Chapter 366: Who’s Bullying Who? (3)
“What, what is this?!”
The soldiers of the Roderick army, charging without hesitation, were stunned at the sight of hundreds of spears floating in midair.
This bizarre phenomenon was unlike anything they had seen before.
“So, he is a mage!”
Brian gritted his teeth. If the opponent was a mage, the tales of his feats suddenly made sense.
‘It’s too late to turn back now. We have to push through even faster.’
Their charge was already in progress. Facing those flying spears head-on would result in significant losses.
Yet, stopping wasn’t an option. Reserve troops were surging in from behind.
‘We can hold out. We’ll endure it.’
They had a force of nearly a thousand cavalry. Encircling infantry couldn’t hold them all off. Suffering some damage at the start was inevitable, but acceptable.
“Faster! Just push through!”
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
Casting magic takes time. And the closer one gets to the caster, the lesser the damage.
Knowing this, the Roderick troops clenched their teeth and spurred their horses forward.
As the determined soldiers charged, Ghislain casually flicked his hands to either side. Unlike other mages, his casting time was remarkably short.
Swishhhh!
Spears hurtled toward the Roderick army at tremendous speed.
“Hold the line! We must break through!”
At Brian’s shout, the cavalry raised their shields. However, Ghislain’s attack, augmented by the power of darkness, was not something shields could simply withstand.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
“Arrrgghhh!”
Brian, who barely managed to deflect a flying spear, froze in shock.
“What… what is this…?”
The cavalry were being impaled and flung aside as though skewered on spits. With just one casual move of Ghislain’s hand, nearly half the troops were wiped out.
It was a technique renowned even in Ghislain’s past life as the King of Mercenaries. While some had dismissed him as merely the weakest of the Seven Strongest on the Continent, his mastery of warfare placed him among the top three in strategic capabilities.
Stopping him with just a thousand troops was impossible.
Neigh!
“R-run away!”
“He’s really at Master-level!”
“We’ll never win with these numbers!”
The Roderick troops immediately lost their morale. Some frantically pulled their reins, desperately trying to change direction and flee.
Brian shouted in panic.
“Charge! You idiots! If you run, you’ll die!”
Yet his warnings were in vain. The soldiers, accustomed to a life of ease in the peaceful West, were wholly unprepared for a battle of this scale.
The formation fell apart. Horses collided and soldiers toppled as some abruptly stopped or veered off course, creating chaos.
Ghislain clicked his tongue at the sight.
“Tsk tsk, so this is the army of the great Roderick Marquisate.”
He’d noticed it before when he fought Martin, but their discipline was utterly abysmal.
The troops had grown complacent after reigning supreme for so long without real threats nearby. It was no wonder they had grown lazy.
Still, they weren’t enemies to be underestimated.
“They do have plenty of money and resources.”
Sometimes, sheer numbers can overwhelm even the greatest skills and power. If the Count of Desmond’s strength came from his well-trained elite forces honed in the North, the Marquis of Roderick’s power stemmed from his seemingly endless wealth and manpower.
Even Ghislain himself had once experienced firsthand, during a war against a kingdom, just how overwhelming numerical superiority could be.
That’s why he couldn’t afford to let his guard down until their strength was sufficiently depleted.
“Slaughter them.”
At Ghislain’s command, knights wielding greatswords surged forward.
Boom!
“Aaaargh!”
The disorganized, demoralized Roderick army stood no chance against the 400 knights.
Brian, caught between fighting and fleeing, was paralyzed with indecision.
‘I-it’s a mistake. We underestimated them. The rumors about their strength in the North weren’t baseless after all.’
It was too late for regrets. They had placed far too much faith in their own strength and status.
In hindsight, the Roderick army had always bullied weaker foes and never faced a true opponent.
Then again, who would dare attack the mighty Roderick Marquisate?
‘I-I need to escape! I must report this!’
Finally snapping out of his daze, Brian seized his reins tightly.
Even if all he could report was their annihilation, it would give some insight into Fenris’s power. Of course, it was merely an excuse to justify his desire to survive.
But before Brian could flee, someone swiftly approached him.
Gillian swung his axe directly at Brian, who had spoken with him earlier.
“H-heeek!”
Brian, having completely lost his will to fight, failed to respond adequately.
Yet the axe narrowly missed, grazing past him.
“What are you doing?”
Gillian frowned and turned to his side, where Kaor had shoved him aside and thrust his sword forward.
Squish!
“Guh…!”
Brian, pierced through the neck by Kaor’s sword, choked on his own blood before collapsing lifelessly.
“Hahaha! Did you see that? I took down the enemy commander! I’m faster and stronger than the old man!”
Kaor’s triumphant shout was met with silence as Gillian ignored him, turning away without a word. Dealing with him wasn’t worth the effort.
“You’re ignoring me now, old man?!”
