The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations (light Novel)

The Commander of the Capital’s Defense Forces hid atop the city wall, nervously biting his nails.

"What do I do? Should I open it or not?"
The might of Count Fenris and the Northern Army was legendary. On top of that, he had only recently been appointed to his post and had little to no combat experience.
No matter how formidable Cardenia’s walls were, he didn’t trust himself to hold them against such a force.

"Damn it, why couldn’t they have arrived just a bit later?"
Currently, the capital’s forces were preparing for a full evacuation. In two days, they planned to flee, but no one had anticipated Count Fenris showing up this early.
While he agonized over the decision, a loud voice bellowed from below.

"Are you going to open the gates or not?"
Count Fenris repeated his demand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The Defense Commander was drenched in sweat, trembling as he stood still.
The knights and soldiers around him looked at him with thinly veiled disdain.

Suddenly, a thunderous voice broke the tension like a lightning bolt from the heavens.
"If you won’t open it, I’ll climb up myself!"
"What?"

The Commander’s eyes widened in shock. Climb up this towering wall?
He thought he must have misheard until the voice came again, louder and more menacing.
"Whoever tries to stop me will die!"

The Commander froze, his eyes darting around as if seeking guidance. Then a soldier came running toward him, pale-faced.
"Count Fenris is climbing the wall, sir!"
"What? How? How is that even possible?"

"He’s driving daggers into the wall and using them as footholds. He’s leaping up higher with each move..."
"..."
"He’ll be here shortly, sir."
The soldier’s report turned the Commander’s face ashen. He shouted in a panic.

"S-Stop him! Stop him! No—grab him when he gets up here! And why hasn’t the wall’s defensive magic activated yet?"
The capital’s walls, as the kingdom’s ultimate line of defense, were still manned by a significant number of troops. The knights and mages were among the best.
If Count Fenris came up alone, the odds seemed favorable.

Thunk!
At that moment, Ghislain reached the top of the wall.
The Defense Commander screamed as if his life depended on it.

"It’s just one man! Seize him! Attack!"
But no one moved.
Of course, they wouldn’t. Only a fool would think of fighting after seeing Ghislain Fenris standing before them.

"W-What are you all doing? Is this mutiny? Arrest that traitor at once!"
The Defense Commander stumbled backward, trembling violently, but his cries went unheeded. He couldn’t comprehend why no one was obeying him.
Ghislain glanced at the soldiers and chuckled as he approached the commander. The troops instinctively stepped aside, clearing a path for him.

Ghislain glanced around and spoke casually.
"Hey, you’re still alive? Long time no see."
He recognized some of the knights and soldiers who had been stationed in the capital during his previous visits. Many of them had seen him before.

Hearing his acknowledgment, the knights and soldiers gave him awkward smiles.
The Defense Commander watched this scene, utterly dumbfounded. Ghislain stopped in front of him, grinning.
"Didn’t you know we’re all friends?"

"Y-You traitorous scum!"
The Commander gnashed his teeth. He realized now that the soldiers and knights had long-standing connections with Count Fenris.
"Damn it... I should’ve replaced everyone the moment I got this post."

Still, he couldn’t just give up. He’d paid dearly to secure his position and had been enjoying a comfortable life for the past few months. He couldn’t let it end like this.
Gathering his resolve, he threw himself to the ground, groveling.
"P-Please spare me! I surrender—"

Shing!
Before he could finish his sentence, Ghislain’s blade flashed, and the Commander’s head rolled to the ground.
Wiping the blood from his sword, Ghislain muttered.

"I told you to open the gate earlier, didn’t I?"
Despite its reputation as the kingdom’s most impenetrable fortress, Cardenia fell with embarrassing ease.
No matter how strong a fortress was, if its defenders lacked the will to fight, it couldn’t fulfill its purpose.

Rumble...
Cardenia’s gates, designed to require twelve simultaneous mechanisms and magical circuits to open, began to creak as they swung outward.
Through the massive gate, the Fenris Cavalry marched in, their banners raised high. No army stood in their way.

The capital remained eerily silent. Most residents refused to leave their homes. Those who saw the advancing army hurriedly avoided eye contact and fled, fearing capture.
Some, hiding inside, peeked through their windows, watching as the army moved through the streets.
Eventually, murmurs spread among them.

"That banner... Could it be...?"
"It’s Count Fenris! Count Fenris is here!"
"The Saint has come to save us!"

