A Mercenary’s Rebirth Among Nobles

“A threat? And what benefit would doing something like that bring him?”

At his aide’s hypothesis, Marquis Bernhardt frowned.

Threatening one or two weak lords can be quite an effective method.

It forces them to bow their heads on their own and allows unnecessary battles to be avoided.

But going around issuing threats in the west, which is another man’s front yard, would only turn him into a public enemy.

No matter how weak they may be, if they are met with excessive hostility, they will inevitably band together to resist.

“To begin with, the west is nothing more than enemy territory to him. And you’re saying he would deliberately earn the antipathy of the western lords anyway?”

“That is… perhaps he is trying to take advantage of your proposal, Marquis…”

“Take advantage of my proposal?”

“As long as the duke has been invited in the name of House Roglan, he is your guest. For other lords to attack the duke would be practically equivalent to opposing you.”

Since ancient times, the safety of a guest has been the absolute responsibility of the host.

If a guest is harmed or threatened, it is considered outright incompetence on the part of the host.

In other words, unless one intends to openly oppose the host, one must not lay a hand on the guest.

“In the west, there is no force that would dare oppose you, Marquis. In that sense, the duke’s safety is practically guaranteed.”

“And what does that matter? If he comes with five thousand soldiers, no one would dare touch him anyway, with or without my protection.”

“That is true. But precisely because that pretext exists, the other lords would not have a perfect excuse to save face, even if the duke enters their domains with troops.”

If they were to pressure Lucian lightly, they could end up making Marquis Bernhardt their enemy as well.

For lords who did not want to appear cowardly, that was hardly an ideal pretext.

Even if they lacked both the strength and the will to resist, it was obvious they would later justify themselves by saying they endured it for the sake of the marquis’s honor.

“Seen from the other side, they bear no responsibility to stop the duke. The only one with the power to restrain him is you, Marquis. But if the duke runs rampant through the west…”

“Then I would become a useless man incapable of protecting even my own front yard. And by contrast, he would be seen as someone with the power and influence to do whatever he wants in the west.”

The marquis, anticipating the rest, spoke through clenched teeth.

At last, he understood Lucian’s intentions.

“Does he intend to step on my head?”

When a faction grows enormous, something just as important as actual strength is prestige.

If that prestige is damaged and no proper retaliation is shown, outside forces will inevitably think, “He’s weaker than he looks.”

Factions that had been willing to submit will begin to show resistance, and talents who had intended to join will change sides.

That was exactly what Lucian was targeting now—prestige.

He wanted to demonstrate his superiority by making it clear to the world that Marquis Bernhardt was inferior to him.

“He’s still a slippery bastard. Damn him.”

“But there’s no way to avoid it. The duke will advance no matter what we say. If we want this to end relatively peacefully, we have no choice but to accept a certain loss and move according to his intentions.”

“…No. There is a way.”

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of starting a war?”

At the marquis’s murmur, the aides flinched and cried out in alarm.

As had already been said, five thousand soldiers is an ambiguous number for a war of occupation.

Each victory forces troops to be split off for defense, increasing the risk of being defeated piecemeal.

For that reason, if the marquis limited himself to defending, he could face an army of five thousand with a clear advantage.

But if he were the one to attack first and a pitched battle broke out, the situation would change.

“It’s dangerous. The enemy is a large army, and in a direct confrontation it can deploy overwhelming force. If we’re unlucky, we could be the ones defeated.”

“Moreover, if we lose even a single battle, there will be no way to recover the lost prestige. Please reconsider.”

Alarmed, the aides hurried to dissuade Marquis Bernhardt.

The duke was no fool, so he would not force himself into a war of occupation unnecessarily.

He would likely be satisfied with a single victory and then return to the north.

The real problem was that if they lost in an actual battle rather than a political game, the relationship of superiority and inferiority would be fixed permanently.

Unlike politics, where losses can be minimized by appealing to legitimacy, the outcome of a battle cannot be hidden.

Amid the protests coming from all sides, Marquis Bernhardt let out a nasal laugh.

“Stop spouting nonsense. When did I say I’d confront an army of five thousand head-on?”

“…Huh?”

“There’s no need to fight him. I’ll make him wear himself down and go back to the north.”

Marquis Bernhardt smiled, baring his teeth.

So he’s coming to the west with an army of five thousand just because he received an invitation from the marquisate?

‘Fine, come. If you can.’

An army of five thousand men entails an enormous maintenance cost.

If he gets stuck in one place, how long do you think he’ll be able to hold out?

***

After notifying the House of Marquis Roglan, Lucian set out for the west as soon as the preparations were complete.

Five thousand soldiers and three hundred knights, in addition to a great mage and the Swordmaster of the current era.

Since the chaos began, it could be said that this was the largest army assembled by a single faction.

Naturally, there was no way such a large force could avoid passing through other territories.

With a small elite unit it might have been possible, but a massive army had limited routes.

It was a situation that could earn the resentment of other houses, yet Lucian advanced without hesitation.

“If I start considering one by one the circumstances of people I don’t even know are allies or enemies, I won’t get anything done. If I have to prioritize someone, my own circumstances come first.”

