The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations

Chapter 139: Wait and See (2)

Before he knew it, Rosalyn, who was standing next to Ghislain, quietly laughed.

“Hehe, the Baron is quite popular, isn’t he?”

Ghislain shook his head with a weary expression.

“This kind of popularity, I’d rather pass on it. With the way they’re staring at me, it’s like I’m about to get burned.”

“Everyone has seen for themselves that I’m better now, and they’ve heard the announcement that my father has become your patron, so they won’t just stay still. They’re all itching to move, but they’re holding back, for now.”

“That’s why I said I was fine without the banquet. Now I’m going to be even more famous.”

Rosalyn let out a small laugh at Ghislain’s grumbling.

Opportunities like this banquet, where one could build connections regardless of factions and hierarchies, were rare.

Yet here he was, genuinely finding this precious opportunity bothersome. The more she saw him, the more fascinating he seemed.

“Still, you should greet those who came specifically to see you, Baron.”

“Yes, I should.”

Ghislain let out a sigh, tinged with discontent.

Despite everything that’s going on, he was still the main focus of this banquet.

Now that he had formally joined hands with the Pro-Royal Faction, it was necessary to greet those who were now on the same boat as him at least once.

It was a relief that all the key representatives of the Pro-Royal Faction were gathered here, so he wouldn’t have to approach each of them individually…

But the problem still remained—who to greet first among them.

Even within the Pro-Royal Faction, there were still divisions.

They were united under the goal of opposing the duchy, but that didn’t mean their interests and tendencies completely aligned.

Ghislain subtly glanced at the representatives of each faction.

“I’m already acquainted with the Count and Countess of Aylesbur.”

The faction led by Mariel was firmly entrenched in the capital’s business sector.

It was essentially a gathering of nobles who could rival anyone when it came to wealth.

“Over there is Count Billow Norton…”

The eldest son of the kingdom’s Chancellor and the Chief Justice of the capital, representing the kingdom’s bureaucrats.

Given that they controlled the laws and administration, the political influence of this faction was bound to be formidable.

“Even Marquis Maurice McQuarrie is here.”

The kingdom’s Master of Arms and the Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Army.

This faction, responsible for the kingdom’s military might and was backed by most of the army’s commanders who followed Marquis McQuarrie.

“It means the power of Marquis Branford is strong enough to bring in such big names to the banquet.”

Most of the high-ranking nobles who controlled the kingdom’s administration, military, and finances were gathered here.

These people were, without a doubt, the key players who moved the powerful Ritania Kingdom.

While it was reassuring to have such solid support behind him, at this moment, he couldn’t help but curse the Marquis’s influence.

“Hah…”

A long sigh escaped Ghislain’s lips.

No matter whom he greeted first, it was obvious the others would feel slighted.

Given the immense power each of them held, earning their ire could lead to troublesome consequences in the future.

As soon as Mariel’s eyes met Ghislain’s, she covered her mouth with her fan and smiled sweetly.

It was evident that she was curious to see how he would act.

‘Tsk, it must be entertaining for the spectators.’

Ghislain shook his head and shifted his gaze.

Count Billow Norton, who had been whispering with the Minister of Protocol from the Cardenia Market, smiled when their eyes met.

Everyone in the capital knew that he doted on his niece, Rosalyn. It seemed he had developed a favorable opinion of Ghislain because he had cured Rosalyn’s illness.

On the other side of Billow stood Marquis Maurice McQuarrie, his arms crossed and his beard bushy.

‘Ah, dealing with someone like that when they’re sulking is a real headache.’

Even the Marquis of Branford wasn’t stepping in to mediate, as if he was keen to see what Ghislain would choose.

‘Ah, seriously, they’re going all out, huh? Fine, I’ll do it.’

Ghislain made up his mind and took a step forward. All the nobles watched him, tense and attentive.

He approached Count Aylesbur and bowed politely. While Mariel held the real power, officially, it was Count Aylesbur who was the head of the family.

“I’m Baron Fenris. I look forward to your support from now on.”

“Oh, yes, yes. I, too, look forward to it. If you ever need my assistance, just say the word.”

“Thank you.”

Count Aylesbur smiled with satisfaction.

He was generally regarded as being a notch below the other faction leaders.

But now, Ghislain, who had the backing of the Marquis of Branford, had chosen to greet him first.

This gesture greatly enhanced the Count’s prestige. It was a gift more valuable than any gold or treasure.

Enough to make him forget all about that withered mandragora root.

“Hoho, my younger brother is truly loyal.”

As Mariel gently waved her fan and laughed, Ghislain shrugged.

“You shouldn’t call me that in a formal setting.”

“Oh, what does it matter? Anyway, thank you for saving our dignity.”

Ghislain let out a sigh and grumbled.

“What’s so important about that dignity…? Ah, this is really exhausting.”

“Still, if you’re planning to settle in the capital, you’ll have to get used to it. This time, too. We’re grateful, but you’re going to find things quite bothersome from now on.”

Mariel covered her face with her fan, moving her eyes to gesture towards Maurice.

He was glaring at Ghislain, making no attempt to hide his displeasure.

“Ahem!”

Maurice cleared his throat loudly, making sure Ghislain could hear him.

‘How dare he disregard someone who controls the kingdom’s military might!’

It was already unpleasant to be associated with a faction like the Aylesburs, who merely dabbles in money. To think he would be pushed down in priority to them was something he had never imagined.

“A country bumpkin who’s only good for business, huh? Birds of a feather flock together.”

“Still, if he has any sense, he’ll come to see you second, Marquis.”

The nobles nearby tried to soothe Maurice.

However, their efforts were in vain as Ghislain turned to speak to Billow next.

