The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations-Chapter 249: That’s What Our Knights Will Wear (1)

The head of the spies broke out in a cold sweat, his eyes shifting anxiously.

‘What’s this? He only glanced at us, and yet he remembers? Among all those laborers?’

It was an insane level of perception. Although he had never seen the lord’s skills firsthand, he was starting to believe the rumors that the lord might actually be at a near-master level.

‘What... what should I do? What should I say?’

The spies were thrown off balance. They were supposed to be invisible, to leave no trace in anyone’s memory. Blending in was the essence of a spy's life.

Quickly regaining his composure, the head responded.

“We got acquainted while migrating. Since we're all from out of town, we needed someone to lean on.”

“Oh, really? No family, then?”

“No, we're all on our own. Some of us were orphans, others lost family due to the war. We found it easy to bond, having no one else to rely on.”

The head calmed himself as much as possible. They had crafted a solid backstory precisely for moments like this. Whatever questions came their way, they could answer them all.

Their identities were meticulously fabricated, with false hometowns and even fake acquaintances prepared, all of whom were also spies.

Ghislain chuckled and placed a hand on the head’s shoulder.

“Right, making friends is essential when you’re far from home. But all three of you look impressively fit, don’t you?”

“...Well, we all had rough beginnings in the slums. There was a time we lived as outlaws, but we’re working to make amends and contribute to the domain now.”

“Outlaws? That’s a fancy way to put it. So, just street thugs, then?”

“...Yes.”

“And what about the other two?”

Under Ghislain’s questioning gaze, the two operatives stiffened but managed to answer.

“I mainly did physical labor for a merchant guild. They had me do some security work as well, thanks to my strength.”

“I mostly worked at construction sites. I did guard work briefly for a labor battalion.”

They answered as they’d been trained, having even acquired enough knowledge about these jobs to pass as authentic.

With physiques like theirs, they knew people might get suspicious.

“Hmmm...”

Ghislain looked the three of them up and down, suspicion evident in his eyes.

“Take off your shirts.”

They dared not refuse. Hesitantly, the three spies removed their shirts.

Indeed, all three had muscular physiques. Ghislain observed their torsos and hands before speaking again.

“These bodies are obviously trained in swordsmanship... and judging by your hands, you know some assassination techniques, too.”

The spies turned even paler. Though the weather wasn’t hot, beads of sweat trickled down their faces.

‘How does he know that just by looking?’

‘He’s just testing us, right? Please, let it be just a test.’

Most spies learned swordsmanship and assassination techniques for emergency situations, like receiving assassination orders or having to escape by force.

Of course, there were spies who didn’t train in combat skills, but those tended to be high-ranking, skilled in administration or intellectual work, who could infiltrate as managers or scholars.

While the two operatives with him looked ashen, the head remained calm, thinking quickly.

‘Should I just confess and sell them out? I actually wanted to settle here! I even bought a house and saved up quite a bit of money!’

He had left his family behind and planned to make a new life here, even trying to persuade his subordinates to do the same. The thought of dying now, after working so hard, felt incredibly unjust.

No, he couldn’t let his dream of owning a home end like this.

“Well, actually...”

The head barely managed to start speaking, but Ghislain cut him off with a casual statement.

“Well, whatever. Whether you’re spies or not doesn’t matter.”

The three spies stared at him with wide eyes.

‘Was he just bluffing?’

‘What does he mean, it doesn’t matter if we’re spies?’

As they looked at him in shock, Ghislain smirked.

“I’m a pacifist. Killing someone just because they’re suspicious would be insane, wouldn’t it?”

“Y-yes... that’s true...”

“And besides, we’re short on hands around here. Killing off strong, healthy people just because they’re suspicious would be a massive loss. Even if you were spies, I can’t just kill you.”

“Is... is that so?”

“But I can’t just let suspicious people roam freely. There’s a place just for people like you.”

“And... what place is that?”

Ghislain turned to Gillian, who was standing nearby.

“Send them all to the ‘Labor Strike Force.’”

“Understood.”

The three spies immediately dropped to their knees.

“Please, my lord! We’re innocent!”

“We’ll work hard!”

“Please spare us!”

The spies begged for their lives.

The ‘Labor Strike Force’ was the domain’s unit for the most dangerous jobs, complete with military training. It was rumored they would lead the charge in wartime.

With the inevitable battle against Desmond coming, being sent to the front lines meant certain death.

But Ghislain shook his head at their desperate pleas.

“Why so afraid? It’s just a job. A bit more physically demanding, that’s all. Prove your innocence while you work.”

Though relieved to be spared immediate execution, they were now condemned to a slow death on the front lines.

And before that, they’d endure back-breaking labor. Kaor, the man in charge, was notorious for driving his labor force mercilessly.

As he was being dragged away, the head clenched his teeth.

‘I won’t die! I’ll survive to enjoy a peaceful life in my own home!’

Before he had a home, it had been different. He’d been a loyal spy for Desmond.

But with a home of his own, his outlook changed. He wanted to settle down, marry, have children, and live happily.

In the end, it all came down to the cost of property. His spy wages would never afford him a house in Desmond’s domain. And any mistake in his spy work would mean immediate execution.

‘I’m done with that life! Here, even regular work pays better than spy wages!’

Loyalty crumbled in the face of financial stability.

