Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke-Chapter 58 - The Oathbound Gambit
For a brief moment, it seemed as if he would strike down Sven himself. But then, in one swift motion, he turned the blade on himself, slicing his own palm open.
"My lord!?"
Hugo’s shout of alarm was ignored. William clenched his bleeding fist, raising it high for all to see, his voice ringing out through the tavern.
"O Eight Gods of the Heavens! Before you, I swear upon the name of William Hern: To the one who slays this man, I shall grant every last coin within this pouch! If I fail to uphold this vow, I renounce my noble blood! Witness my words and judge me!"
A hushed gasp rippled through the crowd.
Raymond buried his face in his hands.
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A Temple Oath.
It was not a binding spell, not a magical contract. But the weight it carried was undeniable. No emperor in the history of the empire had ever broken a Temple Oath without consequences.
For a noble, breaking such an oath meant more than disgrace—it meant exile from their own family. The Hern name itself would cast William aside.
’It’s done. There’s no going back now.’
If someone killed Sven, the platinum coins had to be paid.
The only way out would be to revoke the vow before anyone acted. But once blood was shed, there was no undoing it.
"Wait, that was a Temple Oath!? I thought that was just some legend!"
"It’s just an oath. It’s not like he’ll be struck down by lightning if he breaks it."
"Idiot! A noble breaking a Temple Oath gets exiled from their own family!"
"Then… he really has to pay that bounty?"
The mercenaries shifted uneasily, caught between greed and hesitation. No one wanted to be the first to strike. Killing a comrade for money meant becoming a pariah, a betrayer among mercenaries. And yet…
"Pathetic."
William’s voice cut through their doubt like a blade.
"I swore upon my honor and the gods. If you lack the courage to act, then you have no right to claim this gold."
He reached down, scooping up half the pile of platinum coins and returning them to the pouch.
The mercenaries’ eyes widened.
William smirked. He had seen it before—the greed flaring behind their eyes, the way they stiffened as the prize dwindled before them. Then, raising his voice once more, he spoke.
"O Eight Gods of the Heavens!"
Another oath, this time with the reward cut in half.
The tension in the room escalated. Murmurs turned to hushed whispers, to nervous glances exchanged between mercenaries. Some gripped their weapons, others looked away.
Still, no one moved.
William cut the reward again. The third oath rang out, and this time, a few mercenaries shifted uneasily, standing half-risen from their seats.
"W-Wait! My lord, please!"
"Silence! I did not come here to negotiate. I seek only one who will honor my vow!"
"But how can we trust—!"
"Trust? That is your decision. But if even a Temple Oath does not satisfy you, what more could I offer?"
William scoffed, sweeping nearly all the remaining platinum coins back into his pouch.
The last remnants of restraint snapped.
"O Eight Gods of the Heavens—"
Clatter.
The sound of chairs scraping against the floor, of blades being drawn. A handful of mercenaries leaped to their feet, hands gripping their weapons.
Sven took an instinctive step back, his composure unraveling. "W-Wait! You’re being played! Can’t you see—!"
Bang!
A single voice cut through the growing chaos.
"Enough!"
One of Sven’s own men slammed his fist onto the table, rising from his seat.
"Are you all fools!? Falling for such an obvious trick!?"
Sven’s eyes lit up with relief. "Aiden!"
Aiden—the lieutenant of the Red Blades—glanced at Sven before turning to the rest of the mercenaries.
"Have you all forgotten? This man led us through hell! And you’d betray him for a noble’s gold!? Have some damn shame!"
Some of the mercenaries hesitated, nodding. Others scowled, fists clenching.
Sven let out a breath, nodding in gratitude. "That’s right, Aiden. We—"
Schlick.
Sven gasped.
His eyes widened in shock as a dagger buried itself deep into his side.
He staggered, looking down to see Aiden’s hand wrapped around the hilt.
"Y-You…!"
Aiden sighed, shaking his head. "Sorry, boss. But you’d do the same to me."
Crunch.
The dagger twisted. Sven’s mouth opened, but no sound escaped—only a sharp exhale, as if the air had been stolen from his lungs.
Aiden wrenched the blade free, and Sven collapsed in a heap.
Silence returned.
Aiden wiped the blood from his blade before stepping forward. He met William’s gaze, his expression unreadable.
"My lord. Keep your word."
William smiled.
Gathering the remaining platinum coins, he placed them directly into Aiden’s waiting hands.
William kept his word without hesitation. The moment he placed the platinum coins into Aiden’s hands, the entire tavern fell into a stunned silence.
Jealousy, regret, greed—countless emotions rippled through the gathered mercenaries. Yet, despite the weight of their gazes, William simply smiled.
"The sum is quite substantial, so I imagine you might be feeling uneasy," he said casually. "If you wish, I could arrange for an escort to ensure you reach your next destination safely."
Aiden shook his head. "No need. I prefer to travel alone."
"Is that so?" William stepped aside. "Then I won’t stop you."
The moment the path was clear, Aiden bolted from the tavern, moving like a man who knew exactly what he needed to do. Judging by his urgency, he was likely heading straight to the nearest stable to buy a horse and put as much distance between himself and this place as possible.
At the same time, several mercenaries shifted in their seats, some even rising from their chairs.
’They’re planning to chase him down and take the money for themselves,’ William thought, his expression unreadable.
Mercenaries. No matter how many times he dealt with them, their nature never changed. He had been one in his past life, yet even now, their predictable greed made him shake his head in exasperation.
Clap. Clap.
"Sit down," William said, his voice carrying across the room. "I’m not finished speaking."
