The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Viktor couldn’t hold back his frustration.

Though the losses among the troops weren’t significant, losing one of their precious and costly siege towers was a major blunder.

And it stung his pride that they had been forced to retreat, not as a strategic maneuver, but because they had no other choice.

“Huff, huff…”

Next to him, Tamos wore a disapproving expression.

‘Is this guy just all show?’

For all his boasting about strategy and sieges, he’d ended up retreating without dealing any substantial damage.

Still, Tamos could understand why.

Those black knights who had burst from the castle gates seemed formidable, even to him—someone with no real battle experience.

Had they attacked without Desmond’s aid, they would have been crushed before even beginning the siege.

“Ahem. By the way, those black knights over there looked pretty strong. Are you sure about this?”

“They aren’t knights. Their movements didn’t show any use of mana.”

“They’re that strong without being knights?”

“It’s possible with the right training and disciplined leadership. Besides, if they really had hundreds of knights, they would have just charged through the gates. No way Ferdium has such forces.”

“Ahem, so what’s the plan now? You’re just going to keep testing the waters? It doesn’t seem to be working—why not just storm them all at once?”

Viktor shot him a terrifying glare. Tamos raised his hands, a cold sweat breaking out.

“Just a suggestion, that’s all. I’m sure you’ll handle it well.”

Viktor snorted and turned away.

But Tamos, not one to give up easily, cautiously spoke up again.

“I heard you’ve got two 4th-circle mages here. Why not enlist their help?”

“It’s not the right time yet.”

His tone was unmistakably irritated.

Tamos pursed his lips quietly, as if he had expected this response.

‘Tsk, tsk. Typical knight—his pride is everything…’

From what Tamos had observed, the relationship between Viktor and the mages wasn’t exactly amicable.

While he was clueless about battles, he understood the subtle political dynamics.

It was clear to him that there was an underlying tension and discomfort between Viktor and the mages whenever they interacted.

‘Well, knights and mages aren’t known for getting along, after all.’

A 4th-circle mage could easily serve as a resident mage for a respectable estate.

Even if Viktor asked for their assistance, it was doubtful that the prideful mages would comply obediently.

Shaking his head, Tamos quietly slipped out of the tent.

There was no reason to stay if all he’d get were sharp words and misunderstandings.

Left alone, Viktor let out a hot breath and muttered to himself.

“Damn it… What a disgrace.”

It was even more humiliating to realize that he had been caught off guard by Ferdium, whom he had dismissed as an easy target all along.

The image of that black knight who had cut through his forces as if they were nothing, even toppling the siege tower, kept flashing through his mind.

“His combat strength was impressive, but… there’s no way he could have made that quick a judgment in such a short time. He must have just charged in, relying on brute strength.”

Viktor attempted to downplay his opponent’s skills, desperately trying to preserve his own pride.

He rationalized it by thinking that the knight had acted recklessly, feeling pressured by the unexpected attack.

Overthinking often leads to falling prey to fools who have more luck than sense.

Either way, he couldn’t afford to sit idle any longer. Calming his anger, he decided to adopt a new strategy.

“I may have underestimated them.”

Viktor begrudgingly admitted that his opponent was stronger than he’d anticipated.

It was a lowly estate in the countryside, but it was evident that those who had long fought in the North wouldn’t be easily overwhelmed.

“I’ll shake them from within.”

Viktor discreetly summoned ten knights and gave them new orders.

“Tomorrow night, infiltrate Ferdium and take control of the eastern gate. I’ll have five hundred cavalrymen and a thousand infantry waiting nearby. Once you secure the gate, signal us. We’ll move in immediately.”

The knights, looking troubled, asked, “Will it be possible for just us? They’re likely to have solid defenses.”

No matter how few soldiers Ferdium had, its guards would certainly be on high alert.

If a large-scale invasion occurred, they would quickly call for reinforcements from the main forces.

