NOVPUB‘What... what is this? Why isn’t he showing any reaction?’
Brandel’s initial intent to strike was momentarily forgotten as he watched in utter confusion. Even with the antidote in his system, he was beginning to feel the effects of the poison, so there was no way Ghislain could have downed two glasses and remained unaffected.
Lost in thought, he suddenly heard Ghislain’s voice.
“What’s wrong? Not drinking?”
“Oh, yes. Of course,” Brandel stammered.
Caught off guard, Brandel missed his opportunity to strike. Flustered, he decided he’d down another glass and make his move after that.
As he gulped the liquor, a burning sensation spread through his stomach. The antidote had nearly reached its limit. 𝒏𝒐𝙫𝙥𝙪𝙗.𝒄𝙤𝙢
‘Damn... could he just have a slow reaction to poison?’
People do have different tolerances, and that was the most logical explanation Brandel could come up with to rationalize the situation.
However, as he tried to steady himself, Ghislain poured himself another drink and downed it effortlessly.
‘Surely, he’ll react this time...’
“Tasty, isn’t it? Here, have another.”
Brandel’s face turned visibly pale, and his hands began to tremble.
‘Stay calm. You can’t mess up here.’
The knights by Ghislain’s side were watching him with impassive expressions. Hesitating now would only make them more suspicious.
‘Just pretend to drink and strike when he least expects it.’
Forcing a smile, Brandel raised his glass. He glanced at Ghislain’s face, only to see him watching calmly, his expression entirely at ease.
This didn’t make any sense. At that moment, a realization flashed through Brandel’s mind.
‘I’ve been misled by rumors! This guy either has no mana or an absurdly low amount! That’s why the poison isn’t affecting him at all!’
His impressive achievements must have been blown out of proportion.
Of course, Ghislain had results to show, so Brandel couldn’t dismiss everything, but perhaps Ghislain’s skill in combat was minimal, with his strength lying primarily in leadership.
Summoning his mana, Brandel felt a sharp pain in his core area, worsened by the poison. He couldn’t delay any longer.
But just as he lifted his glass, Ghislain spoke again.
“Not drinking? Can’t handle your liquor?”
Claude, watching from the side, chimed in with a smirk. “If you’re not going to drink it, can I have it?”
Seeing that both Ghislain and Claude had downed multiple drinks without issue, Claude assumed it was safe. Besides, such fine liquor was hard to come by.
Ghislain chuckled, eyeing the eager Claude. “Well, I’d avoid it if I were you—feels like Brandel was trying to pull something here.”
At Ghislain’s words, Brandel tossed the glass aside and lunged toward Ghislain.
The four assassins disguised as guards sprang into action as well.
“Aaah!” Claude shouted, only to be yanked back by Wendy, who swiftly tossed him aside as his body tumbled across the ground.
Brandel was the first to attack, his sword flashing as he aimed directly at Ghislain’s head.
‘This is it!’
From the moment he moved, Brandel was confident in his success. There was no way someone without mana could block his strike.
‘Huh?’
In that split second, as his blade thrust forward, Brandel saw Ghislain casually yawning. He had aimed straight for the brow, but somehow, his sword veered off course.
Thunk.
Before he could process what had happened, something lodged into his throat—a pen intended for signing the contract.
‘What... this guy doesn’t even have mana...’
Just before he lost consciousness, Ghislain’s lazy voice reached his ears.
“My pen’s stronger than your sword.”
Ghislain plucked the pen from Brandel’s body and placed it back on the contract. Drops of blood stained the paper, obscuring some of the writing.
“Well, guess the contract’s canceled. We’ll be collecting a penalty fee.”
Ghislain didn’t bother with the assassins who had attacked alongside Brandel; Gillian and Wendy were already dealing with them.
Clang!
Wendy swiftly parried an assassin’s sword with her dagger.
“You witch!”
As the assassin prepared to attack again, Wendy darted forward, reaching for him. Spikes emerged from a ring on her hand, piercing his neck.
Squelch!
The assassin gurgled, spitting blood before collapsing from the poison-coated spikes.
Glancing back, Wendy stepped away from her fallen target just as another assassin’s sword slashed where she had stood moments before.
Clang!