Someone shouted, and soon the streets buzzed with people pressing their faces to windows. Those outside glanced up at the banners and gasped.
"It’s true..."
"It really is Count Fenris..."

"The Fenris Cavalry has arrived!"
At the head of the army, mounted on a massive black steed, was the figure everyone recognized—Count Ghislain Fenris.
Cheers erupted as people began pouring into the streets. Those who had been fleeing turned back and crowded around the army.

Tears streamed down the faces of many as they fell to their knees, overwhelmed with relief. Some wept openly, collapsing onto the ground.
For so long, they had waited for salvation—praying that someone would rescue them.
Rumors had spread of the Northern Wolf, Zvalter Ferdium, and his son, the saintly Ghislain, defeating the monsters of the Rift and holding back the Duke’s forces. That hope had kept them alive.

And now, that hope had come true.
"Count Fenris!"
"Save us, Count Fenris!"

"Please, rescue us!"
The cries grew louder, echoing through the streets. More people emerged, filling the avenues with a cacophony of desperate pleas.
Ghislain raised his fist high into the air, and the crowd fell silent, waiting for him to speak.

In the hush, his voice rang out.
"There’s no need to worry anymore! The tyrant’s oppression ends today!"
The people held their breath, their eyes fixed on him. Ghislain’s tone was resolute as he declared:

"My father, Marquiss Zvalter Ferdium, will usher in a new era!"
The crowd erupted in jubilation.
Zvalter Ferdium, the Northern Wolf, was famous for his sense of justice and his love for his people. Under his rule, life would undoubtedly improve. And with Ghislain, hailed as a saint, as his heir, their future seemed brighter than ever.

Standing beside Ghislain, Belinda leaned in and whispered.
"Should you really be announcing this already? The Marquiss might not appreciate such boldness."
Even in a coup, it was customary to maintain appearances—defeat the tyrant with strength and then ascend the throne through noble support and formalities.

Ghislain shrugged nonchalantly.
"He’ll sit on the throne either way. Dragging it out is a waste of time. Look at how happy everyone is."
"Hmm, you’ve got a point," Belinda conceded.

Exhausted by years of oppression, the people responded more fervently to Ghislain’s direct proclamation. The certainty of his words gave them hope.
For the first time in ages, the capital was alive with joy. No one tried to stop the celebrations; the Defense Forces and city guards had already surrendered.
Now, only the Royal Palace’s defenders and the Royal Knights remained.

"To the castle!" Ghislain shouted.
"To the castle!" the crowd roared back.
Armed with whatever they could find, the enraged citizens followed him, a strange blend of rebellion and uprising. Their numbers grew with each step, their chants of Ghislain’s name shaking the streets.

At that moment, a lone figure stepped into Ghislain’s path.
"Hmm?" Ghislain murmured.
Ghislain blinked several times, his eyes narrowing at the sight of someone who shouldn't have been there.

"Bishop Porisco?"
The archbishops and bishops of the four major churches in the capital had long fled. The priests who had chosen to stay behind for the people had all been captured and executed.
Naturally, Ghislain had assumed Porisco would have escaped as well. That cunning man wouldn’t have stuck around.

Yet here he was, still in the capital.
Porisco looked haggard, his frail body showing signs of starvation as tears welled in his eyes.
"Y-You’ve really come! You’re really here! I’m saved! I’m saved!"

Ghislain tilted his head slightly, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity.
"Wait, you didn’t escape?"
"I tried!"

"Then why didn’t you?"
"...Because of the children."
"Children?"

Behind Porisco, Ghislain now noticed dozens of ragged children. They looked just as emaciated, their bodies weak and malnourished.
Porisco sighed deeply, speaking with a mixture of frustration and resignation.
"I was about to leave when I saw these kids from the slums fleeing. I... hid them, and... well..."

He trailed off, unwilling to finish his thought in front of the crowd.
"You hid the children?" Ghislain asked, his tone skeptical.
"...Yes."

When the king had ordered the slums to be razed, Porisco had been packing his belongings to flee. But just as he was about to leave, a group of children had cried out to him.
"Saint! Please save us!"
Porisco, who had grown a taste for the title "Saint" ever since meeting Ghislain, couldn’t bring himself to ignore them.

He’d hidden the children in a secret chamber within the temple and planned to escape on his own. However, he’d missed his chance and ended up trapped with them instead.
Porisco had been lying low, waiting for an opportunity to flee, when he heard the commotion from the streets and decided to step outside.
The reaction he encountered was beyond anything he’d expected.

