The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Chapter 180: The Time Has Finally Come (3)

Before the drought hit, Ghislain had sent a letter to the Marquis of Branford.

Given how hot the weather is, it seems a drought is coming soon. Stockpile food and prepare ahead. If you fail to prepare and regret it later, don’t blame me.

It was succinct. Devoid of long-winded pleasantries, the letter got straight to the point, closer to a memo than a formal correspondence.

Naturally, the Marquis of Branford’s reaction to the letter was just as straightforward.

“…Is this lunatic losing it more and more as time goes on?”

Out of nowhere, he was told to stockpile food and prepare—without any substantial reason other than that it was hot.

How many people in the world would believe such a statement at face value? It would be a miracle if anyone gullible enough to trust this didn’t fall prey to swindlers.

‘What scheme is this lunatic up to this time?’

The Marquis of Branford shook the letter in his hand and asked his butler.

“Did he send similar letters to other nobles?”

“As far as we’ve been able to confirm, he sent one to Count Aylesbur as well.”

“What was their response?”

“Count Aylesbur ignored it, but the Countess is using her personal funds to stockpile food.”

“Hmm… Does she trust Baron Fenris that much?”

The Marquis of Branford sank deeper into thought.

Mariel was no ordinary noblewoman. For her to take direct action signaled something that couldn’t be dismissed lightly.

Even so, complying with Ghislain’s suggestion required careful consideration. If food was stockpiled unnecessarily and nothing happened, not only would there be losses, but the ridicule would be severe.

If anyone else had sent the letter, he would have ignored it outright and shredded it on the spot. But because it was Ghislain—the irritatingly well-informed oddball—dismissing it outright felt unwise.

“…Prepare a meeting. I need to hear others’ opinions on this.”

The butler was slightly surprised at the remark.

The Marquis of Branford rarely held meetings over such issues. It was a testament to his confidence in his own judgment, which was often proven right.

But whenever Baron Fenris was involved, he found himself grappling with frustrating dilemmas. Like it or not, an exceptional individual was still exceptional.

Not long after, the advisors gathered in the meeting room were briefed on the situation. Most of their reactions were lukewarm at best.

“There are no signs of a drought. With harvest season just around the corner, surely nothing major will happen in the meantime.”

“Exactly. The weather’s just a bit warm; there’s no need to worry about a drought.”

“Baron Fenris is probably just jumping at shadows and making a fuss.”

Negative responses erupted from various corners, tipping the Marquis of Branford’s thoughts decisively.

Preparing for a drought would require stockpiling a massive amount of food.

Purchasing food now, which would soon drop in price, meant risking significant losses if Ghislain turned out to be wrong.

‘Still… ignoring it completely feels unsettling.’

While the Marquis of Branford was still deliberating without reaching a conclusion, Rosalyn, who had been quietly listening, spoke up.

“I think it would be better to buy the food.”

“And why is that?”

“Baron Fenris is an odd person, but he’s not someone who would play such a cruel prank just to embarrass us. There must be a reason behind his words.”

“The odds are high that it’s nonsense. Predicting the weather accurately is impossible.”

“But this is the man who cured my illness and created remarkable products. That’s likely why Countess Aylesbur also trusts him and is stockpiling food.”

“I’m not a fan of acting based on mere intuition without concrete evidence.”

“…I won’t argue with that. However, isn’t the reason Father feels uneasy about ignoring him the same? That man is as unpredictable as the weather he claims to foresee.”

She wasn’t wrong. Ghislain wasn’t someone you could describe as normal by any stretch.

After closing his eyes and pondering for a moment, the Marquis of Branford finally spoke again.

“If we buy food at the current price, we risk incurring significant losses.”

“I will use the funds from the merchant guild I manage. That way, even if he’s wrong, Father won’t suffer any embarrassment. Just in case, I’ll also secure supplies from the royal stockpile ahead of time.”

“You will?”

“Yes, using the investment funds I recently received.”

Rosalyn flashed a confident smile. She had already recovered the 300,000 gold she had entrusted to Ghislain.

She had achieved this by transferring partial “revenue rights” from the cosmetics business to nobles for the next ten years.

As sales locations expanded from the capital’s vicinity, the cosmetics’ sales grew at a rapid pace. It was a rock-solid investment with no chance of failure.

Backed by the guarantee of the Marquis of Branford and the product’s immense popularity, countless nobles rushed to invest.

Rosalyn not only recovered her principal investment in no time but was also reinvesting her profits to generate even more returns.

The Marquis’s advisors constantly praised her financial acumen, and when it came to money matters, everyone deferred to her judgment.

Since preparing for a drought was, in a way, an investment and a financial matter, Rosalyn’s opinion carried significant weight.

After a brief hesitation, the Marquis of Branford nodded.

