Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke-Chapter 62 - Unseen Threat

62 Unseen Threat

As silence settled over the group, Hugo’s voice broke the tension, his expression clouded with unease.

"Isn’t this a disaster waiting to happen? The Empire has labeled all unregistered mages as heretics ever since the Mage Rebellion three hundred years ago. If word gets out that magic is involved—"

"The Imperial Court will act immediately," Raymond cut in. His voice was grim. "Even if the mage in question escapes, the Emperor’s guards will tear through Bornholm searching for any traces. If things spiral out of control, the entire region could be caught in a witch hunt."

The Empire rarely interfered in a noble’s internal affairs, as long as there was no outright rebellion.

But the moment magic entered the equation?

All such rules became meaningless.

To the Imperial Court, the existence of an unregistered mage was no different from a traitor plotting an insurrection.

"His Grace may be aligned with the Emperor," Raymond continued, "but even he can’t override three centuries of deep-seated hatred. If magic is truly at play, they won’t show us any mercy."

"What about the First Prince?" Vincent asked. "What was his stance?"

"He wants to bury the issue," William replied flatly. "I understand his reasoning, but if a mage is involved, ignoring it could lead to catastrophic consequences."

The Empire’s paranoia over magic was extreme.

But at the same time, they were the most experienced force when it came to dealing with rogue mages.

If this turned into a real battle, ordinary knights—who had never faced a proper mage—would be wiped out in an instant.

"But informing the Emperor is just as risky," Hugo countered. "A single wrong move, and they might burn all of Bornholm to the ground."

"Exactly." William ran a hand along his jaw, his mind racing. "We don’t have enough information to make a decision yet."

There was another problem.

William had no memory of anything major happening in Bornholm from his past life.

If the Imperial Court had intervened, it would have left some trace in the history books.

That meant Tristan had successfully covered everything up.

’Which means whatever happened was small enough to be contained… but not a victory they could publicly claim.’

If they had been able to frame the battle as a successful suppression of rebels, they would have done so.

But they hadn’t.

Which meant the outcome had been too close to a defeat to be useful.

Even if they had technically won, it had likely been a costly, hollow victory.

If William allowed things to play out the same way, Tristan might succeed in covering it up again.

But the consequences wouldn’t change.

William exhaled slowly. ’I have to intervene before that happens.’

There was no other option.

He rose from his seat, his decision made.

"First, we gather more information," he said. "Right now, we’re blind."

"You plan to interrogate the captured rebels?" Raymond asked. "The First Prince won’t allow it."

William smirked. "Who said anything about them?"

Raymond frowned. "Then—?"

"Rather than interrogating some half-dead prisoners who’ve been rotting in a cell for days…" William’s smile sharpened. "Wouldn’t it be better to get fresh information?"

Hugo blinked. "…You’re waiting for the mercenaries."

"Exactly. The bounty I set is more than enough to motivate them. It’s only a matter of time before they bring someone in."

The rebels had been moving freely, unaware that the mercenaries had been reactivated.

With the increased patrols, at least one of them would be caught within the next two days.

William simply had to sit back and wait.

The forest surrounding Bornholm’s outer walls was known as the Yellowwood.

It earned its name due to the dense canopy of massive trees, whose thick branches blocked sunlight from reaching the undergrowth.

Visit fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm for the best novel reading experi𝒆nce.

Smaller saplings, unable to receive proper nourishment, withered and died—leaving the forest floor covered in a perpetual layer of brittle yellow leaves.

At night, the Yellowwood took on an eerie, foreboding atmosphere.

It was a place most people avoided, not only because of its unsettling appearance but also because monsters frequently used the paths that wound through its depths.

Yet tonight, two shadowy figures moved cautiously among the trees.

"Stop. If the sky’s thunder strikes…"

"…Then the sinner upon the throne shall be judged. It’s me, comrade."

After exchanging the secret code, the two men pulled back their hoods, stepping closer to one another.

Both were dressed in dark cloaks, their faces lined with the wear of age. Though they had only recently entered their forties, a lifetime spent in the Imperial Liberation Front had aged them prematurely.

They recognized each other instantly.

They had fought side by side for decades.

"What’s the urgency?" the man on the right asked. "We agreed just days ago to focus on our assigned tasks and move forward with the plan."

"That is why I called you," the left one replied grimly. "Something’s changed. The mercenaries and the Hern family have come to an agreement."

The other man’s expression twisted.

"What?"

The Liberation Front had relied on the mercenaries’ inaction to maintain their foothold.

The negotiations had been completely stalled.

This wasn’t something that could have been resolved in just a day or two.

"…Did they give in to the mercenaries’ demands?" he asked suspiciously.

"No. That’s what’s strange. The mercenaries weren’t paid what they asked for. Someone from the main house came and settled the issue in a single day."

The man on the right let out a bitter chuckle. "Unbelievable. And here I thought the Hern family would remain a den of incompetent aristocrats."

"The most concerning part is that this person wasn’t sent by the First Prince. If it had been his usual advisors, we would have accounted for them."

"…Then who?"

The first man’s expression darkened.

"We don’t know his name yet, but one thing is certain."

His voice dropped to a whisper.

"Whoever he is, he’s dangerous."

"This is no time for hesitation. We need to recall our scattered comrades immediately," the man on the left said, his voice edged with urgency. "If we wait any longer, they’ll be hunted down one by one."

The other man exhaled sharply, rubbing his forehead. "I’ll send the recall order… but no matter how fast we act, at least a few of them are bound to get caught."

It was inevitable. They had been too careless, too confident that the mercenaries would remain neutral. Some of their people had traveled far, believing they had all the time in the world.

Now, it was too late to retrieve them all.