NOVPUBThe emissaries’ moods instantly soured as they realized the price for the food: soldiers. Ghislain’s audacity left them in disbelief.
‘This brat has truly crossed the line.’
‘Who on earth asks for soldiers in exchange for food?’
‘And how many does he expect us to give up? Our lord won’t stand for it, no matter the amount.’
A weakened military force would make it difficult to fend off external threats or maintain control over restless subjects, and for many, soldiers were the backbone of their territories. But with Ghislain’s recent actions, refusing outright seemed risky.
Sensing their unease, Ghislain offered a more reasonable tone.
“Oh, I’m not asking for too many. At least fifty soldiers from the smallest baronies, with larger contributions from larger territories. Let’s keep it manageable for everyone. In return, I’ll provide enough food for six months, adjusted to each territory’s needs.”
The mention of six months’ worth of food caught some emissaries’ attention. Fifty soldiers, while significant for smaller baronies, wasn’t unmanageable. And the value of six months’ food more than balanced the cost.
One emissary from a smaller barony, quick to calculate, raised his hand eagerly.
“We will provide fifty soldiers!”
“Great decision,” Ghislain replied with a nod. “Since you were the first to step up, I’ll make it eight months’ worth.”
“Thank you!”
With this encouragement, the room shifted in Ghislain’s favor. Eager not to miss out, the other emissaries raised their voices.
“We will provide a hundred soldiers!”
“Oh, come on, you’re from a large county. Make it two hundred.”
“Well... if that’s what you ask...”
“Take it or leave it. You’re free to walk out.”
“N-no, we’ll do it!”
Once the first offers were accepted, others scrambled to commit according to their territories’ sizes, each vying to secure the food supply their people so desperately needed.
As Ghislain glanced over the crowd, his eyes settled on a figure fidgeting in hesitation. Smirking, he addressed him.
“Hey there, it’s been a while. How’s your count and aunt?”
The man, who turned out to be the steward of the Rogues County, greeted Ghislain nervously.
“It’s been some time, Baron. My greetings to you.”
The steward was from the Rogues County, where Ghislain’s cousin, Cain, was the heir. Ghislain knew the county was impoverished, not because it defended against barbarians or monsters like Feridium, but simply because it was barren. Despite their poverty, Rogues had supported Feridium in the past. Ghislain hadn’t forgotten this loyalty.
“Well, since we’re family, I can’t be too harsh. I’ll give Rogues a full year’s worth of food.”
“Oh... oh, thank you!” The steward’s face lit up with gratitude.
Other emissaries looked on enviously, though none dared to question Ghislain’s decision. With Rogues Count’s wife being a sister to Feridium’s earl, there was a clear familial bond.
“However, just for formality, I’ll take one soldier.”
The steward, still beaming, eagerly agreed. “Of course! Just one soldier in exchange for a year’s food is more than fair.”
Ghislain’s grin turned sly. “Send Cain. He still owes me a thousand gold.”
“Cain owes you a thousand gold?” The steward blinked in confusion, visibly flustered.
“Yeah, borrowed it and never paid it back. It’s disheartening; that’s family for you.”
The steward’s expression shifted to disbelief. Ghislain’s reputation as a troublemaker was well-known, and Cain’s involvement in pranks and escapades around the estate was no secret either. However, he was unsure if Ghislain’s claim was genuine.
“Is that... truly so?”
“Cain hasn’t told you?” Ghislain asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“No, lately, he’s been quietly studying.”
“Studying?” Ghislain chuckled. “You actually believe that?”
The steward’s gaze fell. Cain’s recent seclusion had puzzled the household, though many chalked it up to him maturing. In reality, Cain had shut himself away out of fear. He couldn’t bear to admit his debt to Ghislain, nor could he find any way to repay it. Hiding away, he hoped to wait out the storm.
“Well, you can confirm it yourself,” Ghislain said. “The condition is simple: send Cain here if you want the food.”
“This... but... how could I...” Sending the count’s heir to Fenris was akin to offering him as a hostage, a choice far beyond the steward’s authority.
Seeing his hesitation, Ghislain’s tone softened, though his words remained firm. “Discuss it with the count. He knows of my recent achievements. This isn’t a punishment—it’s an opportunity. Cain will train and study alongside me. We’re cousins, after all.”
The steward sighed, nodding slowly. “Understood. I’ll relay your words to the count. This would surely be beneficial to Cain as well.”
“Absolutely. It’s a win-win.”
Yet, in Ghislain’s mind, he thought otherwise.
‘When he gets here, he’s dead meat.’
To try and swindle the former Mercenary King was a reckless gamble Cain would come to regret.
The emissaries had witnessed enough. To avoid further demands like Rogues’, they quickly agreed to send soldiers based on their authority.
