The Regressed Tyrant Princess Rewrites Her Dark History - Chapter 2.15
Dressed in her usual hooded robe, Ariadne left the capital with only her bodyguard, Hans.
Along the city’s outer walls, many people were waiting—quarantined due to the plague inspections.
Ariadne made her way through the camp, heading for the Steel Merchant Guild’s encampment.
Though they had rebranded as a merchant guild, most of their members were former mercenaries.
They camped with a casual ease, yet their defenses were impeccable.
As soon as Ariadne and Hans stepped into their territory, a lookout immediately called out.
“Hey, missy, what brings you here?”
“…How did you know I’m a woman?”
It wasn’t unusual for people to recognize her gender from her voice.
But being identified just from the way she walked was a first.
Amused by her question, the man smirked.
“You really think that silhouette doesn’t give you away?”
Hans frowned at his attitude, but Ariadne signaled him to let it go.
Though reluctant, Hans obeyed.
“—And your bodyguard’s loyalty isn’t half-bad, either. Must mean you’re from a noble house, huh?”
“And if I am?”
“Then you should leave. We’ve been stuck out here because some of our men caught the plague. If you come too close, they might not let you back into the capital either.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
Ariadne held up a vial of potion Hans had handed her.
“That’s… a purification potion?”
“Yes. If you need it, I can provide enough for your entire guild. In addition, I’ve brought a business proposal for the Steel Merchant Guild. Could you take me to your leader?”
“In that case, wait here for a moment.”
One of the sentries ran off to deliver the message.
Before long, Ariadne was led to the largest tent in the camp.
Upon stepping inside, she found a simple yet sturdy table and chair positioned in the center.
Hans, seeing this, raised an eyebrow in mild surprise.
“Do they always carry chairs and tables around with them?”
“Hah! What do you take us for? We had these delivered after we got here, obviously.”
A deep, confident voice rang from within the tent.
A man stepped into view—silver hair, slightly spiked, and sharp red eyes filled with determination.
It was a face Ariadne recognized well.
A little younger than she remembered, but unmistakably Roland.
(He should be about twenty-seven now, right? …He looks more worn down than I expected.)
Pushing aside her thoughts, Ariadne removed her hood and revealed the brilliance of her amethyst eyes.
Roland’s eyes widened in shock.
“I take it introductions aren’t necessary?”
Ariadne flashed a mischievous smile.
Snapping out of his daze, Roland gave a slight shrug before gesturing for her to take a seat.
He sat across from her and leaned back with an intrigued smirk.
“Never thought the famous princess would step into a quarantine zone just to see me. So, what kind of job do you have for me?”
His crimson eyes gleamed with curiosity.
Ariadne took it as a sign that he had already guessed the nature of the request—and was interested.
“You’ve heard the rumors, haven’t you? The Theocracy of Avelia is massing troops at the border. Granheim is sending forces to counter them. I want the Steel Merchant Guild to handle our supply lines.”
“…I see.”
His reaction wasn’t as enthusiastic as she had anticipated.
Noting his lack of interest, Ariadne pressed forward.
“Of course, you’ll be well compensated. In addition, I’ll arrange for healing mages to clear your guild’s quarantine status and grant you access to the capital again. It’s a fair deal, don’t you think?”
“That’s certainly a generous offer.”
Yet he still didn’t accept.
Ariadne had expected him to be far more eager.
Clearing his current problems and offering him a lucrative contract—there was no reason for him to hesitate.
So why was he?
“…Tell me what’s holding you back.”
“It’s nothing interesting.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
Ariadne’s words carried an air of confidence.
Roland hesitated for a moment before exhaling and speaking.
“…Fine. If you insist. You know my guild started as a mercenary band, right?”
“I do. And I know that its leader, the Silver Lion, was feared across the battlefield.”
“Well, I’m honored that a princess knows my old title. But let me ask you this—how much do you know about the Steel Merchant Guild itself? Do you know what I’ve accomplished as a merchant?”
His question was pointed.
Ariadne knew about their current struggles.
But that wasn’t what he was asking.
After a brief moment of thought, she realized what he truly meant.
“…Are you doubting your own abilities as a merchant?”
That was the answer.
Back when he was a mercenary, Roland’s name was legendary.
But now, as the leader of a trading guild, he had failed to make an impact.
His business was struggling.
And now, with another war on the horizon, he was questioning his choices.
“If I return to being a mercenary, at the very least, I can pull myself out of this mess. Depending on how the war unfolds, I might even carve my name into history once again.”
“If the war drags on, then yes, that could happen.”
Ariadne did not refute his logic.
Before her regression, she had known Roland and his men as highly skilled mercenaries.
But she also remembered something else.
He had once told her:
“I’m tired of killing for money.”
That was the real reason he had abandoned life as a mercenary.
Which meant—
“But you’re not suited to be a mercenary.”
“…What? I thought you knew how skilled I am?”
“It’s not about skill. It’s about personality. You’re too kind.”
“That’s not even a funny joke.”
Roland’s expression darkened with displeasure, but Ariadne didn’t take back her words. She continued speaking.
“I reviewed your trade records.”
“Heh, a real mess, huh?”
“Your financial situation is certainly dire. But that’s because the scale of your business doesn’t match the type of work you’re taking on. Frankly, I’m impressed you’ve managed to keep such a large company afloat with such unprofitable jobs.”
“…Are you insulting me?”
“I’m praising you. You’re a capable leader. The problem isn’t you—it’s that you’ve never been given the right opportunity. And that’s what I’m offering you now.”
“…And you expect me to just believe that?”
Roland’s crimson eyes were clouded with doubt.
It was natural.
If their roles were reversed, Ariadne herself wouldn’t have trusted such an offer so easily.
So instead, she shared a memory.
“Once, a man told me something. He said he became a mercenary because he wanted to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. But you and I both know—that’s an impossible dream, isn’t it?”
Mercenaries fought for those who could pay them.
At times, they were forced to cut down good people—people they themselves might have deemed honorable—just because their employer demanded it.
Ariadne remembered a man who had struggled with that contradiction.
“…Who are you?” Roland murmured.
“I’m just a princess. A fallen one, at that.”
Ariadne smiled softly.
“…And what happened to that man?”
“Who knows? His fate lies in the future. But I believe this—he will rise as a leader, carve his name into history, and one day, he will protect the powerless.”
That was a future Ariadne had never witnessed.
Before her execution, she hadn’t lived long enough to see where Roland’s path had led.
But she knew—if given the chance, he would have made that dream come true.
And most of all—
She could not allow her interference in fate to ruin his future.
“You sure speak like you know everything,” Roland muttered. “And you sure seem to think highly of me. What if one day, I decide to walk a different path from yours?”
“Then so be it. But right now, I need you. And you need me. So take my hand.”
Her amethyst eyes gleamed as she extended her right hand toward him.
Roland stared at it for a moment, then rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh.
“…Fine. You’ve talked me into it.”
With that, he took her hand.
In time, Roland would go on to achieve great feats under Ariadne’s command.
And eventually, he would save the powerless— But that is a story for another time.