Chapter 67

Chapter 67: I Have No Choice but to Change the Game Myself. (3)

Baron Favreau, a retainer of the Digald and the commander of the supply unit, paced around the tent, unable to sleep.

He wasn’t concerned with matters like strategy or unit maintenance.

He was simply too thrilled to fall asleep.

“Heh heh, I’m finally getting my own fief.”

Favreau didn’t own any land.

The land Digald ruled over was small and insignificant, so there was no real chance for a retainer like Favreau to be awarded a fief.

But this time was different. If things went well, he would be able to obtain a portion of Ferdium’s territory.

“It was the right decision to side with Desmond. The best choice of my life.”

Favreau had been accepting bribes from Desmond and always advocated on his behalf.

It wasn’t just Favreau; most of Digald’s retainers were the same way. Controlling the land in any way they wished wasn’t difficult at all.

“Hoho, maybe this time, I can finally make a name for myself?”

Even though he was in the supply unit, simply participating in the war would grant him some renown.

In high society, just being involved in a war was enough to draw attention.

Besides, he was in the rear unit, so he faced no danger at all. He only needed to supply the main force with resources.

To reap all the benefits from a safe distance—where else could there be such a sweet war?

“By the way, I didn’t expect Count Desmond to have so many soldiers. With this much, isn’t he stronger than Raypold?”

Although they had disguised them as conscripted soldiers and mercenaries from the Digald territory, the sheer scale was unmistakable.

Desmond had sent reinforcements equivalent to the forces of several medium-sized estates combined.

The main force was so large that it was barely possible for Digald’s troops to form a secondary supply unit.

“Ha, Ferdium is finished. Absolutely done for.”

If they were on a similar level, there might be some back-and-forth, but at this level, Ferdium would be utterly crushed.

With siege weapons on their side, Ferdium likely wouldn’t last a single day.

It was a war they couldn’t lose, even if they wanted to.

That was why Favreau had been in such a good mood every day lately.

Rumble, rumble.

“Hm? What’s that sound?”

Favreau, who had been savoring his pleasant dreams, felt a strange vibration and snapped back to reality.

Stepping outside the tent, he saw several knights looking around in confusion.

“Hey, what’s going on here?”

Favreau asked, and one of the knights shook his head, as if he had no clue either.

“I don’t know. An earthquake, maybe...”

They hadn’t even considered the possibility of an enemy ambush.

The idea that Ferdium, already short on troops, would send a separate force to attack was beyond their imagination.

There had been no reports from the main force up ahead, either.

Rumble, rumble.

In a matter of moments, the vibrations grew even stronger.

Favreau scratched his chin, deep in thought.

“What could it be? Maybe a herd of cattle running wild?”

As soon as he thought of cattle, Favreau realized that the vibrations were similar to the sound of hooves.

“Come on, no way.”

He chuckled, amused by his own absurd thoughts.

Though they had lit torches, the cloud-covered sky made it too dark to see far ahead.

They could only rely on sound to judge the situation, which took them a long time to fully grasp.

Drdrdrdrdr!

It wasn’t until Ghislain’s army had drawn completely near that they realized the source of the noise.

“Wake up! Wake up! It’s an ambush! Ambush! Move it!”

Some of the quicker-reacting knights shouted out.

The commander, Favreau, wore an expression of disbelief even then.

“An ambush? How? Why?”

Thud-thud-thud-thud!

“Aghhh!”

Only when the enemy was practically upon them did Favreau finally snap back to his senses.

He yelled desperately while retreating backward.

“The enemy is here! Enemy! Everyone, get out and hold them off!”

Even in the midst of it, he hadn’t thought they would lose.

The enemy forces, at most, would number a few hundred.

Otherwise, there was no way they could have flanked the main unit so quickly.

Despite being a supply unit, they had a thousand soldiers here. Fending off an ambush of this scale should be no problem.

“Move quickly! Quickly! We have plenty of men! We can hold them off!”

The soldiers rushed out of their tents, hastily grabbing their weapons.

Some didn’t even have time to gather their gear, and their formation was a mess.

At that moment, as they were moving around in a daze—

Boom!

Ghislain’s forces emerged from the darkness.

“Aaaargh!”

The soldiers stationed on the outskirts were swept away in an instant.

Torches, knocked over by the flying bodies, fell to the ground.

Soon, flames began to spread around the area, and the soldiers, now thrown into confusion, started to panic and scatter.

A few of Digald’s knights scrambled to rally the troops.

