Chapter 364: Who’s Bullying Who? (1)
Hubert had no choice in the matter.
It was undeniable that the Count of Fenris had ascended to the rank of a Master. Other disciples had also witnessed his strength firsthand.
The rapidly spreading rumors turned out to be true.
The undisputed strongest in the North was now the Count of Fenris. Being on his bad side would yield nothing good.
Hubert quickly pulled himself together and worked to manage the situation.
“Ahaha, Count, you seem flustered! Oh dear, nothing of the sort could ever come between us.”
“Right? We have quite a special relationship, don’t we? You wouldn’t want to lose the supply of Runestones and food aid, so let’s cooperate.”
“Of—of course…”
Hubert stammered, cold sweat dripping down his face. There was no escape now. Without the Runestones and food provided by the Count of Fenris, the tower would falter.
It was the natural consequence of becoming too reliant on external support.
Even as he considered how to subtly find a middle ground, Ghislain spoke again.
“Send all, but a handful of mages needed to protect the tower to the Marquis of Branford. The Marquis will assign them to territories lacking in mages.”
“Ugh… now?”
“Yes, immediately.”
There was no avoiding involvement in the civil war. Hubert nodded, his eyes filled with reluctance and grief.
‘There really is no such thing as a free lunch…’
It was no coincidence that the Count had provided such an abundance of Runestones and food, or that he had destroyed the Scarlet Tower for them.
Having received so much, there was no choice but to repay the favor.
“Then, see you during the war.”
Ghislain’s parting words came with a smile, while Hubert, barely holding back tears, nodded.
—
After settling affairs with the tower, Ghislain, supported by Gillian, stepped outside. Returning to his territory quickly was of utmost importance.
When they exited the tower, the sight that greeted them left them astonished.
Ghislain glanced around with an amused expression.
“Oh… what’s this?”
The mages of the Crimson Flame Tower were all gathered outside.
When he had first come to sell Runestones, even the gatekeepers had ignored him. But now, in stark contrast, all the mages stood there to bid him a respectful farewell.
And that wasn’t all. Even the people of the tower city had gathered to cheer his departure.
“Wow! It’s the Count of Fenris!”
“The Sword Master of the North!”
“Look over here!”
In just a week, rumors had spread like wildfire. The streets were packed with people.
The mere fact that a Master had emerged in the North fascinated and thrilled them. Even though he hailed from a different territory, he was still a Northerner.
To these people, Ghislain wasn’t just a Master, but also the hero who had fulfilled their long-held wish by crushing the Scarlet Tower.
Since many of them lived under the shadow of the Crimson Flame Tower, it was natural for them to despise the Scarlet Tower, which had taken the position of the North’s premier tower.
When Ghislain raised his chin and waved, the crowd erupted in even louder cheers.
“Kyaaah! Count Fenris!”
“From today on, I’m your loyal follower!”
“I’m moving to Fenris!”
The shouts and cheers filled the city. It seemed like there would be many more followers like Dominic.
Ghislain chuckled as he watched the enthusiastic crowd.
“Well, it’s not a bad feeling.”
He was undoubtedly more popular than in his previous life. Back then, only oddballs seemed to like him.
‘Was it because I had too many scars? Or was it because of my job?’
But, really, what did it matter? Things were going well now, and that was enough.
—
Despite the grand welcome back to his territory, Ghislain had no time to rest.
As soon as he arrived, Claude approached him with a troubled expression.
“A guest has arrived. They’ve been waiting for your return.”
“A guest?”
“They’ve come from the Marquis of Roderick’s household.”
“Oh…”
They were quicker than expected. It seemed they had already learned about Martin’s death.
Still recovering, Ghislain made his way slowly to the audience chamber.
After sitting for a moment, a group entered. A messenger dressed in luxurious attire, accompanied by knights, made their entrance.
Even on someone else’s territory, they showed no signs of nervousness. Instead, they looked around with arrogant expressions.
The man at the forefront gave a slight bow upon seeing Ghislain.
“I greet the divine of the North, the Count of Fenris. I am Tennant, sent from the Marquis of Roderick. May the blessings of the goddess…”
“Enough with the formalities. Just get to the point.”
Ghislain interrupted indifferently, his disinterested gaze fixed on Tennant.
Tennant cast a sidelong glance at Ghislain.
‘So, the rumors about him being a Northern ruffian were true.’
