I'll Take Care of Everything (1)
Tyrann furrowed his brow, unable to grasp the meaning of the words, prompting Ghislain to click his tongue and elaborate further.
"We have no choice but to fight."
"Why?"
"Because Count Crest is a villain, isn't he?"
Count Crest was a ruthless tyrant. He had seized neighboring territories by force and treated his subjects as mere expendables.
But that was not all. He even controlled numerous criminal organizations and bands of thieves in the region, receiving tribute from them.
One could say he was a pillar of evil that plunged the world into chaos.
Yet, his power was so overwhelming that no one dared to hold him accountable. In this world, it was only natural for the strong to act as he did.
Ghislain, too, was aware of Count Crest's atrocities. After all, Andrew, the lord of this land, always lived under the count's watchful eye.
"We are a mercenary corps that only does righteous deeds. That means we cannot side with Count Crest."
"What are you talking about? A mercenary corps that only does righteous deeds? There's no such thing!"
"There is. Did you think we were joking when we said we'd save the world?"
"No, but still…"
"Since Count Crest is evil, it's only natural for us to stand against him, right? That means we have no choice but to fight him."
"......."
If the Yulian Mercenary Corps took a stance against Count Crest, the count would not sit idly by.
Tyrann knew well how powerful the Ironclad Lion Corps was. Fighting a mercenary group known as the strongest in the region would inevitably result in heavy losses.
How would the count react, knowing this?
"Obviously, he'll try to eliminate us before the territorial war even begins."
"...."
Seeing Ghislain smirk, Tyrann felt a chill run down his spine. It was as if everything was already within the palm of this man's hand.
But even if he could foresee the situation, actually fighting was a different matter.
"Count Crest commands over ten thousand armed soldiers. No matter how strong we are, we're vastly outnumbered."
"Baron Nordhill has a thousand."
"......"
"Our ally, Baron Lacus, also commands around a thousand troops."
"......"
"And our mercenary corps has approximately six hundred, right?"
"......."
"That makes a total of 2,600. Doesn't that seem doable?"
"Do you… not know how to count?"
"…That's an insulting remark. I am a mage."
Ghislain might not have been the best at calculations, but that was irrelevant. He never bothered with numbers when it came to fighting.
"How do you plan to fight with less than half their numbers?"
"It's enough. Our skill level is higher than the knights of Count Crest's territory."
"We are only four people."
Ghislain, Yulian, Kyle, and Tyrann—they were all powerful enough to take on the count's knight commander.
The problem was the sheer number of troops. No matter how strong they were, handling all of Count Crest's knights, soldiers, and mages was an entirely different challenge.
Yet Ghislain remained unfazed, smiling confidently.
"It's fine. War isn't about numbers—it's about actual combat."
"...."
Tyrann shut his mouth. This so-called 'intelligent' mage probably had some sort of strategy. He might be boastful, but his skills were undeniable.
Either way, Tyrann had no choice. His pride wouldn't allow him to run away in fear.
Having somewhat adjusted to the atmosphere during the discussion, Tyrann asked something else.
"This mercenary corps… feels a bit strange."
"What do you mean?"
"Yulian is the captain, yet… you act more like the leader."
"That's a misunderstanding. Our captain is just shy. I simply understand his intentions and convey them. Isn't that right, Yulian?"
Yulian only gave a slight nod.
"......"
The more Tyrann listened, the more ridiculous it sounded.
Shy? That guy who stabbed people with his piercing gaze?
Kyle was just as strange. The man was casually strolling around with a sparrow perched on his shoulder.
Kyle looked at Tyrann and spoke.
"Honestly, I'm stronger than Yulian. You should spar with me sometime."
When Tyrann frowned, Kyle quickly added,
"Oh, not now. My stomach isn't feeling great."
"......"
Even the bird on Kyle's shoulder spoke up.
"Of course he's stronger than Yulian. I trained him."
Tyrann's eyes widened in shock.
"A sparrow… talks?"
"You insolent fool! How dare you call me a sparrow! Do you wish to suffer a cursed and agonizing death?"
As Dark looked ready to pick a fight, Ghislain shot him a warning glare, silently telling him to back off.
"Just think of him as a spirit. He's a bit socially inept and lacking, so try to be understanding."
"…Fine."
