The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations-Chapter 273: Has That Guy Already Moved? (3)

"I refuse."

Ghislain's firm response left the envoys stunned.

"Why, may I ask? Do you still believe that Rayfold holds the same strength it did when it rivaled Desmond as the strongest territory in the north? That is a serious misjudgment."

"Why do you think that?"

"Firstly, the usurper Amelia is a woman. She has no experience managing a territory, let alone fighting a war. She was just a noble lady who could hold a teacup with grace. Her coup only succeeded because she was lucky enough to ambush during a banquet."

"Hmm..."

"Look at how she’s struggling against Baron Valois. Months have passed, and she still hasn’t breached his castle, even though her forces outnumber his by five to one."

Ghislain smirked.

Baron Valois was a renowned strategist, and Amelia was holding back her forces deliberately. The extended conflict was to be expected. Anyone with a modicum of insight would have understood that, but the envoy continued his pitch, perhaps mistaking Ghislain’s smirk as agreement.

"We were allies of Count Rayfold, and the legitimate heir, Lord Daven, is still alive. If we attack, Baron Valois will also come out to join us."

"And with that, you think you can win?"

"Absolutely. How could a mere woman, unable to best Baron Valois, hope to withstand our combined forces? Join us in this noble cause."

Ghislain dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

"I'm not interested. You all can handle this on your own."

"But the rightful heir to Rayfold is still alive! We can't allow this precedent of a usurper standing unchallenged. And don’t forget, the north has always barred women from leading as lords. This situation defies tradition and decency."

The envoys had many reasons for attacking Rayfold. One was to prevent the dangerous precedent of a successful rebellion. The other lords wanted to show that a usurper wouldn’t be tolerated—hoping to prevent similar uprisings in their own territories. Moreover, they felt that a woman leading was against northern traditions, which dictated that only strong men should lead.

But these reasons weren’t as important as the true motivation.

"Rayfold is vast and fertile. If we aid Lord Daven, we could be rewarded with parts of the land, according to custom."

This was the real reason: they wanted to carve up Rayfold for themselves amidst the chaos. Amelia’s perceived weakness only strengthened their resolve.

Ghislain chuckled at their confident persuasion.

*Kill Amelia? With only the likes of you?*

In his past life, even the Mercenary King couldn’t defeat Amelia. If he could have, he would have done it right after his return to this life. Only Desmond’s focus on the greater prize, the Ferdium territory, kept her at bay.

*She’s far too dangerous for fools like these to handle.*

And yet, Ghislain’s strategy did require some of their involvement. He could use her ambitions to buy himself more time.

"I won't join the war directly. However, I’ll assist you in another way."

"And what would that be?"

"You’re here for provisions, correct? I'll supply the food."

The envoys beamed. They didn’t really need Ghislain’s troops, as they believed their combined forces were enough to crush Amelia. But obtaining provisions was a different story, which was why they were so eager to persuade him. Now, with Ghislain offering supplies freely, there was no need to share the spoils with him.

*He must be intimidated by Rayfold’s reputation,* they thought.

*Back when Count Rayfold and his heirs were alive, perhaps they were formidable. But now, it’s just a woman leading their troops—what’s there to fear?*

With gleeful thoughts of how they’d divvy up the land among themselves, the envoys departed, plans set to begin as soon as Ghislain's provisions arrived.

Once they left, Ghislain returned to his thoughts.

*All I can do is hope they keep Amelia busy long enough for me to complete my preparations.*

He was confident they would fail, for Amelia would surely have anticipated this. In his past life, many lords tried to attack her while she was embroiled with Baron Valois, but none succeeded.

*Only a little more time remains.*

Events were accelerating faster than they had in his previous life, and with Desmond gathering troops, it was only a matter of time before civil war broke out. Now wasn’t the time to waste resources on Amelia; he needed every ounce of strength for what was to come.

*Amelia can wait until my preparations are complete.*

To reduce her options, Ghislain planned to keep her preoccupied with aiding Baron Valois and the other territories, restraining her ambitions as much as possible. Once Desmond was defeated, he could deal with her.

*Hold on just a little longer, Harold.*

The pieces were falling into place. The only thing left was the confrontation with Count Desmond.

*I’ve disrupted everything in the north; neither the Ducal House nor Harold will stand idly by.*

Once the war began, Desmond would undoubtedly make him his first target, for Ghislain had become the strongest Royalist force in the north.

Still, Ghislain believed he had time. The Ducal House hadn’t started a civil war in the north in his previous life. Even if Desmond launched an offensive here, the Royal Army’s watchful eye over his territory would prevent any surprise attacks.

Using this brief pause, he would complete his preparations. Once war broke out, he’d crush Desmond immediately.

*Once it starts, I’ll kill him first.*

The thought of finally facing Desmond caused Ghislain’s pulse to quicken. Desmond was the one who had directly brought Ferdium to ruin, manipulated by the Ducal House. In his past life, Ghislain had vented his fury on Desmond’s corpse, stabbing it repeatedly until even his comrades had tried to stop him.

Desmond’s death would not only remove an obstacle but also cement his control over the north.

*I’m close now. As long as I complete my preparations, victory will be inevitable.*

And so, Ghislain quietly continued with his training and war preparations. But one day, while discussing plans with his aides, an urgent messenger burst into the room.

