The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Chapter 305: Chapter 304: I Am the Raider King (5)



Marquis Branford remained silent for a moment.

In his mind, he recalled the distant image of Duke Delphine, whom he hadn't seen in many years.

The ever-present serene smile, contrasted by his indifferent eyes. A man whose thoughts were impossible to discern.

Even so, the Duke had once been known for his good reputation. He was widely regarded as kind and approachable, not authoritarian.

But after a certain incident, he became a cruel and ruthless figure. Rumors spread that he had suddenly succumbed to madness, and for a long time, he ceased appearing in public.

Thus, Marquis Branford had no idea what the Duke was doing now. All matters of the Duchy were managed by Viscount Josef, who held actual power.

'Viscount Josef... was suppressing the civil war? Not the Duke?'

Marquis Branford had assumed the current balance was being maintained by the Duke to minimize casualties.

And he believed this was by the Duke's will. Though rumors claimed that Josef was the true power behind the throne and the Duke was a figurehead, he thought no one could completely disregard the symbolic authority the Duke held.

But to hear that Viscount Josef had been persuading a war-hungry Duke to stand down-it was a revelation too incredible to believe.

'I couldn't believe it when I heard he was aiming for the throne.'

In their youth, Marquis Branford and Duke Delphine had studied together at the same academy.

The Duke had little interest in academics. He was more of a dreamer, always lost in thought, preferring solitude and introspection.

When Marquis Branford spoke passionately about politics and power in the kingdom, the Duke would always smile and respond:

- "Does power and politics in this world really hold such meaning? In the end, all of it fades and disappears with time."

- "What nonsense! That's why what we do in the present moment matters! Especially for people like us. How we act can change the lives of others."n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

- "I... wish to see something far beyond."

Unlike the fervent Marquis Branford, Duke Delphine often spoke in ways that didn't match his position and status. Yet at times, his eyes burned with a strange intensity, full of

unidentifiable longing.

For this reason, Marquis Branford never understood Duke Delphine.

Even during their conflict with the Duchy, it was the same. He could never grasp what the Duke was thinking.

He had merely forced himself to accept that perhaps the man had changed with time.

'Enough. I must have misjudged him. It has been many years.'

Decades were more than enough time for a person to change. And now, the Duke was an enemy of the kingdom.

There was no need to understand someone so incomprehensible. Since the Duke didn't appear publicly, it was impossible to know more even if he wanted to.

Who held the power, and what their intentions were, no longer mattered.

"Everyone knows the Duchy aims to seize the throne. We all pretend otherwise, but no one

doubts that the worst-case scenario will lead to civil war."

Marquis Branford's sharp words brought a bitter smile to Count Forwood's face.

"But how many will die is another matter."

"I will not abandon honor for fear of death."

"Even if the war costs countless lives?"

Marquis Branford's cold gaze pierced Count Forwood as he responded.

"Even if everyone in this kingdom dies, the Duke will never become king."

"What value does that hold? Are the lives of the people less important than the royal family?"

"That is my duty."

Grinding his teeth, Count Forwood retorted.

"Lord Marquis, is there anything in this kingdom that happens without your command? You are already the de facto king of this kingdom."

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"The king lies bedridden with illness, and the royal family has long been reduced to figureheads. If the throne simply changes hands, less blood will be spilled."

"Silence!"

Bang!

Marquis Branford slammed the armrest of his chair and glared at Count Forwood with a terrifying expression as he spoke.

"This kingdom is filled with jackals. I defend the royal family because no one else can. Without me, it would have fallen long ago."

||

"I

"Tell the Duke this: If he abandons his ambition and withdraws, I will also step down. But if

he opposes the royal family, I will fight him to the end. Do you understand?"

"...Yes."

Count Forwood slowly bowed his head and retreated.

Marquis Branford was known as the Iron-Blooded Powerbroker. Count Forwood had never expected to persuade him.

This had been his last attempt at negotiation.

"Hah..."

After Count Forwood left, Marquis Branford exhaled deeply.

He was well aware of how he was perceived by the world.

The kingdom's most powerful figure, a man who stood as a king in all but name.

Even the succession of the next king depended on his approval.

It was not his choice, but to protect the royal family, he had no other option. History might record him as a disloyal figure, but that couldn't be helped.

"I've grown old."

Unlike before, fatigue came easily now. It was the toll of engaging in politics for too long.

It was time to properly raise a successor. But his son, who served as a military commander in the eastern territories, didn't meet his expectations.

'Ghislain Perdium...'

For some reason, when he thought of a successor, Ghislain always came to mind. He hadn't intended to push him this far.

Ghislain was still unreliable and worrisome, yet he couldn't think of anyone more fitting.

'If only he'd remain loyal to the royal family...'

The thought brought a wry smile to Marquis Branford's face.

"No, that's impossible."

Indeed, Ghislain didn't seem the type. If anything, he was someone who would topple the

royal family if they displeased him.

"Sigh..."

A sigh escaped him. Whether it was one man or another, none were free of problems.

'If only the Duchy could be destroyed...'

Then, perhaps, it would be time to step down. That was Marquis Branford's small wish.

***

The House of Duke Delphine

No one knew exactly who their progenitor was.

Some said he was the brother of the founder of Lutania, others claimed he was a descendant

of a royal consort, or even a trusted official. There was even a wild legend that he was a

descendant of the dragon who had once protected Lutania.

These were only rumors because all records related to their origin had been lost.

For as long as anyone could remember, the Delphine Duchy had always existed. Its head was always treated as royalty in all but name. It was tradition.