Billow, seemingly unbothered by being the second, greeted him with a constant smile.

“Thank you so much for treating Rosalyn. Her mother was worried sick, but thanks to you, we’ve been able to put our minds at ease.”

“I’m glad things worked out well.”

“I heard what you requested of the Marquis. I’ll do my best to expedite the issues with the slave trade and taxes.”

“Thank you for your consideration.”

Watching the two chat, Maurice’s face turned red with anger, and he kept huffing with indignation.

Being pushed to the background—when all the influential nobles of the capital were gathered—what a disgrace this was!

When Ghislain approached him belatedly, Maurice scowled and spoke sharply.

“As the son of Margrave, it should be obvious that you would come to me, the kingdom’s Supreme Commander, first. Do you northerners not know what’s important?”

“I still have much to learn. Please teach me more in the future.”

Ghislain’s calm response only made Maurice grind his teeth in further frustration.

“Don’t get too full of yourself just because the Marquis of Branford is backing you. I can cut you off whenever I want.”

“I will do my best to ensure that never happens.”

“I’ll be watching.”

Leaving behind the growling Maurice, Ghislain returned to his seat.

“Ahem!”

Maurice, unable to hide his displeasure, kept downing his drink.

It was bad enough that the Marquis of Branford was supporting a mere country bumpkin, but meeting him in person was even worse.

Beside the seething Maurice, the other nobles busied themselves trying to calm him down.

“I suppose it’s because he has a close connection with the Countess of Aylesbur.”

“Aren’t Count Norton and the Marquis of Branford related by marriage? Baron Fenris probably had no choice.”

Although they kept glancing at Maurice’s unpleasant expression, they subtly moved away from him.

The banquet was meant to introduce Ghislain, but it was also an opportunity for the other nobles to build connections and relationships.

After returning to her seat, Rosalyn lowered her voice and asked Ghislain, who was drinking water.

“Did you have a reason for the order you approached them?”

“…I just went where I felt like going.”

“Hehe, it didn’t seem that way.”

“But it’s true.”

“Well, it does suit you, Baron.”

Ghislain and Rosalyn’s conversation didn’t last long.

As the atmosphere relaxed, the nobles, who had been watching for the right moment, swarmed towards the two.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Baron Fenris.”

“This is a small gift.”

“Please take care of me in the future. I am…”

The nobles flocked to greet Ghislain, some even offering him gifts.

Of course, Ghislain didn’t reject any of them and accepted everything.

Naturally, it wasn’t because they genuinely respected him.

Their eyes were laced with subtle disdain.

“Don’t act all high and mighty, you country bumpkin. We’ll get you back later.”

“A vulgar merchant, that’s all you are.”

No one truly acknowledged Ghislain, who had suddenly appeared on the scene.

Most of those approaching him were merely trying to use him to establish a connection with the Marquis of Branford.

Ghislain was aware of the atmosphere, but he didn’t care.

There was no need to waste effort on people who meant nothing to him.

“Ugh, this is such a pain. I just want to go back and rest.”

But it wasn’t as if he could leave just because he found it bothersome.

For now, he had no choice, but to let the time pass by politely interacting with the nobles.

Even though Ghislain didn’t care much about appearances, that didn’t mean he would go out of his way to tarnish his reputation—he simply had no interest in building a good one.

Once the round of greetings from the nobles was over, a group of young ladies from prominent families flocked towards him.

To them, Ghislain was an enticing target.

Rather than following their family’s orders to marry some strange man in an arranged marriage, it was a much better choice to charm the country bumpkin right in front of them.

“His background isn’t great, and he’s just some country noble, but he’s still a lord, isn’t he? He’s young, and he looks decent.”

“The conditions are a bit lacking, but if the Marquis of Branford is backing him, he won’t be easily ignored.”

So, they all surrounded Ghislain, eager to engage him in conversation.

“Do you have a fiancée or… someone you love, Baron?”

“No.”

“Then, do you plan to get engaged or start seeing someone?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, you should! You’re such a tease!”

“No.”

Ghislain answered them halfheartedly, his expression showing how utterly tired he was of it all.

But it seemed that even this was seen as a refreshing charm, different from other men.

The young ladies giggled and continued to bombard him with questions.

At some point, Rosalyn, who had been pushed to the back by the young ladies, covered her face with her fan and ground her teeth.

“Hold it in, hold it in. It’s a good day, after all… No, but these ill-mannered fools!”

Some were having fun, some were jealous, some were gossiping, and some were sneaking curious glances at others—it was a scene typical of any noble gathering.

At least until an uninvited guest appeared.

The servant guarding the door announced a name in a trembling voice.

“…The Viscount has arrived!”

Thud.

As soon as that name echoed throughout the hall, everyone who had been chattering suddenly went silent.

“Did I hear that right?”

“No way, we must have misheard.”

People forced awkward smiles as they stared intently at the door.

Click… click…

A gaunt, stern-looking middle-aged man slowly entered the ballroom.

One of his legs was severely bent, so he was using a cane.

However, the air he exuded was solid and intense enough to overshadow that physical flaw.

Click… click…

The only sound that filled the silent hall was the tapping of the cane.

The Marquis of Branford’s eyebrows twitched as he glared at the man entering.

Ghislain’s expression hardened the moment he saw his face.

He suppressed the murderous intent bubbling up from deep within him.

“That bastard…”

Though he was seeing him in person for the first time, Ghislain had heard that name countless times in his previous life.

A man known as the “Limping Devil,” notorious among his enemies for his cunning and ruthless schemes.

“Raul Joseph, the Viscount!”

The man, a close aide and strategist of the Delfine Duchy, had appeared at the gathering of the Pro-Royal Faction, their political rivals.