The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations-Chapter 272: Has That Guy Already Moved? (2)

"Whoooaa!"

"We won again!"

"The enemy is retreating!"

The soldiers of Valois Castle cheered as they watched Amelia’s forces withdraw. Several months into the conflict, Valois's 1,000 elite soldiers had managed to hold off Amelia’s 5,000-strong army. Known for their prowess, the morale of Valois's soldiers was soaring after their continued victories.

"Haha! They’re all hype—Rayfold’s troops are nothing special, are they?"

"A woman commanding an army in the north? Those men should just have their manhood cut off!"

"They probably already did! That’s why they fight so weakly, like little girls playing pretend!"

The Valois soldiers laughed and jeered as they watched the Rayfold forces retreat, confident they would never lose. They only saw Amelia as a new, inexperienced lord without any real battle experience.

But unlike his men, Baron Valois didn’t look as pleased.

*What’s going on? Why is she attacking so cautiously? Isn’t she supposed to be here to crush me and kill Lord Daven?*

At first, Baron Valois had also underestimated Amelia, especially after her initial attacks had been so easy to fend off. But as the days went by, her strategy became clear: she was deliberately prolonging the battle, dragging things out without engaging fully. Despite multiple skirmishes, her numbers hardly dwindled, and her forces remained strong.

*What’s she planning?*

Amelia’s army outnumbered his five to one, and if she attacked recklessly, there was no guarantee he could hold her off. Yet she continued these small, teasing attacks, sparking suspicion.

*We have enough supplies to hold out for now, especially thanks to the food Count Fenris sent with Daven,* he thought, feeling uneasy. *But why would Count Fenris help us so generously?*

He’d found it difficult to believe that someone would give away so much in times like these out of mere friendship. Uncertain, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled letter Ghislain had sent along with the provisions.

*No matter what happens, do not leave the castle to engage in battle. Even if an opportunity seems to present itself, it is not an opportunity.*

Baron Valois couldn’t make sense of it. They had been on the defensive for so long, holding steady in the castle. So, what opportunity was Ghislain referring to? And if it wasn’t an opportunity, then what was it?

*Fenris is like a rising star in the north,* Valois thought. *He easily defeated Count Cabaldi, after all.*

Rumors about Ghislain’s impressive feats had spread far and wide, but not having met him, Baron Valois couldn’t tell if he was genuinely farsighted or just spouting lofty nonsense.

Valois wasn’t the only one troubled by Amelia’s tactics. There was also discontent brewing within Amelia’s own camp.

"Lady—ah, I mean, Countess! Just let me go break their skulls! Why are we wasting time with those idiots?" Valois, who was as hot-tempered as he was eager, gripped his club tightly, visibly irritated. He could hardly stand the insults being hurled at them from atop the walls.

"Quiet down. You’re giving me a headache," Amelia replied dismissively, waving her hand.

"Nyaang!" Bastet, her cat, also waved a paw at Vulcan, as if to order him to silence.

"Aargh!"

Vulcan gritted his teeth, frustrated by Amelia’s sudden change in attitude. She’d originally planned to storm Valois Castle quickly but changed her strategy after receiving a particular piece of news.

*Count Desmond has issued a call to arms.*

Since then, she had adopted a leisurely pace, almost as if she were on a picnic. They had plenty of provisions, so her patience came at no cost, but it left her subordinates feeling restless. Several of them had urged her to end things quickly, but she repeatedly refused.

One day, Amelia issued a new command.

"Pull our forces back a little and dig traps around the area."

It was a strange order in the middle of a siege. The soldiers looked to one another in confusion, unable to understand her reasoning. Finally, after enduring enough questioning glances, Bernaph, the most accustomed to her scolding, stepped forward.

"Um, Lady Amelia? Aren’t we supposed to be sieging Valois Castle? The baron won’t come out, and there’s no one to help him. The only possible support would be from Count Fenris, but he must know that Count Desmond is gathering troops. He wouldn’t intervene."

"Nyaa!" Bastet shot Bernaph a scornful glare, as if to chastise him for daring to question his mistress.

*Why does this damn cat even come to the battlefield just to bother me?* Bernaph thought, fuming, as Amelia continued nonchalantly.

"We’ve taken too long," she said.

"...What?"

"By now, someone’s bound to look down on us for taking so long. We should make the most of the situation. When the time comes, even Baron Valois will leave his castle, and we’ll deal with him then."

Amelia’s mind was always several steps ahead, yet Bernaph still struggled to grasp her reasoning. Only Conrad, known for his sharp mind, seemed to understand, nodding slightly. Vulcan and Caleb, sensing Conrad’s approval, followed suit, nodding along. Reluctantly, Bernaph joined in, pretending to understand as well.

Seeing their reluctant agreement, Amelia chuckled and turned to Conrad.

