CHAPTER 158: I Will Handle This Myself (4)

People were working so hard because they didn't know war might break out.

If they discovered they would have to fight against the great lord, Count Desmond, they'd drop everything and flee without a second thought.

However, once they had their own homes and a stable life, their reactions would inevitably change.

'By then, they'll want to protect what's theirs. Other territories won't treat them as well as our lord does. They'll have no choice but to fight to protect Fenris. …Surely this wasn't part of his plan, was it?'

Ghislain hadn't planned it that way. He simply did what was necessary for the estate's development.

But his actions had unexpectedly led to good results.

Claude studied Ghislain with a mix of admiration and suspicion before voicing his concern.

"For now, we've solved the timber issue, but… in a few months, we'll face similar problems again. Other materials are also running low."

"At least we have enough for the current projects. We'll deal with the rest when it comes. What else are we short on besides timber?"

"Iron, of course. It's used everywhere. Most of it is being allocated for weapons and armor since war preparations are urgent. But the amount set aside for household items and construction is already gone."

"Securing iron ore will be tough, won't it?"

"Yes, even if we had the money, iron ore is hard to come by. Most of the northern supply is controlled by Count Cabaldi."

Ghislain nodded thoughtfully before muttering to himself.

"Alright, it's time to move to the next step."

"What next step? We're already drowning in preparations. What are you planning now?"

Claude asked in alarm, but Ghislain responded casually.

"If we don't have it, we'll just have to get it. Especially iron—it's essential for war."

"You managed to bring timber from Perdium, but where are you going to get iron ore? Perdium doesn't have any mines, either."

"Don't worry. I have a plan. I'll explain it soon."

"Ah, a plan. Of course, you do."

Claude didn't bother hiding his exasperation as he nodded.

Ghislain always had a plan.

The problem was that his plans were often bizarre and completely unconventional.

'Please let this one not be life-threatening. I just want our lord to be a normal person for once.'

Claude silently prayed to the goddess.

***

While the estate bustled with activity, Ghislain's former subordinates from his past life began to arrive one by one.

Mercenaries, soldiers, butchers, executioners, hunters—their professions and skills were as varied as their backgrounds.

Those who had been struggling to make ends meet readily accepted Claude's offer of stable work and good pay.

A lord offering a secure job with decent wages? Who wouldn't come?

As Claude reviewed the list of new arrivals, he asked Ghislain curiously.

"Most of the information you provided was accurate. But how did you know their locations and backgrounds? None of them seem to know who you are."

Claude was genuinely baffled. How could a countryside noble like Ghislain know about a butcher in another kingdom?

Despite Claude's repeated questioning, Ghislain always gave vague answers.

"I just happened to know."

Even if he admitted it was knowledge from his past life, no one would believe him. So, Ghislain brushed it off every time.

This only deepened Claude's suspicions.

What made it stranger was Ghislain's reaction whenever these people arrived. He greeted them as though reuniting with long-lost friends.

It was no different this time.

"You're here! I'm so glad to see you! I've missed you!"

The new arrivals looked bewildered at the lord's overly warm welcome.

They had come with high expectations, drawn by the favorable conditions offered. But to be greeted so enthusiastically by someone they'd never met was unsettling.

Noticing their discomfort, Ghislain chuckled knowingly.

'I knew they'd find this odd, but I can't help it. I'm too happy to see them.'

In his past life, they had bonded while crossing the line between life and death together. But now, they were strangers.

Not that Ghislain cared. He justified his unfiltered excitement as simply being honest about his feelings.

Beside him, Claude watched with a mixture of disgust and pity before speaking up.

"That's the last of them. Out of the 128 people you listed, 92 accepted and came here."

"No one else is coming?"

"Some couldn't be found, and others outright refused. There's nothing more we can do."

"Still, it's a shame we couldn't bring everyone."

"This is already a miracle. Most of them came because they were in dire straits. How did you manage to pick out so many struggling people?"

Claude's voice carried genuine wonder.

Most of them were so desperate that they left their homes without hesitation for a chance at stability. How Ghislain knew about them—and why they all shared such poor circumstances—was a mystery.

Ghislain answered nonchalantly.

"Life's tough. That's why they were all willing to risk it."

"…What?"

"Gather everyone who came. I want to see them all together."

"Understood."

When the recruits were assembled, Ghislain looked at them with an emotional expression.

Seeing them all in one place felt almost like being reunited with his mercenary company from his past life.

Seeing them individually was one thing, but seeing them as a group stirred something deep inside him.

'To think I can stand with all of you again…'

Though Ghislain had been hailed as the Mercenary King, not all his mercenaries were loyal or righteous.

In fact, most were rough and unrefined, as mercenaries tended to be.

That's why Ghislain had been meticulous when compiling the list.

He had chosen only those who had been his closest comrades—those who had stayed with him until the bitter end.

Mercenaries who chose loyalty over money, foolish as it seemed.

Those who didn't flee even in the face of death, standing firm until the last battle.

Though they had all died alongside him in the end…

It was thanks to them that Ghislain could dream of vengeance and press forward.

Ghislain approached each one, embracing them tightly.

"I'm sorry."

The recruits looked bewildered. From the start, this lord had been acting strangely, but now he was apologizing for something they didn't understand.

