The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations-Chapter 494: I Have Something to Do (1)

The capital was engulfed in fear.

Now, even the innocent were dragged away by the soldiers without cause.

Every single one of them was sacrificed for Berhem.

Initially, the soldiers roamed about to earn merits. However, they soon found themselves capturing people just to survive.

Neighbors disappearing overnight became a regular occurrence. The fear of being taken next loomed over everyone.

Foll𝑜w current novℯls on ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm.

Rumors began to spread among the people.

"The king... has gone mad."

"They say he's devouring people."

"What on earth is happening?"

Not long ago, the kingdom had celebrated a victorious war. Thanks to Count Fenris, they had overcome both drought and plague.

Although the kingdom was in turmoil, hope filled the people's hearts.

Count Fenris and Marquis Branford had tackled problems one by one, leading the kingdom toward recovery.

But now, everything had changed.

Marquis Branford had fallen from power, and the northern army was said to have retreated.

The king went on a rampage, and people were taken away and killed without understanding why.

"The priest who healed the king is from the Salvation Order."

"Then what happens to us?"

"Even the priests from the Four Great Orders can’t do anything about it."

Ominous rumors spread like wildfire.

There was even talk of negotiating with the duke’s faction. Would that not mean the Salvation Order, who created the rifts and murdered people, would gain even more power?

Everyone wanted to flee the capital, but the surveillance was too tight.

People minimized their outings to avoid being caught. To stay safe, they hid themselves away.

Naturally, economic activity came to a halt, and the atmosphere in the capital grew increasingly bleak.

When the number of people being captured dwindled, Berhem carried out yet another act of madness.

"How is it acceptable that this beautiful capital is sullied by beggars? Eliminate all the vermin!"

With that command, all the impoverished people in the capital were forcibly rounded up.

To be fair, they were no longer beggars in the true sense. Thanks to continuous relief efforts, many had begun to achieve self-sufficiency.

It was all due to the surplus of food from Fenris.

Yet, merely living in the slums made them targets. They were dragged away and offered up as sacrifices for Berhem.

"Aaaaaah!"

"Please spare us!"

"We’ve done nothing wrong!"

The deep chambers of the royal palace echoed with unending screams. Berhem was killing them, sustaining his health with their blood and life force.

He no longer even bothered to hide his actions. Everyone was gripped by terror.

The nobles who had chosen to follow the king realized something was amiss but pretended not to notice.

"His Majesty has endured so much hardship because of Marquis Branford."

"Indeed, he needs to vent his frustrations to some extent."

"At least they’re only taking prisoners and beggars."

At this point, it was impossible not to see that the Salvation Order was involved. However, with negotiations for a truce underway, they suppressed their concerns.

Frankly, life had improved for the nobles. Previously, they had lived under the shadow of Marquis Branford’s vigilance, unable to enjoy the privileges of their rank.

"Marquis Branford lacked the awareness of a true noble."

"He even expected us to work. How preposterous!"

"Disasters or not, we lost far too much wealth."

To the nobles, work was beneath them. A noble should live solely on their status, leaving arduous matters to subordinates.

Marquis Branford had shattered this perception. He constantly demanded responsibility from the nobles.

The king, however, was different. He acknowledged the nobility’s superiority as a given.

Thus, the nobles turned a blind eye to the king’s madness.

They also feared the Salvation Order. None of them dared to step out of line and risk drawing its ire.

While Berhem relentlessly killed people to sustain his life, his worries grew.

"Flakus, the prisoners are running out. Hurry up and finalize the negotiations."

"I’ve already sent word, Your Majesty. A date will be set soon."

"Good, good. Now that the royal army is under my control, the negotiations should proceed smoothly."

All the prisoners dragged in from various regions had been consumed. Yet, Berhem’s body continued to deteriorate.

He lacked a proper core to store and circulate the absorbed life force.

No matter how much he absorbed, it dissipated like smoke.

To fix this, he needed the "Orb of Life," a creation of the Salvation Order. Only by absorbing life force through it could he sustain himself.

Berhem had decided to exchange the royal family’s sacred treasures for the orb.

Still, there was one last matter to confirm.

