The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Chapter 225: It Does Taste Good. (1)

The retainers nodded in agreement when they heard Ghislain’s grand-scale road construction plan.

Seeing this, Ghislain asked curiously.

“Why aren’t you opposing this time?”

Claude answered nonchalantly.

“Well, roads are better when they’re wide and smooth, aren’t they? Roads are like the lifeblood of a territory.”

No one was unaware of the importance of roads. The development of roads enabled active commercial exchanges between regions and fostered economic growth.

From a military perspective, roads were also vital. For rapid troop movements and supplies, well-maintained roads were essential.

It was just that in the northern regions, where survival itself was more urgent than road construction, it hadn’t been given much attention.

Claude roughly gauged something while looking at a map and then continued.

“The scale of the project is too large; it’ll take some time. Connecting all the way to the Northern Fortress won’t be easy.”

“I’m aware. But we must find a way to connect it. Only then can we establish a seamless collaboration with Ferdium. There’s no problem with starting the project, is there?”

“There are plenty of idle hands around. But this will cost us a fortune in food and money again. When on earth are we ever going to save money?”

“I’m better at spending money than saving it. And I like spending it much more.”

“…”

With such an outright statement, there wasn’t much to argue. Besides, revenue from cosmetics and food payments was steady, and soon there would be surplus meat to sell, ensuring more income to match the spending.

However, acquiring the materials needed for road construction would require spending more money at once than usual.

“I’ll summon the merchant guilds again. We can’t sell meat just yet, but we have plenty of food. Since food prices haven’t dropped yet, we can use that money to secure the necessary construction materials.”

“Good. Don’t hold back on spending. Speed is the priority. Got it?”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I’ve already figured out your style, Lord.”

Claude muttered complaints about the usual nagging but withdrew to carry out his tasks.

To align with the abruptly decided plan, Claude summoned the merchant guilds earlier than the scheduled date.

Currently, the most thriving area in the North was the Fenris Estate. At Claude’s gesture, the northern merchant guilds flocked like clouds.

‘Ah, this is power. This is the thrill of being a slave to authority.’

It wasn’t just about them rushing over at a single summons. They brought bribes and bowed their heads deeply.

Claude used his influence to coerce them into procuring resources in bulk once again. With food and iron ore in abundance, there was nothing he couldn’t acquire.

If an estate or a merchant guild didn’t have resources to offer, Claude relentlessly demanded their population or skilled workers instead.

After all, there were plenty of other needs for territory development aside from roads. Since the development pace was so fast, making purchases slightly earlier than planned wasn’t an issue.

Amidst the busy trades, the head of a relatively large merchant guild came to visit him.

“Greetings. My name is Brandel.”

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Claude tilted his head while reviewing the guild’s information.

“Hm? It seems this is your first time doing business with us.”

“Yes, our main activity is centered more in the eastern regions. However, we’ve also handled some fairly significant trades in the North.”

Indeed, the report Lowell had brought confirmed this. After a quick assessment, Claude asked.

“Alright. We don’t turn away any guilds that come to us. I assume you’re here to trade food?”

“Yes, that’s correct. I heard rumors that this place is overflowing with food supplies. So, we decided to try making a deal this time.”

“Well, we are a bit pricey… How much are you looking to purchase?”

At Claude’s words, Brandel handed over a piece of paper with a sly smile.

“This much, if possible.”

“…What?”

The quantity Brandel requested was the largest amount Claude had ever seen, surpassing the combined transactions of every other guild they had dealt with so far.

The volume of this single transaction was greater than what ten other guilds would trade in total.

Claude, still in disbelief, asked again.

“Are you really planning to trade this much?”

“Yes. I heard you’ve been purchasing a lot of materials. Let me know what you need, and we can adjust accordingly. Alternatively, payment in gold coins works for us as well.”

Brandel’s relaxed smile made Claude swallow dryly. Securing such a large amount of resources in one go would certainly make things easier for them.

The rapid pace of development had caused resources to deplete quickly.

“…This is post-payment, right?”

“Of course. Our guild has a strong reputation for credibility. You can verify the goods we bring before handing over the food. However, there’s one condition.”

“A condition?”

