The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations-Chapter 444: I’m the Expert Negotiator (1)

The sound of birds chirping filled the air as they darted through the mystical forest, their activity unusually frantic. It had been a long time since this serene woodland, abundant with trees, light, and flowers, had witnessed such a reaction.

At the heart of this forest, beneath a colossal tree that seemed to shelter the world, an elven woman was bound by thick vines. With a blank expression, she moved her restrained hands slightly.

Snap.

The vines gave way with little resistance, freeing one hand.

Snap.

The other hand soon followed. As she applied more force, the vines constraining her legs began to tear as well.

Snap, snap.

Finally, all the vines fell apart. The elf realized the curse binding her had been broken—she was free.

“Ah...” she muttered softly, rising to her feet. Her expression, however, showed no sign of joy. Instead, there was a faint bitterness, even sadness.

“So... the time has come.”

She had felt the weakening of the curse for decades, knowing that this day would inevitably arrive. She had prayed it would not.

“It was unavoidable, after all.”

Long ago, she had hunted the priests of the Salvation Order. Unable to act directly, she had listened to the sounds of nature to trace their movements, dispatching other elves to fight them in the shadows.

Not long ago, she had tracked a high-ranking priest to the Kingdom of Rutania and sent her elves after him, but they had all perished. The same fate befell those she sent to other kingdoms. Despite deploying capable forces, they had been overwhelmed.

“Their power has grown stronger.”

The priests of the Salvation Order wielded divine power unlike that of other priests. Their strength growing meant the deity they served had gained enough influence to manifest more tangibly in this world. Her curse breaking was a consequence of the same phenomenon. The feared disaster had begun.

She sighed, muttering words no one else could understand.

“Have you truly returned?”

Most would be clueless about the cause of these events, but she knew. Having lived for countless years, she had witnessed and endured much.

“It seems we must fight again.”

The elf clenched and unclenched her fists, testing her strength. Though the curse had been powerful, leaving her far from her peak, her current abilities were more than sufficient to face the priests of the Salvation Order. She was no ordinary elf—her strength was unparalleled.

As she stepped out of her dwelling, the other elves gasped and cried out in astonishment.

“Grand Chief!”

“Has the curse finally been lifted?”

“It seems the time of the prophecy has arrived!”

The elves radiated a mix of excitement, anxiety, and urgency, emotions uncharacteristic of their peace-loving race. But circumstances had left them no choice. The elves were on the brink of extinction.

Those who ventured into the outside world were enslaved, while those who remained hidden behind protective barriers had dwindled in number after countless battles. Even the most harmonious of beings could not watch their species perish without resistance.

“Yes... the time has come to break the curse that binds us...”

Her gaze, filled with sorrow, fell upon the gathered elves. They were unaware that this curse had been laid by the one the Salvation Order called their king—and that she bore responsibility for it all.

For a moment, she thought of him, but she shook her head, dispelling the thought. It was time to fight again, to save the world and her people.

“I would make the same choice again, even if I had to return to the past,” she murmured to herself.

Righteousness and wrongness did not matter—only one’s conviction. And she was resolute that her past decisions had been correct.

Her determination settled, she asked the gathered elves, “What is the situation outside?”

“It’s grim. We’re barely holding back the human armies. Too many nobles have aligned with the Salvation Order.”

“That we’ve managed to hold at all is fortunate. Are there any noteworthy individuals among them?”

“There is one who stands out above the rest.”

“And who might that be?”

“The Count of Fenris in the Kingdom of Rutania.”

“Count of Fenris?”

“Yes, his territory alone has suffered almost no damage while confronting the Rifts. No, ‘overwhelming’ might be a more accurate description.”

“Interesting...”

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. Having fought against Rifts long ago, she knew how formidable they were. That a mere count, not even a kingdom, was dealing with them so decisively piqued her curiosity.

The elves relayed detailed information about the outside world, focusing particularly on the Count of Fenris. After listening carefully, she pondered her next move.

