Chapter 347: Time to Prepare (3)

For a few days, Ghislain observed the situation in the territory. The expansion of the Forest of Demonic Beasts territory was progressing well in Perdium, and the newly acquired resources were being secured without any issues.

Since the foundations for territory development and businesses were already in place, all that was needed was steady progress.

In particular, the production of equipment had increased compared to before, thanks to the acquisition of Desmond's territory and the recruitment of skilled blacksmiths.

Satisfied that everything was proceeding smoothly, Ghislain spoke to Claude.

"We'll need to set up a new facility soon."

"...What kind of facility?"

"Fairy's Blessing, we've accumulated quite a lot of them now, haven't we?"

"Yes, even though we're collecting them cautiously and in small amounts, we've still managed to gather quite a bit."

Fairy's Blessing was highly valuable in itself, but its rarity made it an even more expensive medicinal herb. In Fenris territory, they had amassed enough Fairy's Blessing that releasing them all at once would significantly drop market prices.

"Let's set up a potion-making facility."

"Ah, I figured as much."

Claude nodded without surprise. The reason Fairy's Blessing was expensive was that it was used in high-grade medicines as well as potion manufacturing.

Ever since Ghislain instructed Claude not to sell the Fairy's Blessing and to keep it in reserve, Claude had suspected that they would eventually be used to make potions.

Potion manufacturing was one of the main sources of income for mages, with some mage towers even specializing in potion-making as their primary focus.

"It would be best to assign the mages in shifts."

"Exactly, we also need to proceed with construction."

Fenris territory had quite a number of mages. Ghislain had even established a mage research lab to attract them, but they ended up participating more in construction work than research.

Now that the groundwork for territory development was laid, it would be wasteful to use such high-value personnel solely for construction. It was time for Fenris to start producing its own magic tools and other items.

As the first step, Ghislain ordered potion manufacturing.

After quickly formulating a plan in his head, Claude responded.

"I'll set up a large potion-making facility next to the mage research lab."

"Good. You know why we're doing this, right?"

"It's for war, isn't it?"

At those words, Ghislain laughed. It was convenient that he no longer had to explain everything in detail.

In the past, Claude might have suggested selling the potions to make money.

"Fine. Make sure every soldier has at least two potions during wartime."

At this command, Claude felt dizzy. To meet such a demand, tens of thousands of potions would be needed.

It was a task so enormous that even several years' worth of budget from a major territory wouldn't be enough. No matter how large a territory, none had the capacity to stockpile that many potions.

"Uh, that's nearly impossible in the short term, isn't it?"

"We have plenty of materials, and we'll keep getting more."

"It's not the materials, it's the manpower…"

"Keep them working. There's no other way."

"..."

While the number of mages was slowly increasing, producing that many potions would leave them sleepless and overworked. Claude realized he'd need to actively recruit more mages.

After assessing the situation and issuing the new orders, Ghislain said to Claude:

"Keep everything running smoothly. I'm going out for a while."

Claude asked with a resigned look on his face.

"You've just returned, and now you're leaving again?"

"There's too much to do. I have to act while I still can. I need to move quickly."

Weakening the power of the duchy required a lot of effort. Ghislain had to move whenever an opportunity presented itself.

Claude scratched his head. In truth, he didn't mind the lord being away for long periods.

"So, how many people will you take with you this time?"

"I'll only take Arel."

"What? You're going without proper attendants? What are you even planning to use Arel for?"

"I plan to train him further while we travel. By the way, prepare some fake IDs. There are places I need to visit secretly."

Claude narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Going somewhere secretly often meant doing something dangerous or illicit.

Noticing his expression, Ghislain shrugged.

"I'm going to the south."

"Then, could you at least cancel my slave contract before you get yourself killed?"

The south was controlled by the duchy. If Ghislain appeared there, they'd waste no time trying to kill him.

"That's why I'm asking you to make fake IDs. I'll be in disguise. Besides, I'm not going deep into the south—just near the border. Don't worry too much."

