Chapter 364: Who's Bullying Who? (1)

Hubert had no choice.

It was clear that Count Fenris had reached the level of a Master. Not only him, but the other disciples had also witnessed his power clearly.

The rumors spreading like wildfire were indeed true.

Undoubtedly, the strongest in the North was now Count Fenris. There was nothing to gain by being marked by such a person.

Hubert quickly regained his composure and tried to salvage the situation.

"Hahaha, Count, you're flustered, aren't you? Oh, there's no such thing between us."

"Right? We're not just acquaintances, are we? If you don't want the supply of runestones and food to stop, we'd better fight together."

"O-of course…"

A flustered Hubert broke into a cold sweat as he smiled. There was no way out now. Without the runestones and food provided by Count Fenris, the Magic Tower would be in shambles.

This was the result of being too dependent on others.

Even so, as Hubert was pondering how to find a middle ground, Ghislain continued speaking.

"Send all the mages, except for a small number needed to protect the Magic Tower, to Marquis Branford. The Marquis will assign them to regions lacking mages."

"Ugh… right now?"

"Yes, immediately."

It seemed there was no escaping involvement in the civil war. Hubert, with tears in his eyes, nodded reluctantly.

'Indeed, nothing comes for free…'

There was no way Count Fenris would have provided so many runestones and food or crushed the Crimson Magic Tower without expecting something in return.

Having received such lavish treatment, there was no choice but to repay it now.

"Well then, see you on the battlefield."

As Ghislain spoke with a smile, a single tear trickled down Hubert's cheek as he nodded.

After tidying up matters with the Magic Tower, Ghislain, supported by Gillian, stepped outside. He needed to return to his territory as soon as possible.

Once outside the tower, they were startled by the sight before them.

Ghislain glanced around, wearing a look of amusement.

"Oh… What's this?"

All the mages of the Scarlet Magic Tower were gathered outside.

When he had first come to sell runestones, even the gatekeeper had ignored him. But now, things are different. The mages were respectfully seeing him off.

And that wasn't all.

Even the people of the Magic Tower City, upon hearing that Ghislain was leaving, had come out to cheer.

"Wow! It's Count Fenris!"

"The Swordmaster of the North!"

"Look over here, please!"

In just one week, word had spread far and wide, and the streets were packed with crowds.

The fact that a Master had emerged from the North was a source of awe and joy for them. Though he was from a different territory, he was still one of their own from the North.

To them, he was nothing less than a hero who had fulfilled their long-held wishes.

Ghislain had crushed the Crimson Magic Tower.

Since most people in the North lived under the shadow of the tower, they naturally harbored resentment toward it.

When Ghislain raised his chin and waved his hand, the crowd grew even more excited.

"Kyaaaa! Count Fenris!"

"From today, I'm your follower, Count!"

"I'm moving to Fenris, too!"

The cheers and applause filled the city. It seemed that Dominic-like followers would only grow in number.

Ghislain chuckled as he watched the crowd cheer.

"Well, it's not a bad feeling."

It was clear he was much more popular than in his previous life.

When he thought back to his previous life, only strange people seemed to take a liking to him.

'Was it because I had too many scars and looked scary? Or was it my profession?'

But then again, what did it matter?

As long as things were going well now, that was enough.

After returning to his territory amidst overwhelming cheers, Ghislain found no time to rest.

As soon as he arrived, Claude approached him with a troubled expression.

"A guest has come. They've been waiting for your return."

"A guest?"

"Someone from the Rodrick Family has been sent."

"Oh…"

They'd come sooner than expected.

It seemed they had already learned of Martin's death.

Still recovering, Ghislain slowly made his way to the audience hall.

After waiting briefly, a group entered.

The emissary, dressed in splendid attire, was followed by knights.

Even in another's territory, they showed little sign of nervousness. Instead, they arrogantly surveyed their surroundings.

The man at the front slightly bowed his head when he saw Ghislain.

"Greetings to the Saint of the North, Count Fenris. I am Tenant, from the Rodrick Family. May the blessings of the goddess…"

"Enough with the long formalities. Get to the point."

Interrupting him with an indifferent expression, Ghislain caused Tenant to glance at him.

