The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations-Chapter 454: Speak Honestly (2)

The eastern regions had only just begun recovering after halting the Rift’s expansion. However, they couldn’t withstand the sudden, overwhelming advance of the Ducal army.

The Royalist faction was thrown into chaos upon hearing the news. No one had anticipated the Duke’s forces moving so swiftly.

Boom!

Maurice, the Royal Army’s Commander-in-Chief, slammed his hand on the table, his voice echoing with fury.

“How in the world did they march straight to the east? The southern borders were supposed to be locked down!”

His advisors exchanged uneasy glances before one hesitantly spoke up.

“The 4th Legion, which was guarding the key routes, was annihilated almost instantly. It seems the Ducal forces are stronger than we estimated.”

“Damn it! What are their numbers?”

“Approximately 50,000 troops.”

“Ugh... Their main forces must still be in the south, but they have that much to spare?”

None of the advisors could offer a confident reply. The Ducal forces’ strength remained an enigma, particularly since their total power had been difficult to gauge after consolidating control over the south. Even infiltrating spies into their territory had become nearly impossible.

Maurice gritted his teeth, then asked, “Can the eastern forces hold them back?”

“The so-called ‘eastern forces’ haven’t even been properly assembled. The lords are all acting independently, and their scattered defenses are being picked off one by one.”

“Idiots! I told them to unify their forces! Why didn’t they listen?”

An eastern commander had been appointed long ago, but the lords had prioritized securing their individual territories rather than coordinating their efforts.

The Ducal forces exploited this disarray, striking at the perfect time.

“Damn it. They were so passive I thought they’d just keep posturing!”

Maurice had assumed the Ducal forces would continue their standoff, maintaining a delicate balance of power. He’d planned to wait for the coalition forces to assemble and then crush the Duke’s army with overwhelming numbers in one decisive battle.

“Of course, they wouldn’t be stupid enough to wait around for that. They’re not fools.”

Maurice stared at the map, frustration etched across his face.

As Commander-in-Chief of the kingdom’s army, the final decision on military matters fell to him, even though Marquis Branford handled political affairs.

“If I pull troops from the south, their main forces will undoubtedly move as well. But if I don’t, the east will be overrun...”

The eastern region might not have been as critical as the central territories, but it couldn’t simply be abandoned. The Duke could use it as a springboard to launch an attack on the capital.

“Damn it... What do I do?”

As Maurice agonized over his options, a messenger from the northern army arrived.

“I bring a message from Count Ghislain.”

“My nephew?”

Maurice’s expression brightened. If it was his clever nephew, surely he had a solution.

“Well, what did he say? Is the northern army going to move?”

“No, sir. He requests that half of the Royal Army advance east to halt the Ducal forces.”

“What? Half of the Royal Army?”

“The coalition forces that have already arrived will head to the east. They should reach it before the Duke’s forces can completely occupy the region. While they hold the line, the Royal Army can strike back against the Ducal forces.”

“But sending half the army will weaken the southern front! We’ll be leaving holes everywhere.”

“The northern army will also move southward. The 20,000 troops they’ve mustered in the west will fill in the gaps.”

“Hmm...”

Maurice fell deep into thought. He had expected the northern army to move but hadn’t considered withdrawing Royal Army troops.

The Duke’s forces wouldn’t focus on just one front. They would likely launch attacks from multiple directions simultaneously. Even if the northern army successfully held the south, other areas could be left vulnerable.

“And with all these assassins running around, morale isn’t exactly great.”

Recently, assassins had been causing havoc in several territories, killing lower-ranking officers and officials.

While these assassins had all been captured or killed before escaping, the unrest caused by their actions lingered. High-ranking nobles remained untouched, but the atmosphere was tense.

“Is this what they were aiming for?”

Rumors about the assassins had undoubtedly stirred unease, creating a ripple effect of anxiety. Coupled with the sudden invasion, it added a layer of pressure.

But that was all. The assassins had done little beyond unnerving the troops.

Maurice scratched his head in confusion.

“For all the effort they put into it, the payoff seems minimal... What’s the point?”

It would have been better not to send assassins at all, as the attacks only heightened the kingdom’s vigilance. A surprise assault that wiped out a single territory’s forces would have had a far greater impact.