Kaor raged, stomping about, but Gillian paid him no attention and continued cutting down the soldiers nearby.
With their commander dead and no chance of retreat, the Roderick army was utterly annihilated in a pitiful fashion.
Ghislain, having barely exerted himself, surveyed the now-silent battlefield and remarked.
“Did they really think they could harass us with just this?”
The Marquis of Roderick was infamous for his cruelty and for tormenting his enemies relentlessly. He was known for dragging out his battles, systematically destroying the foundations of his opponents before cornering them and finishing them off.
That’s why Ghislain had anticipated that the Marquis would target the merchant guilds first.
‘He was the same in my past life.’
Having once gathered intelligence on all the nobles to wage war against the kingdom, Ghislain was well-versed in the Marquis’ habits.
A mocking smirk played on his lips as he spoke.
“Well, let’s move on to the next step. That bastard, who’s lived his whole life bullying others, is about to find out what it feels like to be on the receiving end.”
—
“What… Fenris has killed the Master of the Scarlet Tower?”
The typically stoic Marquis of Branford widened his eyes in disbelief upon hearing the news.
He wasn’t the only one shocked. Every noble present at the royal council meeting gaped, their expressions filled with astonishment.
Marquis Maurice McQuarrie, the Supreme Commander of the kingdom’s army, stammered as he asked.
“T-that duckling… Are you telling me he’s truly reached the level of a Master? Is it true that he killed a 7th-circle mage on his own?”
The messenger bowed crisply and replied.
“Yes, it has already been confirmed by the Crimson Flame Tower. Many mages witnessed the duel. Furthermore, Fenris obliterated the Scarlet Tower.”
“…”
The nobles were left speechless by the shocking revelation.
Upon hearing the details, it was said the conflict arose during a Tower Gathering, where a duel escalated into an all-out confrontation. While a duel leading to such destruction was condemnable, there was justification for Fenris’s actions.
Too many witnesses had heard Delmud, the Master of the Scarlet Tower, declare his intent to destroy the Fenris territory and kill the Fenris Count.
Though Fenris’s account could have been fabricated, if Delmud’s words were true, then the justification was clear.
The main takeaway, however, was that Ghislain had the strength to kill Delmud.
As the nobles processed the messenger’s report, he hesitated briefly before producing a letter and handing it to the Marquis of Branford.
“This is a letter from the Crimson Flame Tower. It states that the Scarlet Tower was merely a pawn of the ducal families and acted on their orders to attempt their annihilation.”
“What?!”
The revelation shocked everyone, including the Marquis of Branford, who had not received any prior intelligence on such a scheme.
After reading the letter, the Marquis nodded gravely.
“The evidence is compelling.”
He passed the letter around for the other nobles to read.
“How audacious! For the ducal families to plot something like this!”
“We were dangerously close to being betrayed!”
“The thought of a 7th-circle mage ambushing us on the battlefield sends chills down my spine.”
The nobles couldn’t suppress their shivers. Had the Fenris Count not discovered this plot and acted preemptively, the kingdom would have suffered a devastating blow.
Furthermore, the death of a 7th-circle mage significantly weakened the ducal families’ power.
The Marquis of Branford, appearing pleased, nodded once more.
“The Royal Faction has gained a powerful ally. Fenris has pledged to participate on our side in the oncoming civil war through the death of Delmud. This is an invaluable boost to our forces, especially with our shortage of mages.”
The Crimson Flame Tower had also agreed to send their apprentices. Their magical capabilities were about to experience a major reinforcement.
The other nobles shared in the Marquis’s excitement. After all, strengthening their forces increased their chances of winning the civil war.
However, while the situation was advantageous, the fact that Ghislain had become a Master still weighed heavily on their minds.
They muttered, almost unconsciously, as they processed the implications.
“The Fenris Count is really a Master… And we already cannot control him…”
“How did someone so young achieve such power?”
“Even Count Balzac didn’t reach Master-level at that age.”
“A talent like his only comes around once in a millennium.”
At someone’s murmured comment, Maurice erupted in frustration.
“Of course, that kind of monster should only appear once in a thousand years!”
He wasn’t wrong. The idea of multiple individuals like Ghislain existing was terrifying.
Hearing the nobles’ murmurs, the Marquis of Branford smiled contentedly.
“This is excellent news. The Count of Fenris is a Master.”
Maurice raised an eyebrow and asked sharply.
“What’s so great about that? He’s completely out of our control now. We couldn’t rein him in before, and now he won’t listen to a word we say. That duckling becoming a Master only proves he’s been using black magic!”
Maurice refused to abandon the theory that Ghislain was a dark mage. If he ever confirmed traces of dark energy, he would likely demand his immediate execution.
However, to the Marquis of Branford, whether Ghislain was a dark mage or not was irrelevant.
“Think about it. A Master is both a tactical weapon and a deterrent to war. The only reason Count Balzac doesn’t act recklessly is because the royal family also has a Master.”