"What about Desmond?"

"He sent out another summons. He’s ordered Baron Valois to hold off for now and intends to attack Count Fenris first."

Amelia frowned slightly.

"Why would he do that? Is this the Ducal House’s will? Are they starting a civil war in the north with the Royal Army right there watching?"

"I don’t know. We haven’t seen any signs of civil war preparation from the Ducal House."

Since they technically shared the same side, Amelia had better access to information on Count Desmond than the Royalists. But she still didn’t have a complete picture; as of now, Desmond was still the one representing the north’s interests to the Ducal House.

After a brief silence, she nodded.

"Stall for a little longer. We’ll keep finding excuses."

Conrad, his head still lowered, cautiously asked, "Do you think they’re planning to start a civil war in the north?"

"It’s not impossible. Everything’s a mess because of that damned Ghislain. But why the north?"

The Royal Army was actively monitoring Count Desmond, and a coordinated effort across multiple fronts would make more sense. Starting in the north would only alert the Royalists.

Count Desmond was normally a cautious man, strict about following the Ducal House’s orders. If he were taking action, it must mean he had received some directive from them. There was no way he’d risk acting alone without cause.

Lacking enough information to fully understand the situation, Amelia mulled over it. Eventually, Conrad broke the silence.

"Count Fenris won’t be able to hold against Desmond. Despite the rumors of his army’s size, the difference in power is far too great."

"Still, he’s helped our situation quite a bit."

Although the specifics remained unclear, Desmond’s decision to move on Fenris was advantageous for Amelia. The harder Ghislain fought, the more it would weaken Desmond.

Always adept at adapting to changing circumstances, Amelia decided to make the most of the current situation. She gave a cold smile.

"We’ll sweep up the small fry while they’re busy fighting each other."

* * *

"Hyaah!"

The Fenris Estate was alive with the shouts of soldiers in training. The men were fired up, having gathered out of a desire to protect their home.

Curiously, the infamous "Bandit King and his forty bandits" disappeared right after the recruitment was complete. Word had it that they’d fled after the army had grown too large, leaving no one to chase them.

Ghislain, overseeing the training, smiled with satisfaction as he observed the soldiers.

"Good, very good! You’re better than the knights!"

The training Ghislain and Gillian put the men through was brutal for ordinary people, but the soldiers endured it with grit and determination. They understood that only they could defend their home.

Ghislain valued this spirit immensely. Even if each soldier wasn’t particularly strong, their combined willpower made them formidable.

"Hey, they weren’t kidding about the pay. It’s incredible!"

"And the food! We’re getting the best meat and bread every day!"

"Look at this armor! I feel like a real knight!"

The soldiers received benefits that ordinary citizens of the estate could only dream of, which made the grueling training more bearable. The gleaming silver armor became a symbol of the Fenris army, a sign of their elevated status and pride.

Seeing the troops' enthusiasm, Ghislain decided to turn his attention to the knights who were—somewhat begrudgingly—undergoing their own training.

"What’s with you all? Why aren’t you training harder?" he yelled, catching the knights off guard.

The knights groaned, realizing Ghislain had once again intruded on their practice. He’d developed a habit of showing up unannounced and knocking them around to keep them on their toes.

"Why the hell do you keep doing this to us, my lord?"

"We’re training hard! We’re even helping with the soldier drills!"

"Can’t you see us coughing up blood here?"

They claimed to be training diligently, but truthfully, they had grown lax.

Part of it stemmed from feeling superior while instructing the soldiers, but the main reason was their new armor.

The exquisite armor, far beyond their own abilities, gave them a false sense of security, allowing complacency to creep in.

"Just because you have fancy armor doesn’t mean you won’t die! If you don’t train, you won’t be able to use it properly!"

The armor’s abilities required a steady supply of the user’s mana, something only a skilled knight could manage. Without training, they’d soon find themselves outmatched.

"If any of you slacks off, I’ll send you to the Shadow Mountains!"

"Alright, alright! Stop torturing us!"

Thus, the knights, albeit reluctantly, threw themselves into rigorous training.

Everyone on the estate was consumed with preparations, running countless drills and inspections to be ready for any scenario. Despite Ghislain’s optimism, they braced for defeat just in case.

But amid all this activity, an unexpected delegation from the other northern estates arrived at Ghislain’s doorstep. The ambassadors from six small territories had insisted on a meeting with him, their leader stepping forward to make his proposal.

"Do you wish to expand your territory, Count? We’re here to help."

Ghislain arched an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "All of you coming here means you have something specific in mind. Where exactly do you want me to strike?"

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The ambassador took a deep breath, then smirked.

"Rayfold. That usurper, Amelia, who broke with northern tradition, drove out her father and brothers, and claimed her land by force. We propose you take her down."