'Is this estate… okay?'

Despite their unease, Ghislain continued to hug each person, repeatedly apologizing.

His gratitude for them was as immense as his guilt.

It wasn't because they had died for him. Death was a constant companion in a mercenary's life.

What mattered was how they died.

'I failed.'

His guilt stemmed from one thing: his impatience had led to rash decisions and a rushed war fueled by vengeance.

The continent's most formidable mercenary company had been obliterated because of Ghislain's haste.

'I'm sorry.'

Their valor and pride had been reduced to the ridicule of their enemies. The name of Ghislain's mercenary company was erased, leaving no honorable legacy behind.

All that remained were the marks of defeat and scorn.

Though this hadn't happened in this life, as their leader, Ghislain felt compelled to apologize to his comrades who had perished so meaninglessly.

It was his final apology as the Mercenary King.

And it was also a vow—to never repeat the same mistakes.

'There will be no second defeat.'

Yes, this time would be different.

These men and women would grow stronger, faster than before, and their names would resound across the continent.

Ghislain would make sure of it.

He chuckled as he looked at their puzzled faces.

For a moment, he had been overwhelmed by emotions from his past. But that was enough sentimentality.

Composing himself, Ghislain explained their duties and the benefits they would receive.

"You've already been briefed. As promised, you'll receive high wages and housing."

These recruits, who had struggled so much in life, craved stability more than anything.

Unlike the settlers, these individuals were hired as Fenris's standing army.

Since they had been promised far better treatment than any other territory, their expectations were high.

After finishing his explanation, Ghislain introduced the individuals who would oversee them.

"You've already met Claude, the head butler. This is Gillian. He'll be your trainer."

Gillian bowed slightly before stepping forward to survey the recruits.

'They all reek of blood.'

He clicked his tongue inwardly, hiding his unease.

These recruits exuded an intensity that set them apart from ordinary mercenaries.

They weren't just rough; they were like wild animals, hungry and dangerous.

'This is going to be exhausting.'

To command such individuals, Gillian knew he'd have to endure countless confrontations and power struggles.

Ghislain introduced the next person.

"This is Belinda, the castle's head maid. She'll handle your living arrangements and comfort."

"Nice to meet you all! My, you all look quite capable."

Unlike Gillian, Belinda smiled brightly, unfazed by their fierce demeanor.

She was simply glad to have more people to fight and work in Ghislain's place.

"And this is Kaor, a mercenary currently in charge of the estate's security."

Kaor surveyed the group with a cocky air. Things could have ended there, but unfortunately, he shared Gillian's assessment.

With his notoriously brash personality, there was no way he would keep his thoughts to himself.

"I'm the local mad dog. Don't cause trouble, keep your heads down, and don't piss me off. If you've got a problem, come to me. I'll break you into pieces."

His provocative words immediately soured the atmosphere.

Gillian shook his head in disapproval, while Belinda covered her face in embarrassment.

The recruits, having lived rough lives themselves, weren't ones to back down. Though they didn't outright rebel in front of their lord, their hostility was palpable.

As the tension thickened, Kaor smirked.

"Is that how it's gonna be? Fine. We'll settle the hierarchy right now. Come on, you bastards. Who's first?"

Kaor stepped forward, exuding killing intent.

In the world of mercenaries, hierarchy was determined solely by strength. Now that they knew Kaor was one of them, the recruits saw no reason to hold back.

Several large, rough-looking men stepped forward, addressing Ghislain.

"It feels a bit rude to fight right after arriving… but may we?"

"With your permission, we'll take turns."

"If I win, can I take his spot?"

Kaor grinned wickedly at their response. His body had been itching for a good fight, and this was the perfect opportunity.

Such situations required swift domination. A few decisive beatings would ensure the rest fell in line.

"Hey, lord. Training is necessary anyway. Leave this to me. I'll whip them into shape."

Kaor's suggestion only fueled the tension further.

The first man to step forward tilted his head mockingly.

"I wonder if killing someone right off the bat is allowed."

"It's usually fools like you who get killed first. I assume you've got some mana if you're this cocky? I don't enjoy beating weaklings," Kaor sneered.

Most people with mana training were knights. And if they had that level of skill, they wouldn't have ended up here.

Kaor's words were a calculated attempt to intimidate.

But instead of backing down, the man bared his teeth in a grin.

"Who needs mana to fight? You're a mercenary, right? Then let's settle this with 'Moriana's Acknowledgement.' I'll tear you to shreds up close. Run now if you're scared."

"You bastard…."

Kaor's face twisted in anger. Hearing that name dredged up painful memories of his defeat at Ghislain's hands.

The two men glared at each other, their faces inches apart, radiating murderous intent.

The moment Ghislain gave the signal, they were ready to draw their swords.

Gillian frowned deeply at the escalating tension.

"You fools dare act like this in front of the lord…"

No matter how unruly they were, this was blatant disrespect.

Gillian could hardly tolerate it. He was ready to drag them all to the training grounds and beat discipline into them.

"All of you, follow me—"

Before he could finish, Belinda suddenly erupted.

"AAARGH! I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE! Are we a gang of bandits or what? Why is the first thing we do FIGHTING? Can't we have some basic manners? You absolute disasters of human beings!"

Her pent-up frustration burst forth like an inferno.

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