"Hurray! The Saint has saved the children!"
"As expected of a true servant of the divine!"
"I knew you’d come through!"

The crowd erupted into cheers for Porisco. They marveled at his bravery, staying behind when most priests had fled, to protect the children.
"Who else but a true saint would do such a thing?"
Porisco looked utterly bewildered.

"...?"
The truth was, he’d only hidden the children because he didn’t have the heart to turn them away. He’d left them with some dried provisions, thinking they’d survive long enough on their own. He hadn’t intended to take responsibility for them.
But now, seeing the crowd’s reaction, Porisco quickly adapted. He wasn’t one to waste an opportunity.

With an exaggerated expression of solemnity, he raised his voice.
"How could a servant of the divine abandon innocent children?"
"Hurray!"

"If not me, who else would face damnation on their behalf?"
"Hurray!"
"Today, in the name of the divine, I shall hold the unjust king accountable!"

"HURRAY!"
Ghislain stood silently, watching the display with mild amusement. As always, Porisco was a slippery man who could turn any situation to his advantage.
Sighing, Ghislain gestured for one of the defense knights to approach and issued a command.

"Distribute the food supplies to the children and those who are starving."
"Understood, my lord."
As Ghislain prepared to march toward the palace, Porisco hurriedly followed behind him.

"Wait! Take me with you!"
"Why?" Ghislain asked with a raised brow.
"I’m the only bishop left in the capital! I will bear witness to the king’s crimes and officially declare support for Marquis Ferdium. It’s the will of the Juana Church! I’m the Saint now!"

"Oh?"
Ghislain nodded. While they would forcibly place Zvalter on the throne regardless, having the support of a church bishop would add legitimacy to the act. Priests were the natural judges for a king accused of sacrilege and corruption.
Porisco’s support would help suppress dissent among the nobles and bolster their claim to authority.

"Very well, come along."
"That bastard king is finished! Damn it, I’ve suffered too much because of him!"
Porisco grumbled curses under his breath as he followed Ghislain. Any fear he had of the situation was long gone—he’d seen firsthand what Ghislain was capable of. The man had even driven the cultist priests from the capital before.

With Porisco exuding newfound confidence, Ghislain and the Fenris forces led the masses to the royal palace.
Standing in their way was a small contingent of defenders, the last remnants of the royal guard.
"Halt."

At their head stood Count Phalantz, the Captain of the Royal Knights, his expression as hard as stone.
"Hmm."
Ghislain chuckled lightly as he dismounted his horse.

Even with the combined forces of the palace defenders and the Royal Knights, their numbers were pitiful compared to the Fenris Cavalry and the raging crowd. The palace soldiers looked visibly terrified, and even the knights were tense.
Phalantz knew this. It was why his face was so grim.
Ghislain drew his sword, the blade gleaming with ominous energy.

"We meet again, Count Phalantz."
"Tch."
Phalantz ground his teeth, the memory of his humiliation at Ghislain’s hands flooding back. He had once been robbed of his prized possessions by this man.

But as much as it stung, he couldn’t deny Ghislain’s prowess.
The kingdom’s army, which had been their greatest hope, had betrayed them, siding with Marquis Ferdium instead. This wasn’t just due to Marquis Ferdium’s charisma and reputation—Ghislain’s unprecedented achievements played a far larger role.
Phalantz couldn’t help but feel regret.

"I should have eliminated you when we dealt with Marquis Branford."
"If you had, the king would have died back then," Ghislain replied coolly.
"You insolent..."

Grinding his teeth again, Phalantz stared into Ghislain’s piercing eyes.
"I’ll give you a choice," Ghislain said coldly. "Fight or surrender. But even if you surrender, you’ll die."
The Captain of the Royal Knights was too dangerous to leave alive. Ghislain, who normally valued capable individuals, couldn’t afford to show mercy to someone as loyal to the king as Phalantz.

"Haa..."
Phalantz exhaled heavily. The situation had completely turned against him. Even escape was impossible. He had underestimated the speed of the Fenris forces, believing them to be days away.
It felt as if everything had played into Ghislain’s hands.

But what could he do? As Captain of the Royal Knights, he had sworn loyalty to the king. He couldn’t abandon his post or his men.
However, he wouldn’t let his knights die needlessly. There was only one way out.
Phalantz pointed his sword at Ghislain.

"I challenge you to a duel, Count Fenris."
If he could just kill this man, there might still be hope.