"Chamberlain! Has every commander of the royal army been replaced with those loyal to me?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. All commanders have been replaced, and the royal army is stationed near the capital."

Hearing Marquis Domont’s report, Berhem smiled. At last, he felt a semblance of relief.

"Good, that’s reassuring."

He had delayed the negotiations for this very reason. Only with firm control over the military could he negotiate from a position of strength.

He could not afford to lose the royal treasures for nothing, so he had prepared meticulously.

"Ensure the negotiations proceed without issue. I will personally inspect the goods."

Berhem, bolstered by Flakus’s aura, was confident he could confirm the authenticity of the item.

"And once the negotiations are complete, I will crush the northern army that dared defy me!"

Once again, madness flickered in Berhem’s eyes.

***

The northern army was fully prepared to march at a moment's notice. With no other tasks at hand, they were simply waiting for the right time.

Claude had delegated all administrative duties to his subordinates and was taking a break, claiming it was to oversee the reorganization of the northern army.

The only one truly overwhelmed with work was Lowell, who was managing intelligence from the capital.

With preparations completed earlier than expected, Claude found himself bored and decided to call for Alfoy.

"How about a card game?"

"A card game?"

"Yeah. You said you needed some mental stimulation, right? Things will only get busier later, so let’s enjoy ourselves while we can."

"Sounds good. Just the two of us?"

"Hmm, two’s no fun. Let’s rope in one more player."

Claude glanced mischievously at Ereneth.

"I need to stretch that 30 years into something longer."

He was determined to drag Ereneth into the gambling scene. If he could turn her into a gambling addict and rack up a mountain of debt, he’d have the leverage to extend her contract far beyond 30 years—enough to ensure his survival.

With that in mind, Claude set out to convince her.

"Chief, care to join us for a card game? I can spot you some money to start."

"......."

Ereneth shot Claude a look of pure disdain.

To invite the noble High Chief of the elves to gamble—this was a first, even in her long life.

"No thanks. Enjoy yourselves."

"Oh, come on! Just one game."

"I said no."

Despite her refusal, Claude persisted. He was relentless—Ereneth had to fall into gambling for his plan to work.

"Chief, I know how this must sound, but my suggestion isn’t just about having fun."

"What are you implying?"

"You’ve spent your life in the forest. You’re not fully acquainted with human society yet. To truly understand the intense emotions of humanity, this kind of experience is essential."

Ereneth smirked faintly. Claude had no idea what kind of life she’d led.

"Human emotions? Do you think I haven’t witnessed that in all my years? I’ve seen wars so vast, none of you could even comprehend them."

"But you’ve never felt the emotions of a gambling den, have you?"

"......."

She didn’t need to experience that, and she was tempted to give him a stern reprimand. But to her surprise, someone else interjected.

"Chief, you should give it a try. It’s fun."

It was Ascon, another elf, though his motives were entirely different.

"The elves scattered across the continent drink, gamble, and live like everyone else. You should experience it too—then you’ll better understand us."

Ascon simply wanted to see Ereneth gamble and lose.

Ereneth, however, couldn’t dismiss his words. She carried guilt for how the scattered elves had lived as slaves.

Eventually, she sighed and said, "Fine. I’ll try it... briefly."

Claude shot a grateful look at Ascon, who winked and smiled.

Thus, the gambling den was set up. The news that Ereneth was participating in a card game spread quickly, and a crowd gathered to watch.

Though the attention made her uncomfortable, Ereneth closed her eyes and composed herself.

"Just this once."

The game was "Stud," a simple card game involving matching pairs of illustrated cards to determine the winner.

"Let’s begin!"

Claude shouted as he shuffled the cards.

After a few practice rounds to teach Ereneth the rules, the real game began.

For the first few rounds, everyone took turns winning and losing, trading small sums of money back and forth.

Then, things took a turn.

Claude’s original intent was to lure Ereneth into gambling addiction, so he deliberately let her win a few rounds.

But as the game progressed, Alfoy, oblivious to Claude’s plans, grew greedy, aiming to win everything for himself.

"That bastard Alfoy..."

