Became a Strategist with a 100 Intelligence and 100% Accuracy

Chapter 17

"What... did you just say?"

Lyn stared at Swen in utter disbelief.
Instead of giving them gold, he was demanding gold?

"Hey, what did you just say?"
Her voice was low, almost a growl, but Swen, unfazed by her intimidation, maintained his unyielding composure as he spoke.

"I said that if you pay 3,000 gold, we will agree to a ceasefire and promise not to pursue the retreating Brans Army."

"Do you even realize who you’re playing this game of chance with?"

Swen bowed his head slightly, then answered, "Game of chance? Absolutely not, Lyn. I am merely here to negotiate on behalf of my country."

"Then why are you demanding money from me?!"

Lyn lost her temper, shouting loud enough for her voice to carry beyond the audience chamber.
It could have unsettled her officers waiting outside, but Lyn was too overwhelmed to care.

"I already explained. You rejected the initial offer of a ceasefire agreement for 1,300 gold. I even confirmed it with you multiple times. But now, the situation has changed. Previously, the benefits of the agreement might have leaned more in our favor. However, now the Brans Army stands to gain far more from a ceasefire. Therefore, it’s only fair that we receive appropriate compensation."

"Ridiculous. Even without recalling the forces attacking Zeilant, we can muster enough troops to stop 55,000 soldiers."

"Is that so? Then I’m relieved to hear it... though, honestly, it doesn’t seem that way to me."

"Ha!"
Lyn scoffed.

She knew it was bravado, but at this moment, it was all she could muster to keep her composure.
Because deep down, she knew he was right.
Ironically, the ceasefire had become more advantageous to the Brans Army.

Retreating soldiers were inevitably weaker than those holding their positions in battle.
For the Brans Army, which needed to preserve its forces, the difference between being pursued and retreating unharried could be immense.

And this man...
From the very beginning, it was as if he had foreseen all of this.
No, not just foreseen—it was as if he had known that Serpina’s army would invade.

"Then what will you do if I refuse the ceasefire agreement?"

"A lowly envoy like me has no means to act. It will simply mean that this opportunity will never come again."

At that moment, Lyn picked up the ornamental sword beside her throne and began walking toward Swen, her footsteps echoing ominously.

Then—

Shing.
The sound of a blade being drawn reverberated through the chamber.

Before he realized it, the silver blade of Lyn’s sword was pressed against Swen’s neck.
Despite being an ornamental weapon, it was a sharp and deadly blade.

"..."

Swen said nothing, merely looking up at Lyn.
His face betrayed no fear, no panic—only calmness.

That unshakable demeanor sent a chill through Lyn.

‘Who is this man...?!’

Lyn bit her lip hard, then let her voice drip with murderous intent as she spoke.

"Listen. I’ll admit it. Taking an envoy prisoner, or worse, killing them, is the act of a tyrant like Serpina. If word got out, I’d lose all credibility among the vassals and foreign rulers. They’d call me a bloodthirsty monster, and even my subordinates would be disappointed. Some of the more principled ones might even leave me."

She pressed the blade closer to Swen’s neck.

"But here’s the thing. I’m not exactly patient. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m not above killing someone acting smug in front of me. Ceasefire agreement or not, I could end you right here. The aftermath would be a mess, sure, but I could handle it. You, on the other hand, would die. Understand? That’s the difference between you and me."

Her words carried a cold, lethal sincerity.
The blade in her hand hovered so close that even the slightest movement could draw blood.

Swen, however, did not falter. He simply looked up at her, his voice calm and steady.
"Then go ahead."

"...What?"

"Kill me."

Lyn was taken aback by his response. Though she tried to maintain her composure, the tremble in her pupils betrayed her.

"Are you serious?"

"Why wouldn’t I be? If Lyn Brans is the kind of ruler who kills envoys in a fit of anger, it’s obvious she wouldn’t agree to a reasonable ceasefire. What else can I do? However—"

Swen’s voice remained unwavering as he continued, each word striking like a hammer.

"If you kill me, Lyn, you won’t just lose your reputation or the loyalty of your vassals. You’ll also lose Kelstein Castle. Without reinforcements, you’ll inevitably forfeit the stronghold that serves as a crucial foothold for the northern front. That loss will cripple your ability to expand into the central or southern continents."

"…!"

"That’s not all. With the Brans Army stretched thin holding back the Serpina forces, you won’t have the bandwidth to deal with other powers. The Aishas Army in the east will undoubtedly capitalize on the situation, celebrating the downfall of their only significant threat. To them, you’ll have become nothing more than a buffer shielding them from Serpina’s aggression."

‘This... man... What is he saying?’

Lyn was stunned.
How could an envoy from a minor nation understand the political dynamics of the continent so intimately?

"Meanwhile, the southern rulers will praise you for holding back Serpina’s forces. They’ll grow stronger, consolidating their own order. And when the day comes that you’re still struggling to fend off Serpina, how much influence will the Brans Army retain? Can you even imagine?"

