Chapter 344: Let’s Make the Return Easier (3)

"Guh… you crazy bastard…"

Martin, coughing up blood and foam, stared in disbelief even as he was dying.

King of Mercenaries? He had never heard of such a title, nor could he imagine one existing.

It was well-known that Count Fenris was a madman. Naturally, everything coming out of his mouth sounded insane.

'How could I be this unlucky?'

Martin couldn't believe he was dying at the hands of a lunatic.

"My father… will… definitely kill you all… tear you apart…"

Spitting out curses until the end, Martin finally breathed his last amidst the agony.

The Drake Mercenaries stared at Martin's corpse with heavy expressions.

Though exacting their revenge was satisfying, they couldn't help but worry about the aftermath.

Ghislain, however, seemed unconcerned, smiling as he turned to Dominic.

"How do you feel? Better now?"

"Yes… it's refreshing, but…"

"No need to worry so much. What kind of mercenary gets this timid? We'll fight and win later if we have to."

"…."

Killing the son of the most powerful noble in the west and not worrying about it seemed absurd.

Dominic realized just how vast the difference between himself and Ghislain was.

So vast that Ghislain seemed somewhat unhinged in comparison.

Thud, thud, thud, thud!

Just then, the sound of hooves grew louder as a group of soldiers approached.

Dominic shook off his thoughts and mounted his horse.

"Prepare for battle!"

At his command, the mercenaries formed ranks and gripped their weapons.

The approaching army consisted of the city guards and Martin's private troops.

Arriving before the mercenaries, the captain of the city guards glared at Dominic and snarled.

"Dominic! You've finally caused trouble! Where is the young lord?!"

Dominic turned to Ghislain and gave a slight nod.

"Allow me to handle this from here."

Then he threw Martin's corpse at the captain, shouting:

"He held my family hostage and killed them, so I killed him. This was rightful vengeance."

"What? What?! Are you insane?!"

The captain's face turned pale.

The young lord of Marquis Rodrick's house, slain by mere mercenaries?

If this wasn't resolved properly, the entire city guard could face severe punishment.

"We… we must kill these bastards right now…"

The captain couldn't finish his order, cowed by the menacing aura of the mercenaries.

'If we fight, we die.'

Though the city guards numbered nearly a thousand, the Drake Mercenary Corps had close to two thousand, even with some members still out on missions.

As the largest mercenary group in the west, the Drake Mercenaries were highly experienced and carried an intimidating reputation.

'If we fight, we'll lose. Even if we win, it'll be a near-total annihilation.'

Truthfully, the captain wasn't confident they could win.

Most of his troops had little to no combat experience.

For ordinary people, mercenaries like the Drake Corps were not to be trifled with.

'What do I do?'

Returning empty-handed would mean death, but fighting would also mean death.

The captain's conflicted expression betrayed his inner turmoil as he hesitated to make a decision.

Seeing this, Dominic spoke with a relaxed expression.

"Report it as a disappearance."

"What?"

"Most people don't know what's happened here. Say the young lord went on an outing with the dead knights and soldiers and never returned. Isn't that simpler?"

"…."

The captain swallowed hard, unable to respond.

Though it might buy time, Marquis Rodrick was not someone easily fooled. Eventually, an investigation would uncover the truth.

As the captain hesitated, Dominic continued persuading him.

"You don't have any other options. Either you fight and die here, or you confess and die later at the Marquis's hands. Isn't it better to buy some time and figure it out?"

"…Ugh."

"Just keep everyone quiet. No one wants to die, so they'll stay silent."

"But it'll eventually come out."

"Then blame it on us. Say we kidnapped him."

Even then, the punishment would likely be death. Marquis Rodrick was a ruthless man.

Still, delaying death seemed preferable to dying immediately.

They could manipulate and hide information for as long as possible, then flee if it seemed like the truth would come out.

"Fine, I understand."

The captain ultimately accepted Dominic's proposal.