“Gather around! Form a line!”

But forming a proper line was impossible.

The enemy, exploiting their superior mobility, smashed through anything that stood in their way in a long, unbroken line.

‘It’s not that he’s calm.’

As he swept through the battlefield, Ghislain looked like a man forcibly swallowing a blazing flame.

She couldn’t understand it.

What could have driven Ghislain to hold such a deep-seated grudge against Digald?

While she pondered this, the screams of their enemies began to die down.

It meant this fight was nearing its end.

Moments later, Gillian dragged someone over and threw him down in front of Ghislain.

“This one seems to be the commander.”

Favreau looked up at Ghislain, trembling.

No matter how poorly trained Digald’s soldiers were, over a thousand troops had been annihilated in an instant.

“P-please, spare me.”

Favreau had relied on the sheer number of soldiers and missed his chance to escape.

He’d barely managed to slip away, only to be caught by the pursuing Gillian.

He couldn’t bear to die like this, so unfairly.

‘The main force will win anyway.’

As long as he stayed alive, he might be released eventually.

In most cases, nobles captured in war were taken as prisoners rather than killed.

It was more profitable to ransom them back to their liege or family.

For this reason, Favreau felt safe surrendering.

“Please, spare me! Count Digald will surely pay a ransom! I surrender! I surrender!”

Ghislain silently scanned Favreau’s face.

The moment their eyes met, Favreau, who had been frantically pleading, clamped his mouth shut in terror, feeling as if he couldn’t breathe.

His cold, snake-like gaze, his expression devoid of any emotion.

The predator’s gleaming eyes were studying him.

As if deciding whether or not to devour him.

“Name.”

“B-Baron Favreau. And who are you?”

“Ghislain Ferdium.”

“Ghislain...? The Young Lord of Ferdium?”

Favreau’s mouth hung open.

He had heard of Ghislain’s name. Wasn’t he, along with Digald’s heir Gilmore, one of the two notorious scoundrels of the North?

And yet this man had brazenly launched an assault and slaughtered over a thousand soldiers?

It would’ve been more believable to hear that Count Ferdium was secretly a dragon.

Still, he couldn’t exactly call Ghislain Ferdium a scoundrel to his face.

Favreau quickly bowed his head without betraying his thoughts.

“Young Lord, please accept my surrender. It would not be unprofitable for you. You could demand a handsome ransom.”

But Ghislain responded with something unexpected.

“No matter how I try, I can’t seem to remember.”

“W-What do you mean?”

“It means you’re so utterly insignificant that you don’t even stick in my memory. Well, not that it changes the outcome.”

Ghislain grabbed a fistful of Favreau’s hair and yanked him up, raising his axe with his other hand.

“Ahhh! Spare me! I-I’ll pay a generous ransom!”

“I don’t make deals with scum like you.”

“What are you saying! I am a noble! Respect the customary rights of nobles!”

“Since when is there custom on the battlefield?”

Ghislain spoke with a hint of amusement, though there wasn’t a trace of a smile on his face.

“Well, there’s one thing I can take from you.”

With a dispassionate tone, the axe fell.

Crack!

“Your life.”

* * *

Clink, clink!

Ghislain moved into the castle.

The mercenaries in armor trailed behind him, snickering noisily.

As soon as the people inside the castle saw Ghislain, they lowered their heads and stepped aside.

Every step he took left a trail of blood, as if painted onto the ground.

Blood dripped from his body, covering him from head to toe, but he didn’t even bother to wipe his face.

What was even more terrifying were Ghislain’s eyes.

Those same indifferent eyes that hadn’t changed at all.

If they had even glinted with murderous intent, it might have been less frightening.

Once, he had been a troublesome figure no one wanted to deal with; now, he was someone to be feared, someone no one dared to cross.

Thud!

Ghislain opened the door to the main hall and strode in without hesitation.

Zwalter and his retainers, who had been in the middle of a meeting, gaped in shock at the sudden sight of Ghislain.

They had thought the Young Lord had fled.

Yet here he was, drenched in blood, as if he’d just come back from a fight.

“W-What on earth have you done?”

Zwalter asked, his voice trembling.

Without answering, Ghislain merely bowed slightly, then placed the box he was carrying onto the table with a loud clatter.

Seeing the blood-soaked box, the retainers gasped.

No one seemed able to fully grasp the situation.

Then Ghislain’s voice echoed through the hall.

“The supply unit has been annihilated. It’s time to begin the siege.”