The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Chapter 697

At first glance, Marquis Falkenheim looked like an ordinary middle-aged man. But those who knew his ruthless nature would never judge him by appearances alone.

Receiving Count Swipel’s gifts and message, Falkenheim let out a twisted smile.

“He’s an amusing one. Since he can’t handle it on his own, he’s trying to borrow my power.”

One of his retainers cautiously spoke.

“Should we just wipe them all out?”

“No. Julien’s Mercenary Corps has quite the talent. I should bring them under my command.”

“What kind of offer should we make?”

“If they want territory, give Swipel a small portion of the left wing. As for avenging Count Crest, wiping out Count Swipel, Baron Nodehill, and Baron Raks should be enough.”

“What if they refuse?”

“Refuse? Refuse my army?”

Marquis Falkenheim raised an eyebrow as if the very idea was ridiculous.

He was one of the most powerful figures in the kingdom—who would dare reject his offer?

But his reports did mention that they had even turned down Count Crest’s mistress, which suggested they weren’t as easily manipulated as most mercenaries.

He needed to prepare a contingency plan, just in case.

“If they refuse… then support Count Swipel’s knights and kill them as he wishes. Once we take over Swipel’s lands, we’ll divide the spoils among the vassals who prove themselves.”

“Understood.”

Count Swipel had thought himself clever, but Falkenheim had never intended to spare him.

If a vassal wavered, he had to be made an example of. Maintaining power meant eliminating the weak links.

Julien’s Mercenary Corps had killed Count Crest, but they were just hired soldiers. Accepting them into his ranks wouldn’t tarnish his reputation.

But nobles were different.

Baron Nodehill, Baron Raks, and Count Swipel had to die.

Technically, Count Swipel had suggested sparing himself, but Falkenheim had no reason to comply.

“To think he dared make such an insolent proposal… he’s already committed a crime worthy of death.”

If Swipel truly wanted to survive, he should have come to me in person, offered everything he had, and begged for his life.

That was how Marquis Falkenheim saw it.

And so, a few days later, an envoy sent by Marquis Falkenheim moved in secret—headed straight for Julien’s Mercenary Corps.

***

Ghislain was resting alone when Astion suddenly spoke up.

— Ghislain, do you think the future can change?

“Hm?”

It was a random question. Ghislain paused for a moment, thinking before he answered.

“Of course the future can change.”

There were countless theories from scholars on this subject.

But Ghislain had no choice but to believe it.

After all, he had already changed his own fate by avoiding the future he had once experienced.

— Then why are you asking all of a sudden?

— Let’s just call it a magician’s curiosity.

“Hm.”

— That means you also understand that your actions now could affect the past as well, right?

“Hm… to some extent.”

Ghislain had already introduced a few things into this era—things that originally weren’t supposed to exist yet.

And there would probably be more in the future.

But technically, he wasn’t the first to invent them.

He had simply learned them from the past and brought them forward.

Now that the past and future were connected, it was impossible to say which had come first anymore.

It was a mystery no scholar had ever been able to solve—one even Ghislain couldn’t fully understand.

Astion pressed the issue.

— If you change too many things in this era, you have no idea how it might alter the future you came from. Are you okay with that?

“I know. That’s why I’m being careful.”

Even for Ghislain, it was a delicate balance.

He had to watch what he did, consider the outcomes, and decide how much he should intervene.

In the end, Julien and Deneb would become the central figures of the world and lead the alliance of humanity.

That was inevitable.

Unless someone interfered.

‘The only difference is whether Astion leads them… or I do.’

Ghislain had accepted this and chose to act as a guide, doing his best to support them.

Of course, there had to be a reason why Deneb had called him back to the past.

Maybe she wanted him to save Julien and Deneb.

Or maybe she wanted to reveal a hidden truth if they failed to stand against him.

‘Maybe both.’

Either way, once his warrior friends grew stronger, Ghislain planned to tell them everything about the future he knew.

Because maybe—just maybe—they could create a better future than the one he had seen.

Astion’s voice took on a serious tone.

