The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Chapter 181: How About It? You Found It Quickly, Didn’t You? (1)

The entire Ritania Kingdom was suffering from a drought, but the northern region was in an even more dire state than the rest.

This was because Raypold and Desmond, who sat upon the region’s largest granary zones, had completely banned the export of food.

In a region already barren and impoverished, the impact was far more devastating. To make matters worse, the central nobles were too preoccupied with managing their own affairs to offer any meaningful assistance.

As starvation swept across the land, with casualties piling up, the lords of various territories racked their brains for solutions. Amid this chaos, one rumor spread rapidly.

“Apparently, there’s a lot of food in the Fenris Estate.”

“I heard they’ve been stockpiling so much food because of the migrants that prices have gone up.”

“If they’ve got that much, they must have a surplus. We have to get our hands on it somehow.”

Every eye in the north turned toward the Fenris Estate.

The lord of Fenris was a young upstart, and the territory’s military was seen as pitiful. It was enough to make mouths water at the prospect.

If they could seize the Fenris Estate, they could survive this harsh period without a hitch.

However, despite their greed, the lords couldn’t declare war on the Fenris Estate.

“Damn it! That brat has the Marquis of Branford backing him!”

“The bastard got lucky! Gaining the favor of such a powerful figure just because of some cosmetics!”

“Why on earth did the Royal Faction accept someone like him?”

It was because the Marquis of Branford and the Royal Faction stood firmly behind Ghislain. Attacking Fenris meant declaring war on them as well.

None of the northern lords were bold enough to shoulder that risk.

Knowing that waging war would lead to their ruin, the lords decided to propose deals instead.

For once, these lords—who typically acted as though strength was synonymous with justice—took an uncharacteristically peaceful approach.

Thus, emissaries from various lords and numerous organizations were dispatched to Fenris.

Naturally, they assumed they would be able to secure food with ease.

“He has to treat us with respect for the sake of his father. Once the drought ends, he’ll need our support again.”

“Exactly! The north has always been bound by strong ties of loyalty. Honestly, Ferdium has survived until now thanks to us.”

“With any sense of gratitude, he ought to be bowing before us! Ha!”

The lords boasted, acting as though their past support for Ferdium had been acts of great benevolence.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

In truth, their “support” was no more than the bare minimum required to keep the people barely alive, and even then, it had always been riddled with selfish motives.

During the previous war, they had outright ignored Ferdium’s pleas for help. Yet, such facts had long been erased from their memories.

However, their arrogant assumptions were shattered the moment they arrived in Fenris.

Claude greeted the emissaries and immediately sought their understanding.

“Unfortunately, there are far too many guests, and we have no accommodations available.”

“No accommodations… you say?”

“Yes. However, we have prepared some very large, splendid, and awe-inspiring tents for you. Would you be willing to stay there instead?”

Claude’s words did little to mask the emissaries’ fury.

“How dare you treat emissaries like this! I am someone with full authority from my lord!”

“This is behavior that violates both custom and propriety!”

“What an outrageous insult! Are you disregarding my entire domain?”

Despite their vehement protests, Claude merely scratched his ear with an annoyed expression. What else could he do? There truly wasn’t any space left for them to stay.

The small castle was already bursting at the seams from the influx of emissaries, leaving no accommodations to spare.

Initially, Claude had considered offering even the servants’ humble quarters. However, Ghislain had opposed the idea.

― “I won’t let those outsiders with their dubious intentions make things difficult for our people. If there’s no space, put up tents for them outside.”

Since that was the lord’s directive, there wasn’t much Claude could do about it. Still, the constant barrage of complaints was beginning to wear on his nerves.

“Ah, look, I don’t like this any more than you do, but there really isn’t any space. What can I do? So many guests have shown up that it’s beyond our capacity. Seriously, why are there so many of you? This isn’t some famous restaurant or something. Ugh, this is such a hassle.”

With the Chief Overseer adopting such a take-it-or-leave-it attitude, the emissaries had no choice but to comply.

“Urgh… fine, let’s go with that for now.”

Those who arrived late ended up staying in tents outside.