'So this is the notorious rogue of the North.'

He was young and seemed impatient. His lack of manners matched the rumors. There was no need to maintain formalities.

Tenant straightened his back and continued.

"The Marquis has sent me with a small request for you, Count."

"What is it?"

"We ask that you hand over the Drake Mercenaries to us."

Tenant's expression showed confidence that Ghislain would naturally comply.

He had never seen anyone refuse a request from the Marquis.

As Tenant looked at him confidently, Ghislain leaned back in his chair and replied.

"Why?"

"We have evidence that they killed Young Lord Martin and fled."

As expected of the Rodrick Family, they were certain and came prepared.

Even so, Ghislain had no intention of handing over the Drake Mercenaries.

He had already taken responsibility for that matter.

Ghislain, a man who never shirks responsibility, responded with a crooked smile.

"Declined. The Drake Mercenary Corps have already been absorbed into the Fenris Mercenary Corps."

"The Marquis has promised great rewards."

"There doesn't seem to be much the Marquis could offer me."

"Are you planning to make an enemy of the Marquis family?"

"If I have to."

"..."

Tenant stared at Ghislain for a moment.

No matter how strong Count Fenris was said to be, he was no match for the Rodrick Family.

The West's economic foundation was entirely different from that of the North.

'Does he not know his place?'

It seemed the title of the North's strongest had made him think he was the strongest in the kingdom.

Even though his request had been rejected, Tenant showed no sign of agitation.

Instead, he discreetly scrutinized Ghislain from head to toe.

'There's a rumor he's at Master-level, but he doesn't look that strong. Pale, sickly, lacking vigor.'

Tenant, who had come as an emissary, was also a knight strong enough to be a knight commander.

He wasn't one to personally handle such matters ordinarily.

But he had been sent to assess the famed Count Fenris's martial prowess with his own eyes.

'The rumors seem exaggerated. The white-haired one next to him looks stronger. Is that Gillian, the so-called White Lion?'

Gillian's reputation, earned from fighting against Desmond's army, was spreading across the kingdom.

It would have enraged Kaor to no end.

After briefly observing Ghislain and those around him, Tenant inwardly sneered.

'His subordinates' exploits have been credited to him. A common occurrence.'

Tenant drew his own conclusions.

Currently, Ghislain was drained of mana and gravely injured.

Unaware that Ghislain had recently fought a 7th-circle mage, Delmud, Tenant judged only by what he saw.

"I acknowledge that you're said to be the strongest in the North. However, opposing the Rodrick Family will bring no benefit. I'll ask one last time: are you willing to hand over the Drake Mercenaries to us?"

"None."

Ghislain's succinct answer left Tenant without any lingering regrets. As a loyal vassal of the Rodrick Family, the strongest power in the West, Tenant carried immense pride.

Naturally, groveling to negotiate with someone was unthinkable for him.

"…Then Rodrick and Fenris will be enemies from now on."

"Suit yourself."

"Until we meet again on the battlefield."

Tenant bowed his head and turned to leave. As he exited, he observed the expressions of the Fenris vassals once more.

'What's with these people?'

This was practically a declaration of war from the Rodrick Family, the strongest power in the West.

Even without initiating a full-scale war, the Marquisate had enough power to harass and ruin the Fenris territory.

Yet not a single person's face showed any tension. Everyone seemed indifferent, as if saying, "Let them do as they please."

Tenant's observation was accurate. The vassals of Fenris all shared the same thought:

'Let them attack or not.'

They were going to fight anyway.

'We've heard so many threats that we're not scared anymore.'

So far, everyone who had fought Ghislain had died. The Fenris vassals were even preparing for an eventual battle against the duchy.

Naturally, they weren't intimidated by the thought of fighting the Rodrick Family.

Their past experiences had hardened them to the core.

Tenant, displeased by their lack of reaction, muttered under his breath as he left the great hall.

"Crazy bastards."

It seemed they would only come to their senses after seeing some power.

For lunatics like them, the only cure was the rod.

Of course, Tenant wasn't the only one thinking along those lines.