“That’s… true. A Master could inflict devastating damage, whether through assassination or participation in war.”
“Now we have an additional card on our side. Of course, he doesn’t exactly take orders, but at least we have a common enemy.”
“Oh…”
“Even if the number of Masters is equal, the ducal families always had the advantage in magical strength. They had one more 7th-circle mage, after all.”
“Right. Now we might finally achieve some balance. And the Crimson Flame Tower has agreed to replenish our magic users.”
At last, the realization brought smiles to the nobles’ faces. This was a monumental development—another Master had effectively joined the Royal Faction.
The impact of this was far greater than the Crimson Flame Tower’s involvement. A Master’s presence alone was equivalent to that of a 7th-circle mage.
While many had disliked Ghislain for his uncontrollable nature and unpredictability, the context changed entirely in the face of an impending civil war.
The nobles began to chatter excitedly.
“This is fantastic news. We now have more strategic options.”
“So, the North is settled, then?”
“With this much, we really might stand a chance.”
Laughter spread through the room. Recently, there had been a growing sentiment that they could actually take on the ducal families.
Now, with Fenris securing the title of the strongest in the North and gaining a Master, victory seemed almost within reach.
—
The lively mood was interrupted when another messenger rushed in to report to the Marquis of Branford.
“Marquis Roderick has sent a formal declaration stating he will attack Fenris. He claims it’s not a factional dispute, but a justified territorial war.”
“What?”
The cheerful news was short-lived, replaced by a headache-inducing announcement.
“What do you mean?! Why would Marquis Roderick start a war?!”
The messenger handed over a compiled report along with a letter from the Roderick Marquisate. The Marquis of Branford scanned them with a sharp gaze, his expression darkening.
Seeing this, Maurice pressed him.
“What is it? What’s going on? Why is Roderick suddenly picking a fight with Fenris?”
Without answering, Branford passed the letter to Maurice, who read it, then crumpled it in rage.
“That damned duckling! All this fuss over a mercenary corps! I knew this would happen from the moment he started playing around with mercenaries! What do we do now?!”
The previously celebratory atmosphere in the Royal Faction’s council room descended into chaos.
Marquis Roderick was the preeminent lord of the West. While Fenris had grown strong, their forces still didn’t compare to Roderick’s on paper.
More importantly, a war between two high-ranking lords would benefit no one. Wars should be conducted with calculated, strategic precision.
Branford quickly gave instructions to his steward.
“Marquis Roderick has also canceled contracts with the cosmetics guilds. Halt all sales immediately. Tell the merchant guilds to avoid the western regions entirely. Also, send a message to the Count of Fenris, warning him not to act rashly.”
“Understood.”
Turning to Maurice, Branford declared, “We need to mediate.”
“Mediation? How? Roderick is already a greedy bastard. Now that he has a pretext, he’ll do whatever it takes to expand beyond the West.”
“Even so, we have to try. Even if a civil war is inevitable, it can’t start like this. Otherwise, we’ll all end up dancing to their tune.”
Maurice nodded in agreement. The Royal Faction wanted to delay the war as much as possible.
Branford repeated firmly to his steward, “Make sure to tell the Count of Fenris not to engage under any circumstances. We’ll handle the mediation.”
“Yes, sir.”
Branford then led the Royal Faction nobles back into a meeting to discuss strategies.
Since the fighting hadn’t officially begun, they focused on finding ways to negotiate or, failing that, intimidate the parties into delaying the conflict.
—
Two days later, another messenger burst into the room, panting as he delivered urgent news.
“Marquis Roderick’s forces have attacked a cosmetics guild caravan heading toward the West.”
“What?! So he timed his declaration to coincide with the attack?!”
“It appears so.”
“That bastard…”
Branford gritted his teeth. It was clear that Marquis Roderick had orchestrated this to provoke a confrontation.
“He’s deliberately picking a fight. Inform the Count of Fenris again—under no circumstances is he to retaliate.”
“W-well… about that…”
When the messenger hesitated, Branford’s face darkened further.
“What is it? Out with it.”
“Roderick’s forces… they’ve been annihilated.”
“What?!”
“The Count of Fenris… was there.”
Branford, dumbfounded, asked again.
“Why was he there?”
“I-I don’t know, but… in any case, the Roderick forces were completely wiped out. And…”
“And what?”
A hint of unease crept into Branford’s expression. He could feel another piece of terrible news coming.
“Well…”
Maurice, unable to hold back, leapt to his feet and shouted.
“What?! Just say it! What’s that damned duckling done this time?!”
The messenger squeezed his eyes shut and yelled.
“The Count of Fenris is now raiding the Roderick Marquisate’s vassal territories!”
“…”
Everyone was left speechless, their mouths agape. The same thought ran through their minds.
That reckless lunatic.