The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Chapter 397

“Spare us!”

“We’ve done nothing wrong!”

“We swear loyalty to Fenris!”

The retainers of Marquis Rodrick’s household fell to their knees, pale with fear, as Fenris’s forces flooded in.

They had never imagined their fortress could be taken, let alone so swiftly. Confident in their overwhelming numerical advantage, they had believed this war would end in a predictable victory.

But their stronghold had fallen in mere hours, leaving them no chance to flee.

Ghislain Fenris regarded them with disinterest and gave a simple order.

“Remove them.”

At his command, the retainers—who had handled the affairs of the Marquisate—were dragged away.

“You’ll regret this! The Marquis will never forgive you!” they screamed, hurling curses as they were taken, but Ghislain remained unmoved.

After all, Marquis Rodrick was already mobilizing to kill him.

With Linderstein now in Fenris’s hands, the entire administrative network of the Marquisate had ground to a halt. This also meant that supplies bound for Rodrick’s army were completely cut off.

As he examined the map, Ghislain muttered to himself.

“Hungry men don’t fight well.”

The surrounding estates had already been stripped bare by Fenris and the marauding bands under his command. Even the few territories left with resources had been forced to send most of their supplies to Rodrick’s forces.

Now, all that remained for Rodrick’s army was the food they had brought when they departed.

While they had started with an enormous supply, befitting their massive force, the lack of resupply would become an increasingly dire problem over time.

Once the retainers and heirs of the Marquisate had been dealt with, a knight approached Ghislain.

“The enemy has arrived.”

Ghislain’s lips curled into a smirk. “Good. Time to show them some shock and awe.”

Ascending the fortress walls, he looked out at the enemy force—40,000 soldiers encamped before the fortress.

“Wow, they really brought a lot,” he remarked.

It was an even larger army than the one Desmond had fielded in their previous clash.

Of course, Fenris’s forces had grown much stronger since then, but directly engaging such a vast army was still a risk—and an unnecessary one.

“Prepare for action,” Ghislain commanded.

At his orders, knights and soldiers gathered around the 100 medium-sized catapults stationed on the walls, moving with practiced coordination.

Meanwhile, the soldiers of Rodrick’s army stared at the sight of Fenris’s banners flying over the fortress in disbelief.

“Our fortress... taken? And so quickly?”

“We heard they didn’t have siege weapons!”

Rodrick’s army had been informed that Fenris’s forces were entirely cavalry, making them fast but poorly equipped for sieges.

Yet no one could have imagined cavalry transporting siege engines at such speed.

The commander of the 2nd Corps, Earl Glasgow, was a mix of fury, frustration, and confusion as he shouted at his subordinates.

“What the hell were you idiots doing to let them take the fortress so easily?!”

Despite their numbers slowing them down, Glasgow hadn’t been worried. He’d assumed it would be impossible for cavalry to take Linderstein without siege weapons.

But before his forces could even arrive, the fortress had fallen to Fenris. It was incomprehensible.

No one in his staff could muster a reply, as they all shared the same thoughts.

Eventually, Glasgow regained some composure and scrutinized the fortress.

“Those structures on the walls... Are they catapults?”

Dozens of massive constructs—100 in total—had been erected on the wide walls of Linderstein.

The fortress walls were large and sturdy enough to accommodate siege engines, but the effort required to assemble them in such a short time was unfathomable.

Moreover, the machines looked strange—almost skeletal in design, as though only the frames had been hastily connected. While they resembled catapults, their exact nature was unclear.

“The damage suggests siege weapons were used...” Glasgow muttered.

The shattered walls and piles of rubble bore the marks of heavy bombardment. If Fenris had led his knights into the fortress to engage in close combat, it would have been difficult for the defenders to hold.

But the breach in the walls remained a mystery.

“I’ve never heard of siege weapons like these before. Is this some kind of ploy to confuse us?”

Even now, Glasgow struggled to believe that cavalry could transport and deploy siege engines so quickly. He suspected Fenris had staged this display to buy time.

A staff officer approached him hesitantly.

“We don’t have siege weapons of our own. What should we do?”

All of the army’s siege equipment had been taken by the 1st Corps for their campaign against Fenris’s territory. The 2nd Corps had been tasked with supporting the capital and hadn’t expected to engage in such a situation.

Glasgow stroked his beard thoughtfully and said, “We’ll retake the fortress first. Once it’s ours, we can figure out what’s going on. Siege engines won’t be necessary.”

He was confident in his massive army of 40,000. Any typical estate would be swept aside with ease.

