The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Chapter 88: The First Half (3)

“We… lost?”

Upon receiving the report, Harold’s face turned bright red. One corner of his mouth twitched uncontrollably.

A wave of rage surged through him so violently that he felt dizzy. He couldn’t even manage to speak properly, his lips merely opening and closing.

“Huuuuu…”

Harold exhaled slowly, forcing himself to calm his labored breathing.

In front of him sat knights and soldiers.

They were all so badly burned that it wouldn’t have been surprising if they collapsed at any moment.

The moment the defeated soldiers returned, the strategists handed over a compiled report, but Harold simply couldn’t believe it and had summoned the survivors in person.

Defeated? The army of Desmond, which prided itself on being the strongest in the North, had been defeated?

And by the forces of Ferdium, no less—when they had sent an overwhelming number that far exceeded what Ferdium had?

“How could you possibly lose? Fire magic? A trap? Who in this kingdom could wield magic powerful enough to burn thousands of soldiers?!”

Harold raised his voice.

The knights said nothing.

Even those who had directly suffered through it couldn’t fully comprehend what had happened, so there was no way those back in the estate could understand either.

Seeing them all with their mouths shut tight, Harold’s fury erupted.

“You incompetent fools! Do you mean to tell me that our entire force was annihilated, and you don’t even know what hit you?! What about Viktor? What happened to Viktor?!”

Those who had fled the battlefield early had no idea what had become of Viktor.

BAM!

Frustrated by the continued silence, Harold slammed his fist down on the desk, smashing it to pieces.

Even Viktor, whom he had painstakingly nurtured, had gone missing.

Being declared missing in a war meant either being captured… or dead.

And for someone as formidable as Viktor, it was unlikely they would have kept him alive in such a dangerous state, meaning he had probably been killed.

Losing the engineers—who took much longer to train than ordinary soldiers—was painful enough, but what hurt even more was the loss of dozens of knights, who were incomparable to mere soldiers.

The most significant blow of all, however, was losing the exceptional talent that was Viktor.

“Who… on earth could’ve done this…?”

Before the war, Harold meticulously analyzed every detail of Ferdium’s forces in preparation for crushing them completely.

He had sent an overwhelming army, backed by powerful mages.

According to the survivors’ reports, Ferdium’s forces weren’t significantly different from what had been assessed prior to the war.

Even the amount of supplies they had matched predictions.

That meant there had been an unforeseen, deadly factor that went beyond their estimations.

Harold opened the report again.

“It’s them, isn’t it?”

The report contained detailed descriptions of the “Black Unit’s” activities.

Harold mentally reenacted the battlefield based on what was written in the report.

The “Black Unit” had maneuvered in such an unpredictable way that even Harold himself, had he been the commander, would have been caught off guard.

Their bold and unanticipated moves were reminiscent of watching a wild beast in action.

‘It was a coincidence. Just a coincidence… There’s no way Ferdium has someone like that.’

Though he repeated this to himself inwardly, Harold knew all too well that the “Black Unit’s” performance wasn’t something that could be chalked up to mere coincidence.

The final trap they had prepared had been far too effective to dismiss as luck.

‘But how… how could they use such magic…?’

Even the two 7th-circle mages in the entire kingdom couldn’t have cast a spell of such magnitude.

Unable to suppress his frustration, Harold gritted his teeth. His anger and irritation made it hard to think clearly.

His face grew more and more expressionless as time went on. Witnessing this, Desmond’s retainers and strategists quietly edged away from the Count.

Harold was a man of thorough and cold precision. He almost never lost his temper, and when his subordinates made mistakes, he executed them without hesitation.

Seeing him become increasingly cold was terrifying enough, but now the fear crept in that he might hold them accountable for losing the war and kill them all.

“Hoo… This isn’t the time for that.”

Harold took his eyes off the report and glared fiercely at his vassals.

They were acting like cowards, thinking only of running away instead of how to recover from their failure.

The one he had killed last time had been better than these fools.

‘If I’d had more time, I really would have killed them all.’

Swallowing his frustration, Harold gave orders to his vassals and advisors.

“We need to prepare for Raypold’s movements.”

It might not happen immediately, but Raypold will soon become aware of the general situation.

Count Raypold, who had been waiting for the perfect moment to subdue the North, wouldn’t miss this opportunity.

Though Count Desmond had been a contender for supremacy in the North, now that his forces were weakened, he couldn’t handle Raypold.

“We’ll expedite Amelia’s rebellion. For the time being, put everything else aside. Focus solely on that task.”

“Y-yes, understood.”