Wendy drew two daggers, deflecting the incoming blow before returning to her stance.
Swoosh!
Clang! Clang!
The assassin quickly deflected the flying daggers, then turned to strike at Wendy.
Squelch!
If not for the third dagger suddenly embedded in his forehead.
“When... did...?” he mumbled before falling.
Claude, who had been watching, muttered in awe, “You’re really strong... but a bit underhanded too...”
Wendy shot him a scornful glare, causing Claude to lower his gaze in embarrassment.
Meanwhile, two other assassins died even more swiftly.
Gillian, unfazed by their attacks, closed the distance, reaching out with his bare hands.
Thump!
He didn’t even draw a weapon, simply smashing their heads together with his hands.
Crash!
The assassins died without even a chance to attack, their skulls crushed.
The Fenris knights who witnessed the scene couldn’t help but gape in disbelief.
“Does that old man get stronger every day?”
“What on earth is he eating?”
“Look at those muscles... is he reversing his age?”
Gillian had grown rapidly after meeting Ghislain, who had filled in the gaps in his training.
Receiving guidance from Ghislain, one of the continent’s Seven Strongest, proved far more effective than training alone for someone of Gillian’s caliber.
In an instant, Brandel and his assassins had been defeated. The Fenris knights standing nearby didn’t feel the need to intervene—they weren’t foolish enough to get involved with such monsters at work.
Besides, none of them worried about whatever Ghislain might drink.
‘If he can handle Blood Python venom, he can handle anything.’
It was well-known among Ghislain’s inner circle that his stomach was strong enough to digest steel.
The assassins disguised as laborers drew their weapons, targeting the officials inspecting the resources.
Or so they tried.
Thunk!
Suddenly, the officials pulled weapons of their own, launching a surprise counterattack.
Among them was a particularly large, bald man who tore off his disguise, shouting, “I am Gordon, the Muscle of Fenris!”
“Damn it! I thought he looked too bulky to be an official!”
The assassins grew frantic, realizing that their enemies seemed to know of their plan and had prepared for it.
Though the disguised officials had launched a counterattack, they didn’t take down the assassins easily. Some of Desmond’s highly trained knights were among the attackers.
The prolonged fight turned the scene into chaos, and Ghislain casually stretched his arms and smiled.
“Well, time to collect our penalty fee. All of this is ours now, right? Let’s clear up the rest quickly—I don’t want our people getting hurt.”
With such an enormous resource haul gained at no cost, Ghislain was understandably pleased.
Ghislain had already known that Brandel’s company was connected to Harold Desmond. In his past life, this information had been common knowledge.
Once the Duke’s rebellion had succeeded, Harold claimed control of the northern territories, so he no longer bothered to hide it.
So, when the head of this trading company suddenly insisted on meeting him in person and suggested an outdoor rendezvous due to the large shipment?
“Well, that was obvious.”
Even without recognizing Brandel’s true identity, Ghislain would’ve been hard to fool. His opponents had yet to understand his real strength.
The same went for poison. Most toxins had no effect on Ghislain. His superior mana control allowed him to isolate and neutralize harmful substances within his body.
After consuming the Blood Python venom, his tolerance had grown even more; whatever he ingested was simply absorbed as strength.
“I’ll have to finish that drink later.”
It seemed the poison had even given a slight boost to his mana, an unexpected benefit.
As Ghislain joined the fray, the assassins were swiftly dealt with.
Fearing that the lower-level Fenris knights might be overwhelmed, Ghislain used a bit more force, leaving the assassins with no chance of survival.
The last assassin, trembling, muttered, “So, the rumors were true...”
Ghislain was strong—too strong. Despite their skill, these seasoned fighters had been handled like children, practically monsters by comparison.
They had heard tales of Ghislain single-handedly breaking through castle gates, though they hadn’t believed it. Typically, those with exceptional talent in swordsmanship made a name for themselves from a young age.
But rumors only painted Ghislain as a wild man, suggesting his skill with the sword might be lacking. They had been careful to select only skilled fighters for this mission, even conducting multiple practice sessions.
Never had they imagined they’d be so easily outmaneuvered.
Thunk!
Without a word, Ghislain decapitated the last assassin.
