The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations

Chapter 428

As soon as Ghislain finished speaking, two individuals threw themselves to the ground, shouting in desperation.

“We’re innocent! We tried to stop him!”

“This was all the count’s doing!”

Count Grafton had never been the kind of lord who inspired loyalty. The steward and treasurer were already prepared to confess before any threats or coercion.

As Ghislain approached, they cried out again, still prostrated.

“We know where the stockpile is!”

“It’s not far from here!”

Hearing this, Count Grafton turned pale and screamed, “You idiots! Shut up! Keep your mouths shut!”

But it was too late. The two men spilled everything they knew.

Count Grafton had secretly built an underground warehouse in a nearby village to hide the medicinal materials. It also housed a production facility where medicine was being manufactured.

After listening to their confession, Ghislain nodded.

“Gillian, take the soldiers and confirm their claims. Use these two as guides.”

“Yes, my lord,” Gillian replied, escorting the trembling men away.

Count Grafton, however, continued his tirade, shouting in desperation.

“What are you doing? Attack them! The northern army is still outside the outer wall! Fight them now and prepare for war!”

He had nothing left to lose. If he was to be ruined, he figured he might as well go down fighting.

But despite his orders, none of his knights or soldiers moved against Ghislain. Though they greatly outnumbered the northern contingent present, no one dared to take the first step.

Whispers among the ranks:

“Fight the Count of Fenris? A Master?”“One of the strongest in the kingdom?”“Even if we all rush him, can we win?”

While it was possible that overwhelming numbers could bring down a Master, no one wanted to be the first to charge. The first attacker would undoubtedly lose their head.

Moreover, the northern army’s reputation was at an all-time high. Their victories against the riftspawn and their disciplined tactics were well-known.

Even though only a small detachment was present, the full northern army of 80,000 soldiers was waiting outside. If they decided to invade, Count Grafton’s forces would be crushed in no time.

Loyalty to Count Grafton wasn’t worth risking their lives for.

One of the knight commanders hesitated, nervously muttering, “Perhaps we should wait and see how this unfolds, my lord...”

“You idiot! Is that what you call loyalty? ‘Wait and see?’ What results do you need to see?” Count Grafton roared in fury.

The absurdity of the situation drew a chuckle from Ghislain. He leaned back into his chair, folding his arms.

“I really don’t like doing things this way,” he murmured.

Though no one believed him, Ghislain genuinely valued freedom. His time as a mercenary had made him disdain forceful tactics, but the world and circumstances constantly pushed him into these roles.

While waiting for Gillian’s return, Count Grafton continued his rant, growing more desperate.

“Kill him! Don’t let him leave! If he meddles with me, the other lords will rise against him! Does he intend to fight every noble in the kingdom?”

But his pleas fell on deaf ears. Even his own allies ignored him.

If they had attacked Ghislain immediately, they might have ridden the momentum into a full-blown fight. But now the mood had shifted; nobody dared to move.

After some time, Gillian returned, his expression resolute.

“We found it.”

“How much?” Ghislain asked.

“Too much to count without further inspection, but there are tens of thousands of bottles of medicine already manufactured. There’s also a significant stockpile of raw materials.”

“Gluttonous bastard,” Ghislain muttered, rising from his seat with an icy glare fixed on Count Grafton.

“Strip him of his title. Lock him in a cell. His lands are hereby confiscated by the crown and will later be granted to someone deserving.”

Count Grafton’s face turned ashen.

“This... this isn’t lawful! You can’t do this! You can’t just take my land without a fight!”

The northern soldiers bound him tightly and dragged him to his feet.

Even as he was hauled away, Count Grafton screamed hysterically.

“Fight them! Attack them now! How can you stand by while this madness unfolds? I am your lord! Not even the king has the right to do this to me!”

But his knights and advisors simply averted their gazes.

Many among his retainers thought to themselves:

“He’s gone too far this time.”“People are dying of plague, and the rifts are threatening us all.”“We were lucky to avoid the rifts ourselves. It’s the northern army that’s handling all of it.”

No one was willing to put their lives on the line for Count Grafton.

Seeing the hesitation, Ghislain pointed at several of the knights and issued a new order.

“You, take this message to the neighboring territories: prepare the medicine and deliver it. If they resist, they will face the same consequences.”

Her hollowed eyes fixed ahead as she willed her frail body forward.

Leaving the city wasn’t difficult. Even the guards had succumbed, leaving the gates unattended.

It’s so cold...

Hugging her trembling body, she trudged onward. But her vision began to blur, the world spinning around her.

Thud.

The girl collapsed just beyond the city gates.

“Mom...”

She recalled the rumors. The lord and nobles supposedly had medicine, and some whispered that help was coming.

But no one came.

No one had come to save them.

She tried to rise, but her strength had long since left her. Days without food and the relentless fever had reduced her to nothing more than a fragile shell.

I have to get up...

Her mother’s survival depended on her, but her body refused to obey. The most she could manage was a faint flutter of her eyelids.

Please...

With the last vestiges of her strength, she prayed.

Please, someone... anyone...

Her silent cries for help were answered by nothing but the cold wind. Finally, her eyelids drooped shut.

Flutter.

Warmth enveloped her shivering body.

At the same time, a cool, refreshing sensation filled her mouth. It coursed through her veins, banishing the fever and rekindling a spark of vitality.

“Ah...”

The girl’s eyes slowly opened.

She found herself wrapped in a luxurious cloak, cradled in the arms of a man.

“Wh-Who are you...?” she whispered.

The man replied in a calm, steady voice.

“Ghislain Ferdium, lord of Fenris and commander of the northern army.”

The girl didn’t understand the significance of his title, but she could tell he was someone important. His clean hair, flawless skin, and richly adorned attire marked him as a noble of the highest order.

With a trembling voice, she pleaded.

“Help us...”

Ghislain didn’t respond immediately.

Tears welled in her eyes as she clung to his arm, her voice breaking.

“Please... help us... My mom... Everyone... They’re all dying...”

Finally, Ghislain nodded, his voice firm and reassuring.

“Don’t worry.”

His tone exuded absolute confidence, as though no obstacle was too great for him to overcome.

But the girl’s doubt remained. Everyone in the city was dying. How could one noble save them all?

Her lips trembled as she gripped his arm tighter.

“They... abandoned us. No one came. No one came to save us. Please... just tell someone. Bring medicine... food...”

Ghislain gently shook his head.

“No, you haven’t been abandoned. Look behind me.”

The girl turned her head, her breath hitching.

What she saw left her speechless.

Stretching to the horizon was an army, their banners billowing in the wind as they marched toward the city.

The rumble of countless wagons laden with food and medicine echoed across the plains.

Tears blurred her vision as she looked back at the man holding her.

Through her sobs, she could still hear his resolute words.

“I will save you all.”