The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations (light Novel)

Claude glanced at the captured spy being dragged in and casually asked Ghislain.

"How did you know he was a spy?"
"Hmm."
Ghislain crossed her arms and pondered for a moment.

In his previous life, the Duke of Reinster from the Atrodé Kingdom led a strong faction within the Allied Forces.
Thinking about it now, it was only natural. All the rebellious nobles in the current era were affiliated with the Salvation Order.
Those same people must have backed the Duke of Reinster in the Allied Forces during his previous life.

At that time, however, the Salvation Order had only been considered a mere cult. It was impossible to discern who the real enemies were.
"I wasn’t entirely certain at first. There were a few suspicious figures, though."
Among the nobles participating in the Allied Forces now, quite a few had been part of the Duke of Reinster’s faction in the previous life.

It wasn’t reasonable to label all of them as spies. Given the strength of the faction, it was natural for many nobles to follow the Duke of Reinster.
The man himself was also a good person, so it wasn’t surprising that some followed him without any connection to the Salvation Order.
The real issue was distinguishing those who had joined his faction through an alliance with the Salvation Order from those who had done so purely because it was advantageous.

Therefore, Ghislain focused on observing nobles with significant military authority and strong influence.
"At the start, everyone seemed to be fighting earnestly—whether it was against the Rifts or the rebels."
Even among those who had been part of the Duke of Reinster’s faction in the previous life, many had died in this war. This naturally narrowed the list of suspects.

Then, one individual stood out with particularly strange military maneuvers.
"When Helgenique first appeared, that guy didn’t even order a retreat for the frontline fortress troops. Instead, he told them to fight to the death."
The reasoning was ostensibly to consolidate forces near the capital for a more decisive stand. However, the order was highly suspicious.

It was obvious that the frontline fortress wouldn’t hold for even a day with its current manpower.
A retreat to join the main force would have been far more effective. Yet the order remained unchanged.
"Thanks to Jerome, they managed to retreat anyway. Otherwise, they all would’ve died there. That’s when I started to suspect him."
It wasn’t simply a case of incompetence. A commander that foolish couldn’t have reached such a high position.

Before Helgenique’s appearance, that kingdom had been handling its Rifts and rebel forces at a much faster pace than other kingdoms.
With such experience and skills, issuing such nonsensical orders was highly suspicious.
"Even then, I wasn’t completely convinced. I decided to observe him further, and his actions grew even more peculiar. He left Jerome to fend for himself."

No matter how strong Jerome was, it was impossible for him to single-handedly handle Helgenique’s undead army. All he could do was buy time with powerful magic.
While the strategy itself wasn’t inherently flawed, there was no need for Jerome to handle it alone.
They continued to retreat, offering no real support to Jerome. A simple reinforcement of mages or archers would’ve made things much easier.

"A small force of reinforcements could have prolonged the fight and reduced the strain. But Jerome was left to fight alone. They pretended to hold positions for a while, only to retreat after token resistance, even though reserves were available."
Despite having several options, none were utilized. The only thing that commander offered Jerome was words of gratitude.
That’s when Ghislain’s suspicion grew significantly.

"And then, during this battle, he kept interfering with my plans, insisting we only protect the supply lines. Mobility and tactics are my specialty, after all. Just look at what would’ve happened if we followed his advice—we’d have been annihilated."
‘Ah, so he just marked him as a spy because he opposed his plans,’ Claude thought to himself, understanding the situation in his own way. It sounded like Ghislain had hit the mark by pure chance.
Of course, even Ghislain couldn’t pinpoint the traitor immediately. Although one individual stood out the most, other commanders in his previous life had also been part of the Duke of Reinster’s faction.

It wasn’t until the initial skirmishes led to significant losses for the first three corps that Ghislain was able to confirm his suspicions.
"Two corps were taken out immediately. Thankfully, I had preemptively ordered the others to retreat if things went south, which minimized losses."
The Allied Forces’ commanders couldn’t easily be replaced by Ghislain on a whim.

Each of them led troops from their respective kingdoms, and to avoid internal discord, their opinions needed to be respected.
The only reason Ghislain had managed to push through his plans so far was because his voice carried the most weight among the leaders.
If there had to be a spy, it was better that it was a commanding officer. Rooting out a spy from within the lower ranks would’ve been far more difficult.

Ghislain grinned at the man kneeling before him.
"So, was I right? Marquis Suffolk, a devout believer of the Salvation Order, huh? All that effort to drive out the rebels just to stab the Allied Forces in the back."
"……"

The man kneeling before him was none other than Marquis Suffolk of the Parsali Kingdom.
Despite providing materials for Helgenique’s undead army and refusing to aid Jerome when he was fighting alone, Suffolk had still held the title of the kingdom’s Supreme Commander.
The man, battered and disheveled from heavy torture, gave a hollow laugh.

