividing its forces against both the Royalist army and Fenris was reckless.

But here, the Marquis’s word was law. Tenant could only bow in submission.

“I will deliver your orders to the Duchy, My Lord.”

“Good. Issue a decree to all lords. Mobilize their forces and prepare for war immediately.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

The vassals, though uneasy, responded in unison. While the situation seemed dire, they still had hope. The Royalist faction had yet to grasp the true strength of the Marquisate, and even with half their forces, victory against the kingdom’s armies seemed possible.

Thus, under the wrathful command of the Marquis of Rodrick, preparations for war began in earnest.

***

“Hurraaaaah!”

“Lord Ghislain has triumphed again!”

“The Unstoppable Conqueror!”

As Ghislain returned to his territory, the citizens flooded the streets to cheer. The news of his numerous victories had already been delivered through messengers, and now, whenever Ghislain went to war, the citizens prepared a festival in anticipation of his return.

“I knew he’d win again this time.”

“Of course. Our lord is the strongest in the north. A true Master.”

“What’s a Master?”

“It’s like a title for someone who’s the best at beating people up. It means he’s a Master of defeating his enemies.”

“Ah, no wonder he always wins.”

Ghislain had earned the unwavering trust of his people. Life in the territory had steadily improved, and since the acquisition of Desmond, even the scarcity of essential goods was being resolved. Every time Ghislain returned victorious from war, he brought back a massive haul of spoils.

At the tail end of the triumphant procession, hundreds of wagons laden with loot rolled into the territory.

“Wow, is all of that the spoils of war?”

“It looks like there’s way more than last time.”

“Of course. Our lord is amazing.”

The citizens’ joy was amplified by another reason: Ghislain’s consistent generosity. After every victory, he ensured his people were treated to ample feasts of meat and ale, lifting their spirits and instilling an unshakable confidence in his leadership.

This was one of Ghislain’s strategies to unite his people.

The loyalty of the citizens translated to greater productivity. Should he ever call for a general mobilization, these same people would rise as capable soldiers to defend their homeland.

Smiling brightly, Ghislain raised his hand and addressed the crowd.

“All of this was possible because of your hard work and dedication to the territory! Soon, I will share ale, meat, and suitable rewards with everyone, so look forward to it!”

“Hurraaaaah!”

“Our lord is the best when it comes to generosity!”

“We’ll work even harder!”

Claude, as always, fretted about finances, but even he had changed recently. The moment he saw the spoils arriving with the procession, his mood shifted dramatically, and he practically squirmed with excitement.

“Wow, wow, wow! I knew we had incoming loot, but this haul is insane!”

“Of course. This was our last sweep, so we made sure to grab everything.”

“And Rodrick’s Marquis just let you take all of this? They didn’t chase after you?”

“They’ve got their hands full trying to round up their deserters. Their surrounding forces were completely ransacked.”

“Ahaha! Serves them right! Nothing like a good beating to knock sense into them!”

Claude laughed so hard he clutched his stomach, thinking back to Tenant’s arrogant behavior during their earlier confrontation. Watching him fail brought immense satisfaction.

“This time, make sure to distribute meat, ale, and necessities to the people. We need to keep morale high.”

“Ugh, fine, fine. I’ll make it happen.”

Though Claude sighed dramatically, he didn’t put up much of a fight. After all, the spoils came from seven territories. Even if they were relatively small, the combined wealth was substantial. Additionally, the resources harvested from the Forest of Beasts had significantly bolstered their income.

The fertile soil of Ferdium was now producing food in such abundance that they were on the verge of discarding surplus supplies.

“What about the rune stones? Are we still selling them to the Scarlet Tower at the same rate?”

“Yes, for now, keep the flow steady.”

“Well, we’ve got plenty left, but with the Crimson Tower dismantled, do we really need to keep this up?”

“This isn’t the time to hold back. We use what we have and share where needed.”

The civil war was looming, and Ghislain knew the importance of bolstering allies. Weakening the enemy was critical, but strengthening their own forces was just as essential.

The Scarlet Tower’s magical strength would be a significant asset to the Royalist faction. By increasing their support now, Ghislain could ensure they were well-equipped.

The same principle applied to the Royalists themselves. With the resources overflowing in Fenris, Ghislain planned to provide supplies to enhance the Royalists’ war potential.

Understanding the strategy, Claude nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, no point hoarding supplies to let them rot. It’s time we help the Royalists grow stronger.”

“Exactly. The better they hold their ground, the easier it’ll be for us to act. The resources controlled by the Duke and the Marquis of Rodrick are on another level entirely.”

“Got it. I’ll make preparations immediately.”

Despite his usual flippant demeanor, Claude was meticulous when it came to important tasks. Ghislain trusted him to handle it well.

“Don’t forget to stay focused on war preparations.”

“Of course.”

After provoking the Marquis of Rodrick, Ghislain knew retaliation was inevitable. Additionally, the disrupted plans of the Duke’s faction meant they would likely push for an early start to the civil war.

Fenris needed to sharpen its forces and prepare for battle at any moment.

Once Ghislain had reviewed the state of the territory, he went directly to find Galbaric.

As always, Galbaric and the dwarves greeted him with bleary eyes, clearly exhausted.

“Ugh… You’ve returned, my lord.”

“Yes, is everything I requested ready?”

Before heading west for his campaign, Ghislain had tasked Galbaric with developing a new product. The dwarf nodded, his expression weary but brimming with confidence.

“Indeed, the prototype is complete, and we’re ready to begin full-scale production.”

“Good. Time is short, so let’s ramp up production immediately.”

Ghislain’s grin widened with satisfaction.

If they managed to meet their production targets, this new product would revolutionize the battlefield.