With the cleanup complete, Claude hurried over, breathless. “How did you know? Why didn’t you tell me? You even disguised the knights as officials for this first meeting. You already knew, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did. But if I’d told you there’d be a fight, you’d probably have shown signs of panic and tried to run, giving it all away.”
“...”
As much as he wanted to argue, Claude had no rebuttal. In fact, from the moment he’d seen the knights disguised as officials, he’d debated not coming at all.
Embarrassed, Claude changed the topic. “Anyway, this was all free, right? What a jackpot!”
Ghislain was just as pleased, knowing that he’d gained immensely while Harold suffered a major loss.
With resources like these, Harold’s finances would likely falter for a while. Not to mention, the laborers who survived would likely spread rumors of what had happened. Ghislain planned to give them a bit of “farewell compensation” and encourage them to share the story.
‘So now they’re openly targeting me. That means...’
Harold’s willingness to discard such valuable resources and connections signaled something else.
‘Amelia must be taking a step back now, either finishing preparations or leaving it all to Harold.’
The Layfold Rebellion was Harold’s top priority, and there was no way the duke’s family would abandon it. If Harold had withdrawn his hand from this task, it could only mean Amelia was about to make her move.
Even with all the changes he’d made to the future, Ghislain knew that this event was unfolding on schedule.
“Oh, I see... So the rebellion will occur on the same day as in my past life.”
Nodding to himself, Ghislain murmured to the stacks of newly acquired resources, “Amelia will see success no matter the obstacle. As grateful as I am to her, it wouldn’t hurt to trip her up a bit.”
Imagining Amelia’s irritation, Ghislain chuckled.
The road construction continued at full speed. Once the network of roads connected castles, forts, and towns, Claude raised a new issue.
“Construction is going smoothly, but using the roads effectively may still be difficult.”
Ghislain already knew what the problem was.
“It’s because of transportation, right?”
“Yes. Most of our horses are reserved for military use. We’re severely lacking in numbers.”
No matter how well-built the roads were, they wouldn’t be effective without enough horses.
But horses were a precious commodity—expensive and difficult to obtain. They were invaluable for combat, transport, and agriculture alike.
However, roads were still better than no roads.
“Still, it will make troop movements and supply lines much easier.”
“Hm, yes. For a true transport revolution, we’ll need horses. That’s essential for economic growth too.”
Noticing Ghislain’s calm reaction, Claude asked, “Do you... have a plan to get horses?”
If something wasn’t available, a lord could always produce it or seize it by force. But horses? There was no way to make them, nor was there anywhere to take them from.
Still, Claude couldn’t help but ask, his curiosity piqued. Ghislain shrugged casually.
“Of course, I have a plan to get horses.”
“Oh! That’s amazing, my lord! What’s the plan? I won’t object this time—just tell me!”
“Are you sure you won’t?”
Ghislain’s tone made Claude feel a bit uneasy.
They hadn’t opposed his recent hatchery project or road construction plans. Yet here was Ghislain, double-checking, and that brought a familiar unease.
But Claude pressed on confidently. “Yes! No objections, I swear!”
Ghislain smirked. No matter what Claude said now, when he revealed the method, everyone would protest.
So he decided to keep it a secret for now.
“I’ll tell you later. There’s something I need to do first.”
‘Damn it. Not knowing just makes me more curious! Why am I so intrigued?’
Claude swallowed back his frustration and asked, “What’s this thing you need to do first?”
“I want to hold a gathering. Invite some of the young nobles from nearby territories.”
“A gathering? A banquet?”
Claude and the other retainers exchanged puzzled looks.
Ghislain wasn’t one for stuffy noble banquets; he preferred open gatherings with his own people. That he’d suddenly be interested in hosting nobles was surprising.
“Just a chance for young people to strengthen some ties. Our territory has grown quite a bit, hasn’t it?”
“True, my lord. It’s about time you start building some connections.”
While most of the guests would only be heirs, they’d eventually inherit their families’ assets. Forming bonds with them young could only benefit Ghislain.
As Claude pondered this, Ghislain gave him a mischievous grin, emphasizing his point.
“There’s one person we must invite—bring him by any means necessary. Kidnap him if you have to.”
Before arranging for more horses, Ghislain intended to start disrupting his enemies' plans.