But Viktor, unperturbed, replied, “There’s someone on the inside, so don’t worry. If capturing the eastern gate proves difficult, start fires and create chaos wherever possible. And then…”

Radiating a deadly aura, Viktor continued, “In the midst of the chaos, assassinate Zwalter. A knight from Ferdium will guide you.”

* * *

The following day, Viktor’s army attacked Ferdium’s fortress once more.

However, their movements were different from the previous day. They only had shield-bearers advance and pelted arrows at the fortress walls.

The Ferdium forces returned fire, keeping their defenses tight.

After half a day of fighting without significant casualties on either side, Viktor’s army retreated.

“Woohoo!”

Although they felt something was off, Ferdium’s soldiers cheered, grateful to have survived another day.

The leadership worried that the enemy was plotting something, but unable to decipher their intentions, they had no choice but to wait.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

As night fell, several fireworks exploded from the enemy’s camp.

Seeing this, the Ferdium soldiers were dumbfounded.

“Are they celebrating a victory already?”

“Weren’t we the ones who held them off today? Did someone accidentally set them off?”

While the soldiers murmured among themselves, Ghislain crossed his arms, lost in thought.

“That…”

With a peculiar expression, Ghislain stared at the fireworks fading into the night sky, then quietly turned and headed somewhere.

As the night deepened, a part of Viktor’s army began to move under the cover of darkness.

The knights, cloaked in black robes to remain inconspicuous, slipped through the shadows, seeking out the weakest point in the fortress’s defenses.

“Move quickly. This spot should do.”

With Ferdium’s limited forces, it would be impossible for them to station soldiers densely along every part of the fortress walls.

The knights easily found an area with fewer sentries and used mana to leap over the wall in one bound.

Assassinations during wartime were a familiar tactic, one they had experience with.

And with an insider on their side, there was no need to worry.

They had already memorized the route to their rendezvous point with the mole.

Before long, they encountered a knight waiting for them in the shadows.

“Are you Dren?”

The knight standing in the darkness, Dren, nodded in response.

He was one of Harold’s spies embedded within Ferdium.

While two other traitorous vassals had defected to Digald’s territory to provide a pretext for the war, Dren had remained here.

Count Desmond, meticulous and cautious by nature, had prepared numerous contingencies, considering all possible outcomes.

Dren was one of those contingencies.

“Yes, that’s me. We don’t have much time, so let’s move quickly. As long as I’m here, the soldiers won’t suspect anything.”

Dren spoke urgently, clearly anxious about being discovered.

The knights nodded and followed Dren without hesitation.

But they had barely taken a few steps when someone leapt down from a nearby rooftop, blocking their path.

Thud!

“Hey! Where’s everyone off to so late? Missed dinner, did you?”

Srrk!

Dren and the knights instantly drew their swords.

Recognizing the face of their opponent, Dren muttered under his breath.

“Y-Young Lord?”

He had always looked down on the Young Lord, but he had witnessed his prowess firsthand during this war.

Dren knew he couldn’t defeat the Young Lord in a one-on-one fight.

But that was in single combat.

No matter how formidable the Young Lord was, there was no way he could take on eleven knights at once.

Dren hurriedly spoke.

“We need to silence him before he calls for help!”

Ghislain raised one hand casually, a smug expression on his face.

Clang! Clang!

As if on cue, men clad in black armor suddenly emerged from the surrounding buildings, rushing in.

Viktor’s knights panicked and shouted.

“They already knew! How could they have known our movements so precisely?”

“Dren! Was it you who told them?”

Dren, breaking into a cold sweat, frantically shook his head.

“No! It wasn’t me! I didn’t say anything!”

In an instant, they found themselves completely surrounded by mercenaries, all of whom had crossbows aimed at them.

Click!

Faced with hundreds of crossbows, the knights gritted their teeth.

No matter how skilled they were with mana, there was no way they could evade hundreds of arrows.

As they stood there, not knowing what to do, Ghislain dusted off his pants and spoke.

“Dren, so you were a traitor too. How many spies does this estate have, anyway? How much were you all paid?”

“Damn it! How did you find out?”

Realizing there was no escape, Dren saw no point in denying it any longer.