“Very well. Purchase the food as you see fit. If necessary, you may use my name.”

“Thank you.”

“If it turns out that Ghislain’s warning was mere nonsense, what do you plan to do with the food?”

“Given our ongoing conflict with the Duke of Delfine, having extra military provisions wouldn’t hurt. If there’s still a surplus, we can distribute it to the poor and enhance the Marquisate’s reputation.”

“Hm, it’s not bad… but there’s no doubt it will be a loss.”

“Or we could just slip it into the Ferdium family’s aid supplies for a few years. We’ll take over the royal family and the Royal Faction’s support funds in the process. It might not be much help to Ferdium since it’s only food, but that’s something Baron Fenris will have to deal with.”

As various strategies flowed effortlessly from his daughter’s lips, the Marquis of Branford smiled with satisfaction.

Since recovering from her illness, her talent for administration had shone even brighter.

Her sharp judgment in grasping the situation and her thoughtful follow-up measures were equally impressive.

Thanks to Rosalyn, the Marquisate was growing ever stronger.

It was truly fortunate that Ghislain had come to visit…

‘Oh, what am I thinking right now?’

Startled by his own thoughts, the Marquis of Branford shook his head several times before speaking in a solemn voice.

“This matter will be entrusted to Rosalyn. Let everyone be informed as such. Butler, relay Baron Fenris’s words to the nobles of the Royal Faction. Make sure to emphasize that it is not mandatory and that the decision is theirs to make.”

“Understood.”

Following the Marquis’s orders, the information was conveyed to the nobles of the Royal Faction. However, very few actually purchased food supplies.

Unlike the Northern nobles, the Royal Faction nobles had rarely faced food shortages and thus did not take Ghislain’s suggestion seriously this time either.

Aside from the small number of nobles who had already planned to stockpile food, only Rosalyn and Mariel actively purchased supplies.

The majority of the nobles mocked Ghislain, but soon, real problems began to arise.

“The weather is getting stranger by the day.”

“It’s a heat wave! The rivers are drying up!”

“The entire kingdom is suffering from drought!”

“A poor harvest is certain! We need to devise countermeasures!”

Even the royal officials were thrown into a panic, scrambling to respond.

But there was no way to change the weather. The rivers and lakes had already dried up, so what could be done?

With the harvest season right around the corner, everyone was at a loss, pacing anxiously without being able to take effective action.

Meanwhile, the retainers of the Marquisate of Branford sighed in relief.

Had Ghislain not forewarned them, and had Rosalyn not trusted and acted on his advice, they too would have suffered enormous losses.

In fact, they regretted not taking even more proactive measures.

“How in the world did Baron Fenris know about this?”

“Even farmers who’ve worked the land all their lives couldn’t foresee this. The weather changed so suddenly!”

“There are rumors he’s a master astrologer, able to read the stars!”

Amid the chatter of the flustered retainers, the Marquis of Branford furrowed his brow in thought.

Even countless mages and scholars had failed to predict the drought, so sudden and dramatic were the changes in the weather.

‘How on earth… does this guy know all of this?’

I knew he was strange, but I never imagined he’d possess the ability to foresee the future.

The Marquis of Branford clicked his tongue at the incomprehensible situation unfolding before him, still unable to fully believe it even after experiencing it firsthand. Suddenly, a chilling thought flashed through his mind.

‘If not for this… we might have all perished.’

If no preparations had been made in advance, the Royal Faction’s territories would have been plunged into despair from food shortages, and the Duchy would have seized that opportunity without hesitation.

Yet, thanks to Ghislain, they had managed to secure just enough strength to endure.

While the resource-rich Duchy would recover without significant losses, the lords under its influence would undoubtedly suffer setbacks for some time.

‘Thank goodness. We’ve managed to buy ourselves time to regroup.’

If they could endure this disaster, they might even be able to reverse some of the momentum that had been steadily favoring the Ducal Faction.

‘I should have issued orders to forcibly purchase grain.’

Though most of the Royal Faction’s nobles had dismissed Ghislain’s warnings, they couldn’t be entirely blamed. The story was difficult to believe, and even the Marquis himself had been skeptical.

Still, the royal family, the Marquis’ household, and Count Aylesbur’s household had stockpiled enormous amounts of grain, ensuring they wouldn’t face the threat of starvation.

‘Surely, he didn’t predict this, did he?’

The regret of not fully capitalizing on the golden opportunity Ghislain had provided weighed heavily on his mind.

Had all the Royal Faction’s nobles prepared adequately, they might have been able to match the Ducal Faction’s power.

That thought filled him with frustration and regret.

Despite receiving prior warnings from that guy, this was all they had managed to prepare.

‘No, no… even that guy Ghislain couldn’t have been completely certain. If he had truly foreseen this disaster, he would’ve pushed much harder.’

