Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke-Chapter 64 - Threads of Doubt
64 Threads of Doubt
A scattered, crumbling force with no future.
But…
There were always exceptions.
And the exceptions?
They were the ones who changed history.
If a mage’s expertise lay in large-scale destruction and chaos, the situation changed entirely.
And if that mage was working alone, it might have been manageable.
But with an entire faction like the Imperial Liberation Front backing them?
William sighed. ’This has disaster written all over it.’
But no matter how many times he explained it, Tristan wouldn’t listen.
Not until he saw the danger for himself.
William would have to abandon the idea of extracting information from his brother.
That left him with only one alternative—waiting for the trap he had set to catch something.
"Third Prince," Raymond’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.
William turned, pushing aside his concerns for now. "What is it?"
"We’ve got a bite."
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His eyes sharpened.
That was the agreed-upon signal.
They had caught a live member of the Imperial Liberation Front.
William’s lips curled into a slow smile.
"Let’s go."
The location was deep in the northern outskirts, where the path merged into the Yellowwood.
As William arrived, a band of mercenaries greeted him with smug satisfaction.
"Hah! Look at this, young master! We caught ourselves a member of the Impe—"
"Shh."
William strode forward and clamped a hand over the mercenary captain’s mouth before he could finish.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Keep quiet. Or are you trying to advertise to every other mercenary that you just struck gold? Take your payment and leave. Silently."
The captain blinked, caught off guard.
For a moment, he seemed about to argue.
But when William reached into his coat and pressed a platinum coin into his palm, his entire demeanor changed.
"Understood."
With a sly grin, he motioned to his men, and they slipped away into the shadows.
William watched them leave, satisfied.
He hadn’t hushed them out of kindness—he simply didn’t want Tristan catching wind of this.
Now, only he and Raymond remained.
William turned his attention to the prisoner.
The man was young. Likely in his early twenties.
He was restrained but not beaten. His eyes burned with defiance, lips pressed tightly shut.
William studied him for a long moment.
Then, he spoke. "Imperial Liberation Front?"
Silence.
"You let yourself get caught by mercenaries? That’s disappointing. Or did you overestimate yourself?"
No reaction.
William tilted his head. "I suppose I should commend your courage. Walking freely through monster-infested forests, as if they weren’t a threat at all."
Still, the young man didn’t respond.
William’s expression remained calm. "Tell me. What’s your secret?"
Nothing.
His patience didn’t waver.
Instead, he changed tactics. "You hired a mage, didn’t you?"
A flicker of hesitation.
William smiled slightly. Got you.
"Nols and Kobolds," he continued. "Two species that should never be able to coexist. And yet, here they are, moving together. That only happens with magic."
The prisoner remained silent, but his jaw tightened.
William leaned in. "Beast Magic, perhaps? Controlling animals and monsters?"
The young man’s fingers twitched. Just a little.
William let out a quiet chuckle. "No. That’s not it."
His voice dropped, steady and cold.
"That’s black magic."
The prisoner’s entire body tensed.
William had him.
It took him a second to realize his mistake, but by then, it was already too late.
William’s gaze bore into him. "Black sorcerers often disguise themselves under different schools. Especially when it comes to controlling monsters. It’s a lie. They don’t ’tame’ creatures. They corrupt them."
The prisoner’s breathing grew uneven.
"You think you hired a mage?" William asked, his voice edged with quiet amusement. "It’s the opposite. They infiltrated you."
The words hit like a hammer.
A flicker of doubt crossed the young man’s face, just for an instant.
William pressed on.
"Do you even realize what you’ve done?" he said softly. "Do you know what kind of ritual you’re helping complete?"
The prisoner swallowed hard but still refused to answer.
William exhaled. Then, with perfect conviction, he delivered the final blow.
"This entire region is nothing but fuel for their sacrifice."
Raymond sucked in a sharp breath.
The prisoner flinched.
"If you had at least limited your target to just the Empire, I could almost understand," William continued. "After all, you see them as your enemy. You likely think the citizens under their rule are no different."
He took a step back, shaking his head.
"But to throw your own people into the flames as well?" His voice was like steel. "That’s not rebellion. That’s pure stupidity."
The prisoner’s hands clenched into fists.
His lips trembled.
William had seen that look before.
Doubt.
The young man wanted to call him a liar.
But William’s voice had been too steady.
His words too deliberate.
If even a fraction of what he said was true…
It meant the Liberation Front had never been in control.
"…No," the prisoner whispered, his voice shaking. "You’re lying. You’re just trying to break me."
William scoffed. "You want me to be lying."
The young man’s eyes darted away.
William let out a short laugh. "Did you ever even question why they needed you?"
The prisoner’s breath hitched.
William turned away, exhaling dramatically, like a teacher disappointed in a foolish student.
"Pathetic."
Raymond looked between the two, a growing realization dawning in his eyes.
William had just ripped apart everything this man believed in.
Without even laying a hand on him.
The prisoner’s voice was barely above a whisper when he finally spoke again.
"…Is the ritual… truly for mass sacrifice?"
William didn’t even look at him as he responded.
He simply sighed.
As if he had already accepted the answer.
As if it wasn’t even worth confirming.
"…Of course it is."
He walked away, leaving his words to sink deep into the young man’s mind.
And in his head, he smirked.
Because that was a complete lie
Magic was an intricate and profound discipline.
So much so that even among mages, different schools often led to complete ignorance of one another’s spells. For someone like William, who had never wielded magic himself, understanding it was an impossibility.
Still, he had prodded and spoken in a way that sounded convincing. The key was to make the other side talk—after all, an interrogation couldn’t begin without loosening their tongue first.
What magic? Which spell? Were these bastards really about to conduct some kind of ritual?
He had merely rustled the underbrush, but something had certainly slithered out. Whether it was a mere worm or a venomous serpent, he could not yet tell.