The advisors bowed their heads, seeing Harold’s bloodshot eyes.

If they dared to contradict him now, their heads would roll instantly.

Still, Harold’s frown remained fixed.

‘This is a mess.’

He had been planning to expedite the rebellion, but not in such a rushed manner.

However, the aftermath of their defeat in the war had caused everything to spiral out of control.

As his plans began to fall apart one by one, Harold couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at him.

“The Ducal family won’t take this lying down.”

The assassination attempt hadn’t been likely to escalate into a full-blown territorial war. Even if it had failed, there had been plenty of other alternatives, so it wasn’t a significant issue.

But losing to the Ferdium family in the territorial war and suffering heavy losses to his forces was a serious blunder that cast doubt on Harold’s abilities.

There were few as capable as him, so one mistake wouldn’t cost him his life immediately, but it certainly put him in a more precarious position than before.

The Duke of Delfine was ruthlessly cruel, after all.

And then there were those who always appeared out of nowhere to aid the Duke.

‘The Duke is a problem, but especially those bastards…’

All the plans to overthrow the kingdom had started after they appeared.

If this endeavor failed, they would suffer losses too.

And if they suffered losses, then they…

‘No, no. I can’t die here.’

He had climbed to the position of Great Lord by any means necessary, and he couldn’t let it all end like this.

He had to persuade them. He had to convince them that Raypold was still a threat, that the mission would definitely succeed.

‘If only we’d won the war, we could’ve strengthened our position. If only Viktor had been there…’

Clutching his throbbing head, Harold stumbled out of his office.

* * *

“Meow.”

Amelia sat in her carriage, playfully waving a stalk of grass to amuse Bastet.

Bastet leaped, trying to catch the grass, hopping around with playful energy.

Smiling gently at the sight of her cat, Amelia soon let out a small yawn.

“This is getting a bit dull.”

No more messengers had come from Ferdium, as if they had given up.

Still, the war wasn’t over yet, so Amelia continued to block the passage leading into Ferdium’s territory.

She had been away for some time now, but there was likely no one who would suspect her absence.

She often attended various social gatherings, so she spent more time outside the castle than inside.

The image she had carefully cultivated over the years, allowing her such freedom, was proving useful now.

“Why is it taking so long?”

Amelia stopped lazily waving the stalk of grass and adjusted her posture.

Given their strength, the results should have already been clear by now, but there had been no news for over a week. That was strange.

“Something must have happened.”

As soon as she was certain that the one who ambushed Digald’s supply unit was Ghislain, she had sent people to the battlefield.

She needed to know what that lunatic was up to.

At that moment, Bernarf knocked on the carriage door.

“My lady, the spies have returned.”

Several people hesitantly approached Amelia, trailing behind Bernarf.

They looked haggard and filthy, and they handed over an equally dirty report.

The hastily written report was so scribbled that the handwriting was barely legible.

Amelia, who usually preferred receiving well-organized documents, wrinkled her nose briefly but said nothing as she took the report and began to read.

Her hand paused several times as she flipped through the pages.

Eventually, Amelia raised her head and asked, “Tell me in detail.”

Once given permission, the spies eagerly used every gesture and word they could to vividly recount the events of the war.

Watching them, Bernarf took a subtle step back.

‘She looks beautiful even when angry… but I’d rather avoid being the one she gets mad at.’

Since the time Ghislain had swindled her out of money, Amelia had been uncharacteristically furious and irritable whenever it came to matters related to him.

This time would likely be no different.

Even Bastet, sensing Bernarf’s movements and Amelia’s rising tension, wisely retreated to a corner.

“Hmm… is that so?”

Contrary to Bernarf’s expectations, Amelia merely nodded her head without much of a reaction.

After pondering for a moment, Amelia turned to Bernarf and asked, “How do you think they set up that trap? Magic capable of swallowing thousands of soldiers at once—was there a mage strong enough to pull that off? Did Ferdium even have such resources?”

“Even for a 7th-circle mage, that would be difficult. If they had someone capable of magic like that, the Duke of Delfine would have overturned the kingdom the moment they secured a 7th-circle mage. For magic of that magnitude, I would guess it would take at least an 8th-circle mage.”

“Exactly. Not even the royal court mages could pull something like that off. So, who used such extraordinary magic?”

“Someone capable of that alone… it would have to be the ‘Guardian of the World Tree’ or the ‘Master of the Dead,’ right?”

At that, Amelia chuckled and shook her head.

“…There’s no way.”

Sure, if it were them, they could perform such miraculous feats alone, but there was no reason for them to help Ferdium.