“Even so, aren’t you creating too many enemies? There are dozens of other houses’ territories we have to pass through.”

“We’re not attacking anyone, just passing through their lands. What enemies are you talking about? If someone decides to hate me for life over something this trivial, they’re an idiot not even worth keeping an eye on.”

In times of peace, bringing an army into another’s territory is, without question, a hostile act.

It is the same as showing contempt for the territory’s owner, so it would not be strange for them to hold a lifelong grudge.

But in times of chaos, something of this level does not even count as a provocation.

This is a world where the fate of a house can be shaken by a single strike from another faction.

Enemies must be reduced by any means, and when the time comes, allies are urgently needed.

Would anyone really try to fight Lucian just because his army passed through?

Such a person would undoubtedly be a fool whose lineage would not be surprising to see exterminated in less than a year.

“Besides, it’s not like I ignored them outright. I notified them that we would be passing through and gave them the pretext that we had no choice because of the marquis’s invitation. That’s enough.”

“Enough… really?”

“If they have complaints, they can come tell me to my face. That is, if they have the courage.”

Lucian’s words drew laughter here and there. What madman would stand before the king of the north, leading five thousand soldiers, just to complain?

If they did not want their territory reduced to a wasteland by a runaway army, the wisest course was to bow their heads.

Amid the relaxed atmosphere, only the messenger Ernst clenched his teeth in silence.

‘Damn it. I knew he had an impulsive nature, but it’s far worse than I imagined. He doesn’t hesitate at all when it comes to acting. Has he accumulated too much power for his age and lost the ability to see beyond?’

Ernst forced himself to dismiss Lucian’s actions as reckless, the behavior of a novice drunk on power and incapable of reading the future.

However, part of his reason whispered the opposite—that what Lucian was doing was, precisely, the optimal choice in times of chaos.

‘…Leading a great army and crossing territories is humiliating, yes, but at the same time it’s an alarm clock that yanks the lords out of their dreams and drags them back to reality. Just imagining that five thousand soldiers could attack their territory will make everyone react immediately.’

And above all, they would feel fear toward Lucian, who was capable of committing such a bold act without hesitation.

Among them there would be those who hated him, but also those who, feeling defeated in advance, would lose the will to resist.

In times of chaos, all lords are potential enemies; even a small increase in the latter group brought nothing but benefits.

‘Besides, he keeps blaming everything on the marquis. It’s an excuse that normally wouldn’t convince anyone, but humans tend to deceive themselves to avoid facing embarrassment.’

If he only displayed his strength, even those who wanted to submit to Lucian would feel an inevitable resistance.

Beyond being unable to defeat him, the humiliation would still weigh on them.

But Lucian conveyed, at least in words, that he had no choice because he had been invited by the marquis, asking for understanding.

He gave them someone to blame—everything was the marquis’s responsibility.

It was only a conjecture, but with that small gesture of consideration, the number of lords who would submit to Lucian had probably tripled.

‘Damn it, what am I supposed to do now?’

Unable to prevent his lord’s enemy from gaining benefits, Ernst clutched his head.

He knew there was no other way out, but the frustration was driving him mad.

That was why he did not notice that behind him, the Swordmaster Felicia was watching him with an icy gaze, burning with anger—not at Ernst personally, but at everything that belonged to the House of Marquis Roglan.

***

“Messenger Ernst, how much farther is it to the House of Viscount Lerum?”

“…We’re almost there. We’ll arrive shortly.”

At Lucian’s insistence, Ernst replied with a forced smile.

It was obvious that they could not advance all the way to the House of Marquis Roglan by setting up camp every time.

The distance was considerable, so at times they needed to rest in suitable territory.

Apparently, Marquis Bernhardt had taken this into account and requested cooperation from several houses whose territories lay along the way.

— If the lords of the north arrive with their escorts, provide them with lodging and food. All resulting expenses will be paid by me later.

— Understood.

The heads of each house accepted the marquis’s request without objection.

Before the chaos began, they had built trust among families over many years.

But who could have imagined that this “escort” would turn out to be an army of five thousand men?

Being astonished by expenses that far exceeded any expectations would be the least of it.

In the worst case, they might think the marquis had deceived them and hold a grudge.

‘Please, let it stop at mere surprise. Please…’

Ernst prayed over and over that nothing worse would happen.

If his mistake shattered a relationship with a house with which they had built trust for so many years, it would not end with just losing his head.

It was then, when Lucian had already entered the west and stepped onto the territory of the House of Viscount Lerum.

“Wow, this is surprising. Did you have everything prepared well in advance?”

“…!?”

An exclamation of admiration escaped Lucian; silent astonishment overtook Ernst.

Against all expectations, the House of Viscount Lerum had finished preparing the reception for the great army.

Outside the walls stretched orderly rows of barracks, and they were even cooking food to distribute among the soldiers.

To top it off, the viscount himself had come out to the gates to receive Lucian.

While Ernst was left speechless by the unexpected scene, the head of the House of Viscount Lerum stepped forward and exclaimed.

“Oleg Lerum greets the King of the North! The journey must have been long and exhausting; please rest comfortably in my territory and recover your strength.”