The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations-Chapter 278: Live Together, Die Together (1)

In war, the first clash is more important than one might think. Based on the initial encounter, you can gauge the opponent’s strength and form a strategy for the rest of the conflict.

Harold was deep in thought as he looked at Baron Hutton, who had returned with serious injuries.

“They’re stronger than I thought.”

He had expected a quick conquest, yet the Fenris forces were formidable, with each soldier displaying extraordinary strength. From afar, he could see that the enemy commander was particularly powerful. He had deployed his strongest forces, and yet even Baron Hutton had returned severely injured.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m... I’m sorry, Count.”

Baron Hutton, pale and struggling to even stand, had gulped down a potion, but his wounds remained severe. Wounds inflicted by mana were particularly difficult to heal, as the energy interfered with recovery.

The stronger the enemy, the longer this hostile energy would linger, making it difficult for potions or divine powers to take effect.

Harold observed him quietly and asked, “What do you think? Having experienced their strength firsthand, would sending more soldiers suffice?”

“We could still take them, but... the losses would be considerable. We’d need to proceed carefully to reduce casualties.”

"Hmm... We don’t have much time left, though.”

“True, but excessive losses won’t help us either, will they?”

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Harold nodded in agreement. Defeating Fenris and killing Ghislain wasn’t the end of it. They still needed to conquer Ferdium and contend with the Royalists for a long time afterward. Losing half their forces in taking Fenris and Ferdium would leave them vulnerable in the struggle with the Royalists. A minimum of twenty thousand soldiers was necessary to prevent others from challenging them too easily.

“That Amelia... She’s refusing to cooperate now. I told her to join us immediately.”

If Amelia had joined them on time, they would have had more options. But now, Rayfold was occupied with northern lords, making it impossible for him to move.

‘Should I delay it a bit longer?’

It felt as though he was facing ten thousand soldiers with only a thousand. Pushing through those elite forces would lead to significant losses.

Harold didn’t want to demoralize his men with heavy casualties, but neither could he afford a long siege given the surrounding circumstances. He needed to seize that fortress as soon as possible.

Baron Hutton spoke cautiously, breaking Harold’s contemplation.

“Perhaps... we should try persuasion instead?”

“Persuasion?”

“Yes, I’ve heard that most of the Fenris forces are of lowly birth. Especially that Gillian fellow and the knights—they’re former mercenaries.”

“Hmm...”

“Count Fenris must have paid them handsomely to keep them around. Just look at their equipment—it’s clear they’ve been well-treated in the territory. Such skilled individuals likely demand substantial upkeep.”

Harold nodded in agreement. Hiring high-ranking mercenaries came at an enormous cost, but Fenris, the so-called King of Grain, could undoubtedly afford it.

Encouraged by Harold’s interest, Baron Herton continued confidently, “They’re bound by money. While they may honor their contract, they don’t have deep loyalty. There’s no reason to think they’d be especially devoted to him.”

“So, you’re suggesting we offer them better terms?”

“Yes. They have excellent equipment and skill, but they must know they can’t defeat us in the end. A mercenary’s true priority isn’t loyalty; it’s survival.”

“There’s merit in that.”

“Gillian, the commander of the fortress, is too valuable to waste under the Count’s command. If we could persuade him to join us, things would be much easier going forward.”

“So, you want to recruit a traitor?”

“Mercenaries aren’t bound by loyalty; they provide service for pay. If we take Fenris, we can offer them better conditions. They’re mercenaries, after all. That they’re even fighting so fiercely suggests they have some sense of duty.”

Baron Hutton argued passionately, despite the pain he bore. Despite the wounds he’d suffered, he genuinely respected Gillian’s skill. As one of the finest swordsmen in the North, he acknowledged Gillian as his equal.

Harold pondered briefly before nodding decisively.

“Alright. I’ll give you a few more days.”

Soon, an emissary bearing a white flag set out from Desmond’s camp. Gillian eyed him warily.

“Surrender?”

His face was still pale, his body wrapped in bandages, showing signs of lingering pain and exhaustion.

The emissary scanned Gillian from head to toe before speaking in a patronizing tone, “Indeed. The Count has promised you the best possible treatment.”

Though polite in words, his expression was far from respectful, as though taunting them, asking what they could do otherwise.

“From what I hear, most of you are former mercenaries. We offer more money and better terms than you’re currently receiving. Isn’t it natural for mercenaries to seek out better offers?”

Lucas, standing by Gillian, gripped his spear tightly. The other knights reacted similarly. They were all too familiar with how the world viewed them, having been treated with disdain all their lives. But the open insult, treating them as honorless mercenaries, was too much.

A killing intent began to rise from the knights, sharp and unmistakable. The emissary and his attendants felt it keenly, like needles pricking their skin. The emissary smirked and took a step back.

“Surely... you don’t actually consider yourselves knights, do you?”

“You’re not knights. You’re merely hired swords, bereft of honor. Don’t throw your lives away over hollow pride.”