With negotiations complete, Ghislain reminded them of one final condition.
“I’ll also expect the soldiers to bring their families.”
This demand sent waves of discomfort through the emissaries. They had assumed it would be soldiers alone, but now he wanted their families too. This meant a larger migration, a loss of both manpower and families’ ties to their lands.
What seemed a fair exchange now felt like a deeper imposition. Ghislain watched their discomfort, unbothered.
For these lords, their subjects were practically slaves. Soldiers’ families were often used as leverage, bound to the land to ensure loyalty. Yet Ghislain refused to allow such control.
Separating families would only weaken the soldiers’ resolve. By moving entire families, Ghislain ensured loyalty and unity.
Reluctantly, the emissaries agreed, unable to defy him openly. But bitterness festered.
‘Fine, let him have his way now. Once this crisis passes, we’ll make him pay.’
‘The fool is getting bold, trusting the pro-royalists to back him up.’
‘We should’ve just attacked and taken the food and runestones ourselves.’
They cursed themselves for failing to act sooner, but they’d missed the chance. Now, with Ghislain’s pro-royalist connections and the promise of nearly three thousand soldiers, challenging him directly was impossible.
Sealing the deal, Ghislain added, “Make sure the soldiers are on their way within two weeks, or the agreement’s off.”
“Yes... understood.”
“Send only well-trained soldiers. If you send untrained rabble, I’ll send them back.”
Any notion of sending conscripted farmers quickly vanished as the emissaries realized how serious Ghislain was. Failure to meet his conditions would mean starvation for their entire domains.
With the arrangements made, the emissaries prepared to leave Fenris. Time was of the essence, and they could waste no time.
When the last of the emissaries departed, Ghislain looked to Claude, satisfied.
“Well? See how quickly we got this done? And we’ve boosted our numbers.” 𝑛𝘰𝑣𝘱𝑢𝑏.𝘤𝑜𝘮
Claude, who had watched the entire process in stunned silence, was at a loss for words.
What Ghislain had just achieved was nothing short of astounding. People were invaluable, yet Ghislain had secured both soldiers and their families. And unlike past refugees, these were trained fighters.
Combining these forces with Fenris’s own troops brought their numbers to over three thousand. Claude finally raised his thumb in genuine admiration.
‘Go ahead, do whatever you want.’
With a smug grin, Ghislain turned to Gillian, issuing new orders.
“When they arrive, get them accustomed to our formations quickly. Mix the soldiers from different territories. It’ll mostly be infantry, so build the units around that.”
“Yes, sir.”
With the manpower shortage resolved, Ghislain’s plans were set. Though not all were knights, he’d gained hundreds. Both the pro-royalist and ducal factions were too distracted to interfere now.
There could be no better opportunity. Ghislain’s icy smile said it all.
“It’s time to begin our war.”
* * *
Within days, soldiers from across the territories began arriving in Fenris. Their lords, though furious, were desperate to secure food for their people, prompting them to fulfill Ghislain’s demands as quickly as possible.
Arriving soldiers looked bewildered as they took in their new surroundings, the abrupt relocation leaving them dazed. But the sight of plentiful food quickly brightened their spirits.
“Wow, the rumors were true. There’s really that much food here.”
“We’re staying here? Is this a dream?”
After enduring endless hunger, the soldiers viewed Fenris as a haven. Memories of hardship under oppressive lords faded as their bellies filled, and with their families soon joining, they had no reason to regret the move.
Satisfied and well-fed, the soldiers readily accepted the new land as home. Within just a week, they adapted to Fenris’s discipline with ease.
Having received military training before, they only needed to adjust to Fenris’s regimens, and they settled in smoothly.
However, just as they began to feel at
home, news came that jolted them from their comfort.
Ghislain was rallying the army for a march.
“What? War? Where are we going?”
“Great... just as we were settling in.”
Though anxious, the soldiers took heart as they realized they were part of a large force.
Ghislain observed his troops with satisfaction. Over three thousand men, including knights and a formidable infantry force, stood ready. Few northern territories could boast such numbers.
As Ghislain reviewed his troops, Claude looked on nervously.
“So... you’re just... going to invade? No declaration?”
“Why bother? Timing is everything here. We need to end this before anyone else can react. A formal declaration can wait until we’re at their gates.”
Claude, though uneasy, saw the logic. Without warning, their enemies wouldn’t have time to prepare or rally support. Still, he worried that skipping formalities would give their enemies an excuse to retaliate.
He watched Ghislain, trying to gauge his reasoning, but Ghislain’s eyes sparkled with a plan far beyond simple warfare.
“By the way,” Claude muttered, glancing toward the ranks, “are you really bringing him along?”
In a corner, the future heir of Rogues, Cain, stood with a look of utter despair.