To combat the Salvation Order, all of humanity needed to unite. The beasts of the Rifts and their "king" were far too powerful for divided efforts.

“Fenris... Fenris...”

She repeated the name several times. Initially, she had planned to seek out an old companion, a once-powerful arbiter of this world, after her curse was lifted. Though now stripped of his title, he still suffered from its burdens. With her freedom restored, his would soon follow. Their reunion could wait.

Her mind made up, she declared, “We go to the Kingdom of Rutania. I must meet the Count of Fenris.”

Humanity needed a rallying point, and the Count of Fenris, with his remarkable achievements against the Rifts, seemed like the perfect candidate. She would meet him first and decide their next steps.

With a handful of elves, she set out immediately for the Kingdom of Rutania.

***

This content is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

After the war with the barbarians had ended, Ghislain finally received news from other regions.

“Baron Valois has surrendered?”

“Yes. It seems he attempted to seize the territory while Count Rayfold was away.”

“Hm, that doesn’t sound like something Baron Valois would do lightly.”

“It appears the Fourth Prince, Daven, pressured him heavily. With his superior claim to legitimacy and the military forces withdrawn, he must have thought it was worth a try.”

It made sense. With Amelia absent, they might have believed there would be no resistance. However, Ghislain knew Amelia better than that—she wasn’t one to leave loose ends or abandon her territory recklessly.

“And the result?”

“While the occupation was initially successful, Count Rayfold had assassins hidden within the lord’s castle. The Fourth Prince was assassinated there and lost his life.”

“And Baron Valois?”

“Most of his forces had been stationed outside the castle for defense. With only a minimal escort inside, the baron was captured along with the Fourth Prince. The castle’s staff and local citizens refused to cooperate with them, leaving them no options.”

Hearing this, Ghislain shook his head. Had it been any other territory, their plan might have succeeded. But they had underestimated one critical factor: Amelia’s exceptionally strong rapport with her people. Whatever they attempted, the locals would never have supported it.

Furthermore, by committing most of their troops to defending the outer castle walls, they left themselves vulnerable to internal attacks.

“So, Baron Valois surrendered?”

“Yes. After Daven’s death, he surrendered without resistance.”

Ghislain nodded. In his previous life, Baron Valois had also surrendered immediately after realizing all his heirs were dead.

The baron had always been someone who prided himself on loyalty to the rightful heirs of the Rayfold bloodline. Once it was clear there were no viable alternatives, his surrender was inevitable.

Baron Valois was a capable commander, and Ghislain was certain Amelia would spare his life and put him to good use.

“Tsk, tsk. This is why I say not to make the first move.”

Although, technically, this wasn’t an attack but rather an opportunistic occupation of an empty castle. Baron Valois likely rationalized it as a calculated move. After all, he was in a position where he needed to take and hold territory to survive. Occupying Rayfold’s central stronghold would have been ideal.

“And anything else of note?”

“Count Rayfold has been purchasing large quantities of runestones since before the war.”

“Runestones, you say?”

“Yes. Not only has she been collecting supplies from within the kingdom using food and herbs, but she’s also been aggressively trading with other nations.”

Ghislain stroked his chin thoughtfully. Amelia was likely investing in runestones to train her knights and enhance their combat capabilities.

The North’s supply of runestones was largely controlled by Fenris, so the overall quantity was limited. However, Amelia had abundant resources such as herbs and food, which made acquiring them easier compared to others.

Given the current chaos in other kingdoms, the prices of food and herbs had skyrocketed to unprecedented levels. While runestones were valuable, feeding and sustaining troops took precedence.

Ghislain also checked on the state of the Ferdium territory.

“Ferdium must be busy for the time being.”

“Indeed. They need to absorb the barbarian tribes that have lost their warriors. For now, they’re expanding their territory northward and working to assimilate the tribes into their culture.”

“Well, it’ll take some time, but it shouldn’t be a major issue.”

The barbarian tribes, having lost most of their warriors, had no choice but to be incorporated into the Kingdom of Lutania. They simply couldn’t sustain themselves independently any longer.