The emissary spoke with a calm arrogance, looking around the knights as though they should be grateful for his ‘reality check.’

“Staying alive—that’s your virtue as mercenaries. Don’t waste your lives here.”

Lucas’s eyes filled with fury as he took a step forward, brimming with killing intent.

Once, such words would have meant little, perhaps even amused him. But things were different now. Having grown alongside Ghislain, he could no longer endure such insults.

All eyes turned to Gillian. He wouldn’t stand for this. Gillian was the most knightly of them all, the one with the deepest loyalty to their lord.

“Tell your Count to give us some time to consider. I need to convince the others. And next time, come with concrete terms, not just words.”

The knights were stunned into silence. The emissary smirked, glancing at the other knights.

“A wise choice. I suggest the rest of you consider carefully as well. No sense in losing your lives pointlessly here.”

With that, the emissary departed. A moment of silence passed before Lucas leveled his spear at Gillian.

“Instructor... Are you really worried about your life now?”

Once again, killing intent filled the air, with Lucas and several knights lifting their weapons, ready to strike if needed.

“I didn’t think you were a coward. Did that stab from the enemy make you fearful?”

“Are you actually planning to betray our lord?”

“People call us rootless scum because of thoughts like yours.”

Gillian, crossing his arms, surveyed the knights and smirked.

“What? None of you want to surrender and take advantage of the offer?”

“You bastard!”

Lucas lunged with his spear, but Gillian dodged with a slight tilt of his head. Lucas swung again, aiming for Gillian’s face.

Gillian caught the spear effortlessly, holding it firm despite Lucas’s attempts to pull it free.

He looked around at the men, all of whom showed no inclination to surrender.

After a brief chuckle, he spoke.

“Idiots. They’re giving us time on a silver platter, and you want to waste it?”

“What?”

The knights looked confused. They’d been so incensed by the insult that they hadn’t thought it through.

Gillian’s gaze sharpened. “Thankfully, none of you are even considering their offer. Save your anger for the battlefield. Delaying them is what our lord needs now.”

“Oh...”

“Who knew our instructor could swallow his pride like this?”

“Guess he’s not so simple.”

With the misunderstanding cleared, the knights lowered their weapons and chuckled, much to Gillian’s dismay.

“Fools,” he muttered.

But he understood why Ghislain appreciated them—they were straightforward, honest, and never engaged in underhanded behavior.

“Make the most of this time. Recover your mana and strength while you can.”

The knights, somewhat sheepishly, returned to their posts.

Upon hearing the emissary’s report, Harold nodded in satisfaction.

“Just as I thought. Scum like them only care about money, not honor.”

Had they been true knights, Harold would have been less trusting. But his prejudice about their lowly origins clouded his judgment.

“Yes, this is good. We’ll reduce our casualties. Offer them generous terms.”

The emissary smugly reported his success. Confident, he decided to wait patiently.

Two days later, he returned to the Fenris camp, emphasizing the enticing terms they offered.

“This should more than satisfy you. Haven’t you convinced them yet?”

Gillian put on a troubled expression. “The terms are appealing, but a few still need convincing. Some are unaware of the conditions.”

The emissary scanned the knights, noticing a few with displeased expressions gathered on one side.

The number of knights aligning with Gillian was growing, but the process seemed slow.

Impatient, the emissary began to suspect something.

‘They’re stalling to squeeze better terms from us!’

He gritted his teeth, growing irritated with their greed. However, he offered slightly better conditions.

Again, Gillian claimed he needed time to bring everyone on board.

The back-and-forth stretched over a week. After receiving a final warning from Harold, the emissary, desperate, returned once more.

“How much more time do you need? We can’t wait any longer! This is your last chance!”

“One more person.”

The emissary turned to see a lone knight standing apart.

“And who’s he?”

The knight answered in a solemn voice, “I am Lucas, a spear genius.”

“And why are you the only one holding out? Pride?”

“I don’t feel like talking.”

“Why are you upset?”

“Do you really not know?”

The emissary, though irritated, forced a polite tone.

“If I’ve done anything offensive, I apologize. Just tell me.”

“What exactly did you do wrong?”

“...”

“Apologizing without knowing why? How pathetic.”

Barely holding back his anger, the emissary realized his own life was on the line if he couldn’t bring them back. For hours, he begged Lucas to explain his grievances.

Finally, Lucas muttered, “The conditions don’t appeal to me. I have a specific demand.”

“What... what demand? The current offer is already excellent. Following Count Desmond would mean a life of luxury!”

“That’s not enough. I want a noble title and a small estate. Becoming a lord—that’s my mother’s dream for me.”

“You... madman...”

For a lowborn to demand such outrageous terms... the emissary turned to Gillian in frustration.

“Just kill this fool! Haven’t the other knights already agreed?”

“No.”

“What?!”

“We live together, die together. We can’t accept your offer. Give us another week, and I’ll convince him.”

The emissary’s face turned pale. It dawned on him.

“‘Live together, die together,’ huh?”

They’d never intended to surrender.