"Count Desmond has mobilized his army! They’re marching here!"

Ghislain's face hardened. His preparations were not yet complete.

*So, he’s already on the move?*

There had been no signs from the Ducal House. Desmond, usually so cautious, had taken action on his own—despite the Royal Army stationed right at his doorstep.

For the first time since his return, Ghislain's carefully laid plans were under threat.

* * *

"Hurry! Move out! We’ve just received word that Count Desmond’s army is advancing!"

Awakened in the dead of night by the news, Doren, the commander of the 2nd Legion, rushed to mobilize his troops.

Their objective was a strategic position different from the one Ghislain had occupied when he defeated Count Cabaldi. Doren’s orders were to intercept Desmond’s army before they reached Fenris.

*What madness is this?*

Doren couldn’t make sense of it. There had been no messages or formal declaration. Count Desmond had simply mobilized his forces and begun marching on Fenris, abandoning all noble decorum.

And that disregard for protocol terrified Doren.

*The most powerful lord in the north has shed all pretenses? This means he’s abandoned all restraint.*

Doren turned to his deputy.

"They’re not advancing that quickly, are they? Maybe it’s just a show of force, a slow march to intimidate Fenris?"

"I don’t think it’s just for show."

"And why not?"

"Because they’re bringing 30,000 troops. That’s why they’re moving slowly."

"...Thirty thousand?"

Doren froze, unable to comprehend the number. Even a northern lord of Desmond’s stature amassing that many troops seemed unreal.

Feeling the weight of despair, Doren shouted in frustration.

"How are we supposed to stop 30,000 soldiers with just the 2nd Legion?"

He didn’t feel even a flicker of confidence. Desmond’s army was among the north’s finest, and although the 5,000 soldiers who’d returned from the road construction project bolstered their numbers, they were still far outmatched.

*This better be some misunderstanding. Maybe he just wants to negotiate.*

Although the Royal Army had been told to prepare in case of a civil war, there was still no word from the Ducal House, meaning Desmond had acted alone. Doren clung to that hope.

*Surely he doesn’t think he can face the Royalists alone. Even if he captures Fenris, we’ll reclaim it once we’re mobilized. There must be some mistake, right?*

But his deputy had no words of reassurance.

"Hurry up! The main force is so large they’re bound to move slowly. We can intercept and talk things out," Doren continued, his unease growing. "Maybe he just wants to air his grievances. I’ll listen—I’ll listen to everything he has to say over a cup of tea!"

Even as they hurried to intercept Desmond’s forces, Doren’s anxiety lingered.

The most uptodat𝓮 n𝒐vels are published on freёnovelkiss.com.

Suddenly, they heard the pounding of hooves in the distance. Doren’s face paled.

*Why does it sound like cavalry at full charge?*

The 2nd Legion consisted mostly of infantry. Even though they were marching quickly, the cavalry should have been keeping pace with the foot soldiers.

As the sound of hooves drew closer, Doren’s gut twisted with a dreadful realization.

"We’re under attack! Prepare for battle!"

At his shout, the 2nd Legion moved into formation with the efficiency of seasoned soldiers. However, the sound of hooves soon echoed from multiple directions.

"What in the...?"

They were surrounded. The attackers had perfectly timed their assault, isolating Doren’s forces.

"Extinguish the lights! Make it dark and force them into a brawl!"

All lights went out as Doren issued the order. Though they’d take casualties in the initial charge, the darkness would at least disorient the cavalry.

"Dammit... why does it have to be so bright tonight?"

Doren cursed his luck. The moonlight was bright, and the enemy seemed to have anticipated his tactics.

Suddenly, fires erupted on one side. Hundreds of torches illuminated the enemy’s positions.

Doren’s eyes widened in horror.

"They even set up an ambush...."

The enemy was serious—deadly serious. They planned to decimate the Royalist forces and storm Fenris.

A barrage of flaming arrows filled the sky, hurtling toward the 2nd Legion.

Looking at the blazing sky, Doren muttered,

"Count Desmond must truly be mad."

His words were cut short as the fire rained down mercilessly.

Cries of pain erupted as the soldiers, caught off guard during their march, fell helplessly under the onslaught. No one could have foreseen Desmond’s sudden and reckless assault.

With flames spreading and the sound of hooves growing louder, the 2nd Legion was thrown into chaos as Desmond's cavalry charged in from all sides.

Despite Doren’s attempts to rally his men, Desmond’s forces dismantled the 2nd Legion with shocking ease.

In his final moments, Doren couldn’t help but acknowledge Desmond’s prowess.

"Impressive... so this is the power of Desmond."

Desmond’s forces had anticipated every move, striking with terrifying precision. Their main army was still advancing slowly toward Fenris, but a vanguard of cavalry had slipped away and coordinated the ambush perfectly.

Desmond had a master tactician known for such maneuvers, someone who had once blocked Doren’s attempt to aid Cabaldi.

"Emerson."

Emerson, the northern master of guerrilla warfare, was charging at him, a devilish grin on his face.

"Lord Doren!"

With a sigh, Doren raised his sword, accepting that he wouldn’t return home that day. His fate was sealed.

His only lingering thought was,

*Who will pay my daughter’s academy fees now?*