The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Chapter 273: Chapter 272: He’s Already Making a Move? (2)



"Waaaah!"

"We won again!"

"The enemies are retreating!"

The soldiers of Valois Castle shouted loudly as they watched Amelia's troops retreat.

Months had passed since the war began. With just 1,000 soldiers, they were holding back Amelia's army of 5,000.

The soldiers of Valois, already renowned as elite troops, were now brimming with morale after their continued victories.

"Haha! Turns out the Rayfold army is all bark and no bite, huh?"

"A female commander in the north! Might as well cut off their manhood while they're at it!"

"Haven't they already? That's why they're fighting so timidly, like little girls! Did they come here to play house? Hahaha!"

Mocking the retreating Rayfold troops, the soldiers were certain of their victory.

To them, the enemy was just a recently appointed lady lord with no experience in war.

But Baron Valois, the lord of this castle, didn't look as pleased.

'What's going on? Why is she attacking so half-heartedly? Didn't she come here to subjugate me and kill Lord Daven?'

At first, Baron Valois had also underestimated Amelia, as they had easily repelled her initial attacks.

However, as the battle continued, her intentions became clearer. Amelia was deliberately attacking half-heartedly, drawing things out as long as possible.

The proof was in the numbers. The Rayfold army's size remained nearly identical to when the war began. This meant they had suffered almost no losses.

'I don't understand what she's aiming for. What is she planning?'

The enemy had more than five times their numbers. If they pushed through at the cost of their losses, there was no guarantee that his side could hold them off.

Yet, they continued with these feeble, playful attacks, which only raised his suspicions.

'We have enough provisions. We can hold out longer. I still don't understand why Count Fenris sent us so much help.'

Count Fenris had sent Daven along with a large supply of provisions. Thanks to this, there was no need to worry about food.

He claimed it was to help a friend, but in these times, it was rare to see such generosity. Baron Valois was not naive enough to believe in receiving such precious aid without expecting something in return.

'What benefit could he gain from helping us?'

Baron Valois pulled out a crumpled letter from his pocket.

It was the letter he received along with the provisions from Ghislain.

[No matter what happens, do not leave the castle to fight. Even if it looks like an opportunity, it is not.]

He still couldn't make sense of the letter. They had stayed holed up in the castle, defending, so what kind of opportunity could arise? And why would it not actually be an opportunity?

It sounded like nonsense, but he couldn't just ignore it either.

'Count Fenris is the rising star of the north. He's the man who defeated Count Cabaldi so easily.'

The feats of Ghislain were already widely known.

Though Baron Valois had never met Ghislain in person, he couldn't determine if the man truly possessed foresight to see the future or was simply spewing nonsense to look impressive.

It wasn't just Baron Valois who was frustrated. Discontent was beginning to spill out in Amelia's camp as well.

"Young Lady! No, Countess! I'm telling you, let's just crush them! I'll go crack all their heads myself! Why are we wasting time with these idiots?"

Vulcan, impatient and ill-tempered as ever, gripped his club tightly and shouted. He couldn't stand the mocking jeers of the Valois troops.

He wanted to climb the castle walls alone and slaughter everyone.

But Amelia, unaffected by Vulcan's outburst, simply waved her hand dismissively.

"Quiet. You're giving me a headache."

Meow!

Even Bastet swiped its paw in the air, as if telling him to be quiet.

"Argh!"

Vulcan couldn't hide his frustration. He couldn't understand Amelia's sudden change in behavior.

Initially, she had planned to quickly capture Valois Castle. But during the campaign, she had received a piece of news and abruptly changed her strategy.

-Count Desmond has issued a recruitment order.

Since then, it had felt more like a leisurely picnic than a war.

Though they had plenty of provisions to endure, her subordinates were growing increasingly frustrated, unable to comprehend her plans.

They had repeatedly proposed launching a full-scale attack, but Amelia rejected the idea each time. Then one day, she issued a new order.

"Pull the troops back a little further and dig traps in various places."

In the middle of a siege, pulling back troops and digging traps? No one could understand the purpose of this command.

Eventually, Bernaph, unable to ignore the growing scrutiny, stepped up. Being used to taking Amelia's scolding, he volunteered to represent the others.

"Um... My Lady? Aren't we supposed to be conducting a siege? Baron Valois doesn't seem like he's going to come out, and no one is coming to help him. The only possible ally might be Count Fenris, but even he wouldn't intervene knowing that Count Desmond is gathering an army. No matter how bold he is, he won't get involved."

