The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations-Chapter 490: For the Sake of the Royal Family (3)

The royalist nobles had been busier than ever. They were consumed with reorganizing the Kingdom’s army and preparing to deploy it to the southern front as planned.

The task was not as simple as reorganizing troops and issuing commands.

With many commanders lost in the war, new officers had to be appointed. They also had to ensure that all equipment and supplies were accounted for.

Despite the workload, the nobles carried an air of optimism. The Northern Army’s string of victories had sparked hope that the war was nearing its end.

“When the war is over, the vast southern lands will be left vacant.”

“Haha, and what fertile lands they are—rich with resources! The rewards will be immense.”

“We may have more than enough to split among ourselves.”

For the high-ranking nobles who didn’t fight directly, war was nothing but a numbers game. They were more interested in calculating their spoils than acknowledging the ongoing suffering.

Perhaps these nobles wouldn’t grasp the gravity of the war until the sword was at their own throats.

Watching these frivolous nobles, Marquis Branford let out a deep sigh.

How did such people rise to power?

Nobles were born into nobility. Their privileged upbringing rarely allowed for a change in mindset.

Even amidst war, their carelessness and mistakes continued to cause problems.

No matter how strong his authority was, there was little he could do to change this entrenched system without completely dismantling and rebuilding it from scratch.

But not yet.

Not all nobles were like this. Some still upheld their responsibilities with dignity.

These were the people who held the Kingdom together, and for their sake, Branford steadied his mind and focused.

Turning to a knight by his side, he asked, “Has the chamberlain or that man emerged yet?”

“No, my lord. We are unsure of what they are doing, but meals are being delivered regularly.”

“Hm...”

For days, Viscount Domont and the mysterious mage, Flakus, had not left the king’s chambers.

The king had also refused to meet anyone else.

“Prepare for me to visit them after this meeting concludes.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Branford continued his meeting with the nobles.

Before long, someone unexpected entered the room, causing an uproar.

“Your Majesty!”

Someone shouted, leaping from their seat. The other nobles stared in shock.

The bedridden king, Berhem, appeared, supported by the chamberlain. He was walking, albeit with assistance.

Berhem wore a pleased smile as he addressed the assembly.

“Haha, it has been too long since I’ve seen all of you. You’ve worked tirelessly to safeguard the Kingdom in my stead.”

Marquis Branford rose from his seat, concealing his surprise. As king, Berhem was entitled to take the head of the table.

But Branford needed to understand the situation.

“Your Majesty, are you well?”

“Of course, of course. I haven’t felt this good in years.”

Berhem slowly took a seat. Though his movements were slightly awkward, he seemed in decent health.

Scanning the room, Berhem chuckled, his smile crooked.

“I understand your confusion. Many of you likely thought I would never rise again.”

“Your Majesty...”

“That’s not what we meant...”

The nobles stammered, caught off guard by the king’s candid remark.

Narrowing his eyes, Berhem surveyed the assembly before continuing.

“The mage behind me is exceptionally skilled.”

All eyes turned to Flakus, who stood behind the king.

The nobles had heard rumors of a wandering mage who claimed he could cure the king. Most dismissed him as a fraud who would soon be imprisoned.

But now, the impossible had happened—the king was walking again.

“This is Sir Flakus. Treat him as you would treat me, for he has saved my life. I do wonder, however, what the Kingdom’s mages and priests have been doing all this time.”

Berhem’s barbed comment left the room in silence. It could be interpreted as an accusation that the mages had deliberately left him untreated.

Marquis Branford narrowed his eyes at Flakus, who maintained a serene smile. Outwardly, he looked like a devout scholar, yet Branford couldn’t shake his unease.

What exactly did he do?

For over a decade, the king had been immobile. Now, in just a few days, he was up and about. This could not have been achieved by ordinary means.

While Branford was glad to see the king recover, he could not condone the use of forbidden methods.

“We must ascertain what method he used to heal Your Majesty,” Branford said.

“What do you mean?” Berhem demanded.

“If it involved forbidden sorcery, there could be dire consequences later.”

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Berhem’s face twisted in anger.

“Marquis! Are you telling me I should have remained bedridden, waiting to die?”

“Your Majesty...”

“No one is to touch him! Unless you wish to be branded a regicide!”

“...”

The king’s fury silenced the room.

Berhem glared at the nobles, then slowly stood.

“I shall take my leave for now. From the next council meeting onward, I will preside. Prepare accordingly.”

With that, Berhem departed, supported by Viscount Domont.

The nobles exchanged uneasy glances.

“This is... unexpected.”

“The king attending council meetings again... what does this mean for us?”

For over a decade, the king had been absent from governance. The chancellor had been the de facto ruler until his own decline, leaving Branford in full control.

With the king abruptly reasserting his authority, it was unlikely that governance would proceed smoothly.

General Maurice scowled, expressing the assembly’s shared concern.

“We’re in the middle of a war. If His Majesty, unaware of the situation, tries to lead, decisions will be delayed. It would be better for him to resume governance after the war ends.”

Branford, his expression unreadable, replied,

“It is not unusual for the king to lead. Prepare for his involvement from now on.”

With that, Branford left the meeting room, though unease gnawed at him.

Turning to his captain of the guard, he asked, “Tolreo, what do you make of it?”

“Difficult to say, my lord. If sorcery or dark magic were involved, I would sense it. However...”

“However?”

“That mage is clearly suppressing his presence. I’ve felt it since our first meeting.”

“Hmm...”

Indeed, even the most skilled knight would struggle to discern hidden powers unless the individual revealed them.