The Marquis of Branford brushed away his lingering regrets.

The Royal Faction had narrowly avoided being entirely overwhelmed by the Ducal Faction. Considering how things had turned out, this was a fortunate outcome.

That thought brought a smile to his face.

‘Duke of Delfine, you must be quite disappointed. It seems the heavens are on our side, sending us this strange fellow.’

* * *

The atmosphere in the Kingdom of Ritania had deteriorated to its worst.

Unusual weather patterns had devastated crops across most territories. People lamented that this was the worst famine in the kingdom’s history.

Few places, like Fenris, had been nearly perfect in their preparations for the drought.

The price of grain skyrocketed, and despairing voices echoed throughout the kingdom.

This was the beginning of the “Great Famine”, an event so catastrophic that it was etched into history books before Ghislain’s regression.

‘Hmm….’

Ghislain fell into thought as he listened to Lowell’s report.

A time that some called a disaster, and others referred to as a great tribulation—a period when the entire continent was plunged into suffering.

In his previous life, many had argued that this drought was merely a precursor to the chaos that would follow.

This wasn’t a disaster limited to the Kingdom of Ritania—similar calamities were occurring across the continent.

Still, there was no guarantee that those claims were entirely accurate. After all, there were undoubtedly places that had escaped harm altogether.

Recalling the era of the “Great Tribulation” sent a peculiar chill down his spine.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

‘I can’t afford to let my guard down for even a single day. I need to prepare more thoroughly for “that day”.’

From what he remembered, “that day” would come unexpectedly, after some time had passed.

To endure the shock it would bring, he needed to ensure his preparations were far more complete than they were now.

Of course, before then, he had to survive the Duke of Delfine.

As Lowell concluded his regular report, Ghislain asked him quietly,

“How is the Royal Faction’s food situation?”

“The royal family, the Marquis of Branford, and Count Aylesbur have managed to secure a decent amount, but… the other nobles seem to have failed to prepare properly.”

“That’s a bit disappointing.”

It was more or less the outcome he had expected. No one was likely to believe such an incredible warning.

Ghislain himself hadn’t been confident enough to fully convince others, so he had only written vague conclusions and sent them out.

At least with Rosalyn and Mariel, he’d thought they might take action, even if it meant risking being deceived. Both of them had sharp instincts when it came to securing benefits.

As expected, his judgment had been spot on. Yet, despite being correct, he couldn’t help but feel regret.

Still, this incident meant the other nobles would be less likely to dismiss his words so easily next time. So, the situation wasn’t all bad.

‘The nobles under the Ducal Faction will recover quickly.’

In his previous life, the Royal Faction had been pushed to the brink after this drought.

Even in the same disastrous circumstances, the Ducal Faction had stockpiled enormous reserves, allowing for a rapid recovery.

The portions they couldn’t cover with their reserves were quickly supplemented through trade with other kingdoms.

To make matters worse, the Ducal Faction, eager to seize the opportunity, had moved to suppress the Royal Faction as soon as their own stability was assured, even at the cost of suffering additional losses.

The Royal Faction, unable to recover or stabilize, had no choice but to see its influence dwindle rapidly.

From that point on, the balance of power between the two factions had shifted decisively in favor of the Ducal Faction.

‘This time, the Royal Faction should be able to hold out a little longer. The Ducal Faction will have its own challenges to deal with.’

Thanks to Ghislain, the Royal Faction had managed to secure a significant amount of grain, making it harder for the Ducal Faction to immediately press their advantage like they had in the previous life.

Now, it was a race to see who could recover from their losses first.

As a result, both the Ducal Faction and the Marquis of Branford were focused on distributing grain to their respective factions and stabilizing the situation.

For the time being, the friction between the Royal Faction and the Ducal Faction had subsided into a temporary lull.

At last, the stage Ghislain had envisioned was beginning to unfold.

‘I can’t let this opportunity slip by. I need to act at a moment no one expects.’

He had no intention of sitting idly by and waiting for his enemies to finish their preparations.

After Lowell had left, Ghislain, now alone, found himself smiling.

Taking control of the iron mines by exploiting the enemy’s disarray was the correct move. It was also a necessary step toward his long-term goals.

But it wasn’t solely about grand objectives.

‘Count Cabaldi.’

In his previous life, the Ducal Faction had ordered Count Desmond to destroy Ferdium.

To conserve his own forces, Count Desmond had used other lords to achieve his goal.

One of those lords had been Count Cabaldi.

Count Cabaldi had supported Desmond by sending reinforcements and ensuring that Ferdium couldn’t secure any iron ore.

An enemy from the past, and a certain foe for the future.

The more Ghislain recalled, the darker and more twisted his smile became.

“Finally… it’s time to kill you.”

Yes, it was time to take them down, one by one.