Young, hot-tempered, and rude—he seemed to fit the stories perfectly. There was no need to bother with unnecessary courtesies. Tennant straightened his posture and continued.
“I come bearing a small request from the Marquis.”
“What is it?”
“We ask that you hand over the Drake Mercenary Corps to us.”
Tennant’s expression brimmed with confidence, as though he was certain Ghislain would grant his request. After all, he had never seen anyone refuse the Marquis’ family’s demands before.
Ghislain leaned back in his chair, studying Tennant’s overly self-assured face before he spoke.
“And the reason?”
“We have evidence that they murdered Young Lord Martin and fled.”
As expected from the Roderick Marquisate. They didn’t come here without certainty.
Even so, Ghislain had no intention of handing over the Drake Mercenary Corps. He had already decided to take responsibility for them himself.
Ghislain was a man who never shirked his responsibilities. A twisted smile played on his lips as he replied.
“I refuse. The Drake Mercenary Corps has already been absorbed into the Fenris Mercenary Corps.”
“The Marquis promises a substantial reward.”
“I don’t see much worth receiving from the Marquis.”
“Are you planning to make an enemy of the Marquisate?”
“I wouldn’t say I can’t.”
“……”
Tennant stared at Ghislain for a moment. No matter how strong the Count of Fenris was considered in the North, he couldn’t possibly compare to the Roderick Marquisate. The West’s economic foundation alone far surpassed that of the North.
‘Does he not understand his place?’
Perhaps attaining the title of the North’s strongest made him believe he was the kingdom’s strongest overall.
Despite the refusal, Tennant didn’t show much agitation. Instead, he casually scanned Ghislain from head to toe.
‘They say he’s of Master-level skill, but he doesn’t seem that strong. His face is pale, and he looks frail. Even his aura is weak.’
Tennant wasn’t just a messenger; he was a knight and the commander of the Marquisate’s knightly order—trusted enough to handle such affairs personally.
Normally, he wouldn’t be involved in matters like this. However, he had come specifically to evaluate the famed Count of Fenris and his combat prowess with his own eyes.
‘The rumors must be exaggerated. The white-haired man next to him looks stronger. Is that the so-called White Lion, Gillian?’
Gillian’s reputation, forged during his battle against Desmond’s forces, was rapidly spreading across the kingdom.
Kaor would have fumed at hearing such an assessment.
Tennant briefly glanced at Ghislain and his entourage, mentally mocking them.
‘It seems the subordinates’ exploits are being credited to their lord. A common occurrence.’
Tennant concluded in his thoughts with a smirk.
Ghislain, at that moment, was suffering from depleted mana and severe injuries. Tennant, unaware of Ghislain’s recent battle with Delmud, the 7th-Circle Mage, could only judge him based on appearances.
“I understand that you’re the strongest in the North, Count. However, antagonizing the Roderick Marquisate will bring you no benefit. I’ll ask you one last time. Are you willing to hand over the Drake Mercenary Corps?”
“No.”
Ghislain’s concise response left Tennant with no further room to negotiate. Tennant, too, held great pride as the retainer of the Marquisate, the strongest force in the West.
Begging for negotiations? Such a notion had never even crossed his mind.
“……Then Roderick and Fenris will become enemies.”
“Do as you please.”
“I’ll see you on the battlefield next time.”
Tennant bowed slightly and turned to leave. On his way out, he glanced at the faces of the Fenris retainers.
‘What’s with them?’
It was practically a declaration of war from the West’s strongest Marquisate. Even if it didn’t lead to full-scale conflict, the Marquisate had more than enough power to devastate the Fenris territory.
Yet, not a single one of them showed a hint of tension. They all wore blank, indifferent expressions, as if saying, “Let them do as they please.”
Tennant had assessed that part accurately. The Fenris retainers were all thinking the same thing.
‘Attack us or don’t.’
‘We’re going to fight them eventually anyway.’
‘After hearing so many threats, it’s not even scary anymore.’
Every enemy who had challenged Ghislain so far was dead. Fenris was even preparing for an eventual clash with the ducal family.
So, the prospect of fighting the Roderick Marquisate didn’t faze them one bit.
Their bold demeanor, hardened by past experiences, had left their nerves steel-plated.
Tennant, annoyed by their reaction, muttered as he stepped outside.
“Crazy bastards.”
It seemed they’d only come to their senses after a demonstration of strength. For madmen like them, a beating was the cure.
Tennant wasn’t alone in that line of thought.