Since a mage was saying it, Tyrann decided to let it slide. He wasn't particularly knowledgeable about magic or spirits anyway.
'Spirits live in the Spirit Realm, right? Maybe they have bad tempers because they come from such a closed-off place?'
This was the first time he realized that spirits lacked social skills and had foul mouths. It left him with a strong bias.
It also cemented his assessment of the Yulian Mercenary Corps. This was just a group full of strange, arrogant people. It was clear they wouldn't have an easy life.
But there was no turning back now. Even if he regretted his decision, his pride wouldn't let him take it back.
"Anyway, let's do our best. Don't worry about the war. I'll take care of everything."
Tyrann could only sigh at Ghislain's confident declaration, which showed not a shred of concern.
***
"Soon, the preparations for deployment will be complete."
Count Crest nodded at his head butler's report.
"What is Count Swipel's response?"
"They've caught wind of our plans and are making preparations for war. They are also seeking assistance, but no one has given them a definite answer."
"I see."
Count Crest's expression remained indifferent.
He was the absolute ruler of this region and a vassal of Marquis Falkenheim, one of the most powerful figures in the kingdom.
No matter how much Count Swipel struggled, he wouldn't be able to find allies. No one wanted to oppose Count Crest.
Even the region's mercenaries were under his thumb. It was the harsh reality—Count Swipel couldn't even hire a single proper mercenary.
"Hurry up and finalize the contract with the Ironclad Lion Corps. We need to move out soon."
Count Crest's voice was cold as he issued his command to the head butler.
To him, the Ironclad Lion Corps was a useful tool. He had employed them in numerous wars, reaping considerable benefits.
He was also well aware of Tyrann's ambitions. He planned to make good use of him once again.
"That man has talent, but his aspirations are far too grand for a mere mercenary. Make sure to put him in his place."
"Understood. We will deploy the Ironclad Lion Corps at the vanguard to ensure they take the brunt of the damage."
"What about the local bandits?"
"They have been instructed to raid villages and towns in Count Swipel's rear as soon as the war begins. Since they are allowed to plunder, they will take whatever they can."
"Good. Let them do as they please, whether they succeed or fail."
"Yes, my lord."
Count Crest would stop at nothing to secure his own gains.
Not only was he using bandits to disrupt the enemy's rear, but he was also allowing them to pillage freely to hinder Swipel's supply lines.
Normally, when aiming to conquer a territory, such destruction would be avoided, as the land would eventually need to be governed.
But he didn't care. Whether the people lived or died was of no concern to him. His only focus was expanding his domain and increasing his power.
"Once the Marquis seizes the kingdom... we'll be able to claim even more land, so there's no need to consider minor issues. Just focus on annihilating the enemy. Try assassinations as well, as much as possible."
"Understood."
Fighting like this would make victory easy. However, honor would be trampled into the ground. In times of peace, such methods would have been unthinkable.
No, even in this era, using them too excessively would backfire. It was obvious that the nobles opposing him would unite and attack.
But Count Crest trusted Marquis Falkenheim standing behind him.
"They're all going to be wiped out anyway. There's no need to be cautious. Once we win, no one will dare say anything."
Count Crest repeatedly emphasized this to his chief steward, his eyes filled with cruelty.
He was the strongest in this region. No one would dare challenge him, no matter how ruthless his actions.
But just as the preparations for the expedition were wrapping up, the chief steward brought unexpected news.
"The Ironclad Lion Mercenaries... have been destroyed."
"Destroyed? The largest mercenary corps in this area, all of a sudden? Why?"
"They lost in battle against a newly formed mercenary group."
"A new mercenary group?"
"Yes, the Yulian Mercenaries. They've only been around for two years."
"Hah... The Ironclad Lion Mercenaries lost to them?"
"Yes. Their leader fought a duel, lost, and was forced to submit."
At those words, Count Crest was slightly taken aback. He didn't care much about anything else, but he did acknowledge Tyrann's skill.
And yet, someone had defeated Tyrann in a one-on-one fight? The emergence of a new powerhouse piqued Count Crest's curiosity.
"Can we recruit them?"
"We already made an offer, but they refused outright."
"How arrogant. What's so great about being mercenaries...?"
Becoming a knight meant receiving a completely different level of treatment. Their honor alone was incomparable.
Tyrann was the same. Despite his skill, he chose to remain a mere mercenary—something Count Crest simply couldn't understand.