These tents, though large, were completely bare inside. Rather than inspiring awe, they elicited daily complaints and curses.

The discomfort of sleeping on makeshift bedding left them sore, and Ghislain didn’t even bother to meet them right away, leaving them waiting. Faced with such unimaginable treatment, they were seething with indignation.

“That brat! Just because he’s hoarded a bit of food, he thinks he’s on top of the world!”

“He’s a disgrace who doesn’t even know the proper decorum of a noble! Let’s see how much more insolent he can get!”

Despite their grumbling, not a single emissary left.

Fenris was the only place where food could be obtained, leaving them with no choice but to grit their teeth and endure.

As time passed and the emissaries had gathered in sufficient numbers, Ghislain finally summoned them all at once.

The audience chamber was so cramped that most attendants had to be left behind, with only a handful of representatives allowed inside. Even so, the room buzzed with the chaotic energy of a crowded marketplace.

The emissaries were deeply offended but did their best to hide their feelings.

Ghislain surveyed them casually, a relaxed smile playing on his lips as he finally began to speak.

“How much were you planning to offer?”

“……???”

Ghislain’s merchant-like question left the emissaries speechless.

According to their initial plan, they had intended to mix persuasion and subtle threats to extract as much food as possible from the young lord.

‘What on earth are we supposed to negotiate in this kind of atmosphere?’

‘Damn it! How much should we offer? The others are definitely eyeing the food supply too!’

‘This is insane. Are we seriously going to end up in a bidding war?’

Typically, transactions between territories were conducted in secret. This was to avoid situations where another territory might say, “But you gave them better terms!”

However, by gathering representatives from multiple territories in one place, any semblance of negotiation was rendered meaningless.

Now, the one who made the highest offer would simply take precedence.

The emissaries were momentarily flustered, but before the atmosphere could devolve into an outright auction, a few emissaries exchanged glances and stepped forward.

Their response was befitting survivors of the harsh northern lands who had relied on their silver tongues to get by.

“Ahem. I am here representing the Zimbar Estate. We formally request the Fenris Estate’s support with food supplies.”

“A request?”

“Yes. We have long provided substantial support to Ferdium over the years. Surely, Baron, you cannot deny that this has contributed to your growth. Now that our circumstances have become difficult, we hope you will recall the goodwill we have shown…”

The emissary launched into a lengthy speech detailing how much they had done for Ferdium in the past. The message, however, boiled down to: “We’ve helped you survive all this time, so now it’s your turn to give back.”

Other emissaries quickly joined in to add pressure on Ghislain.

“The north has always shared in each other’s struggles. Ferdium only endured its hardships because of us.”

“It’s now your turn to be generous, Baron.”

One after another, the emissaries made statements to the effect of, “You are responsible for us now.”

Their arrogance was astonishing for individuals supposedly here to plead for food.

Their domineering attitudes stemmed from years of holding the upper hand in their dealings with Ferdium.

Though the power dynamic had shifted for the moment, they assumed it would revert in time.

After all, a poor region like Ferdium would inevitably need their support to survive.

Thus, they believed Ghislain would hesitate to act harshly, considering the future of their relationship.

That assumption was shattered by Ghislain’s chilling smile and his next words.

“Shouldn’t you be saying that to my father? Why are you demanding compensation from me when I’m not the one who received your support?”

The envoys were momentarily flustered by Ghislain’s words but quickly regained their composure and pushed back forcefully.

“Isn’t the Baron the heir to that territory? In the future, you’ll inevitably need our support.”

“Exactly. The drought is temporary, but what will you do after? Don’t pretend to ignore the bond of alliance we’ve shared for so long. Aren’t we allies with a proud history?”

“Are you saying you don’t need our support? If support truly gets cut off, it won’t just be you, Baron; even Count Ferdium will face difficulties.”

The envoys regained confidence, convinced by their own argument.

Right, even if this brat is trying to gain the upper hand with food supplies now, it’s only temporary.

What about after the drought? Does he seriously think he can hold off the North on his own without our support? With such meager production and forces?

Impossible. If it were possible, Ferdium wouldn’t have struggled so much all this time.