Ghislain gave a nonchalant nod as if it were nothing.

“Well, I didn’t know who the traitor was. But I did suspect you’d try to sneak in tonight. This isn’t the first war I’ve fought against you lot.”

He had fought countless battles against Harold Desmond in his previous life.

In the end, the battle had ended with Ghislain smashing that guy’s head.

“What…?”

But to anyone unaware of Ghislain’s secret—that he had returned from the past—it sounded like mere nonsense.

While Dren stood there, stunned, Viktor’s knights gripped their swords tightly and began to approach slowly.

Their plan was to take Ghislain, the Young Lord, hostage and escape.

Watching the knights slink toward him, Ghislain narrowed his eyes.

“As expected of Desmond’s knights. You seem fairly competent.”

The knights’ expressions hardened.

They had joined this battle under the banner of Digald.

It was one thing to anticipate the involvement of an external force due to the sudden increase in enemy troops, but how did he know they were Desmond’s knights?

Seeing their confusion, Ghislain smirked.

“Welcome. It’s your first time in Ferdium, isn’t it?”

“…Attack!”

If their cover was blown anyway, there was no reason to hold back.

The knights all lunged at Ghislain with their swords.

Clang! Clang!

But their attack was blocked by Gillian and Kaor, who appeared like lightning at Ghislain’s sides.

Swoosh!

From the shadows behind Ghislain, several daggers flew out and struck the knights.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

“Urgh!”

Three knights dropped to the ground, their necks pierced by the sudden ambush.

At the same moment, the mercenaries fired their crossbows. Bolts filled the air, raining down upon the knights.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

“Argh!”

At close range, the crossbows were powerful enough to pierce even through armor.

The knights fell, looking like human pincushions.

A few managed to deflect the bolts with their swords, using all their mana to shield themselves, but they only barely avoided fatal wounds.

“Ugh…”

In the end, only five knights, including Dren, were left standing.

“Wow, five of you survived. Desmond really sent his best, didn’t he?”

Ghislain approached them, almost impressed.

Even he would have struggled to avoid injury with hundreds of crossbows aimed at him in such a confined space.

Though they were incapacitated, the fact that they had survived at all spoke to their skills.

“But it doesn’t look like you can stay on your feet much longer.”

The knights, bleeding heavily, collapsed where they stood.

Dren, breathing hard, looked up at Ghislain with a pleading expression.

“Ugh… Please, spare me. I was wrong. Young Lord, please…”

“We’re already short on knights here. It’s a shame that someone as skilled as you betrayed us. How did it come to this?”

Ghislain sighed, as if genuinely disappointed, as he accepted an axe from Gillian.

Seeing a glimmer of hope, Dren desperately clung to it.

“Spare me! I won’t betray you again! I-I know their plans—”

Crunch!

Dren’s skull split, and his lifeless body slumped to the ground.

“Not interested.”

Ghislain shook the blood off the axe casually and turned to the remaining knights.

One knight, sensing his opportunity, called out urgently.

“I surrender! I surrender! Treat us as prisoners! We can pay a ransom—”

Crunch!

That knight’s head was also split open before he could finish his plea.

The sheer brutality of Ghislain’s actions left the knights speechless.

Killing a surrendering knight was against all conventions of warfare.

They had never encountered anyone who would so casually kill a captive without even listening to them.

“What’s wrong? Too much for you? Did you come here to kill, thinking you wouldn’t die in the process?”

Ghislain’s smirk faded, replaced by a steely, impassive expression.

Following protocol, respecting customs, and abiding by laws would only lead to being strung along by people like them.

Dignity and honor—what did those matter?

Ghislain’s purpose here was revenge against these foes.

All that mattered was the annihilation of his enemies.

Ghislain crouched in front of the knights, his voice dropping to a low, ominous whisper.

“The first one who speaks dies.”

“…”

“Move a single finger, and you die.”

“…”

Under his chilling gaze, the knights fell silent, not daring to utter a word.

“Answer only when I ask. Delay in your response, and you die.”