The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations-Chapter 425: I’ll Forcefully Take It If Necessary (1)

“Urgh, this tastes terrible. Hey, why does it taste like this?”

Maurice grimaced as he smacked his lips after drinking the medicine.

The other nobles stared at him in disbelief, prompting Maurice to shamelessly reply:

“What? Why? The young man, like a nephew to us, gave us this plague medicine. It wouldn’t do to keep doubting him, would it? Especially since there’s an actual plague spreading, right?”

He gestured to the knight standing nearby.

“Hey, bring me some water. I need to rinse my mouth.”

The knight quickly fetched water, and Maurice rinsed his mouth before continuing, “Ah, that’s better. Now, proceed with the report.”

The knight who had come to deliver the report hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“At present, the plague is spreading rapidly in the areas near the rift. Most soldiers who fought near the rift have fallen ill.”

The Marquis of Branford, his eyes closed in thought, asked, “I clearly ordered the armies that fought near the rift to be quarantined. Are you saying it has spread to other regions as well?”

“Well... it seems that several lords did not comply. Without establishing quarantine zones, their armies mingled with local residents. On top of that, some of these individuals moved to other territories, causing further spread.”

“...Fools.”

The Marquis of Branford clicked his tongue, barely suppressing his anger.

He had not expected all the lords to comply, which was why he had sent multiple decrees emphasizing the importance of quarantine. Yet, despite all the warnings, the plague had still managed to spread.

This was something he had anticipated, thanks to the insights provided by the Count of Fenris. While not completely trusting of the count’s words, he could not ignore them either. The potential danger was too great to dismiss, which is why he had taken precautions, even at a significant cost.

The Marquis scanned the room, his gaze sharp.

“Now, do you see? Everything the Count of Fenris said was true.”

The nobles, who had been skeptical and hesitant to follow Ghislain’s advice, found themselves speechless.

They had prepared only for the rift-related battles and dismissed the plague warnings as unnecessary panic. They had even patted themselves on the back for being so “level-headed,” but in truth, they were the real fools.

Only the Earl of Aylesbury sighed in relief, patting his chest.

“Whew, thank goodness I listened to my wife. I’ll leave everything to her from now on.”

Although the Earl had harbored complaints about the massive funds allocated for producing the plague medicine, his wife, Mariel, had actively secured a substantial stock.

In hindsight, Mariel had been right. Thanks to her efforts, their family’s prestige would only rise further.

The Marquis of Branford declared coldly, “I will overlook what the Count of Fenris did to Count Heseltine. As an example, I will strip Count Heseltine of his title and elevate Baron Spenvel to the rank of count, recognizing his authority as a lord. Any objections?”

“...”

The room remained silent.

There had been much controversy over Ghislain’s actions. Even with his authority over the rift matters, stripping another noble of their title was considered a step too far.

Critics had accused Ghislain of acting like a king rather than a mere count. Some even suggested reducing his authority, as his influence now rivaled that of the Marquis of Branford.

However, with the plague proving Ghislain’s warnings to be accurate, it was hard to argue against him. Count Heseltine’s refusal to comply had undeniably exacerbated the situation.

Turning to a knight, the Marquis of Branford asked, “What’s the current state of the plague? How severe is it, and how fast is it spreading?”

“Those infected develop high fevers and red blotches all over their bodies. The transmission rate is extremely high. Most infected individuals have collapsed, and the death toll continues to rise. Even divine power has no effect.”

“High fever? Red blotches? Divine power doesn’t work? Could it be...?”

“Yes, it matches the symptoms of ‘Eternal Punishment.’”

“What? That incurable disease? The one that’s supposed to be non-communicable?”

“Yes. While the symptoms are milder, the plague spreads much faster.”

“Hah...”

‘Eternal Punishment’ was the disease that had once afflicted Gillian’s daughter, Rachel. Ghislain had managed to cure her only because he already knew the treatment—knowledge he had retained from his past life.

Now, the plague spreading across the continent bore the same symptoms as ‘Eternal Punishment.’ It was a variant, less severe but highly infectious.

The nobles exchanged uneasy glances. A disease that was not only believed to be incurable but also rumored to carry a curse was now spreading rapidly.

The Earl of Aylesbury broke the silence.

“Wait a moment. Does this mean that the medicine we have can also cure ‘Eternal Punishment’? It contains a diluted amount of the Fairy’s Blessing, correct? What if we increase the concentration?”

“That... That could work. If we can cure an incurable disease...”

“But how does the Count of Fenris know this?”

The nobles began murmuring among themselves.

Even if he had received information from a cult priest, predicting the outbreak of the plague bordered on prophecy. To already have a cure on hand? It was incomprehensible.

Suspicion started to creep into their minds, but the Marquis of Branford interjected.

“That is a matter to investigate once this crisis is resolved. Right now, the plague is real, and we must act decisively.”

“What do you propose?”

“We will ban the trade of materials required for medicine production within the kingdom. Any territories that fail to actively produce medicine or establish proper facilities will have their resources forcibly confiscated. Compensation will follow later.”

“Hmm...”

The nobles grumbled but said nothing further.

Interfering with private property or trade was a breach of their rights, a cornerstone of their loyalty to the crown. However, the Marquis’s icy gaze silenced their objections.

“If we cling to our rights now, we will all perish. There are far too many who still prioritize personal greed in the midst of this crisis. I will not tolerate it any longer. Do you understand?”