"What are you going for?"

"Partly to weaken enemy forces and partly for some personal matters."

Ghislain roughly explained the type of ID he needed.

Though still suspicious, Claude nodded without further protest. After all, Ghislain's actions were always confident, regardless of how reckless they seemed.

Under Belinda's supervision, preparations for the journey were completed in no time. By now, no one tried to stop the lord's eccentric plans.

'Everyone just accepts it as normal now, which is convenient but also a bit…'

With a wig, fake beard, and a counterfeit noble's ID in hand, Ghislain turned to Arel.

"Let's go."

"Yes, my lord!"

The two departed the territory with only a small amount of luggage loaded onto a modest carriage.

***

At first, they traveled comfortably along wide roads, but as they approached the south, the paths became rougher and the number of travelers dwindled.

"Ugh!"

During this time, Arel endured daily torment disguised as mana training from Ghislain. To him, it truly felt like torture.

Although he was improving, the pain remained unbearable.

The timing was never predictable either. Ghislain would suddenly mutter:

"Hmm, now's the perfect time."

And then it would begin. No matter the location, Ghislain didn't care.

Even now, they were in the middle of the road when Ghislain grabbed Arel to forcefully instruct him on mana cultivation.

"Argh!"

As always, Arel coughed up blood and collapsed.

Though he no longer fainted like before, the pain was still intense.

While Arel lay resting, a group of rough-looking men approached from down the road.

"Hey, what're you doing bullying your friend out here?"

"Don't you know this is our turf? Even if you like scamming your buddy, you can't do it here."

"Wow, talk about being unethical. Guess we'll have to teach you a lesson."

The men were bandits who operated in the area. Seeing Arel coughing blood, they were convinced.

'These two are weaklings!'

Bandits weren't stupid. They observed travelers closely, avoiding knights or capable fighters who might cause them trouble.

This time, however, the targets seemed easy. The carriage was plain, one of the pair was vomiting blood, and the other didn't look particularly threatening.

Confident, the bandits revealed themselves to rob them.

"Alright, here's the deal. Leave the carriage and walk away, or die here. Just so you know, we love killing."

"Hmm."

Ghislain nodded as he studied the bandits.

Although they were at the southern border, this area served as a buffer zone between the royalist and southern regions. Naturally, the lawlessness here was extreme.

The local lords, aware of the poor security, chose to neglect it, knowing it would likely become a major battlefield in future conflicts.

As a result, bandits, brigands, and other outlaws roamed freely.

Struggling to his feet and wiping his mouth, Arel asked:

"Are they bandits?"

Arel's eyes gleamed as he spoke. Having witnessed his village's massacre by barbarians, he harbored a deep hatred for those who plundered others.

Ghislain nodded.

"Yeah, bandits. The usual types you find in quiet places like this."

"Why do they do it?"

"That's just how they are."

Ghislain replied matter-of-factly, then smiled and asked Arel:

"Do you want to handle them? Can you move?"

"Yes, after resting a bit, I feel better."

The bandits numbered about five, likely scouts.

When Arel drew his sword and staggered forward, the bandits burst into laughter.

"Hey, what's a sickly guy like you doing here?"

"Can't even walk straight, but acting all tough."

"Let's just kill him and take the carriage before anyone else shows up."

Still smirking, the bandits approached Arel with their weapons drawn.

The first bandit charged with an axe, swinging it carelessly.

"Die, you sick bastard."

Slash!

"…?"

Before he could fully swing, the bandit's head was severed. His face was frozen in confusion as he fell.

Thud!

Arel, still staggering, moved closer to the remaining bandits.

"What the—?"

The other bandits froze, startled. The sickly-looking man who could barely stand had just killed their comrade instantly.

"This bastard!"

Believing it to be a fluke, another bandit rushed forward with his sword.

Arel swayed, seemingly unsteady, and narrowly avoided the attack.

Slash!