If he worked diligently in the labor unit, he might eventually be released. Then he could continue to earn money and live comfortably.

He resolved to himself.

‘I will survive! I’ll kill more Desmond soldiers than anyone else in the war and earn my freedom!’

Thus, a legendary traitor was born.

When Ghislain returned to his office after sending the spies to the labor unit, he was met by Galbarik and the dwarves, their faces full of excitement.

“My lord! My lord!”

“What’s going on?”

The dwarves, who usually looked like bearded goblins with weary faces, now seemed joyful.

“Oh, could it be?”

Seeing the eager look in Ghislain’s eyes, Galbarik burst out laughing and announced triumphantly.

“We’ve done it! We’ve finally succeeded in creating Galvani!”

“You did it!”

Ghislain smiled brightly. It had taken time, but unlike the giant incubator, he knew this project would succeed.

In his past life, Galbarik had achieved it on his own, without any prior knowledge of the materials.

Seeing Ghislain’s pleased expression, Galbarik’s face was filled with pride.

“Yes, my lord! Following your guidance, we’ve achieved it! Hahaha!”

Proudly, Galbarik pulled out a metal ingot from his pocket and handed it to Ghislain.

“This is Galvani! See for yourself!”

Ghislain turned the ingot over in his hands, inspecting it carefully.

It was remarkably lightweight. No one would believe that this alloy was as strong as iron.

Without using any mana, Ghislain took a firm swing with his sword.

Clang!

The blade bounced back without leaving a scratch.

“Perfect!”

It was flawless, just like the Galvani he remembered from his past life.

Smiling with satisfaction, Ghislain said.

“Excellent. It’s just like the creation of that legendary blacksmith.”

“Then, please, let me meet this blacksmith!”

“...I told you, I don’t know where he is.”

Ghislain turned away, feigning ignorance, though a mirror would have sufficed.

Galbarik sighed, grooming his beard as he looked around the room.

“Regardless, this is a monumental achievement! And more importantly, we’re the only ones who can produce it!”

Only Fenris’s domain had this technology, and though it would eventually spread, that day was still far off.

“Alright, we’ll begin mass production. Teach only the most trustworthy craftsmen, and make sure they’re paid enough to be fully satisfied.”

“Understood! We’ll ensure the information remains secure!”

Galbarik understood that Fenris would eventually face off against Count Desmond, and they needed this secret advantage to remain undisclosed.

He knew exactly what Ghislain meant.

‘Trustworthy craftsmen’ and ‘generous compensation’ implied tight control over the craftsmen.

With the labor force secured, mass production would be no problem. The domain had already prepared large-scale forges in anticipation.

“We’ll start mass production and training immediately! That’s all for now...”

Galbarik and the dwarves tried to make a swift exit, knowing that prolonged conversations with the lord rarely worked in their favor.

But Ghislain placed a hand on Galbarik’s shoulder, smiling.

“Why are you leaving so soon?”

“We need to start production...”

Sensing trouble, Galbarik and the dwarves cast pleading glances downward, hoping they might be allowed to go.

“Oh, come on. You know how we operate here. Now that you’ve succeeded with Galvani, there’s the next task.”

‘You’re a slave driver...’

Galbarik felt like he was about to cry.

Making Galvani had nearly killed him. Now, they had to mass-produce it, and there was more work waiting.

‘I shouldn’t have promised to work so hard!’

Yet a dwarf’s pride kept him from refusing. They never seemed to learn that this pride was always their downfall.

“Alright... what’s the next task?”

“Weapons and armor.”

“We already agreed to replace all weapons and armor with Galvani, didn’t we?”

Once they mass-produced Galvani, they planned to upgrade the soldiers’ weapons, armor, and other iron-based goods.

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However, Ghislain had something even more specific in mind.

“We’re not just swapping materials. We’re developing entirely new gear. I have ideas for additional weapons, but let’s start with armor and helmets for the knights. Here, take a look.”

He handed Galbarik a set of schematics he had prepared in advance.

After studying the schematics, Galbarik raised an eyebrow.

“What’s with the grooves on the armor and helmet? Don’t tell me...”

“Yep, that’s where the runestones go.”

“Hold on, you want to embed magical inscriptions and runestones in the armor? And you want 400 of these made? Did you actually calculate the cost?”

When Ghislain nodded, Galbarik’s jaw dropped.

If they followed these schematics, each suit of armor would be worth a fortune—enough for an average person to live comfortably for a lifetime.

If they made 400 of these, they’d be spending more than the annual budget of an average domain for decades.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that these would be the single most expensive investments for the domain.

“I’m not the best with finances... but making these might put the domain’s funds at risk. The Galvani alone is costly enough, but adding runestones would reduce the stock we have for trade.”

Galvani was still in the initial production phase, requiring a significant amount of resources, making it costly to produce.

Equipping all the domain’s soldiers and essential items with it alone would already be expensive.

Adding runestones would shock the vassals into fainting fits, especially Claude, who was bound to protest.

Galbarik, concerned, questioned again.

“It will certainly boost combat power, but... this level of armament is excessive. No other domain has equipment like this. Wouldn’t it be wiser to use this money to increase our forces and weaponry?”

“Our knights will wear this.”

Ghislain wasn’t interested in having ordinary knights who only knew how to wield mana.

He was aiming to create an elite order capable of fighting under any conditions, equipped with gear that could endure the most demanding situations.