“Since this is our first transaction and involves such a significant sum, I’d like to meet with the lord directly to finalize the deal.”

“Why?”

Claude asked, his expression incredulous.

All transactions had to go through him anyway. To insist on dealing directly with the lord seemed like an insult to his position.

Brandel glanced around nervously before replying.

“Well… considering the amount involved… and, um, the rumors about you, sir. But if we establish a long-term relationship, I’ll handle future transactions with you directly.”

At those words, Claude found himself speechless. Over time, he had accepted more than a few bribes while stocking the territory’s warehouses.

If Ghislain’s new title was “Grain King of the North,” Claude’s was “Bribe King of the North.”

‘Damn it… This is so unfair… I didn’t even take most of it…’

No one else would know anyway. Claude shook his head a few times, then displayed a sullen expression.

“Please wait a moment. I’ll go speak with the lord.”

Having nothing to say about the reputation involved, Claude immediately went to report to Ghislain.

From Ghislain’s perspective, there was no harm in the matter. After all, the quicker and larger the acquisition of resources, the better.

When a deal of this magnitude was proposed, it was only polite to make a personal appearance at least once.

“But the name feels somewhat familiar… Bring me the records.”

Ghislain checked the information on the Brandel Merchant Guild, smirked slightly, and nodded.

“Ah, I remember now. It’s them, isn’t it?”

“Are you familiar with them?”

“Well, more or less.”

Still smiling, Ghislain crumpled the document and tossed it behind him as he spoke.

“Agree to their terms. When they bring the goods, I’ll personally step out.”

Brandel, upon hearing Ghislain’s promise, left with great joy.

A few days later, Brandel returned with an overwhelming amount of resources that were urgently needed by the estate.

When Claude saw it, his jaw practically dropped. He could never have imagined that such a large quantity would be gathered in just a few days.

Seeing Claude’s stunned expression, Brandel inwardly sneered.

‘Heh, take a good look while you still can.’

Brandel was a man sent by Count Desmond to assassinate Ghislain. Naturally, the resources he brought were all items that had been stockpiled across various locations in Desmond’s territory.

Count Desmond was determined to kill Ghislain, even if it meant abandoning all of these goods.

Brandel spoke to the dumbfounded Claude.

“Then… shall we wait here? Does the lord personally inspect the goods?”

“Um, I’m not sure… I’ll let the lord know that you’ve arrived, Mr. Brandel.”

Brandel stacked the resources in an area a little ways away from the castle. Given the sheer volume, moving them into the castle would have taken the entire day and still not been enough.

In such cases, it was customary to handle the transaction outside. Both the manpower and the time required for transport cost money.

Brandel had anticipated this and had gathered as many usable resources as possible.

As Claude disappeared into the castle, Brandel set up a negotiation table outdoors and gestured to the dozens of workers who had come with him.

Most of them were Desmond’s knights or assassins hired specifically for this task. Only a few were actual workers tasked with moving the goods.

Four individuals stood close to Brandel, ostensibly as guards, while the others spread out to secure potential escape routes.

‘Let’s see how many people he brings.’

It wouldn’t matter how many came. In the end, to sign the contract, they would need to stand close to him.

“I hear he’s quite skilled. Let’s see how long he can last.”

Brandel smirked confidently.

He was an advanced knight. Even if Ghislain was as strong as the rumors suggested, Brandel believed that a surprise attack with the surrounding assassins would be more than enough to secure victory.

After finishing all preparations and waiting a short while, Ghislain appeared, accompanied by only a few guards.

Brandel became certain of his success.

“What a reckless fool! They said he was fearless, but to bring just this handful of guards!”

Around Ghislain were only a few knights, including Gillian. It seemed as though Brandel and the nearby assassins alone could eliminate him.

Even so, Brandel forced himself to calm his racing heart. There was no need to rush when a more certain method of killing him was available.

It was because of this cautious and composed nature that Harold had entrusted him with such an important mission.

“Welcome, my lord. I am Brandel.”

“Oh, you really brought a lot! I think we’ve gained a great new trading partner.”

“Of course. First, why don’t you check the goods?”

With Ghislain’s nod, several administrators began inspecting the supplies. Given the sheer volume, it was naturally going to take some time.