Arel's sword struck again, this time leaving a deep gash in the bandit's chest. Despite his shaky movements, Arel's strikes were precise.

— You must always be able to wield your weapon accurately, no matter the situation.

This was the first lesson Ghislain had taught him, and Arel held onto it firmly, striving never to forget.

"Uh… uh?"

The remaining bandits hesitated, retreating slightly. Despite his frail appearance, the man killed with every swing of his sword.

The bandits exchanged uneasy glances. While three of them could likely overpower him, whoever went first would surely die.

"Hey, you go first."

"No way, you go."

"I'll cover you from the side."

As they bickered, Arel continued to approach, step by deliberate step. He never let his guard down, even against mere bandits. Ghislain had taught him to always stay vigilant, regardless of his condition.

Step, step.

The closer Arel got, the further the bandits retreated, still unable to make the first move.

Finally, one of them turned and shouted:

"You! Stay right there! I'm bringing reinforcements!"

The remaining two quickly followed.

"Yeah! Just wait here!"

"You're dead meat, you sick bastard!"

They assumed that Arel, stumbling as he was, wouldn't be able to pursue them.

Indeed, Arel was in no condition to run after them.

As the bandits walked away confidently—

Bang! Bang! Bang!

All three collapsed with their heads blown apart. It wasn't Arel's doing; he didn't yet possess that ability.

Instead, Ghislain had quietly laid mana threads in advance and detonated them.

As the lifeless bodies fell, Ghislain clicked his tongue and approached Arel, patting him on the shoulder.

"Good job. It seems you've been practicing your swordsmanship diligently."

"Thank you."

Arel lowered his head without a word. Watching him, Ghislain smiled contentedly.

In his previous life, he hadn't taken on disciples, but he had trained many subordinates. Among them, none had pleased him as much as Arel.

It wasn't about talent—he'd had subordinates with far greater natural ability than Arel.

What set him apart was his perseverance. His silent, relentless effort and determination were truly admirable.

Such qualities were rare, and Ghislain cherished him for it.

While he couldn't always devote his attention to him, he had taught him the highest levels of swordsmanship and mana techniques.

After dealing with the bandits, the two resumed their journey leisurely.

Their itinerary was simple: train while traveling, rest at villages when they found them, and procure food for the next stretch.

Occasionally, bandits or monsters would appear, and Arel would deal with them as part of his training.

Finally, after some time—

"We've arrived."

Standing at their destination, Ghislain gazed at a distant castle and murmured.

They were at the southern border, in a remote corner of the region. Despite its isolation, the territory was vast and not to be underestimated.

The ruler of this land was Count Mowbray, a neutral noble who hadn't aligned with any faction.

Among other nobles, the prevailing assumption was that Count Mowbray would eventually kneel to the duchy due to his geographic position.

What was peculiar, however, was Count Mowbray's near-total absence from public affairs. He hadn't always been like this, but at some point, he withdrew entirely.

As a result, his territory had little interaction with others.

The closer they got to the castle, the more Arel felt something was off.

"This territory is… very quiet."

"Yes, the lord is dealing with some unpleasant matters. Naturally, the people are living cautiously."

"Unpleasant matters?"

"You'll find out soon enough. We're here to resolve them."

Count Mowbray was a steadfast neutral lord, unafraid even of the duchy. He declared that as long as no one interfered with him, he would neither assist nor hinder any side.

But in Ghislain's previous life, he eventually joined the duchy after they resolved a troublesome issue for him.

As they approached the castle gates, the soldiers' gazes grew more hostile. They were visibly wary of outsiders.

Ghislain paused the carriage briefly and gazed at the sky above the lord's castle.

At first glance, nothing seemed unusual, but upon focusing his senses, he detected a faint aura enveloping the castle.

It was reminiscent of the energy he'd felt in his past life.

Although much weaker now, it was unmistakable.

"We've come to the right place."

Ghislain smiled. It was time to seize a new source of power.

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