Claude watched Tennant’s retreating back and murmured quietly.
“There’s no shortage of people who need a good smack to wake up.”
Wendy glanced at Claude.
It was hard to tell who he was referring to.
—
“So, that brat refused?”
“Yes. He seemed prepared to fight, if necessary.”
“Kuhuhu…”
Upon hearing Tennant’s report, the Marquis of Roderick let out a chuckle.
The chair he sat in was enormous and ornate, designed to accommodate a man whose frame was several times larger than average.
Yet no one dared to mock the Marquis of Roderick for his appearance.
He was the great lord who ruled the entire West and a figure so ruthless that being second in cruelty within the kingdom would have been an insult to him.
After laughing for a moment, his jowls quivering, the Marquis finally spoke.
“So, what’s your impression of that brat now that you’ve seen him in person?”
“It seems the rumors were a bit exaggerated.”
“Exaggerated, you say?”
“I could barely sense any mana from him. His face looked sickly, and his body appeared frail. However…”
“However?”
“The people around him seemed exceptional.”
“They say that brat made a name for himself in the North. There are even rumors he’s near Master-level. All the intelligence agencies in the kingdom confirmed it. Many witnesses saw him fight firsthand.”
“That’s why it’s even more perplexing. From what I saw, he didn’t seem that strong.”
At Tennant’s words, the Marquis of Roderick fell into deep thought.
Tennant was a high-ranking knight, renowned even within the Marquisate for his strength. If he had personally assessed the situation, his observations might have been more accurate than the rumors.
Yet, the Marquis of Roderick, as greedy and cruel as he was, was equally distrustful.
“There’s no way such rumors would spread without reason. Whether it’s magic or something else, he must have some kind of power that isn’t obvious at first glance. Assume that brat is truly the best swordsman in the North and plan accordingly. Understood?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Tennant didn’t argue, even though his firsthand report was being dismissed.
Of course, he couldn’t entirely erase the disdain that lingered in his heart.
After mulling over the report for a while, the Marquis of Roderick turned to his strategist.
“What if we simply march our troops and wipe them out?”
“The civil war is imminent. Why not move alongside the Ducal family?”
“Tut, tut, tut… That brat refused my demand. And you’re saying I should just let it slide? Once the civil war begins, we need to occupy the capital first. When would we have time to head North?”
The Marquis was not angry about his son’s death. Instead, he was far more incensed by Ghislain’s refusal of his demands.
His goal was to reclaim the Drake Mercenary Corps. And to deliver punishment.
It wasn’t grief over his son’s death. He needed to show everyone that those who dared to cross the Marquis of Roderick would pay the price.
To achieve that, he had to deal with Ghislain and his group now. Killing them after the civil war would dilute the message.
The strategist, looking somewhat tense, offered his opinion.
“The Ducal family’s strategy is to blockade the North and quickly occupy the capital and the East. If we provoke a fight, it will escalate into a territorial war.”
“And what of it?”
“Pardon?”
“That brat couldn’t even manage a mercenary corps properly, yet he’s handed us the justification for war. Why should we avoid it?”
“Well, that’s… um…”
“Of course, the distance makes it tricky. If he stays holed up in the North, it will be a bit harder. For now, I plan to provoke him into stepping out.”
“How will you do that?”
“That brat’s cosmetics are selling well across the kingdom, aren’t they?”
“Yes, they are. Many Western nobles purchase them, too.”
“Good. Start by targeting the largest merchant guild that transports his cosmetics to the West.”
The strategist’s face turned pale.
“T-That’s a joint business venture with the Marquis of Branford. If we interfere, the Marquis won’t sit idly by.”
“Is the Marquis of Branford stronger than me?”
“……”
The strategist couldn’t respond. The Marquis of Roderick narrowed his eyes, glaring at him.
“Isn’t he just someone who manipulates power by holding the royal family hostage? Do you really think I’m weaker than him?”
The Marquis of Roderick was the most prominent noble in the West. His control over strategic locations granted him immense wealth and power.
The Marquis of Branford, while capable of commanding the kingdom’s military, was no match in Roderick’s eyes. He believed he could seize the kingdom single-handedly if he wished.
He was that powerful. It was only because the Ducal family was stronger that he had shelved his ambitions and allied with them.
“Even if Branford intervenes, it doesn’t matter. If push comes to shove, I’ll personally start a civil war.”
A cruel smile spread across the Marquis of Roderick’s face.