“Do they even have a plan, or are they just throwing things at the wall to see what sticks?”

Maurice couldn’t make sense of the Duke’s strategy. Unbeknownst to him, these actions were designed to entangle Ghislain and buy time.

After pondering for a while, Maurice finally spoke.

“Bring in the crone. It’s been a while since I sought the heavens’ guidance.”

At his words, the advisors’ faces darkened.

‘Oh no, not again...’

‘Here we go. What a waste of time.’

‘There’s no stopping him when he gets like this.’

Soon, an elderly woman with a hunched back entered the room. Maurice greeted her warmly.

“Oh! Old crone! I need your guidance for an important decision.”

“Heheheh, I knew you’d call for me sooner or later.”

“See? You’re always spot-on. Remember when you told me someone I hated would bring me fortune? Well, you were right—he’s now my nephew!”

“Heheheh, it’s good to see things worked out.”

“All right, then. Let’s hear what the heavens have to say this time.”

“Of course, of course. Now, what is the issue you seek clarity on?”

The crone, a self-proclaimed soothsayer, had long been a fixture in the Marquis, offering Maurice counsel over the years.

Maurice, ever superstitious, held her in high regard, despite the skepticism of others. His tendency to label people like Ghislain as witches or demons was part of the same pattern.

The kingdom’s priests were well aware of the crone’s presence but turned a blind eye, dismissing her role as an eccentric hobby of the Commander-in-Chief.

Maurice adopted a serious tone.

“There’s a war underway, and things are getting dicey. One side is getting completely overrun. My nephew wants me to move part of the army to another front. Should I do it?”

“Heheheh, let me see...”

The crone rummaged through her pouch and retrieved some animal bones. She drew strange symbols on the ground with red dye and cast the bones.

“Hoh, hoh, hoh!”

Muttering strange incantations, she studied the bones carefully before murmuring, “Hmm... This is...”

“What? What? Is it bad? Should I not move the troops?”

“No, moving them is the right course of action. However...”

“However what?”

“Your nephew’s family may be in danger.”

“What does moving troops have to do with his family being in danger?”

“It’s just what the bones say. Since he’s the one proposing the plan, I looked into his fate as well.”

“Hmm? All right, then. If you say so, I’ll move the troops. Send word to my nephew, and let him know to be careful with his family. There’s no harm in being cautious with all these assassins about.”

“...Understood.”

Maurice delivered the orders, confident in his decision, unaware of the brewing storm about to engulf the kingdom.

The messenger, who had witnessed everything, wore a dumbfounded expression. He could hardly believe that the Commander-in-Chief of the kingdom’s army would rely on a soothsayer to make critical decisions about troop movements.

It struck him then how dire the kingdom’s situation truly was.

“Let’s move! Time to crush those Ducal bastards!”

Maurice bellowed his command and left the room with a determined stride.

As he departed, several of his advisors approached the messenger, their tone a mix of pleading and warning.

“Look, you have to understand. The Marquis wasn’t always like this.”

“Years ago, he lost his youngest child and never found them. That loss broke him, and he turned to these superstitions for comfort.”

“That old crone told him once that the child might still be alive. Ever since, he’s kept her close.”

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“You know, he’s even set aside a whole estate and a count’s title, promising to bestow them once his child is found. That’s the depth of a parent’s heart.”

“So please, don’t let this spread. You know how rumors like this can cause unnecessary trouble. Right? You’re with the northern army, aren’t you? I’ve seen your face, you know.”

Their words were a mix of explanation and thinly veiled threats. While the high-ranking nobles were aware of Maurice’s eccentricities, letting such rumors spread could only cause harm.

The messenger hesitated before nodding reluctantly.

“...I won’t spread any rumors.”

“Good, good. Let’s just consider today’s events unseen and unheard, shall we? Make sure to relay this to your commander as well.”

“...Understood.”

The messenger returned to the northern army’s camp, the bizarre scene still fresh in his mind.

When he arrived, he reported directly to Ghislain.

“The Royal Army will deploy half its forces to the east.”

Ghislain nodded as though this outcome was already expected. He had known that even if Maurice objected, Marquis Branford would have ensured the decision was made.

“Good. The coalition forces have also begun moving, so they should arrive around the same time. Did he say anything else?”