"You’re saying you deduced my identity with mere guesses? There were plenty of incompetent commanders, weren’t there?"
"No matter how incompetent someone is, they wouldn’t leave their last hope to die alone on the battlefield."
Of course, that wasn’t the only reason. The knowledge of Suffolk’s previous affiliation with the Duke of Reinster’s faction had cemented Ghislain’s suspicions.

Neither Suffolk nor Claude could have understood the full scope of Ghislain’s reasoning.
Jerome, who sat nearby in a worn-out state, showed a pained expression. At the time, he had thought Suffolk’s actions were born of desperation, not treachery.
It stung to realize that someone he had trusted as an ally had actively sought his death. He had nearly died because of it.

"I see…"
Marquis Suffolk bit his lip a few times before speaking.
"It seems there’s no way out for me. Just kill me."

Behind him knelt others who had been captured alongside him—subordinates who had acted as spies under his command.
Ghislain stood, pulling out a hand axe as he nodded.
"Of course, death is the only option. Jerome, do you want to do it?"

The betrayal must have hit Jerome the hardest. However, Jerome shook his head with a dejected expression.
"You’re always too soft-hearted."
Ghislain smirked and raised the hand axe.

Thunk!
"Ugh…"
Marquis Suffolk collapsed with a thud, his life ending instantly. There was no need for further torment; the man had already been tortured extensively.

The others were also dragged off and executed. No spies who had inflicted such damage on the Allied Forces could be allowed to live.
Once the executions were complete, Ghislain turned to Parniel.
"Good work. Thanks to you, we caught them easily."

"It was nothing difficult."
Marquis Suffolk had commanded the largest portion of the Parsali Kingdom’s army, which included soldiers from other kingdoms within the same corps. Capturing him by force would have caused significant losses.
Thus, under Ghislain’s orders, Tenant and Parniel had moved swiftly after the battle with the Atrodé forces to apprehend the marquis.

Parniel’s status as a saintess had proven invaluable in such cases.
"We’ve come for an inquisition. Anyone who interferes will be deemed a heretic."
In the current conflict against the Salvation Order, no one could oppose such a declaration from a saintess. Marquis Suffolk was captured without much resistance.

The interrogation was carried out by experts under Tenant’s command from the Ruthania Army.
Ghislain approached one of these experts, patting him on the shoulder.
"Good job. I knew you’d do well. Must feel nice to get promoted."

"Y-yes…"
The man, sweating profusely, nodded repeatedly. He was Harrison, formerly a cavalry officer in the Ruthania Army. Before defecting to Fenris, he had been a spy for Desmond.
His name was, of course, an alias.

Recently promoted to inspector during this battle, he had been tasked with interrogating Suffolk.
The promotion had come with a nerve-wracking realization—two of his former co-conspirators had been placed directly under his command for this operation.
‘Why me? Out of everyone, why was this job given to me?’

Even while carrying out Suffolk’s interrogation, Harrison couldn’t shake the unease. The fact that he and two other defectors were assigned to interrogate a spy felt like more than a coincidence.
Terrified, they poured all their knowledge of torture into the task, extracting every piece of information from Suffolk, including the names of his subordinates.
Ghislain fixed Harrison with a meaningful gaze.

"You’ll keep working hard, won’t you? Promotions feel good, don’t they? Don’t forget—I’m always watching."
"Y-yes, yes, yes!"
"Why are you so nervous?"

“It is such an honor to have a private audience with Your Grace…”
Despite his tension, the words of flattery flowed naturally. Truly the mark of a well-trained tongue for a spy.
Ghislain chuckled lightly and continued.

“We’ve captured the big fish, but there might still be knights or soldiers tied to the Salvation Order. Now that we have time, conduct a thorough investigation to root them out. If you need more personnel, request help from the commanders of each kingdom or Claude.”
“Yes, sir!”
The three men shouted in unison. Although the Salvation Order had fallen, the spies it had planted over the years likely remained in significant numbers.

These three, now inspectors of the Ruthania Army, had the authority to demand cooperation wherever they went. Their powers were absolute. The silent pressure to bring in even one more spy was palpable. To survive, they had no choice but to deliver results.
‘We’ll go all out.’
‘We’re veteran spies ourselves.’
‘We didn’t get caught in Fenris… Oh, crap, maybe they’re onto us after all.’
Still, they had confidence. Only a spy truly understood another spy’s mind.

After wrapping up matters concerning the spies, a few days later, Julien arrived.
When news spread that the enemy corps had been wiped out and even the revolutionary leader had been killed, the soldiers cheered once more.
“As expected of Julien!”
“They say he’s as strong as the Duke of Fenris.”
“I’ve heard rumors that he’s even stronger!”

