The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations (light Novel)

chapter 161 - It’s Better to Strike First (3)



As Ghislain faced Claude’s desperate plea, he remained unfazed, prompting Claude to urgently ask, “When exactly are we heading out? Can’t we slow down a bit? We should plan carefully while watching Count Desmond’s movements…”
But Ghislain shook his head firmly. “No, we’re already behind schedule. We have to start preparing right now. We’ll depart right after the next harvest.”
The next harvest was only a few months away. It felt too rushed.

Claude couldn’t contain his panic and let out a sharp cry, “Why does it have to be then?!”
“Because I need to fight at the time I choose.”
Ghislain’s voice was resolute.

It wasn’t just a matter of wanting to seize the territory quickly. While securing the iron mines as soon as possible would be beneficial, the timing was far more critical. Rushing without careful planning would only increase the chances of failure. And to Ghislain, even a single failure would mean total ruin.
‘I need to win decisively and with as little risk as possible. The best time to strike is then—when we can take the iron mines with minimal resistance.’
This was a plan only someone like Ghislain, who knew the future, could devise. Everything had to move according to his intent. This was why he had aligned with Marquis Branford and joined the faction supporting the royal family.

However, explaining this now wouldn’t make any sense to anyone. Even if he did explain, they wouldn’t believe him. Just as before, they would likely attribute any success to mere luck.
Seeing Ghislain’s unwavering stance, Claude stomped in frustration and suggested pitifully, “My lord, how about a bet then? Just like last time?”
“A bet?” Ghislain raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. We’ll decide whether to defend the estate or march forward based on the outcome of this bet.”
Claude’s expression was desperate. He needed to stop Ghislain from making yet another reckless decision. As someone who lived by common sense, he couldn’t afford to follow his lord’s madness any longer.
Ghislain, amused by the proposition, nodded. “Alright, tell me the details.”

Claude, relieved by Ghislain’s agreement, eagerly explained his idea. “I know it’s only natural for us to follow your orders, my lord, but… everyone is feeling uneasy about the situation. It’s better to settle this now than to leave everyone anxious.”
Ghislain couldn’t argue with that. Reluctantly following orders wouldn’t be enough to face the kind of enemies they were up against. They needed unwavering determination. If making a bet would motivate them, Ghislain was more than willing.
“Alright, so how should we do this?”

Claude laid out his terms, “We’ll prepare for the expedition as you instructed. However…”
“However?” Ghislain prompted.
“If we don’t have everyone capable of using mana within two months, you’ll call off the march.”
“You want me to cancel the march?”

“Yes. Instead, we’ll focus all our efforts on defending the estate. With proper preparation, even if Count Desmond attacks, I swear I’ll defend us. I’m capable of that much.”
Ghislain silently clicked his tongue. He knew Claude was skilled, but not enough to fend off the full might of the ducal faction. Even the royal family and the faction supporting the prince didn’t fully grasp the extent of the duchy’s power and plans. How could Claude prepare for something that was still hidden?
Once the full force of the ducal faction came to light, it would already be too late.

Still, Ghislain knew that no amount of reasoning could convince his vassals of this now. The only reason Claude and the others had even entertained the idea of preparing for defense was because Desmond was already making moves, which gave them a sense of urgency.
“Hmm…”
While Ghislain pondered, Claude anxiously watched him. An enemy was openly preparing to invade their lands, and now their lord was gambling the fate of the entire territory on a risky venture. Claude couldn’t stand idly by.

Sensing that Ghislain was leaning towards agreeing, Claude quickly added, “Is it not enough? If that’s the case, then I’ll bet ten more years of servitude for both me and Alfoy.”
“What?! Why are you dragging me into this?!” Alfoy cried out in horror beside him.
But Claude ignored his protests. It felt better to have someone share the burden, after all.

Alfoy tried to protest further but quickly shut his mouth after receiving cold glares from the surrounding people. Everyone silently agreed that they’d do anything to stop Ghislain’s march, even if it meant betting Alfoy’s future.
‘Damn this estate. I want to go back to the magic tower. That idiot Claude better win this bet.’
Ghislain, amused by the scene, turned to Alfoy with a playful smile. “Another ten years? Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

Claude answered sincerely, “It doesn’t matter.”
He had already put so much of his life on the line for this estate that he had lost track of how much time he had left. Still, better to live a few more decades as a slave than die this year.
Ghislain offered a sly alternative. “Wouldn’t it be better if you helped me succeed instead? Think about it—having hundreds of soldiers capable of using mana. That would be amazing, wouldn’t it?”

No one could deny that. Even Perdium, a powerful county, had less than thirty knights. If hundreds of mana-wielding soldiers gathered in one territory, even if they were weaker individually than typical knights, their collective power would be overwhelming.
The thought was enticing, but it was also just that—a thought. Claude, having experienced the harshness of reality, dismissed any false hopes. He had endured too much to indulge in fantasies.
“Of course, I’ll do everything I can to prepare for war. The problem is your determination to march no matter what. That’s why we should try, but if the knights aren’t ready, we stop.”

Although it was disrespectful to bet against a lord’s decision, none of the other vassals objected this time. They had become accustomed to Ghislain’s unorthodox style, and more importantly, stopping him was their priority.
‘Better to be rude and alive.’
‘Compared to drawing weapons in front of the lord, this is nothing.’