The Duchy was vast, occupying nearly half of the southern region. With abundant resources, it was often referred to as blessed land.

The Duchy had cultivated immense power over generations, thanks to its fertile lands. Yet, no

one from the house had ever harbored ambitions to threaten the royal family or seize the

throne.

On the contrary, the dukes had always avoided public appearances, living in near seclusion. Because of this, countless rumors had come and gone over the years, but the Duchy remained

silent through it all.

Until the current duke revealed his ambitions.

At the center of the Duchy stood a grand, dazzling white castle, Eclipse, the residence of the

Duke.

At the heart of the castle was the Hall of Glory, a chamber with a ceiling so high it dwarfed the grand ballrooms of other castles.

Anyone entering the Hall of Glory couldn't help but feel overawed by its sheer scale.

At the center of the hall was a high dais, upon which sat a single ornate chair.

This throne was reserved solely for the master of the Delphine Duchy.

"So, Harold was defeated?"

From atop the throne, a man spoke with his chin resting on his hand, his eyes closed. His soft,

gentle voice echoed through the hall.

With alabaster skin and flowing black hair, the man appeared to be a young, beautiful aristocrat. This was none other than Duke Ernheart Delphine.

Astonishingly, his appearance was frozen in time, unchanged from his youthful days, when he

had been famed as the most handsome man in the kingdom.

If Marquis Branford were to see him now, he would be utterly shocked. The last time they had met, the Duke had clearly shown signs of entering middle age.

That a man, known to have no knowledge of swordsmanship or magic, could regain his youth

was an unbelievable phenomenon.

Yet, the vassals of the Delphine house accepted it as natural. They had all witnessed the Duke gradually growing younger over time.

In response to Ernheart's question, Raul, known as the Duchy's brain, slightly bowed his

head.

"Yes, he was defeated by Count Fenris."

"Fenris... That's a name I've been hearing often lately. They say he's quite capable?"

"My apologies. I failed to assess him properly."

At Raul's apology, Ernheart nodded several times. He remained seated, eyes closed, a faint

smile playing on his lips.

In the suffocating atmosphere of the hall, Ernheart spoke again, his voice calm and measured. "Kaien, I heard you've seen this Ghislain in person. What was your impression?"

Standing beside the Duke was a middle-aged man with piercing, lion-like eyes and a

towering, iron-like physique.

This was Count Kaien Balzac, the kingdom's finest sword and a swordmaster.

He had encountered Ghislain at a banquet hosted by the Branford family. "Yes, Your Grace. Among his peers, he appears unmatched. Considering his achievements, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to call him a genius. Given more time, none will be able to easily

surpass him."

"I see."

That was all the reaction Ernheart gave. A fleeting curiosity, nothing more.

Silence descended on the hall once more. No one dared to make a sound. After a moment,

Ernheart spoke slowly.

"Raul."

"Yes, Your Grace."

"I am a man who finds joy in waiting for a gift. That is why I've entrusted everything to you

and waited patiently. But now... I'm beginning to feel parched."

"My deepest apologies, Your Grace."

Raul, drenched in cold sweat, bowed deeply. He had overseen everything thus far, so the

blame naturally fell on him.

And there was only one reason for their current predicament.

'Ghislain Perdium... I should have killed him back then.'

The plans he had meticulously orchestrated over many years were unraveling, all because of

one man. His insides burned with frustration.

With Harold's defeat, the northern forces had suffered a major blow. The only silver lining

was that Harold's support had helped Amelia secure Rayfold.

But Fenris's momentum now surpassed that of Rayfold. Retaking the north would require

even more time and resources.

Ernheart slowly opened his eyes. His pupils, narrowing slightly into vertical slits, gave off a reptilian, predatory chill.

"Raul, do you still remain unconvinced?"

"Seizing the kingdom would be as easy as flipping a hand. But there is much to do afterward.

Depleting our talent and forces now would not be wise."

At Raul's desperate persuasion, Ernheart chuckled softly.

"Have we not already lost Harold and the north?" "Others remain. Harold succeeded in sparking rebellion in Rayfold, and—"

"Tsk, you're as fixated on small things as ever."

Ernheart interrupted Raul, his tone dismissive. To him, conquering the kingdom was a mere

"small thing."

Raul could not refute him. To the Duke, most worldly matters were trifles, devoid of meaning.

For Ernheart, everything in life seemed dull and insignificant, little more than a monotonous

routine.

"How much longer must I wait?"

"...Just a little more time, and I will see everything through."

"Very well, if that's what you wish. We have plenty of time."

There was no trace of urgency on Ernheart's face. Smiling as serenely as ever, he entrusted

everything to Raul.

"If there's nothing else, you may leave."

"...We've received a message from 'them'."

"What is it?"

"They're

sending someone who may be of help. Reportedly, skilled knights. They'll act

covertly as our agents."

Ernheart gave a slight nod, his expression still detached and uninterested.

"Do as you will." "Yes, Your Grace."

"You may all leave."

At the Duke's command, everyone departed, save for Count Kaien Balzac, the only one

allowed to remain by the Duke's side.

But even to him, Ernheart gestured dismissively.

"Today, you too may leave."

"Your Grace-"

"I wish to be alone."

At his words, Kaien finally bowed his head slightly and exited the hall.

Shhhh.

Once everyone was gone, the curtains were drawn, and the lights extinguished. The Hall of Glory was soon enveloped in complete darkness, devoid of any light or sound.

In that eerie, oppressive silence, Ernheart sat motionless for a moment before murmuring

softly.

"...I hope 'that day' comes soon."

In the deep darkness, Ernheart's eyes glowed ominously, casting a sinister light.

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