Julien’s reputation, alongside Ghislain’s, continued to soar. The same was true for other superhumans participating in the war.
With victory achieved, the Allied Forces began preparations to march to the Sardina Kingdom.
The reinforcements and mercenaries had already returned to Sardina. From the start, Ghislain had no intention of stalling until their arrival.

Although a major battle had ended, there was still much to be done.
Several kingdoms, such as the Grimwell Kingdom, had seen their royal families collapse, and many smaller states continued to struggle against the remaining rebel forces.
Plans needed to be made to assist these kingdoms and support their recovery.

Before departing, Ghislain brought forth Aiden’s white steed and addressed the gathered crowd.
“This horse is a rare and exceptional breed on the continent. I will present it as a gift to whoever can tame it. However, you cannot force it using mana.”
Aiden’s white horse was a masterpiece in its own right.

Its snowy coat shimmered like pearls under the sunlight, and its sleek legs, as elegant as marble columns, exuded both grace and strength.
The muscles rippling beneath its flawless hide seemed sculpted by the hands of a meticulous artist, forming a perfectly balanced physique.
Aiden, who always demanded the very best, had personally selected this horse. It was not just a means of transportation but a living symbol of his status and refined taste.

The sight of the horse, reminiscent of the mythical steeds ridden by legendary heroes, captivated everyone’s attention.
“Wow, it’s incredible.”
“I’ve never seen such a beautiful horse in my life.”
“So, whoever rides it can claim it as theirs?”
Greed flickered in the eyes of many. Owning such a magnificent horse was akin to possessing both wealth and honor.

The lower-ranking soldiers stepped aside, but a few knights, consumed by ambition, rushed forward.
“I’ll ride it first!”
Thud!

Gordon was kicked by the horse’s hind legs and sent flying.
“It’s mine!”
Thud!

Lucas also met the same fate, rolling across the ground.
“You bastard! I’ll—no, I can’t. Forget it. If I see you again, you’re dead.”
Thud!

Ascon, unable to convince the horse, was carted off with a collapsed chest.
“I am a superhuman!”
Thud! Thud! Thud!

Even Kaor, despite his might, could not mount the horse and ended up beaten.
“Step aside! This horse suits a noblewoman like me perfectly! It looks like it can handle my hammer’s weight too!”
Elena genuinely needed a good horse. Regular horses couldn’t bear the weight of her hammer, forcing her to travel with three at a time—a constant hassle.

The proud and elegant demeanor of this horse, however, was precisely ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) to her liking. It was the perfect steed for a noblewoman.
Thud!
“You little—!”

Rejected, Elena immediately grabbed her massive hammer, ready to strike the horse. If not for others intervening, the horse might have met an untimely demise.
The princess, already irritable due to her brother, was in no mood to be patient.
Despite numerous attempts, no one succeeded in taming the horse.

The white steed snorted arrogantly, casting a disdainful gaze at those around it. Its expression seemed to say, How dare you fools think you can ride me?
The horse’s pride and commanding presence were as grand as Aiden’s had been.
Julien, Gillian, Belinda, Vanessa, and a few others didn’t even try. They were either too attached to their current mounts or uninterested in the challenge.

Even the skilled riders of the Ruthania Army failed. Ghislain began contemplating whether to bring in Lumina to persuade the horse when Dark suddenly spoke.
“Julien! Let Julien try!”
Others quickly echoed the suggestion.

“That’s a great idea! Let him give it a shot!”
“That horse looks like it’d listen to him!”
“Let’s have the prince on the white steed!”
Initially, Julien declined. However, the overwhelming enthusiasm of the crowd eventually convinced him to step forward.
The white horse glared fiercely at Julien, but he simply stood there, meeting its gaze without doing anything.

After a moment, the horse’s expression softened. Slowly, it lowered its head, then its knees, bowing before Julien.
Overwhelmed by Julien’s aura, the horse had submitted.
When he mounted, the horse stood gracefully. Julien, atop the snow-white steed, looked like a figure straight out of a painting.

The phrase prince on a white horse seemed coined specifically for him.
“Wow!”
“He’s found his true master!”
“Even that horse bowed to him!”
The onlookers cheered, unable to contain their amazement. Julien and the horse were a perfect match.

Even Julien himself appeared indifferent, as if uninterested in horses altogether.
Ghislain chuckled and declared, “Anyone else want to try? No? Then the horse belongs to Julien—”
“Wait! Everyone gets a chance, right? I’m going next!”

A voice rang out from the crowd, and everyone turned with exasperated expressions.
It was Alfoy, striding forward confidently.