Even if they had the means to recover, they couldn’t be left alone. If they grew strong again, they’d become a threat. This was the perfect opportunity to secure the northern frontier and bring it under control.

Ghislain’s aide hesitated before adding another report.

“There’s one minor issue being discussed among the knights and soldiers in Ferdium.”

“What issue?”

“They’re debating whether to expel a knight named Skovan from Ferdium...”

“Skovan?”

“Yes. He’s recently earned the nickname ‘The Calamity Knight.’ With the territory progressing well, some argue it’s inappropriate to keep someone with such a grim reputation around. Others have started calling him ‘The King of Misfortune.’”

“...I see. It seems we have many kings among us.”

The Rift in the North wasn’t Skovan’s fault, but for some reason, anyone associated with him seemed to attract trouble. During the orc suppression campaign, he had been dubbed “The Lying Knight,” and now his reputation had worsened further.

Hearing that someone who had even been imprisoned because of him was now being harassed again stirred a bit of pity in Ghislain.

“...Tell them to stop such nonsense and promote Skovan instead. He’s been diligently performing his duties.”

“...Understood.”

“And make it clear that such superstitions should stop. Who keeps spreading these rumors, anyway?”

The origin of the rumors was Skovan’s aide, Ricardo, though Ghislain couldn’t have known that.

Clicking his tongue a few times, Ghislain shifted his focus.

“The western front is still holding steady, correct?”

“Yes, Sir Tenant has been managing it well.”

“Good. Then we should be able to move east soon.”

Tenant had been leading the northern forces in holding back the Rifts in the west. While the Rift zones had expanded, their numbers had been kept in check, allowing the northern army to hold the line.

Unlike the rapidly expanding northern Rifts, the western Rifts grew more slowly. With their experienced forces, it wasn’t too difficult to hold out for several days at a time.

The problem lay in the east. While the eastern region had fewer Rifts, the attrition on their forces was steadily increasing. They needed to finish dealing with the remaining western Rifts and move east as quickly as possible.

“Before that, we need to make preparations.”

Ghislain wrote a letter and handed it to a messenger.

“Deliver this to Claude. Have him make the necessary arrangements.”

“Yes, my lord.”

They also needed to coordinate with other kingdoms. Joining forces would make it easier to confront the ducal faction allied with the Salvation Order.

Since Ghislain himself was preoccupied with battles, he planned to leave the diplomatic preparations to Claude and Marquis Branford.

“Let’s move out. We need to handle this quickly.”

Ghislain and the Fenris Rapid Response Corps barely had time to catch their breath before moving to deal with the Rifts again. They were undoubtedly the busiest force in the kingdom.

Joining the northern army, Ghislain led an assault directly into a Rift, sweeping aside the Riftspawn with overwhelming force. As always, his combat prowess left the battlefield in awe. He raised his voice to announce their next move.

“Now we’re going after Equidema. But this time, we’ll use a new strategy!”

The northern soldiers blinked in surprise.

These were seasoned veterans of Rift battles. They had handled Equidema several times without significant losses. The suggestion of a new strategy intrigued them.

Those who had fought alongside Ghislain in the northern fortress nodded knowingly. It was obvious what this “new strategy” would be.

With a smug expression, Ghislain continued.

“From now on, Saint... no, Holy Champion Piote will take the lead in attacking Equidema! This is the method revealed to us by the goddess!”

“Hurrah!”

“All hail the Holy Champion!”

“May the goddess bless the Holy Champion!”

The northern soldiers cheered without hesitation. Piote was a highly respected priest, said to be under the goddess’s protection. The idea of him leading the charge energized the troops.

“Wait... what?”

Piote, who had been listening to the speech with a bewildered expression, turned pale. Ghislain’s words clearly meant he was expected to engage Equidema directly—and to do so as the vanguard.

“...Oh, hell no.”

For the first time in his life, Piote muttered a heartfelt curse.