Martin was not a leader worthy of loyalty. The captain could only move to protect his own life.

Ghislain glanced at the city guard and Martin's private soldiers, smirking.

"Pathetic compared to the north."

No matter how wealthy or powerful they were, complacent soldiers lacked loyalty, zeal, and the will to fight.

Even the infamous Count Cabaldi's troops in the harsh north were better.

They, at least, had the fighting spirit to try their luck in a battle.

The soldiers' failings weren't entirely their fault.

The nobles who ruled them were to blame, having mistreated their people for generations.

While the Marquis's personal forces might be an exception, the state of other territories was likely no better.

Thanks to the captain's agreement with Dominic, the situation was resolved without a fight.

Dominic raised his hand and addressed the mercenaries.

"Let's move."

Most of the Drake Mercenaries had already packed their belongings.

Soon, news would reach the remaining members stationed elsewhere, and they too would prepare to relocate to Fenris.

There was no point in staying, as Dominic's actions had ensured they would continue suffering under the Marquis if they remained.

Watching the mercenaries leave, the captain suddenly asked Dominic a question, his curiosity piqued.

"So… where are you all going?"

Since word would eventually spread, Dominic didn't bother hiding it.

"Fenris. We're heading to Fenris."

"Fenris…?"

The captain had heard rumors.

It was one of the most talked-about territories recently—home to the northern saint and notorious scoundrel, Count Fenris.

Mounted on his horse, Ghislain turned to the captain and said:

"I am Count Fenris. These people are under my protection now, so if the Marquis has any complaints, tell him to come find me."

"…."

Looking at him closely, the captain recognized him as the man who had kidnapped Martin.

He seemed skilled but slightly unhinged. The captain decided to feign ignorance.

Ghislain smirked, and Dominic, watching this exchange, couldn't help but laugh.

Who would believe that a noble from the north had come all the way here to cause such chaos?

With that, the Drake Mercenaries departed, while the defense forces burned Martin's body to erase evidence.

As they headed toward Fenris, Ghislain turned to Dominic and asked:

"How will the auction for my items proceed?"

"….."

Dominic hesitated, caught between truth and temptation.

The opportunity to secretly obtain the belongings of one's idol was too enticing.

Seeing his hesitation, Ghislain gave him a sharp look and repeated:

"Well? Speak up."

"….Yes."

In the end, Dominic confessed everything—the method of contact, location, and the process, leaving nothing out.

Ghislain listened, occasionally sighing and clicking his tongue, nodding as he processed the information.

For the first time, he couldn't wait to return to his territory.

***

"Come on, we need to work all night if we have to. We're short on supply!"

At a building in the territory, Claude was bustling about, urging people to work faster.

He was currently overseeing the production of The Chronicles of Count Fenris – The Second Campaign of Forest of Demonic Beasts.

A group of scribes worked diligently under Claude's direction, writing furiously.

Watching them, Claude smiled in satisfaction.

"Haha… do you know how much money this is worth?"

It had started small.

A few merchants mentioned that the Count was gaining popularity and discreetly asked if his belongings were available.

Having lived a busy life confined to the territory, Claude hadn't paid much attention to such things.

But upon learning that the Count had a sizable following, he immediately had an idea.

"Merchandise related to popular figures always sells well. Hahaha."

Knowing this, Claude began a secret enterprise to capitalize on the Count's popularity.

He didn't embezzle or misuse the territory's resources. Instead, he worked openly, earning money legitimately, and had no qualms about it.

'Convincing Wendy was the hardest part.'

Claude glanced at Wendy, who was biting her nails nervously.

Seeing the usually unshakable Wendy so out of sorts brought him immense satisfaction.

'Hehe, you're stuck now, too. What can you do about it?'

Claude had carefully planned this operation.

His first step was to document the Count's accomplishments.

When Wendy saw him writing, she had asked:

"What are you doing?"