Brandel politely gestured toward the table.

“Please, take a seat while you wait. You could review the contract in the meantime.”

“Sure, let’s do that.”

Ghislain sat down and examined the contract. It was neatly written, with no discrepancies from what he had anticipated.

“Hmm, doesn’t look like there’s any problem. Let’s work well together going forward.”

“Of course, my lord. I’ll count on you as well. These days, it’s been so difficult to secure food supplies.”

Brandel made casual conversation, and his skilled banter elicited a few amused nods from Ghislain, who seemed entertained.

“Ah, it’s an honor to meet you in person today. In celebration of this major deal, I’d like to offer you a fine drink. Think of it as a commemorative gesture.”

“A drink? What kind?”

“It’s the ‘Red Dragon,’ one of the continent’s finest specialties. Would you like to see it?”

“Oh, really?”

The Red Dragon was a high-quality liquor so rare that even high-ranking nobles couldn’t easily obtain it. Its value wasn’t just in its price but in its extreme scarcity.

Refusing such a drink would be impolite. Ghislain readily nodded his agreement.

“Hah, simple-minded fool. I guess anything expensive must seem good to you.”

Smiling, Brandel began preparing the poisoned drink.

In truth, poisoning was a notoriously unreliable method of assassination.

The biggest challenge with poisoning is getting the target to ingest it. A poison strong enough to kill instantly often had noticeable signs.

Odd colors or smells were a problem, and poisons that were too potent sometimes caused food or drink to corrode visibly.

Even if all those issues were resolved, nobles rarely consumed anything given to them without caution. Servants typically tasted it first, making successful poisonings a rare occurrence.

But this poison was different.

“It won’t matter even if the servants taste it first.”

It had minimal effects on ordinary people, reacting only to mana.

The more mana one possessed, the stronger the poison’s effect became. Even an advanced knight would struggle to suppress the poison, leaving them unable to use their full strength.

The only drawback was its pungent smell, but Brandel had mixed it with an even more potent liquor to mask it.

This poison had been painstakingly developed by a ducal family, with fewer than five bottles successfully produced. The process was so complex and resource-intensive that mass production was impossible.

Harold had handed this precious poison to Brandel without hesitation, driven by his sole determination to kill Ghislain.

“In front of the lord, I’ll drink first.”

To avoid suspicion, Brandel filled a glass with the amber liquor and downed it in one gulp. Having already taken the antidote, a single glass posed no threat to him.

He then politely poured the drink into the glass in front of Ghislain.

“The taste is excellent. If you’re uneasy, you don’t need to drink it. I’ll leave it as a gift for you to check at your leisure.”

Brandel didn’t mind if Ghislain chose not to drink it. At this distance, he could succeed with a surprise attack even without the poison.

If one of the nearby knights drank it first and showed any adverse reaction, Brandel planned to strike in the ensuing chaos.

As Ghislain gazed at the glass, he let out a slight chuckle.

“It does look good.”

He picked up the glass and began drinking it slowly.

The knights nearby stood around indifferently, their expressions bored and unperturbed.

Watching the scene, Brandel unconsciously clenched his fist slightly.

“Hah, foolish idiots. I heard discipline here was a mess, and it’s true. Their lord is drinking something of unknown origin, and they’re just standing there watching.”

Ghislain drained the glass completely and placed it back on the table with a light thud.

“Wow, this is the second strongest drink I’ve ever had. What is this stuff?”

Brandel’s expression darkened, and the workers around him exchanged sharp glances.

Then, to Brandel’s shock, Ghislain poured himself another glass and drank it down in one gulp.

“But it’s good.”

Brandel inwardly celebrated Ghislain’s seemingly foolish action of drinking more without knowing what was in it.

“You’re done for! To think this would be so easy—heaven must be helping us!”

Even if Ghislain was an advanced knight, two glasses of the poison would be nearly impossible to endure. Despite having taken the antidote, Brandel could already feel his stomach churning uncomfortably.

Just as Brandel raised his hand to signal the attack, Ghislain casually poured more liquor into Brandel’s glass and spoke.

“You have another.”

“Pardon?”

“Have another drink.”

Brandel’s face froze, his expression stiffening at the unexpected turn of events.

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