“Well, there’s... one more thing.”

The messenger hesitated, unsure whether this detail was appropriate to share. However, withholding information as a messenger was against protocol.

“Go on. Speak plainly,” Ghislain encouraged.

Gaining some confidence, the messenger relayed the odd detail.

“The Commander-in-Chief warned that your family might be in danger.”

“My family?” Ghislain’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly does that mean?”

“Well... it’s because of the assassins that have been active recently, and, um...”

Seeing the messenger’s hesitation, Ghislain leaned forward and spoke firmly.

“Just say it as it is. Don’t leave anything out.”

“...Yes, sir.”

The messenger recounted the events exactly as he had witnessed them.

When Ghislain heard the full story, he was momentarily stunned.

‘So it’s that bad.’

He’d known Maurice had a superstitious streak, but he hadn’t realized it was this severe. Had the soothsayer said anything contradictory, Maurice might have stubbornly dug in his heels. The thought alone was dizzying.

“...Good work. You’re dismissed.”

After the messenger left, Ghislain fell into contemplation—not about Maurice, but about the threat to his family.

The mention of danger brought to mind the assassins that had been stirring unrest.

‘They wouldn’t go to all this trouble without a purpose.’

Ghislain’s estate in Ferdium was well-guarded. Killing any of his family members without sending a transcendent-level assassin was nearly impossible.

Bellinda had trained a specialized team of assassins stationed around his family and key figures. They hadn’t even joined the northern army for this reason.

‘Unless... they have another plan?’

The assassins’ actions had been blatant, their attacks almost like a signal. Recently, even territories near the northern regions had reported activity, as if announcing their approach to Ferdium.

Yet, Ghislain knew that killing his family would do little to affect the overall conflict. If anything, it would only enrage him further.

‘No... they want me to take the bait.’

The assassins’ true goal was to draw him away from the northern army. If he left, the Ducal forces would march straight for the capital.

‘So that’s the plan.’

The Duke’s strategy was now clear: separate Ghislain from his forces.

Still, something about their approach didn’t add up. Even if the assassins succeeded in luring him out, how could they time their march with his absence?

‘What are they planning...?’

The answer came just days later. Ghislain received a letter.

[I will kill you. Wait for me in Ferdium. If you wish to protect your family, you’ll need to act quickly.]

Beneath the curt message was a symbol of a black crescent moon, accompanied by the signature, ‘Melkir.’

It wasn’t just a threat—it was practically begging him to come.

Given the Ducal forces’ desperation to separate him from his army, Ghislain suspected this wasn’t a mere bluff.

“What’s this supposed to mean?”

The letter itself was puzzling enough, but the name “Melkir” and the crescent moon symbol piqued his curiosity. He had never encountered either in his past life.

Calling for his closest advisors, he sought their insights.

“Does anyone recognize the sender of this letter or the symbol?”

His advisors gathered, exchanging puzzled glances. Even among the experienced mercenaries like Gillian and Kaor, the well-read Vanessa, the Scarlet Tower mage Alfoy, and the ancient elf chieftain Ereneth, no one could identify the name or symbol.

Except for one.

“M-Master! This... this is...”

Bellinda’s face had gone pale as she stared at the letter.

“You know who sent this?” Ghislain asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, Master! You must return to Ferdium immediately!”

“I was planning to, but why are you so shaken?”

“The sender... This Melkir... he doesn’t just kill his targets—he methodically eliminates everyone they hold dear before coming for them. He’s not bluffing. We must act now!”

Bellinda’s voice was urgent, her eyes betraying a rare flicker of fear.

“Calm down. If you know who this is, explain it to me.”

Taking a deep breath, Bellinda glanced around the room. There were too many people present for her to reveal her full story, but time was too short to send them away.

Steeling herself, she spoke with a tone of resignation.

“Listen carefully, everyone. I’ve kept this secret for a long time, but now I must tell you the truth.”

The room fell silent. Many had long suspected that Bellinda, the unassuming head maid and tutor, harbored a mysterious past. Her combat skills alone were enough to raise questions.

With a heavy heart and a faintly sorrowful gaze, Bellinda confessed,

“Don’t be too shocked... but I’m a former assassin.”

The room remained utterly still—not because of her revelation, but because it was exactly what everyone had already assumed.