"Recording the lord's deeds. Isn't that what people do?"

He wasn't wrong.

Noble families often recorded their achievements, sometimes even embellishing them.

The issue wasn't the recording itself.

"Why are you writing it yourself?"

Typically, such work was done by appointed scribes, not the head butler.

But Claude shamelessly replied:

"Everyone's busy, and no one writes better than I do. I'm a master of both penmanship and prose."

Claude insisted it was part of his duties, and Wendy couldn't argue.

She couldn't stop him outright, especially since he claimed it was necessary.

Meanwhile, he instructed scribes who handled official documents to create identical copies of his writings.

Though suspicious, Wendy accepted his explanation that they were to be distributed to multiple people.

Using his authority as head butler, Claude steadily diverted the Count's items.

He also did a lot of suspicious things.

"Oh, I, the head butler, have to check the lord's clothes? The ceremonial management isn't something that only the head maid can do."

"Bring the lord's weapons. I have to check their condition."

"Hmm, these don't look so good. Set them aside. I'll send the workshop for any shortcomings."

"Oh, tell the head maid to send the ones that need to be thrown away here. I'll have to check them one last time."

He convinced others it was necessary for his work, fooling everyone around him.

Claude's trusted aides helped him handle and secretly sell these items.

Initially, managing the secrecy was challenging, especially hiding it from Wendy. In addition, he secretly spread rumors to his followers through merchants.

'Haha, this was a critical moment, but we got through it safely.'

It was hard at first, but after his confidants figured out Claude's intentions, everything was communicated with just a nod.

Eventually, Claude's efforts bore fruit, leading to the creation of a clandestine auction house.

Though it started small, the operation grew.

By the time Wendy discovered it, it was too late—the items were sold, and the auction house had expanded significantly. Claude had used his brilliant mind to deceive everyone in the territory and created a new business.

Wendy was left biting her nails.

'What should I do? How should I report this?'

It wasn't embezzlement or exploitation.

Claude had built a legitimate business, using the profits to hire workers.

He was cunning enough not to touch anything Belinda might take back.

He only sold items deemed disposable.

Even so, Wendy knew selling the lord's belongings was wrong.

But the scale of the operation made it difficult to take immediate action.

Claude glanced at Wendy's expression and laughed to himself.

'Hehehe, you're secretly weak-hearted, aren't you? It'll be hard to report it since there are so many people involved.'

Everyone, from the scribes to the sellers, was working without sleeping. Since they were all doing it willingly, there was no reason to stop it.

Wendy had no idea what to do about this.

It was a mistake, but it wasn't a big mistake. In some ways, she could have just turned a blind eye and let it slide. She had to stop it now, but the atmosphere wasn't easy.

Claude whispered to Wendy.

"Just let it go. It's too late now. Besides, you've been watching this unfold without doing anything for a while, haven't you?"

Wendy glared at him, but Claude simply turned away, grinning smugly.

He was infuriating.

Claude wasn't just involving scribes; he had also mobilized artists.

"Alright, the writers are hard at work, so let's get all the painters together!"

The artists gathered, and Claude inspected their work before scowling.

"Why are the portraits so exaggerated? People are complaining they're too unrealistic!"

The painters bit their lips, feeling wronged.

Claude was the one who insisted on making the portraits overly flattering, yet he feigned ignorance now that there were complaints.

He was shameless.

"Redo them! This time, tone down the artificial beauty."

"Y-yes, sir…"

"Anyway! We've received a lot of refund requests and reorders. Scrap everything you've done so far and start over!"

"But… we've already made five hundred copies…"

"Five hundred, five thousand, doesn't matter! This is about credibility! Work through the night if you have to!"

The painters turned pale.

The man who cared least about credibility was now shouting about it. They wanted to punch him.

Claude clenched his fist and shouted enthusiastically:

"Come on, let's push through! We can do it if we try!"

Little did he know, someone was indeed on their way to deal with him.

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