Claude, watching Tenant's retreating figure, quietly murmured,

"There are just too many people who won't learn until they're hit."

Wendy glanced at Claude's face.

It was hard to tell who he was talking about.

***

"That brat refused?"

"Yes, he seemed prepared to fight if necessary."

"Ku-ku-ku…"

Hearing Tenant's report, Marquis Rodrick chuckled.

The chair he sat on was enormous and ornate, designed to accommodate his disproportionately large body.

However, no one dared laugh at the Marquis's appearance.

Marquis Rodrick was the overlord of the entire West and the second-most ruthless figure in the kingdom.

After chuckling deeply, his chins wobbling, Marquis Rodrick spoke.

"So, what's your impression after seeing that brat in person?"

"It seems the rumors were somewhat exaggerated."

"Exaggerated, you say?"

"I could barely sense any mana from him. His face looked pale, and he seemed physically weak. However…"

"However?"

"The people around him all appeared to be quite formidable."

"They say that brat was active in the North, and there's even talk that he's near the level of a Master. That's confirmed by all the intelligence agencies in the kingdom. Many have even witnessed him fighting."

"That's why I find it all the more puzzling. From what I saw, he didn't seem that strong."

Marquis Rodrick fell into deep thought at those words.

Tenant was a high-level knight, one of the strongest in the Marquisate. If he had assessed Ghislain in person, his observation might be more accurate than the rumors.

But Marquis Rodrick, as greedy and ruthless as he was, was also profoundly skeptical.

"There's no way such rumors would spread without reason. Whether it's magic or something else, he must possess a power that isn't immediately obvious. Treat that brat as if he's the North's finest sword when devising strategies. Got it?"

"Understood."

Tenant, despite having his firsthand report dismissed, offered no argument.

Although a sense of disdain had seeped into his heart, he kept it hidden.

After mulling over Tenant's report for a while, Marquis Rodrick turned to his strategist and asked, "What about raising an army and simply crushing them now?"

"The civil war is imminent. Why not move in concert with the duchy?"

"Tsk-tsk… That brat just refused my request. Do you expect me to leave him alone? And once the civil war begins, we must seize the capital first. When will we have time to head to the North?"

Marquis Rodrick showed no anger over the death of his son.

He was far more incensed that Ghislain had the audacity to refuse his demands.

His true goal was to reclaim the Drake Mercenaries and make an example of them.

It wasn't grief over his son's death; it was to show everyone that anyone who dared challenge the Rodrick Family would pay dearly.

To achieve that, he needed to deal with them now. If he killed them after the civil war began, the impact would be diminished.

The strategist, visibly tense, hesitantly offered advice.

"The duchy's strategy is to blockade the North and swiftly seize the capital and the East. If we provoke a fight, it will devolve into a territorial war."

"And why should that matter?"

"Pardon?"

"That worthless brat couldn't even properly manage his mercenaries, yet he's handed us the justification for a territorial war. Why should we avoid it?"

"W-well, that's true, but…"

"Of course, it'll be challenging since he's holed up in the North. I plan to lure him out with the right provocations first."

"What kind of provocations?"

"Isn't that brat's cosmetic business thriving across the kingdom?"

"Yes, it is. Even the nobles of the West are buying his products."

"Good. Start by targeting the largest merchant guilds bringing those products to the West."

The strategist's face turned pale.

"T-that's a joint venture with Marquis Branford. If we touch it, Marquis Branford won't stand idly by."

"Is Marquis Branford stronger than me?"

"..."

The strategist fell silent, unable to respond. Marquis Rodrick narrowed his eyes, glaring at him.

"He's just another pawn leveraging the royal family to wield power. Do you truly think he's stronger than me?"

The Rodrick Family was the largest noble house in the West, controlling key territories and immense wealth.

Marquis Branford might wield influence over the royal army, but Marquis Rodrick believed he could seize the kingdom on his own if he rebelled.

Such was the immense power he commanded.

He had only tempered his ambitions and allied with the ducal house because the ducal house was stronger.

"Even if Marquis Branford intervenes, it doesn't matter. If need be, I'll personally incite a civil war."

A cruel smile spread across Marquis Rodrick's face.

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