The room nodded in agreement. Greed at this point could doom them all.

The Marquis continued, “Deploy all available forces to enforce this. Those who exploit the situation will have their rights stripped, and their assets seized. And...”

Taking a deep breath, the Marquis declared, “Once this is over, we will discuss the matter of elevating the Ferdium family’s rank.”

“W-What?!”

The room erupted in shock. It hadn’t been long since Ghislain was granted the rank of count, yet now the Marquis was proposing to elevate him further.

Moreover, the Marquis had mentioned the Ferdium family, not Fenris, implying that a new ducal house was to be established.

A hush fell over the room as the nobles processed the implications.

“Convey my intentions to the Count of Fenris. Tell him I will take full responsibility. He is free to act as he sees fit. Containing the plague is just as critical as dealing with the rift.”

The nobles, though clearly troubled, did not dare voice further dissent.

The Marquis of Branford had made his stance clear: he would support Ghislain unconditionally. His vision aligned perfectly with Ghislain’s goals, and through the northern forces, they would see it realized.

***

"Wow! We did it!"

The soldiers erupted into cheers after eliminating yet another rift.

The morale of the northern army was at an all-time high.

Despite having cleared several rifts, they had suffered virtually no casualties.

It was no surprise. The riftlings, no matter their numbers, were no match for the overwhelming strength and techniques of Fenris's forces.

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For other armies, riftlings weren’t the primary issue—dealing with the Equidema was the real challenge. Few possessed the superhuman capabilities required to defeat such monstrous creatures.

But for the northern army, even the Equidema had become a manageable foe.

“Raaaaargh!”

“Goddess, help us!”

All it took was Piote sitting calmly in front of an Equidema, eyes closed, to bait the creature into a frenzy.

The moment Ghislain saw the creature charge, he shouted, “It took the bait! Take it down, quickly!”

For reasons no one fully understood, the Equidema went berserk at the sight of Piote, relentlessly attacking him. During this time, Ghislain’s skilled fighters coordinated their strikes to bring the beast down with ease.

The more they practiced, the more synchronized their tactics became, and the easier it was to defeat these formidable creatures.

As Ghislain and his inner circle returned triumphantly from yet another victory, the soldiers looked upon them with pride.

“We really are the strongest in the kingdom.”

“At this rate, we’ll wipe out all the rifts in no time!”

“I heard the other armies are barely holding the line. None of them are pushing through like we are.”

These were soldiers who had once barely survived in the impoverished northern territories. They had never felt such pride in their lives.

The longer they fought under Ghislain’s banner, the more they transformed into elite warriors. Constant battles instilled them with confidence, and the growing sense of pride in belonging to the northern army changed the way they looked at their leader.

“I wish the Count of Fenris would unify the North already.”

“Imagine if we became part of Fenris’s domain.”

“If the Count decides to march on our lands, I’m following him without hesitation.”

The saying that "an era creates its heroes" seemed truer than ever. Within the northern army, voluntary defectors from other territories were appearing in droves.

These soldiers genuinely wished for Ghislain to conquer the entirety of the North. Their fervor spread like wildfire throughout the army.

Adding fuel to this sentiment, word arrived from the Marquis of Branford.

Belinda couldn’t contain her excitement as she exclaimed, “They’re saying after the war, there’ll be talks of another promotion! Does that mean our young master will become a duke?”

Ghislain let out a quiet chuckle.

“Titles aren’t what’s important. Ending this war comes first. Besides, if there’s any promotion, it’ll go to my father before it comes to me.”

Ghislain had little interest in titles or ranks, but others didn’t share his indifference.

Belinda clenched her fists, her eyes gleaming with determination.

“This is the perfect chance to unify the North completely under your command. Everyone is practically begging to swear their loyalty to you, young master. It’s entirely possible.”

“...Belinda, you’re quite ambitious.”

Ghislain tried to brush off her suggestion with a laugh, but Belinda wasn’t joking. She raised her voice, her tone filled with resolve.

“Afterward, you can ascend as the Grand Duke of the North!”

“What? Grand Duke? What nonsense are you talking about?”

“Grand. Duke. Of. The. North!”

“...Grand Duke of the North?”

“Yes! It’s an incredible title! It’s something out of a dream!”

“A title like that isn’t granted out of dreams. Besides, it’s not even up to me. Only royalty can become a grand duke, right?”

Belinda and the other close aides exchanged exasperated looks.

This was coming from a man who had lived his entire life without caring about anyone’s opinions or expectations.

“Since when has anything been beyond your control, young master? If you want to be a grand duke, you’ll make it happen.”

“...”

Ghislain found himself at a loss for words. He had his reasons for his actions, but from the perspective of others, he probably looked like a reckless maverick doing whatever he pleased.

Belinda stepped closer, her gaze burning with ambition so intense it made him want to step back.

“You’re going to do it anyway, right? So why not aim higher? Grand Duke of the North. It’s even better than just being a duke.”

“And my father?”

“He’ll retire. He’s worked hard enough, hasn’t he? It’s time for him to rest. Seeing him struggle all the time honestly breaks my heart.”

To Belinda, Ghislain was always her top priority. Even Zwalter, who constantly mumbled about wanting to retire, would likely support her idea without hesitation.

Ghislain swallowed hard.

This conversation was veering dangerously close to treasonous territory.