In the days that followed, Berhem’s health improved visibly. He attended council meetings regularly, raising one controversial issue after another.

“Let us end this war and negotiate with the Ducal faction,” Berhem declared during one session. “I shall pardon them and usher in an era of peace.”

The room erupted in protest.

Branford, his expression ice-cold, responded firmly.

“Your Majesty, such an action is inadvisable.”

“Why not?”

“The Ducal faction has committed treason against the crown.”

“I am pardoning them.”

“They have also allied with heretics, opening rifts and slaughtering countless innocents. Failing to punish them will invite greater chaos in the future.”

The other nobles echoed Branford’s sentiments.

“The Salvation Order is a declared enemy of the Four Great Churches! Forgiving them will make the Kingdom their enemy!”

“Your Majesty, such a move is unthinkable!”

Berhem’s hands trembled with rage as the opposition mounted.

“Is this how you greet my first decree after my recovery?!”

“Forgive us, Your Majesty,” Branford said coolly.

Berhem slammed the table and rose abruptly.

“This meeting is adjourned. Halt all troop movements until this matter is resolved.”

As the king stormed out, General Maurice muttered angrily,

“This is madness! We’re on the brink of war, and now we’re paralyzed. What are we supposed to do?”

Branford left the chamber silently, his expression grim. In his mind, a new plan began to take shape.

That mage must die.

If the Ducal faction and the Salvation Order had influenced the king, it was clear who was behind it.

Turning to Tolreo, Branford issued his command.

“Prepare our best knights and mages. Treat the target as a transcendent. When the opportunity arises, strike and eliminate him.”

“Yes, my lord.”

If the priest of the Salvation Order was indeed a transcendent, measures had to be taken. The Marquis of Branford began gathering the finest knights and mages under his command.

Even against a transcendent foe, there were ways to prevail, especially if they were alone. Losses would be inevitable, but the goal was clear: kill them at any cost.

As Branford meticulously prepared, King Berhem spent several days attending council meetings, persistently pushing for negotiations with the Ducal faction.

However, the king’s proposals were met with unanimous opposition from the nobles. Frustrated and powerless, Berhem returned to his chambers, seething with rage.

“Marquis Branford! That vile dog! How dare he defy me? He’s the real traitor, not me!”

Berhem was anxious. His current recovery was only temporary. To fully regain his health, he needed something from the Ducal faction.

The Ducal faction had agreed to trade this vital item in exchange for the Royal Family’s treasure and a ceasefire.

But Branford’s staunch opposition made this impossible.

While some troops remained on standby, others had already begun to mobilize, likely with Branford’s covert approval.

If this continued, a new phase of war would erupt before Berhem could secure what he needed.

“What should I do? The Marquis refuses to heed my words.”

Flakus, ever calm, smiled gently.

“It seems we’ll have to advance the lion hunt.”

The lion was the symbol of the House of Branford. In other words, Flakus proposed targeting the Marquis himself.

Berhem asked cautiously, “Can it be done?”

“Though I expended a great deal of energy treating Your Majesty, it is not impossible—with the Royal Knights’ support.”

Flakus had indeed drained much of his energy healing the king. To replenish it, he required a special ritual.

Securing that ritual would be much easier if Berhem held absolute power.

“What must I do?” Berhem asked.

“Continue insisting on ceasefire negotiations during council meetings. I will coordinate with the captain of the Royal Knights to set a date for action.”

“Very well. You must succeed.”

Berhem’s voice trembled with tension.

The Marquis held all the real power in the Kingdom. Preparing under his watchful eye was no easy task, and the risk of failure loomed heavily over them.

From that day onward, Berhem leveraged his royal authority to create chaos in the council.

The nobles were at a loss. They needed the war effort to resume quickly, but the king continued to obstruct them.

Eventually, Branford himself took the lead.

“Your Majesty, we can delay no longer. The Ducal faction is surely preparing to strike even now,” Branford said firmly.

“I have already declared my desire for negotiations!” Berhem snapped.

“My deepest apologies, Your Majesty. The survival of the Kingdom is at stake. This cannot be allowed.”

With that, Branford turned to General Maurice.

“Mobilize the remaining troops immediately. From now on, they will follow the commands of the Northern Army’s commander.”

“Yes, my lord,” Maurice replied reluctantly.

Branford then addressed the king directly.

“Your Majesty, I must also request that you surrender the chamberlain and the mage for questioning. Their actions must be investigated.”

Berhem erupted in anger.

“You insolent fool! I am the king! How dare you defy me!”

“...”

“You treacherous wretch! You are the traitor here!”

“Escort His Majesty to his chambers,” Branford ordered, unfazed by the outburst.

As Berhem’s furious shouts echoed through the corridors, Branford exited the council chamber without a word.

“You damned traitor! You’re no different from her! I am the king! This Kingdom is not yours!”

Branford closed his eyes briefly as he walked away.

The war must end.

Once the Ducal faction was eradicated, the Kingdom and the Royal Family would face no more threats. Only then could Branford consider retirement.

But even that seemed like a distant dream.

Late into the night, as Branford worked tirelessly in his study, his steward entered with a report.

“The Royal Knights and the palace guards have begun to mobilize. Their target is this estate.”

Branford remained silent, his expression as composed as ever.

The steward, equally stoic, continued his report.

“Our knights and soldiers are fully prepared. The capital’s defense forces are also ready to encircle the palace. Our agents within the palace are poised to act.”

“...”

“Awaiting your command, my lord.”

Unbeknownst to Berhem and Flakus, Branford had already been informed of their every move.