Even Gillian, who would normally charge into battle at Ghislain’s command, pretended to examine the ceiling, making it clear that everyone hoped Claude would win.
Ghislain clicked his tongue. “I didn’t expect everyone to have such little faith.”
He was about to protest further when Kaor suddenly stepped forward.

“I trust you, my lord.”
This was unexpected.
Kaor wasn’t particularly trusting of Ghislain either. But he wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity for a fight.

“Honestly, I’ve been feeling a bit restless lately. If we’re going to fight, let’s do it properly. I’ll kill them all, no problem!”
It was boredom, plain and simple.
As people glared at Kaor in disgust, even he was briefly taken aback.

“What? What’s the problem? Am I wrong? Isn’t it obvious we should follow the lord’s orders and go into battle if he says so? You lot are lacking in loyalty!”
Kaor’s sudden burst of loyalty wasn’t very convincing, especially since he was the one who typically disrespected the lord the most. Now, to avoid embarrassment, he was dragging Ghislain into his defense.
Belinda and Gillian quickly blocked his path, stepping in to stop his reckless comments.

“If you’re so eager to fight, go ahead and take off Count Desmond’s head yourself,” Belinda retorted sarcastically.
“Mind your own business,” Kaor grumbled but backed down slightly, casting furtive glances. He was tough but not foolish enough to fight both of them at once.
Ghislain watched Kaor with a strange look.

In a way, he found that he shared a certain bond with Kaor, but admitting that felt somewhat demeaning.
Shaking his head, Ghislain turned back to the group.
“Alright, it’s settled. If I win the bet, we march. But regardless, make sure everything is ready.”

It was clear to Ghislain why they had made the bet, but he had no intention of delaying the march. The timeline was set in stone in his mind.
Claude, oblivious to Ghislain’s true thoughts, sighed in relief, nodding repeatedly.
“Understood, my lord. Whether we defend or attack, we’ll prepare accordingly. You don’t need to worry about that.”

Even if they wasted precious resources on the mana infusion formation, at least they wouldn’t be taking a ragtag group of poorly trained men into battle.
‘All those runestones… we could’ve equipped the soldiers with top-quality gear instead. It’s such a waste!’
Still, it was better than marching into an ill-prepared war.

As Claude fell silent, Ghislain addressed the group again.
“Everyone, just keep focusing on preparing for the war and developing the estate. I’ll personally oversee the mercenaries’ mana training. Though, some people here will be even busier.”
All eyes turned toward a particular group, immediately understanding who Ghislain was referring to.

Alfoy and the other mages turned pale as they realized what was expected of them.
They were the only ones capable of creating the mana infusion formations needed for the mercenaries’ training. But with the waterway construction, reservoir work, and land reclamation, the mages were already drowning in work. They barely had time to sleep.
Alfoy’s voice trembled as he asked, “Do we… really have to do it?”

“Of course,” Ghislain replied casually.
“But we already have so much on our plates…”
“You’ll manage.”

“We can’t!”
Alfoy cried out, “I can’t live like this anymore! I’ll invoke my authority as head of the northern magic branch and terminate our contract! I’m going back to the tower, and you can’t stop me! I’m leaving!”
As Alfoy’s outburst gained momentum, the other mages rallied behind him.

“Yes! We’re done with this! We’re going back! We can’t take it anymore!”
Ghislain simply smiled and nodded. “Sure, if that’s what you want. But you do remember our personal contract, don’t you?”
“Huh?”

“If you want to leave, feel free. The slavers should be arriving soon, so you can travel with them.”
The idea of leaving with slavers sent a chill down the mages’ spines. Returning to the magic tower seemed impossible at this point.
“Nooo! I hate it here! I want to die!”

Alfoy and the other mages collapsed into despair. Their once noble and prestigious lives had spiraled into complete chaos.
At that moment, Vanessa stepped forward to ease the situation.
“My lord, how many formations do you need?”

Ghislain replied, “A hundred for now. The mercenaries will take turns training over the next two months, so we’ll probably need more later.”
The mages felt a slight sense of relief. They had feared that Ghislain would ask for a formation for every mercenary. A hundred was at least manageable.
But Ghislain wasn’t finished.

“Oh, and I need them done within a week.”
The mages turned pale again at the brutal deadline.
Everyone else felt pity for them but couldn’t risk defending them. They didn’t want the estate’s construction to fall behind because of delays.

Vanessa, however, remained confident and offered them encouragement.
“Alfoy, we can do this. I’ll help you. You’re the future head of the northern magic tower, and the other mages are all incredibly talented.”
Alfoy pouted, his pride slightly bruised by being comforted by a former servant of the tower.

At that moment, Claude chimed in with false enthusiasm, “Hey, bro! You’re a genius, remember? This is nothing for someone as smart as you. You’re just a little tired, that’s all, right?”
Others followed with half-hearted words of encouragement.
“Of course, the Red Tower’s mages can handle this.”

“Exactly. Who else could manage something like this but the top minds from the most prestigious tower?”
“A bit of grumbling, but we all know you’re up to the task, Master Alfoy.”
Everyone knew the decision had been made, and the mages had no choice but to comply. It was better to throw some empty praise than have them attempt a strike.

“F-fine! Stop flattering me so much…”
Despite his grumbling, Alfoy couldn’t help but stand a little straighter, swiping at his nose with the back of his hand.


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