Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke-Chapter 70 - A Battle Won, A War Begins

70 A Battle Won, A War Begins

Blood sprayed as the creature tumbled back, its chest split open.

Without missing a beat, William turned and smacked the mercenary beside him hard across the face.

SMACK!

"You idiot! I told you to stay focused! Do you want to die?!"

"S-Sorry, sir—!"

"Shut up and hold the line! You won’t get a second chance!"

The mercenary, barely recovering from the slap, was shoved back into position.

William had done this more than once already—rushing to weak points, stepping in at the last possible moment to reinforce failing defenses.

He moved so efficiently that even the Black Lions, who had been positioned to plug breaches, found themselves standing idle.

Hugo’s grip tightened on his sword as he watched.

He’s seeing everything at once. In this chaos, he knows exactly where the cracks are forming and what kind of support is needed.

A sudden guttural screech snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Kraaagh!"

Hugo barely had time to react before a kobold lunged from below.

He swung reflexively, cutting a deep gash into its chest.

The creature crumpled, thrashing weakly before going still.

Hugo exhaled sharply. If he had hesitated for even a second, he would have been the one bleeding out on the ground.

I lost focus for just a moment, and this is what happens.

His heart pounded.

He had seen his fair share of violence in the underworld. Killing and being hunted were nothing new to him.

But this was different.

This was a storm of chaos, where killing was not personal—just a means of survival.

If he lost his grip on reality, even for an instant, he would be swallowed whole.

"Hugo! You still breathing? Or did you piss yourself already?"

William’s voice cut through the din of battle.

Hugo couldn’t help but laugh.

"Yes! Still alive! I can fight for hours yet!"

"Good! If you’re going to be a knight, you better get used to this!"

"Hearing you say that, I think I already have!"

"Don’t get cocky! Stay alive first, then brag later!"

"That’s a strange way of putting it!"

Laughter erupted from the surrounding mercenaries.

Hugo blinked in surprise, realizing only now that the battle was practically over.

The bodies of fallen monsters lay scattered across the battlefield, and the few remaining enemies were desperately clawing their way forward in blind fury.

But the tide had turned. Victory was already sealed.

Duke Sigmund sat in his office, meticulously reviewing the report in front of him.

Standing before him, William and Tristan waited in silence, their expressions unreadable as they awaited his judgment.

After a long moment, the duke set the report down with a soft thud and turned his gaze toward Tristan.

"Tristan."

"Yes, Father," Tristan answered, his voice composed but wary.

"You’ve always been quick in making decisions," the duke said, his tone even. "When something needed to be severed, you never hesitated. You always cut without delay. But sometimes… decisiveness turns into recklessness."

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Tristan remained silent.

"I have always been concerned about that tendency of yours," the duke continued. "There were times when you didn’t choose the best option—you merely settled for the lesser evil. But the lesser evil is not always the right choice."

A shadow fell over Tristan’s face as he dipped his head slightly.

The message was clear. His handling of recent events had been less than ideal.

The duke studied his eldest son for a moment before speaking again.

"Sacrificing the few for the sake of the many—I won’t say that is inherently wrong. But sacrifice is not always the answer. Sometimes, you must set aside the scales and think with your heart. Not everything can be measured and weighed."

"...I will take your words to heart," Tristan said, his voice low.

The duke nodded before shifting his gaze to William.

"William," he said, his tone notably softer.

A rare sight—his usually severe expression relaxed, even if only slightly.

"You did well," he said simply. "You protected the territory, safeguarded the people, and in the process, ensured that the noble house suffered no losses. There is nothing more I could ask for."

"You flatter me," William replied lightly. "After spending so much of the family’s wealth, I had to deliver some results."

The duke scoffed. "Gold is of little consequence. What matters is that the return on your investment far exceeded the cost. As the one who funded your actions, I have no complaints. However…"

The pride in his expression faded slightly, a hint of something more troubled creeping in.

"One thing does concern me," he admitted. "You knew about the mage’s existence… and yet, you made no effort to conceal it."

William stiffened.

So it wasn’t just Tristan overreacting. If even the duke found fault with this, then…

Just how much does the Imperial family despise mages?

William had always known that the Imperial court viewed magic with hostility. Ever since the chaos of past wars, mages had begun reappearing in the world, and the Imperial family had reacted violently to their presence.

And yet, for all their hatred, they had been forced to tolerate magic. The usefulness of spellcasters was undeniable, and the Empire’s hold on power had weakened over the years.

In William’s eyes, it had seemed like nothing more than begrudging discontent. But now, hearing both Tristan and the duke voice the same concerns… it had to be something more.

Had he underestimated just how deep that hatred ran?

He would have to factor that in moving forward.

"Still," the duke continued, shaking his head, "there’s no use dwelling on what didn’t happen. The outcome was favorable, and there’s no point reprimanding you for something that never came to pass. Just… in the future, even if you don’t go to the lengths your brother would, it would be wise to exercise some discretion when it comes to mages."

"I understand," William replied.

"Good." The duke leaned back. "You must both be exhausted. Go and rest. I will handle the remaining matters."

"Yes, Father," both brothers said in unison, bowing slightly before stepping out of the office.

The moment the door shut behind them, they turned to face each other.

One wore a victorious smirk.

The other—the look of bitter defeat.

No words were exchanged. There was no need for them.

Anyone who saw them at that moment would know—who had won, and who had lost.