"That’s—"

"Lyn. Go ahead and kill me. The ceasefire agreement will collapse, and my soldiers will relentlessly pursue your retreating troops. The Raven Mercenaries and the Chilein Mercenaries are renowned for their tenacity. They’ll harry your retreating forces to the very last man. Even if we suffer greater losses, what does it matter? We’re a minor nation. But what about the Brans Army? Can you afford to lose troops desperately needed to defend Kelstein Castle?"

"...!!"

Lyn’s eyes widened, bloodshot and wild.
At that moment, the aura of a sovereign vanished.
What replaced it was pure fear—an instinctual terror born of the realization that she could not outmaneuver this man.

"Lyn, you said you could manage the aftermath, even if it cost my life. But that’s only half true."

Swen leaned in slightly, his voice cold and cutting.
"My life may be the price you pay. But in exchange, Lyn Brans, you’ll lose the world."

"!!!"

"The life of a mere envoy from a minor nation pales in comparison to the world your army might one day conquer. Don’t you agree?"

Swen smiled faintly as he delivered his final words.

"Will you protect your pride and lose the world, or swallow your pride and continue to pursue it? As a ruler, the choice is yours."

Lyn froze in place, as if time itself had stopped.

Would she take this man’s life and lose everything?
Or would she quickly secure the ceasefire and regroup for the future?

As someone who had climbed to the top of the Brans Army through her abilities, the choice was obvious.

Crash!

Lyn furiously threw the sword she had been clutching across the room.
Her face turned red, and tears began to well up in her eyes, glistening with suppressed rage. She swallowed them with difficulty, fighting against the overwhelming frustration threatening to boil over.

Then, staring at Swen, who still remained utterly composed, she opened her mouth, her voice trembling.

"You. What’s your name again?"

"My name is Swen."

"Swen... Swen..."

She repeated his name several times, her lips savoring the syllables. Finally, her tone steadied, though a hint of bitterness lingered.

"I’ll never forget you, Swen."

Then, turning to the guards standing at the back of the room, struggling to maintain their composure, she barked an order.

"Hey, you!"

"Y-yes, ma’am!"

"Prepare 3,000 gold. Right now."

"Three thousand gold... ma’am?"

Lyn shot the soldier an enraged glare and shouted, "What are you standing there for? Hurry up and prepare it!"

"A-understood!"

Lyn exhaled deeply, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. She forced herself to swallow the tears that still threatened to fall.
Finally, she turned slowly back toward Swen, meeting his calm gaze with her own.

"...It’ll be ready for you outside the castle gates."

Swen nodded at last and rose slowly from where he had been kneeling.

"Thank you for your wise decision, Lyn. On behalf of my master, Lunarian Iniang, I offer you my deepest gratitude. As promised, we will not lay a finger on the retreating Brans Army. With that, I’ll take my leave."

With those words, he turned and walked out of the audience chamber at an unhurried pace.
Lyn, meanwhile, dragged herself back to her throne and collapsed onto it, her body heavy with exhaustion.

‘Swen... Swen. Swen...’

Swen.
It was a name she had never heard before.
A name that, until today, had never once appeared in the annals of history.

Yet that nameless envoy from a minor nation had completely outmaneuvered her, the ruler of the Brans Army.

‘So Luna’s Army... had a man like him?’

The pieces in Lyn’s mind began falling into place.
The unexpected mercenary ambushes, the recent tactical shifts from Luna’s Army—all of it now made sense.
She was certain that this man, Swen, was the one orchestrating it all.

And somehow, though she couldn’t fathom how, he had known Serpina’s army would invade.
That was the only explanation for his unwavering confidence throughout their negotiations.

She didn’t know how someone as insignificant as Lunarian Iniang had managed to discover a man like Swen, but in a way, she felt a sense of relief.
Relief that a man of his caliber was serving someone as inconsequential as Lunarian.

‘Swen.’

The Brans Army had risen to dominance on the central continent by absorbing smaller nations, prioritizing those with exceptional talents to ensure no one else could claim them.
Even the famed strategist Gurupa from the Walnut Army had been a top recruitment target, though she hadn’t managed to secure him in the end.

Yet now, Lyn realized instinctively—
Gurupa was nothing compared to this man named Swen.

She thought back to Swen’s piercing gaze as he stared her down, unflinching even with a blade at his throat.
His delicate yet strikingly beautiful face, framed by eyes brimming with absolute confidence.
At the time, her shock and fear had overshadowed everything else.
But now, in hindsight, she couldn’t help but see him as irresistibly captivating.

She wanted to paint over that self-assured expression of his—
To reshape it into one of submission, colored entirely by her own design.

‘Swen. What kind of face will you make when you’re finally under my command? Huhu...?’

Yes.
The conquest of Zeilant Castle could wait.

First, she needed to secure Kelstein Castle, ensure stability in her other territories, and then—
Then, she would turn her attention not to a meaningless plot of land like Zeilant but to the man himself.

Because what Lyn truly wanted to conquer was not Zeilant Castle.
It was Swen.

‘I’ll make you bow and obey me like a dog. Swen...?’

Her face flushed red again, though this time it wasn’t anger or frustration that colored her cheeks.
It was a far more primal, insidious emotion.
A deep, sticky desire to dominate and claim the man who had bested her.

This was obsession.