Manus began subtly stirring up the others.

“This is beyond what anyone can handle. We’re doing something completely pointless.”

“But they say the destination isn't too far from the edge…”

“Heh, and you believe that? Where is it even? How far do you think we’re going to have to go?”

“...”

“Now that I think about it, there's a lot of weird stuff going on. How could they have picked a destination in a forest no one’s ever been to? How do they know what’s there? Why are we even going? What could possibly be at the end?”

“Hm, I hadn’t really thought about that…”

“Damn it! Our employer must be insane! Not only does he have wild delusions, but he's crazy enough to act on them! In the end, we’re all going to die!”

No one could argue against Manus’s words. It wasn’t unheard of for lords or nobles to get lost in delusions and drag others into bizarre and deadly schemes.

A heavy silence followed, and the mood started to sink.

An older mercenary named Tolan scowled, breaking the silence.

“If it weren’t for the employer, we’d already be dead. Don’t spread unnecessary panic.”

“Well, I’m just anxious, that’s all.”

“You think it’s easy to find an employer like this? He’s been fighting at the front, working harder than anyone to keep us alive.”

Nobles typically gave orders and stayed far from the danger. The whole reason they hired mercenaries was to use them as shields, not to achieve something together.

Even mercenaries themselves accepted this reality without question.

But Ghislain was different. He truly seemed to want to save as many lives as possible, constantly throwing himself into the thick of battle.

Tolan, deeply moved by his employer’s efforts, growled at Manus, who was trying to stir up dissent.

“If it weren’t for him, we’d all be dead already. This isn’t some delusion—he’s got the skill to back it up. We just need to trust and follow him.”

Manus had no further rebuttal. The other mercenaries nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, he’s not using us as meat shields.”

“Our employer’s definitely not like other nobles.”

“And how about his command skills? He knows exactly what he’s doing—this isn’t his first time.”

“With an employer like that, he’s worth trusting.”

Despite that, the fights against these strong monsters were taking their toll, and there were already injured and dead among the group.

Manus grumbled, reminding them of the danger.

“How long do you think this will last? Sure, we’re okay for now, but if this keeps going, we’re all dead.”

No matter how impressive their employer’s skills, endless battles would eventually wear everyone down. They’d all collapse from sheer exhaustion if things didn’t change.

Without Ghislain, they would have been dead long ago. The monsters living on the edge of the forest were supposed to be weaker, having been driven away from more desirable territories. Yet, even those monsters were stronger than any outside the forest.

Manus kept pushing the idea of escaping while they still had their lives, knowing that if they kept going, their chances of survival would drop. He also doubted Ghislain would let them just leave without consequences, which made him even more desperate to rally the others.

“Don’t you care about your life? No mercenary goes looking for a place to die, no matter how much they’re paid.”

Tolan snorted and countered, “A mercenary’s job is to risk their life if they’ve been paid to do it.”

“Idiot, what kind of mercenary are you? We’re going to end up as nothing but cannon fodder. And don’t think for a second that if things get bad, the employer won’t run off himself.”

What makes a mercenary great?

Risking your life to complete a mission?

No. Surviving the longest makes you the best. Knowing when to pull out is just as essential for any mercenary.

Only a fool trusts a noble to the end. Even if they act considerate now, they’ll abandon you as soon as it benefits them.

That’s just how nobles are.

Manus’s arguments were starting to sway a few mercenaries. His words struck a practical chord with them, planting doubts about their situation.

‘Damn it, these old-school fools…’

The ones like Tolan were the problem. Most of the mercenaries seemed determined to see this through, convinced they’d complete the job for their employer.

Just as Manus was about to speak again, Tolan grabbed him by the collar.

“Look here. You see that medicine and those potions the employer’s using? That stuff is worth more than we are. Do you think he’d use that kind of gear on us if he planned to throw us away as cannon fodder?”

All the nearby mercenaries turned to look.

They saw Ghislain tending to the wounds of the injured.

That shut them up. The medicine Ghislain was using was far more expensive than any of them were worth.

The mercenaries started nodding and whispering amongst themselves.

“He’s got a point. Doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to just abandon us.”

“His treatment skills are top-notch. I thought he was a trained medic.”

“And the potions—he uses so little, but the effect is incredible.”

With everyone calming down, Manus bit his lip in frustration.

Tolan let go of his collar and walked off, sitting back down while gazing at Ghislain.

At first, even Tolan had thought about abandoning the mission. But this employer was unlike any noble he had ever encountered before. Little by little, he felt drawn to Ghislain, not because of the money, but because of the man himself.

Tolan had met brave, strategic, and intelligent nobles before, but never one who treated mercenaries as more than disposable tools. And he had certainly never met one who fought at the front, risking their life as Ghislain did.

He was beginning to admire Ghislain as a person.

‘We might die here... but I want to see how this ends.’

