Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke-Chapter 68 - Terror in the Yellow Forest

68 Terror in the Yellow Forest

Tristan was saying that William’s single life was worth more than those three to four hundred innocent people.

But in his past life, William had always been one of those disposable lives.

Suppressing his anger, William met Tristan’s gaze directly and spoke in a firm, unwavering voice.

"Apologies, but I can’t accept that. I’m going."

"Are you going to invoke the duty of a noble?" Tristan sneered.

"No. I don’t care about noble duties."

William took a deep breath and, for the first time since his rebirth, spoke the words he had long held in his heart.

Words formed not from a noble’s perspective, but from that of an ordinary man.

"If you can’t protect those who serve you, then you have no right to rule them."

Tristan’s face twisted in shock.

William’s words had struck at the very foundation of aristocratic ideology.

Tristan clenched his teeth and glared at William, his voice rising with barely contained fury.

"You’ve read too many hero stories! You’re so lost in self-righteous delusions that you’ve completely abandoned reality! Are you seriously suggesting we gamble with the fate of the family based on your ridiculous sense of morality?"

"Yes, that’s exactly what I’m suggesting," William replied without hesitation.

"...What?"

Tristan’s breath caught in his throat.

"Brother, you’re pathetic."

The single, cutting remark left Tristan momentarily speechless.

There would be no legal repercussions for his decision. It wouldn’t tarnish his standing as a successor candidate. It wouldn’t even cause any real damage to his authority.

And yet...

It was nothing more than a subjective distinction of dignity and disgrace imposed by his foolish younger brother.

That was all it was.

And yet, that single remark—so meaningless, so inconsequential—burned his pride to cinders.

"You dare—!"

Before he even realized it, his hand had reached for the sword at his waist.

But before the blade could leave its sheath, a figure stepped between them.

"Compose yourself, First Young Master," Raymond said, standing firm.

"Step aside! This has nothing to do with you!" Tristan barked.

"I serve under the Grand Duke’s command as Third Young Master’s personal guard. If you lay a hand on him, you go against not only my duty but also the will of the Grand Duke himself," Raymond warned.

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Tristan ground his teeth in frustration.

He knew better than anyone that fighting Raymond was a lost cause. Not only was the Black Lion a warrior beyond his reach, but the knight’s warning was no empty threat.

Tristan’s grip on his sword trembled for a moment—then loosened.

"...Fine," he spat. "Take your mercenaries. Do whatever you want with them. But you will bear full responsibility for your decision!"

"I intended to from the start," William replied flatly, not even sparing a glance back as he strode out of the office.

Once they had put some distance between themselves and the room, William glanced at Raymond.

"Why did you stop him?" he asked. "I could have handled it myself."

"My duty is to protect you, regardless of whether you could handle it or not. Failing to prevent a potential threat would be a dereliction of that duty," Raymond stated matter-of-factly. Then, after a brief pause, he lowered his voice and added, "And besides…"

He glanced around to ensure no one was listening before continuing.

"...I also found the First Young Master’s logic to be rather disgraceful."

"Pfft!"

William couldn’t hold back his laughter.

Until now, he had assumed Raymond was just a stiff, duty-bound knight. But it seemed there was a bit of wit hidden beneath that disciplined exterior.

"So, what’s your plan now, Third Young Master?" Raymond asked.

William, still grinning, answered without hesitation.

"Didn’t I already say? Gather Hugo and the remaining Black Lions. We’re heading to Greve City."

His smile turned razor-sharp.

"And unlike my dear brother, we’re going in style."

At the edge of the Yellow Forest, near Greve City, two figures loomed in the dim light filtering through the trees.

One was a middle-aged man clad in a tattered black robe. The other, a younger figure, had a faded hood drawn over his head.

The robed man, Jude, spoke first, his voice laced with unsettling amusement.

"Ahh, this is nice. It’s been a while since I felt so saturated with mana. The fools in the Imperial Liberation Army are more useful than I expected."

"Imperial Liberation Army," the younger mage, Colin, corrected. "Not Imperial Army. There’s a big difference."

"Who cares what the sponsors call themselves?" Jude chuckled. "You young mages always fuss over meaningless details. Or is that an Astromancy school thing? Always peering at the stars and fretting over every little point of light?"

Colin suppressed a shiver.

Jude’s laughter alone made his skin crawl, as if the sound itself were seeping into his flesh.

So this is what a dark mage feels like in person.

Colin had heard plenty of stories, but none of them had prepared him for the sheer wrongness emanating from the man beside him.

He had first met Jude through an introduction from the Imperial Liberation Army.

At the time, he had been given no choice in the matter. The Liberation Army had been protecting him from the Empire’s pursuit—he wasn’t in a position to refuse them.

At first, he had thought it was just a temporary arrangement. A few weeks at most.

But then Jude had begun demanding live sacrifices.

Colin had no deep knowledge of the Beasthood school of magic, but even he knew that any magic requiring blood payment was unmistakably black magic.

At that point, he had confronted Jude directly.

"You… You’re a dark mage, aren’t you?"

"Yes."

"And you’re just… admitting it?"

"Of course. Does my honesty surprise you?"

Jude hadn’t even attempted to deny it. He had laughed and admitted it outright, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Now that you know, what will you do? Tell them about me?"

"Of course I will! Even if the Empire is after me, working with a dark mage—!"

"That would be troublesome," Jude had mused, his voice utterly calm. "That means I’d have to kill you before you could tell anyone."

"W-What!?"

"It’s only practical. If the others found out, they’d turn on me first. And considering your combat skills, well…"

The moment Jude had raised his hand, crimson mana pooling in his palm, Colin had known he was one word away from death.