Meow!

Bastet hissed at Bernaph, as if reprimanding him for questioning Amelia's orders.

'Damn cat! Why'd it even follow us to the battlefield just to pick on me?'

While Bernaph trembled with barely contained rage, Amelia spoke casually, as if it were no

big deal.

"We've dragged this out too long."

"Huh?"

"Soon enough, there'll be idiots who underestimate us. Once they show up, we'll make the most out of it. Baron Valois will eventually leave his castle, and we'll kill him then."

As always, Amelia was several steps ahead in her thinking. But Bernaph still struggled to grasp her reasoning.

Only Conrad, known for his intelligence, nodded as though he understood. Vulcan and Caleb, sensing the mood, also nodded awkwardly. Bernaph, not wanting to stand out, followed suit.

Amelia smirked at the sight and turned to Conrad.

"What about Desmond?"

"He's sent out another recruitment order. He instructed Baron Valois to be dealt with later

and plans to strike Count Fenris first."

Hearing this, Amelia frowned slightly.

"What's suddenly prompted this? Is it the will of the duchy? Are they planning to start a civil war in the north, with the kingdom's army watching nearby?"

"I'm not sure. So far, there's no sign that the duchy is preparing for a civil war."

Amelia had more detailed knowledge about Count Desmond than the pro-royalist faction,

since she was technically aligned with him.

However, she didn't know the exact intentions of the duchy. For now, Desmond was still serving as the north's overseer and the duchy's main point of communication.

After some thought, Amelia spoke again.

"For now, let's buy a bit more time. Excuses will keep presenting themselves."

Conrad hesitated before cautiously asking.

"Do you think a civil war will really start in the north?"

"It's not impossible. Things have become too tangled thanks to that brat, Ghislain. But the

question is, why start in the north?"

The kingdom's forces were monitoring Count Desmond. If a war were to break out, simultaneous action across regions would make sense. Starting in the north would only put

the pro-royalist faction on high alert.

Harold was a cautious man, always aiming to precisely execute the orders of the duchy.

If he was moving now, it almost certainly meant orders had been issued from the duchy. He wouldn't act on his own unless he'd lost his mind.

Lacking sufficient information to fully grasp the situation, Amelia was left in deep thought.

Seeing this, Conrad spoke.

"Count Fenris won't be able to handle Desmond. While there are rumors of large troop gatherings, the difference in power is simply too great."

"Well, either way, the situation isn't bad for us thanks to that brat."

Though she didn't know the exact details, the fact that Count Desmond was targeting Fenris

was advantageous for Amelia.

The more Ghislain resisted, the greater the damage to Count Desmond would be.

Amelia was adept at adapting to situations. Now, she planned to maximize her gains from the

current circumstances.

Whether it was Fenris or Desmond, neither side would emerge unscathed. Striking the survivor while they were weakened would hurt all the more.

With a cruel smile, Amelia said, "We'll just clean up the scraps while they fight and wait."

It was an ideal situation for her.

***

"Yaaaah!"

The Fenris estate was filled with the shouts of soldiers in training.

Everyone had voluntarily gathered to defend the estate, raising morale to its peak.

Ironically, the King of Raiders and his forty thieves had vanished once recruitment was complete. The prevailing theory was that they'd fled because the army had grown too large.

Watching the soldiers train, Ghislain grinned with satisfaction.

"Good! Excellent! Better than the knights, even!"

The training regimen led by Ghislain and Gillian was no joke, yet the soldiers endured it with

gritted teeth. Their determination stemmed from the belief that only they could defend their estate.

Ghislain admired such resolve. While individual soldiers might not amount to much, their

collective will formed a powerful force.

Though the training was grueling, none of the soldiers regretted enlisting.

"Man, I heard the pay was good, but seeing it in my hands? It's no joke!"

"Even the food's incomparable. They're serving the best meat and bread!" "Look at this armor! Don't I look like a real knight?"

The soldiers enjoyed benefits and treatment far superior to those of other estates, making

their endurance worthwhile.

Their shining silver armor had become a symbol of the estate's army.

Thanks to the estate's high productivity, every soldier was equipped with gear comparable to

that of knights from other regions.

It was gear that ordinary knights wouldn't even dream of owning. Naturally, such excellent

treatment boosted their pride.