"Claude, this time I’ll crush you."

Alfoy held a grudge against Claude for turning him into a gambling addict and, subsequently, a slave.

Although he hadn’t developed a card-game-specific cheating spell, his extensive gambling experience had taught him a few tricks.

He was determined to use them to clean out Claude’s funds.

The tension between the two began to escalate, and the spectators watched with bated breath.

When it was Alfoy’s turn to shuffle, he moved slowly, focusing intently.

"Cold... I feel a dagger stabbing into my chest. But don’t worry. My hands are faster than the eye."

Now was the time to act.

"One card for Claude from the bottom, one for the Chief from the bottom, and one for me."

He moved his hands deftly.

"Another card for Claude from the bottom, and the last one for the Chief."

As Alfoy dealt a card to Ereneth, Claude suddenly grabbed his arm and growled.

"Stop right there! Were you bottom-dealing?"

"What?"

"You dealt cards to me and the Chief from the bottom of the deck. Do you think I’m blind?"

Alfoy scowled, his jaw clenched.

"Got any proof?"

"Proof? Of course."

Claude smirked as he continued.

"You probably gave me a soldier card—a worthless card."

He flipped over his card, revealing a soldier.

"And for the Chief, it’s a slave card, right?"

Claude forcibly took the card from Alfoy’s hand and held it up.

"Look, everyone! He was planning to end the round with a slave card for the Chief so he could win it all!"

Sure enough, the card was a slave. Alfoy gritted his teeth, his expression dark.

"Stop making up stories, you lunatic."

Meanwhile, Ereneth still had one card left, which she had received earlier. Ascon, watching from the sidelines, shouted, "Chief, check your card! Is it the King?"

The King was the highest card but, when paired with a slave card, became the worst possible hand.

Claude, with his soldier card, held the second-lowest hand. Alfoy was set to win this round.

Ascon moved to flip Ereneth’s card, but Claude yelled, "Don’t touch the card! Unless you want to lose a hand!"

Ascon stopped, and Claude turned to Elena.

"Lady Elena, prepare the axe."

"Do we really have to go this far?" Elena asked, holding the "Harbinger of Destruction." The crowd tensed—one strike from that weapon would sever a hand in an instant.

Then, with a cold expression, Alfoy spoke.

"Wait a second. Do we really need bloodshed?"

"Didn’t you learn that cheating leads to bloodshed?"

Alfoy glared and said, "Fine. I’ll bet my hand and all my money that this card isn’t the King. Put up or shut up."

"You think I’m scared? Fine. I’ll bet all my money and my hand. Lady Elena, be ready to strike as soon as the card is revealed."

"Alright, then."

Both men had one hand tied, and Elena raised the axe high.

Claude placed his hand over the card and grinned.

"Ready? Let’s reveal it. Drumroll, please. Ta-da!"

As everyone leaned in, Claude flipped the card.

"It’s the King, isn’t it?" Ascon said.

In that instant, Alfoy shot out his hand and yelled, "Energy Bolt!"

Bang!

"Argh!"

The bolt struck Claude square in the face. Alfoy quickly cut the rope binding his hand and bolted out of the room.

"Aaagh! Wendy! Get that bastard! Chop off his hand!" Claude yelled, clutching his face in pain.

Piote rushed in, healing him with divine energy. Wendy shook her head, Kaor and the knights doubled over laughing, Vanessa facepalmed, and Belinda scoffed.

Even Parniel chuckled, clearly entertained.

In truth, everyone present had already noticed Alfoy’s sleight of hand.

"......."

Ereneth, observing the chaos with a blank expression, stood up.

Why did she keep associating with these fools? She resolved to maintain more distance in the future.

Amid the pandemonium, Ghislain appeared with Gillian.

"What’s going on? Looks like you’ve been having fun. Time to move out."

At her words, everyone’s faces turned serious. It was time to fight again—this time, against the royal army, their former allies.

Ghislain’s next statement left them all bewildered.

"I told you before, didn’t I? I’m heading to the capital first. I’ve got something to take care of."

The room fell silent as everyone’s expressions twisted in dread. Ghislain was clearly about to stir up trouble again.