As the envoys radiated smugness, Ghislain fixed his icy gaze on them and spoke coldly.

“Those who talk so much about alliances and loyalty… ignored us during the war?”

“…….”

The envoys fell silent at his words.

Honestly, they didn’t care who controlled Ferdium. No one would be foolish enough to waste troops and resources interfering in such a war.

That’s how politics worked. The brat was too young to understand and still held a grudge over past events.

Just as the envoys were about to retort, Ghislain casually dropped a bombshell.

“20,000 gold.”

“What? 20,000 gold? Are you talking about the price for food?”

“No. Regardless of food supplies, all the supporting territories of Ferdium will pay me 20,000 gold annually as a defense fee. If they fail to pay or fall behind, I’ll open paths for barbarians to enter their lands.”

The Count of Ferdium would never allow such a thing, but the other lords didn’t know him well enough to be certain.

Naturally, Ghislain’s declaration sent them into a panic.

“Wh-what nonsense is this!”

The demand for a 20,000-gold defense fee was absurd, but threatening to pave the way for barbarians? He was completely insane.

“Why would Ferdium need us to pay defense fees to him? Isn’t that supposed to come from Ferdium itself? Who does he think he is?”

The envoys immediately protested, their expressions a mix of shock and humiliation.

“Unacceptable! We’re already providing substantial support!”

“Count Ferdium is a Margrave tasked with defending the frontier. That is his duty!”

“It’s a mandate enshrined in kingdom law! That’s why he receives so many benefits, isn’t it?”

Despite the envoys’ vehement objections, Ghislain didn’t bat an eye.

“Benefits? Like what? You all ignored us when we were in danger.”

“That’s because back then, circumstances were—”

“Even a mere mercenary gets paid for their work. From now on, we’ll demand fair compensation for our sacrifices, so don’t bother arguing. I’ve grown tired of you lording over our estate with your pathetic support.”

“What insolent nonsense…!”

“Enough. If you keep running your mouths, I’ll stop all food negotiations and have you thrown out. Frankly, I don’t have the patience for this. Oh, look at me being so kind, though—indulging your endless chatter.”

“You… you wretch!”

Faced with the threat of being expelled, the envoys reluctantly shut their mouths. Securing food supplies was their top priority for now.

But inside, rage boiled over. A few exchanged sharp glances, grinding their teeth.

‘Just wait. Once this drought is over, you won’t get away with this.’

‘This brat thinks he can do as he pleases because he’s backed by the Royal Faction. Defense fee? Like we’d ever pay such a thing.’

‘If we band together, we can slowly crush him. It’ll be easy.’

Their arrogant thoughts stemmed from their ignorance of just how quickly Fenris was developing.

They believed it was merely a stroke of luck that a previously insignificant and militarily weak territory had stockpiled food thanks to the influx of settlers.

Meanwhile, the other envoys, seeing their peers get humiliated, chose to stay silent.

If even those claiming ties to Ferdium were treated this way, what would happen to those without any connections? It wasn’t worth the risk to intervene.

As the hall fell into an uneasy silence, Ghislain scanned the room with a smirk.

“Well then, shall we begin the negotiations?”

The moment his words landed, one of the envoys, who had been carefully observing the mood, shot up his hand.

“I’ll offer 10 silver per sack of wheat!”

Before the famine, a sack of wheat averaged 3 silver, dropping to as low as 1 silver during the harvest season.

Offering 10 silver was several times higher than usual.

Hearing this, others quickly jumped in, raising their bids.

“We’ll offer 11 silver!”

“12 silver from us!”

“13 silver here!”

Panic drove them to escalate the prices. While rumors abounded that Fenris had stockpiled food, no one knew exactly how much surplus they had.

Fearful that someone else might buy it all first, they clamored to outbid one another, their voices filling the hall like a bustling marketplace.

Amid the chaos, a calm, deep voice rang out.

“1 gold.”

“……!”

The astonishing price silenced the room, and all eyes turned to the speaker.

There stood a middle-aged man in a robe, his posture exuding arrogance.

As Ghislain’s gaze landed on him, a cold smile crept across his face.