As the soldiers displayed their enthusiasm, some less motivated knights-many of whom had

been reluctantly knighted-found themselves under scrutiny. "Why aren't you guys training harder?"

Suddenly crashing the training session, Ghislain's presence turned the knights' lives into

misery. Lately, the lord had taken to appearing out of nowhere and throwing punches first.

"Argh! Lord! Why are you doing this again?"

"We're training hard too! And we're even helping train the soldiers!"

"Can't you see we're coughing up blood? We're exhausted!" Despite their protests, the knights had indeed grown lazier than before.

Part of it was the sense of superiority they felt while training the soldiers, but the biggest

reason was the new armor they had received.

With gear far surpassing their own abilities, they had grown complacent.

"Wow, wearing this makes me feel like a high-level knight." "Wearing this, I won't die, right?"

'Feels like I could take on a thousand soldiers alone.'

Such thoughts naturally affected their individual training.

Knowing this all too well, Ghislain never left the knights alone for a single day.

"If you rely on the armor, you'll just die anyway! Without enough mana, you can't even use it

properly!"

The armor's abilities required the user's mana to activate. Half-baked knights couldn't use it

effectively.

Without rigorous training, they'd quickly find themselves at death's door.

As such, Ghislain pushed them even harder.

"Anyone slacking off will be sent to Shadow Mountain. Got it?"

"We get it! Stop tormenting us already!"

Though they were in stark contrast to the enthusiastic soldiers, the knights were still forced

into diligent training.

Meanwhile, Claude and the other vassals were busy with war preparations, meticulously

checking for any overlooked details and planning for worst-case scenarios.

While the lord always claimed victory was assured, the more practical-minded vassals

couldn't afford to ignore the possibility of defeat.

Everyone expected that if a civil war broke out, Count Desmond would attack their estate first,

given the deep-seated grudges he held.

Studying a map with a serious expression, Claude suddenly turned to Wendy and asked,

"Want to run away with me?"

"What?"

"I don't think I can make it back to my hometown alone. You're good at fighting, right? Protect me. I'll die if I run into bandits on the way."

As Wendy glared at him with disdain, Claude, now desperate, cried out.

"If a civil war starts, Desmond and all the duke faction nobles will come here! Not even our

lord can win!"

"Stop whining already."

"I don't care! How are we supposed to win against Desmond? Or the duchy? I must have been

crazy to think we could win!"

He had forgotten how many enemies the estate had accumulated. He should've fled long ago.

While they knew their lord was exceptionally skilled and had always succeeded thus far, Desmond was on a different level entirely.

As the strongest estate in the north, Desmond's army boasted not only vast numbers but also knights and soldiers of exceptional quality.

Thus, despite their preparations, the vassals couldn't shake their anxiety.

"This time, even the lord might struggle. We're preparing for it, but Desmond is just too powerful. Can

we really win if the civil war begins?'

Many of them shared similar concerns. They had been intoxicated by the estate's progress,

but as the reality of impending war dawned, their worries multiplied.

Claude, in particular, had already attempted to flee several times, only to be caught by Wendy each time.

Shoving him forward, Wendy said, "Just focus on preparing for now. We'll think about running if we lose. Besides, a civil war doesn't mean we'll fight alone. The kingdom's forces

will help us." "But if we lose, we'll be executed immediately!"

"Then we just have to make sure we don't lose."

Wendy remained unfazed by Claude's whining.

As the estate's head butler-and unofficial slave-Claude had no choice but to begrudgingly

continue his preparations for war.

While everyone was busy with training and preparations, envoys from several northern lords

suddenly arrived at Ghislain's estate.

Practically forcing their way in, they managed to meet with Ghislain. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, they quickly got to the point.

"I come from the Zimbar territory and have an excellent proposal for you, Count."

"What is it?"

Ghislain's indifferent expression made the envoy clench his fists. The young lord's notorious

lack of decorum was well-known.

Though enraged, the envoy held back. He had come with something to gain, and there wasn't

much he could do otherwise.

"Are you interested in expanding your territory? We're here to help." Though they came from relatively minor territories, the envoys represented six differentn/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

estates. Combined, they could field a significant force.

Raising an eyebrow, Ghislain asked with interest, "Given that you've all come together, it

seems like the decision's already been made. So, who's the target?" Taking a deep breath, the envoy smiled meaningfully and said, "Rayfold. Let us attack

Amelia, the usurper who violated northern customs and overthrew her father and brothers." Ghislain stared at the envoys, his face full of derision.

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