Clicking his tongue several times, Count Crest spoke.
"Guess you can't change the nature of lowly men. Fine, there's no need to force someone who doesn't want to come. You've sent the request for them to participate in the war, right?"
"Well... about that..."
"What?"
"They... refused that as well."
"What?"
Count Crest scowled. He had never imagined that a mercenary group in his territory would dare reject his orders.
A mere band of mercenaries turning down the request of a high-ranking noble? It was incomprehensible.
"What was their reason?"
"They said the pay isn't enough."
"How much do they want?"
"They're demanding three times the amount promised to the Ironclad Lion Mercenaries."
"...Three times?"
"Yes, exactly three times the amount."
Fire blazed in Count Crest's eyes.
The Ironclad Lion Mercenaries, famed as they were, also had an exorbitant hiring fee. Hiring someone of Tyrann's caliber was expensive by necessity.
Even putting Tyrann aside, their mercenary group had 500 members. Sending that many men into a dangerous war required a tremendous sum.
Still, hiring mercenaries was worthwhile because they justified their cost. Raising an equivalent force without them would cost even more.
But three times the price? At that point, it wasn't worth it. That amount of money would be better spent recruiting knights and training soldiers.
BANG!
Count Crest slammed his fist on the desk.
"How dare... these lowly mercenaries mock me?"
Did they really think he would be grateful and pay up just because they named their price?
He was a noble. He had never been denied anything he desired. Yet these mere mercenaries had the audacity to haggle with him like this? It was beyond insulting.
As Count Crest ground his teeth in fury, the chief steward cautiously spoke.
"There are rumors that Count Swipel is trying to contact them."
"What?"
"The news of their rejection must have spread quickly."
"......"
Count Swipel had gathered nearly 5,000 troops, but he was still at a disadvantage compared to Count Crest. He hadn't even been able to hire proper mercenaries.
Under these circumstances, if the Yulian Mercenaries had turned down Count Crest, it was only natural for Count Swipel to approach them.
"Paying a high price wouldn't be an issue for Count Swipel."
If he lost the war, he was finished anyway. Even if the Yulian Mercenaries demanded his entire fortune, Count Swipel would likely agree.
Of course, Count Crest wasn't worried about losing, even if they sided with his enemy.
But dealing with a strong mercenary group would undoubtedly cost him some troops.
After suppressing his anger, Count Crest spoke.
"What a fearless band of mercenaries."
"Indeed. What should we do?"
"They have close ties to Baron Nordhill, correct?"
"Yes. They've solved multiple issues in Nordhill's territory and even established their base there."
Leaning back in his chair, Count Crest fell into thought.
Soon, he made a decision and slowly spoke.
"Then we'll deal with Baron Nordhill first."
"Are you saying...?"
"If they join forces with Count Swipel, our losses will be too great. So, we should crush Baron Nordhill before that happens."
In war, numbers were critical. No matter how strong the Yulian Mercenaries were, that fact wouldn't change.
Baron Nordhill only had about 1,000 troops. If they struck before he allied with Count Swipel, he wouldn't be able to put up much resistance.
The head butler considered this and asked,
"Under overwhelming force, they'll have no choice but to kneel. But what if they abandon Nordhill and flee?"
"That won't matter. In that case, we'll persuade Baron Nordhill to turn against them instead."
"Ah... that would work."
Baron Nordhill would fight the Yulian Mercenaries out of desperation and a sense of betrayal.
Rather than using mercenaries, Count Crest could use Nordhill's troops instead.
A flawless scheme. Even if Count Swipel intervened, the war would already be over.
The gap in military strength between their forces was simply too great.
Count Crest immediately dispatched an envoy to declare war.
Upon arriving in Nordhill, the envoy confidently declared before Andrew,
"...And so, we hereby declare war upon Baron Nordhill, who harbors the insolent Yulian Mercenaries that dared to insult Count Crest!"
The envoy recited the official justification at length. In essence, it all boiled down to punishing the Yulian Mercenaries for their arrogance—and Baron Nordhill for sheltering them.
Andrew, who had been peacefully focused on his duck farming business, was utterly shocked by this unexpected declaration of war.
"Wh-what? Why? Why are they attacking me all of a sudden?"
To him, it was as if a bolt of lightning had struck out of a clear blue sky.
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