Linderstein’s walls, already breached in several places, could no longer serve as a proper defense. The gaps had been crudely patched with rubble, but they were low enough for soldiers to climb.

“Focus the attack on the damaged sections. Fenris only has 10,000 troops. A fortress with holes in its walls isn’t a fortress.”

Once his army flooded into the fortress, retaking it would be a simple matter.

Of course, it wouldn’t be without difficulty. The walls weren’t completely demolished, and some sections still stood firm.

“Fenris’s forces will focus on defending those breaches. That’s where the fiercest fighting will occur. Send in waves of troops to break through.”

The narrow breaches would funnel troops into bottlenecks, limiting the advantage of their numbers. But if they kept up the assault, Fenris’s smaller force would inevitably tire first.

“Do everything you can to kill the enemy. Dismount the cavalry and send them into the fray. We don’t have time to waste—securing supplies is the priority.”

Rodrick’s army was burning through their provisions at an alarming rate. Even their current rations would only last a few more days.

As long as the fortress remained in Fenris’s hands, their supply lines would remain cut. Retaking it was a matter of survival.

A cautious staff officer asked, “Could those structures on the walls be some kind of new weapon?”

“I’ve never heard of weapons like that before. They’re just trying to stall us by making us second-guess ourselves,” Glasgow replied confidently.

“That makes sense. It could very well be a ruse.”

History was full of examples of armies employing strange tactics to confuse their enemies. For Fenris, buying time was crucial.

Clicking his tongue, Glasgow glared at the walls. “That Fenris is a crafty one. But for him to have already taken the fortress... it must be his Master-class skills. What a nuisance.”

While he was curious about how Fenris had breached the walls, there was no time to investigate. The only option was to charge in headfirst.

With a resigned expression, he issued the order.

“Advance the entire army! The enemy is all cavalry—there are no archers, and the walls are already breached! We can take the fortress! Move quickly!”

“WAAAAAH!”

The roar of 40,000 voices filled the air as Rodrick’s army surged toward the fortress.

Their morale was high, bolstered by their overwhelming numbers. They believed their sheer size was enough to crush Fenris’s forces.

Watching the approaching tide, Ghislain Fenris raised a hand lazily.

“Fire.”

At his command, 100 catapults unleashed their payloads.

WHOOSH!

The soldiers charging toward the fortress froze in shock as they saw stones flying toward them.

They weren’t just for show—those skeletal constructs were fully functional siege weapons.

In an instant, 100 massive stones rained down upon them.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

“AAAAAGH!”

“It’s a catapult! They’re real!”

“There are 100 of them!”

Hundreds of soldiers at the front were crushed in an instant, their bodies obliterated by the devastating projectiles.

While the casualties were small compared to their total force, the real issue was their complete lack of preparation for such an attack.

Rodrick’s army had never experienced anything like this—an assault by so many siege engines at once. The confusion slowed their charge.

Fenris’s forces seized the moment, reloading the catapults with alarming speed.

WHOOSH!

Before Rodrick’s troops could recover, another 100 stones rained down.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

“AAAAAGH!”

“Don’t stop! Keep running!”

“Get closer to the walls—we’ll be safer there!”

Some of the knights managed to rally their men, urging them forward. But the chaos among the ranks left Rodrick’s command paralyzed, unable to issue coherent orders.

And Fenris’s bombardment showed no signs of letting up.

An endless rain of stones fell upon them. Rodrick’s forces, charging forward, were caught in the relentless barrage of 100 catapults. In mere moments, thousands lay dead.

Even so, with an army of 40,000 advancing as one, not even such a formidable number of siege engines could completely stop their momentum.

“We’ve made it! Keep running! Overwhelm them with sheer numbers!” shouted the commanders scattered throughout the ranks, rallying the troops.

Encouraged by the cries of their leaders, the soldiers surged forward, hope igniting as the vanguard finally reached a range where the catapults could no longer target them. The breach in the walls was now within reach.

Rodrick’s army believed they had the upper hand. The Fenris forces, being cavalry, would have to descend from the walls and engage them in melee. In such a scenario, their numerical advantage would be decisive.

But Fenris’s forces made no move to meet them. Still stationed atop the walls, Ghislain Fenris raised his hand and gave a brief order.

“Next attack.”

The heavily armored Fenris soldiers retrieved something from their belts.

Clack! Clack! Clack!

With swift, practiced motions, the folded objects expanded into bows—Galvanium folding bows, a marvel of elven craftsmanship favored by mounted archers.