Tolan wasn’t fearless; he knew they could all be killed. Manus wasn’t wrong about the dangers. But still, he wanted to follow Ghislain to the end, even if it meant risking death.

Perhaps it was foolish. But could a mercenary who runs away from danger really call themselves a mercenary?

That was Tolan’s final conviction as a mercenary and his personal code of honor.

“By the way, our employer seems loaded. How’d he get his hands on such expensive medicine if his estate is supposed to be poor?”

Tolan was right. Ghislain was using valuable potions and medicines as if they were nothing.

So much so that Belinda had been nagging him relentlessly about it.

“Master! How can you just use all those precious ingredients and potions like that? You’ll need them if you get hurt!”

Ghislain casually wrapped a bandage around a mercenary’s arm and replied, “Why would I save it? I brought it here to use. I’ll use it when it’s needed.”

“If you keep using them like this, you won’t have anything left when you need it!”

“Well, I’ll figure that out when the time comes.”

Belinda glared at him, grumbling in frustration.

“It’s bad enough that you’re wasting expensive medicine. Now you’re treating them yourself?”

“They’re doing such a terrible job at treating themselves, I can’t stand to watch.”

Ghislain’s carefree response left Belinda rubbing her temples in frustration.

The injured mercenary looked up at him gratefully.

“Thank you, my lord.”

“Just rest when you can. You should also learn proper first aid while you’re at it.”

“Heh, will do.”

Seeing the mercenaries trying to disinfect their wounds with urine and covering injuries with useless herbs had given Ghislain a headache.

So, he had no choice but to step in and teach them.

“If you set a splint like that, the bone’s going to heal wrong. And you—no more peeing on wounds! You’re going to end up with an infection, you idiot. And why are you drinking that?!”

Gradually, more and more mercenaries began to feel moved by Ghislain’s actions.

Normally, employers would leave badly injured mercenaries behind or let them die. Saving them was expensive and a hassle.

Belinda, squinting suspiciously, studied Ghislain as he moved around, tending to the mercenaries.

“How does he know all this? He never used to care about things like this... Did a dark sorcerer possess him or something?”

As Belinda indulged in her unfounded worries, the group continued making slow progress.

On the fifth day of their journey, after countless battles, they came upon a small lake.

“Hey, water!”

“It’s so cool and refreshing!”

The mercenaries rushed toward the water to quench their thirst.

They still had their own water supplies, but it was lukewarm and had started to taste like the leather of their canteens. The cool lake water was exactly what they needed to relieve their exhaustion.

Normally, Ghislain would restrict the mercenaries' movements, but this time he let them drink freely.

While the others enjoyed the water, Ghislain surveyed the area and began to think.

‘The path I mapped out seems accurate so far.’

The route he had planned differed from the one the kingdom’s subjugation forces had taken in his previous life.

Of course, the monsters weren’t appearing in the same order he remembered.

Ghislain reviewed his memory, matching his route with the monsters they had encountered.

So far, everything seemed to line up, and, fortunately, they had avoided some of the more dangerous creatures.

‘But from here on, things get serious.’

This lake was the most important waypoint on the path to their destination.

It was also where things would start to get much more dangerous.

[They would have likely started trailing us around the time we reached the lake.]

Ghislain repeated this line from his memories several times before he called out to the group.

“We’ll camp here today. Take the time to wash up and rest.”

The mercenaries, following his orders, chopped down trees to clear the area and began setting up camp.

“I’ll have dinner ready soon, young master,” Belinda said, pulling out a small pot from the cart, filling it with water, and tossing in some dried meat and spices to make a warm soup.

“Here, have some. You’ll need to eat well to keep your strength up.”

“Well, I don’t want to be the only one eating like this all the time…”

“Zip it! Just eat.”

Belinda shoved a fork toward him with a sharp grin, and Ghislain had no choice but to comply.

Seeing this, the mercenaries whistled and teased them.

“Hey, some of us are stuck gnawing on dried jerky while you’re eating a nice hot meal.”

“If you’re not going to fight, at least cook for us too!”

“Yeah, how about making the cook your full-time job!”

“We want soup too!”

Whoosh!

A fork flew through the air and embedded itself deep into the tree next to one of the teasing mercenaries.

His eyes bulged as he realized how close the fork had come to his head.

Belinda smiled sweetly.

“Hehe, you all have hands, don’t you? Feel free to cook for yourselves. I’m too busy looking after my young master.”

The mercenaries quickly nodded their heads, recognizing the skill with which she had thrown the fork. She wasn’t just some ordinary servant.

Ghislain chuckled and said to Belinda, “When you get the chance, maybe you could cook something for the others too. They’ve been working hard.”

“Fine, I’ll think about it.”

“I’m not really that hungry today anyway. Maybe you could give this to someone else…”

“Don’t you dare! You know what happened when you didn’t eat right as a kid, right?”

Belinda pulled out another fork and waved it in front of Ghislain’s face.

Seeing no way out, Ghislain quietly ate the soup.