— So, in the end, even you admit that the future can change, right?

“That’s right. I believe human willpower can change fate. That’s why I’m living better this time around.”

He could only say this now because he had experienced it firsthand.

Astion sounded more than satisfied.

— Then that means my future can change too.

“…What?”

— I won’t live as a recluse, and I will have a relationship. I won’t live in hiding—I’ll enjoy wealth and luxury.

“…That’s what this was about?”

— This is important to me!

“…Sure. I’ll be rooting for you.”

— Why do you sound like you don’t believe it?!

“It’s not that…”

To be honest, Ghislain wasn’t entirely sure whether Astion had actually lived in hiding or not.

He had just assumed it based on circumstantial evidence.

For all he knew, Astion had lived a normal life and even passed down his legacy.

But based on what was known, it seemed unlikely.

The Tower of Radiance was extremely isolated—it always had been.

Even Jerome, another mage of Astion’s level, had lived the same way.

Of course, Jerome’s situation had more to do with his obsession with books than anything else…

But there was no need to explain those little details.

Astion, determined to defy his fate, declared:

— As soon as I regain my body, the first thing I’m doing is finding a girlfriend!

"Got it."

— Don't just brush me off like that!

Astion fumed, practically jumping in frustration, but Ghislain wasn’t interested in the slightest.

With mountains of work ahead of him, why would he care about Astion’s love life?

Astion, still seething, grumbled for a while before finally calming down.

Ghislain let the magician’s tantrum roll off his back and returned his focus to hell training.

Even as he endured relentless curses, he continued to sacrifice himself for the sake of the troops.

But after two months, Ghislain finally began lowering the training intensity.

If they were to properly execute the next phase, they all needed to recover their stamina first.

The only issue left was timing—when exactly should he begin?

‘This is taking too long.’

Count Swipel had comfortably settled into Count Crest’s former territory but had yet to respond.

It wasn’t hard to guess why.

He was still trying to figure out how to deal with me.

But since he had no good options, he was stalling on making a decision.

‘Should I wait a little longer?’

Ghislain could move first and put pressure on him, but he chose not to.

It was always better if Count Swipel made the first move.

If waiting a few more days meant a bigger reward, Ghislain was more than patient enough.

‘One more month, and then I’ll make my move.’

Just as he was easing up on training and preparing for the next battle, an envoy from Marquis Falkenheim arrived at Julien’s Mercenary Corps.

Seeing the envoy, Ghislain grinned.

‘So, he chose this option, huh?’

It was one of the many possibilities Ghislain had anticipated.

After all, he had seen these kinds of tactics too many times before.

With a pleasant smile, the envoy delivered the Marquis’s offer.

There was no need for everyone to hear—Ghislain was the only one who needed to listen.

“Hm… You’re saying that even though we fought Count Crest, we’ll be forgiven if we swear loyalty to Marquis Falkenheim?”

“Exactly. Your skills are highly regarded. If you accept, you will be granted titles and land.”

Hearing this, several of Julien’s officers swallowed hard.

A title and territory, personally granted by one of the most powerful nobles in the kingdom?

If they agreed, they would all be set for life.

But Ghislain knew better.

‘Once the hunt is over, the hunting dogs are the first to be culled.’

Even if Falkenheim conquered the kingdom, would he really let them live afterward?

No.

The moment they were no longer useful, he would get rid of them.

And that went for his other vassals as well.

Falkenheim cared only about his own ambitions. Anyone strong enough to threaten his rule would be eliminated.

Of course, it was impossible to predict the future with absolute certainty.

But for now, there was a more immediate issue to deal with.

“What about Baron Nodehill and Baron Raks?” Ghislain asked.

“The mercenary corps acted purely as hired soldiers, so you can easily be excused,” the envoy said smoothly. “However… the other two must face the consequences of their actions.”

In other words, they would be killed.

Since Count Crest had been officially defeated by Baron Nodehill and Baron Raks, Marquis Falkenheim could not let them live.

If he spared them, his authority would be weakened.

