Boundless Family Upgrades For The Deadbeat Lord

"Mercy, my Lord!"

"We were forced by hunger, your Lordship! Please spare us!"

Raymond kept his smiling face completely unchanged. His legs remained casually crossed over one another, and his hands were clasped together neatly over his knee. He let them beg for a few more seconds, letting the fear fully sink into their bones, before he opened his mouth.

"Okay," Raymond said softly.

The single word was quiet, but it cut through the loud crying and begging instantly.

Captain Boris and his men froze mid-grovel. The room fell into an abrupt, stunned silence. The mercenaries slowly began looking at one another, their swollen, bruised faces filled with utter confusion. Then, they slowly turned their eyes backtoward Raymond, staring at him as if they had completely misheard his words.

Boris’s voice trembled violently as he squeezed out a single syllable. "What...?"

Raymond’s smile widened slightly, his expression softening into something warm. "You heard me correctly, Captain. I said, I forgive you."

The bedroom fell into a dead silence so profound you could hear a pin drop. Every single mercenary looked at Raymond with wide, disbelieving eyes. They had fully expected to be dragged to the courtyard to face the executioner’s axe, yet this notorious tyrant was casually offering them a full pardon.

Raymond slowly stood up from the edgeof the bed. He uncrossed his legs, smoothed down his stained silk shirt, and looked over the mass of beaten men. In an instant, the cold, dangerous aura he had been radiating vanished completely.

He put on a benevolent, deeply kind face, accompanied by an amicable, gentle smile. His entire temperament shifted seamlessly from a ruthless feudal lord to a calm, elegant, and pious priest. The sheer speed of his facial transformation was masterful.

He took a few slow steps forward, stopping just a foot away from the pile of groveling men. He looked down at them not with anger, but with an expression of profound, heartbreaking sorrow.

"I know that your rebellion was forcedby the terrible circumstances of our land," Raymond began, his voice dropping into a deep, somber tone as he commenced a long, calculated speech. "And to be entirely honest with you all... I am the largest part of the problem. I do not blame you for lifting your swords against me. In fact, I blame myself."

Captain Boris blinked, completely paralyzed by the sudden shift in narrative."For the past six months, since the passing of my late father, I have been a pathetic excuse for a lord," Raymond said, his voice trembling slightly with what appeared to be genuine, crushing guilt.

He was gaslighting them with absolute precision. "I allowed myself to drown in grief and alcohol. I locked myself in this room, drinking away our remaining gold while you, my loyal guards, froze on the walls. I sat warmly by the hearth while your families and the subjects of this baronystarved in the streets. You didn’t rebel because you are evil men, Boris. You rebelled because I abandoned you. I forced you into a corner where you had to choose between treason or watching your brothers freeze to death."

Raymond let out a long, heavy sigh, lowering his head as if the weight of his sins was too heavy to bear. He even squeezed his eyes shut, forcing a few illusory tears to well up at the corners of his eyes before wiping them away with the back of his hand.

The speech was so profoundly convincing, so filled with seamless self-blame and raw emotion, that the mercenaries were completely staggered. In this medieval world, nobles treated commoners like literal dirt under their boots. A noble would sooner execute an entire town than ever admit to a single mistake, let alone weep andbeg for his soldiers’ understanding.

Looking at Raymond’s sad face, seeing their lord openly weeping and taking full responsibility for the misery of the fief, a wave of intense guilt suddenly flipped within the mercenaries’ hearts. They began to feel like they were the villains for attacking such a deeply remorseful, tragic young master.

A few of the younger mercenaries in the back actually shed a few tears, completely overwhelmed by the emotional atmosphere.

"No, my Lord! Please do not blame yourself!" Captain Boris suddenly choked out, his single eye filling with real tears as he banged his chest. "We were wrong! We broke our sacred vows as soldiers! No matter how difficult the winter, we should have stood by House Althoff! It is our shame, not yours!"

"Yes, your Lordship! Do not blame yourself!" the other mercenaries quickly chimed in, their voices thick with emotion as they nodded frantically.

Raymond carefully hid the cold amusement flashing in his mind. "Hook, line, and sinker," he thought.

He stepped forward and reached down, placing a gentle, reassuring hand directly onto Captain Boris’s dented shoulder armor. He looked at the captain with an intense, burning gaze filled with a mixture of sorrow and sudden, unyielding hope.

"Let us put the past behind us, Boris," Raymond said, his voice rising with a dramatic, inspiring cadence. "Let us all come together to survive this harsh winter and protect this land. With your swords with your unyielding loyalty, and with my guidance, we can overcome this crisis. Together, we can create a better, prosperous future for every single soul in the Althoff Barony!"

The mercenaries’ eyes instantly ignited with a fierce, burning determination. Raymond’s words acted like oil thrown onto a dying fire. The sheer psychological manipulation had completely transformed a group of terrified mutineers into a crowd of fiercely inspired fanatics.

Despite the intense, agonizing pain racking their broken bodies, all thirty-plus men scrambled to their feet. They ignored their cracked ribs and swollen faces, rearranged their posture into a tight military formation, and dropped down onto one knee in perfect synchronization.

They raised their fists to their chests, shouting at the top of their lungs with a voice that shook the dust from the ceiling.

"We greet our Lord! Long live House Althoff!"

Raymond smiled warmly, spreading his arms wide open like a devoted, deeply kind priest welcoming his flock.

"Stand up, my loyal subjects," Raymond declared, his voice echoing with absolute benevolence. "Let us build our future together."

The men stood up, standing at absolute attention, their eyes fixed on the glowing, elegant figure of Raymond with pure heat and fanatical admiration. They were completely ready to march into hell for him.

Just as the atmosphere hit its absolute peak, a sharp, crystalline chime rang out loudlyinside Raymond’s mind, completely shattering his internal focus.

[ Ding! ]

[ Congratulations Host! You have successfully completed a Hidden Milestone Mission: ’The Art of the Devil’s Tongue’! ]

[ Mission Description: Successfully suppress a life-threatening armed mutiny through pure psychological manipulation and gaslighting without losing a single unit of your starting population force. ]

[ Mission Evaluation: S-Rank! ]

[ Calculating Hidden Rewards... ]

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