Those individuals, who operated independently and belonged to no faction, wouldn’t suddenly appear in some remote estate like this.

Then, a satisfied smile unexpectedly crept across Amelia’s face.

“I’ve figured it out.”

“Figured out what?”

“How Ferdium was able to use such incredible magic. There’s only one way.”

“And what’s that? Oh, no… don’t tell me…”

“Runestones. They must have used a massive amount of Runestones. If flames shot up from the ground, they must have buried them in advance.”

Bernarf’s face twisted in disbelief.

“That kind of explosion would require an absurd number of Runestones… Is that even possible? The amount needed would be equivalent to decades’ worth of Ferdium’s budget. To use all of that on a trap…?”

It was an outlandish and foolish approach.

But Ghislain was a man who never hesitated to do the unthinkable.

“No, if it’s that lunatic, it’s entirely possible. Yes, that must be it. It means they’re now willing to absorb losses of that scale.”

Amelia could confidently say that no one understood Ghislain better than she did.

To deal with him, one had to think outside the bounds of ordinary logic.

As she skimmed through the report again, imagining the situation in her mind, a chilling smile crept across her face.

“He trained and moved his troops this quickly? That brute had such abilities, after all. Or is there another advisor or figure behind him? Maybe I let a good man slip through my fingers.”

Bernarf pursed his lips, but Amelia ignored him lightly, lost in deep thought.

She didn’t have enough information to be certain yet. She needed to gather more intel and keep an eye on things.

“Let’s go back. There’s no need to stay here any longer. Also, gather everyone immediately and have them stand by.”

Bernarf, caught off guard by the sudden order, dumbly asked, “Gather the troops? Why?”

“Desmond’s been crushed, and you think my father is just going to sit still? That foolish, greedy old man wouldn’t do that.”

“……”

“He’ll definitely use any information that comes in as an excuse to strike Desmond. ‘How dare he touch our ally, Ferdium! I might have found out a little late, but I won’t forgive him even now!’ or some nonsense like that.”

Bernarf scratched his head, unable to agree or disagree.

“What does that have to do with gathering our men…?”

“Bernarf, I’ve always told you to think, haven’t I? Harold’s forces have taken a major hit, and a significant portion of them at that. So what do you think will happen if my father raises an army now?”

When Bernarf just stood there blankly, Amelia sighed and added, “Do you think Harold wouldn’t see that coming? Harold may be devious, but he’s not stupid. So what do you think he’ll do?”

“Wouldn’t he ask the duchy for reinforcements?”

“No. The Duke is currently pressuring the royal family. If the ducal family raises troops, the royal family won’t just sit by. Things would escalate too much.”

“Oh, then…?”

“Exactly, he’ll proceed with the rebellion even faster. They have no other choice now. Thanks to that, I’ll end up with half of Raypold.”

If the rebellion hastened, the damage to the estate would increase as well. That meant she wouldn’t get her hands on an intact domain.

Amelia sighed in frustration.

It was a shame that Raypold would be ruined, but the reason her anger was simmering even more wasn’t because of that.

“Ghislain, I really thought you’d die this time, but you survived yet again. At this point, it’s more than just luck. What a wretched bastard.”

She had denied it out of pride, but now she had no choice but to acknowledge it.

Ghislain wasn’t someone to be taken lightly.

Rage boiled inside her, but the more it did, the harder she tried to remain composed.

The stronger the opponent, the colder she became.

This was Amelia’s true nature, the side of her that Ghislain had always been wary of.

“In the end, that bastard has bought himself quite a bit of time. Desmond’s momentum has been broken, and the Duke is too occupied with more pressing matters to deal with Ghislain for now.”

“Do you think it would’ve been better to take him down before the war?”

“Well…”

Amelia stopped to ponder on Bernarf’s question.

At the time, she had been sure, but now she wasn’t so certain.

“We’ll have to seize Raypold first and then think about it.”

“How about we just leave him alone for now? The Duke’s family will probably take care of Ferdium later anyway.”

Amelia sighed once more.

She certainly wanted to kill Ghislain, but there were other things that needed to be done. She couldn’t waste time on personal grudges.

“Fine, we’ll leave him be for now. He’s already caught the attention of Harold and the Delfine Duke, so he’ll probably die soon anyway. We’ll focus on our own matters.”

Taking the position of Count of Raypold wasn’t the end. It was just the beginning. She had far greater ambitions and goals.

“Of course, if the opportunity arises, I’ll make sure to utterly destroy him.”

As she spoke her final words, Amelia’s expression was colder than ever.