Sure, he could force compliance through military power, but at the cost of losing his vassals’ trust.

That was a risk he was not willing to take.

Nodehill and Raks were simply not valuable enough to be worth that trouble.

Ghislain shook his head.

“We refuse. We will stand with Nodehill and Raks.”

“Come now, think this through. We are offering you the greatest rewards possible.”

The envoy stayed for days, persistently trying to persuade Ghislain.

He promised riches, treasures, and vast lands—but Ghislain never wavered.

He would not abandon Nodehill and Raks.

And more importantly—he had no intention of serving anyone.

‘Julien is the protagonist of this world. Why should he bow to someone else?’

Instead, he would cultivate Andrew and Leo, turning them into the true powers of the kingdom.

If Marquis Falkenheim had been a good man, maybe they could have worked together.

But Falkenheim was one of the worst of the worst.

Ghislain would never join forces with him.

Seeing that persuasion had failed, the envoy smiled pleasantly and played his final card.

“You’ll regret this.”

His expression turned cold in an instant.

Ghislain smirked and leaned forward.

“Oh? And why is that?”

“You will regret what happens to Baron Nodehill.”

“You will regret ever standing against Count Crest.”

“And above all… you will regret rejecting our offer.”

“…Oh? Well then, feel free to regret it all you want.”

Ghislain wasn’t intimidated in the slightest.

He had heard these kinds of threats so many times before that they barely registered anymore.

In fact, the only good thing about being threatened like this was that he no longer had to bother with formalities.

“Let me tell you something,” Ghislain said, a dangerous smile playing on his lips.

“You’re the one who’s going to regret this.”

The envoy scoffed.

“Do you really think a mere mercenary corps can threaten us?”

“Well, we’ll see. I’d be happy to make you regret it in my own way.”

The envoy let out a dry laugh, unable to believe the arrogance in Ghislain’s voice.

For a moment, he simply stared at him before shaking his head.

“There will be no regrets on our side.”

His lips curled into a wicked smile.

No matter how strong they were, they were still just mercenaries.

Did they really think they could stand against the kingdom’s greatest power?

“I suppose your skills are indeed formidable,” the envoy admitted. “If we fought head-on, we might even suffer some losses.”

“But of course… that would only happen if we gave you the chance to fight back.”

From the moment the mercenary corps refused, the plan had already been decided.

Count Swipel would receive immediate military support to wipe them out.

And before Falkenheim’s main forces even arrived, Julien’s Mercenary Corps would already be dead.

Having nothing more to say, the envoy turned and left.

Not long after, he delivered his full report to Marquis Falkenheim.

Upon hearing it, Falkenheim burst into laughter.

“What an arrogant fool. He must be so confident in his own strength.”

At that level, he could easily serve as a knight commander anywhere in the kingdom.

But he had grown too bold.

“Even the strong must know their place,” Falkenheim muttered, shaking his head.

He had no use for fools who didn’t understand who they were dealing with.

“Support Count Swipel and eliminate them. Once that’s done, have him hand over his lands as well.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Tsk. A troublesome matter before the grand conquest.”

Taking out Julien’s Mercenary Corps would cause some losses, but there was a way to minimize them.

“Summon the vassals and gather the knights. I want at least the best-ranked ones for this.”

This way, Falkenheim’s personal forces wouldn’t have to be fully committed.

A few additional reinforcements should be more than enough.

The enemy was strong, but he wasn’t a transcendent.

Reports indicated that during previous battles, he had been forced to retreat, coughing up blood.

Falkenheim’s strategists assessed Astion as a 6th-circle master, skilled in both close combat and magic.

They concluded that Crest’s forces had been wiped out so easily because they had been unprepared for someone who could seamlessly blend two fighting styles.

He might not have been a transcendent, but a 6th-circle master was still an incredibly formidable opponent.

To minimize casualties, they would have to send enough knights to overwhelm him.

A few days later, a rapidly assembled force of elite knights began marching toward Julien’s Mercenary Corps—ready to crush them completely.