The soldiers reached into their quivers, nocked arrows, and drew their strings in perfect unison.

Ghislain’s voice rang out, cold and clear. “Fire.”

TWANG!

A storm of 10,000 arrows darkened the sky, descending upon the advancing soldiers of Rodrick’s army.

Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!

“AAAGH!”

“Archers! They’re firing arrows!”

“What?! I thought they didn’t have archers!”

Screams of terror erupted from Rodrick’s ranks as soldiers fell like flies. They had just barely escaped the catapult barrage, only to be met with a coordinated volley of arrows.

The belief that Fenris’s forces consisted entirely of cavalry was a lie. The reality hit them like a hammer blow.

Even among cavalry, it wasn’t unheard of to have mounted archers. But a force of 10,000 heavily armored archers? Such a thing was beyond imagination.

“Damn it! All the intel was wrong! Look at the precision of their volleys!” cursed one of the knights, his voice laced with disbelief.

These weren’t the wild, scattered shots of untrained archers. Every arrow was perfectly aimed, concentrated on key points in the enemy ranks.

Mistrust toward their own commanders began to fester in the hearts of Rodrick’s soldiers.

“They said they didn’t have siege weapons! They said no archers! And look at this!”

And alongside their growing frustration with their leaders, an overwhelming fear of Fenris’s army began to take root.

“Who are these soldiers?! Where did they come from?!”

Their astonishment wasn’t unwarranted.

The Fenris mobile force was a unit forged through grueling training. Its members were masters of all forms of combat. They were cavalry, archers, infantry, and pikemen as needed.

Clad in Galvanium full armor, they could rival knights in combat strength while retaining the versatility of soldiers. Equipped with siege engines, they were an elite force capable of fighting in any terrain or situation.

A stunned Rodrick officer finally found his voice. “My lord! We must retreat!”

The command structure, already shaken by the relentless attacks, struggled to react. With no preparation and no plan to counter this onslaught, their forces were being decimated.

Earl Glasgow, his face pale with fear, shrieked, “Retreat! Fall back now!”

Toot! Toot!

The retreat signal blared across the battlefield. Panic-stricken soldiers scrambled to obey, but even retreat proved difficult.

The arrows continued to rain down from the walls, cutting down soldiers as they tried to flee.

“Fall back! Quickly, get out of range!” shouted commanders from every direction.

The chaos was palpable as the soldiers fled in disarray. Many were struck down by the relentless hail of arrows before they could escape.

Those at the rear had an easier time retreating, but the soldiers at the front—the vanguard—suffered catastrophic losses. Most of them lay dead, pierced by countless arrows.

Finally, the survivors collapsed just beyond the range of Fenris’s siege engines and arrows, gasping for breath. They were so overwhelmed that they could barely remember how they had made it out alive.

Earl Glasgow, trembling, asked in a choked voice, “The casualties... what are they?”

The staff officers quickly moved to assess the situation. After some time, one of them returned, speaking with visible difficulty.

“Approximately... 10,000 casualties, my lord.”

“...”

A force of 10,000 was enough to make any lord a power to be reckoned with. Losing so many soldiers in such a short span of time was unfathomable.

And all this destruction had been wrought without Ghislain Fenris himself lifting a finger. The damage came solely from those terrifying catapults and a well-coordinated volley of arrows.

“Ugh...”

Earl Glasgow clutched his head in despair. What kind of fool sends soldiers into a meat grinder against siege engines and archers without any plan or preparation? Even an army of 100,000 would face annihilation under these conditions.

And yet, that fool stood right here—it was him.

But Glasgow wasn’t without excuses. Every piece of intelligence had described Fenris’s forces as entirely cavalry. It was only logical to assume they had no siege engines or archers.

Who could have imagined that these cavalrymen would not only wield bows with such skill but also transport siege weapons of this magnitude?

“What... what are these monsters?!”

The situation defied every shred of Glasgow’s common sense. To make matters worse, Fenris’s forces weren’t even attempting to fortify the breached walls. It was as if they were mocking Rodrick’s army, daring them to try again.

“Fenris... Fenris!” Glasgow screamed, his voice breaking as he tore at his hair. His eyes, bloodshot and wild, turned to one of his trembling aides.

“Wh-what do we do now?!”

The aide hesitated, his voice quivering. “M-my lord, I... I don’t know...”

Glasgow slumped in despair. The sight of Fenris’s forces, so composed and unyielding, felt like an insurmountable wall. His mind raced, but no solution presented itself.