Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke-Chapter 89 - A Lion Among Jackals

89 A Lion Among Jackals

Yet, despite its necessity, water was also the most difficult resource to transport.

The sheer volume required, combined with its weight, made long-term storage and distribution nearly impossible.

This was why most armies did not carry all their water with them.

Instead, they relied on natural sources—rivers, wells, and streams—found in occupied territories.

As long as these sources remained uncontaminated, resupplying water was rarely an issue.

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Unless, of course, someone deliberately poisoned them.

With rivers, such sabotage was nearly impossible.

A river was too vast, too constantly flowing to be effectively tainted over a short period.

But small wells and creeks?

Those could be ruined in an instant.

Jurgen hesitated before answering William’s question.

"According to our maps, there are three villages along the route. Each has at least one well, and the second village is also near a small stream. We should have no trouble securing water."

William frowned at the response.

This was not a reassuring answer.

All it would take was a single act of sabotage, and every available water source would be rendered useless.

Marquis Bernhardt, noticing William’s displeasure, let out a dismissive scoff.

"Tampering with water supplies is a violation of the Grand Accord, Lord William."

William turned to face him.

"And you still believe Krefeld will abide by the Accord?"

Bernhardt chuckled. "And you still believe they will not? I’m afraid your argument has already been dismissed. There is no need to waste time discussing an impossibility."

"Quite right," the First Prince interjected coldly.

His sharp gaze locked onto William.

"Our entire strategy is based on the assumption that the enemy will adhere to the Grand Accord. I expect you to act accordingly and not persist in raising rejected concerns."

William bowed slightly. "I apologize."

He stepped back without further argument.

If they refused to heed his warnings, then whatever disaster unfolded would be entirely their own fault.

No one would be able to blame him when things inevitably went wrong.

Seeing that no further objections were raised, the First Prince stood and addressed the assembled lords.

"If there are no further disagreements, then this council is concluded. We will advance swiftly to Bodiam and take the fortress by force!"

Even in the best of circumstances, coalition forces struggled to operate in unison.

Different factions, trained under different doctrines, could not be seamlessly integrated.

Thus, before setting out, every commander needed to know their assigned position on the battlefield.

"Count Larkmo and Viscount Montel will take the left flank. Viscount Bren and Count Sybon will hold the right."

Before their departure, Jurgen relayed the official formations, distributing positions based on military strength, noble rank, and political considerations.

"Lord William, you will take the left vanguard alongside Marquis Bernhardt. His Highness, the First Prince, will command the elite guard behind you both."

William’s expression remained unreadable as he nodded.

Fighting in the vanguard meant leading the charge, bearing the brunt of any surprise attacks or enemy defenses.

In most situations, it was a position of honor.

But William knew better.

They had placed him in the most dangerous position possible.

Perhaps as a silent warning.

Or perhaps, deep down, they hoped he would not return.

"Understood."

William nodded lightly.

The vanguard was the first to face the enemy, but it was also the easiest place to earn merit.

It was a position coveted by many, making William and the Marquis the most suitable candidates to lead it.

Just as William was about to mobilize his troops to their designated position, a voice rang out from behind him.

"If you wish, Lord William, I can have you positioned further back. Since you seem so worried that Krefeld might break the Grand Accord, I assume you’d prefer a safer post."

"..."

A frigid silence fell over the tent.

The First Prince’s blatant mockery was unmistakable.

His words carried the same meaning as, "If you’re scared, you can sit back and watch from a safe distance."

Even Marquis Bernhardt, who had little patience for William, found himself unable to laugh at the remark.

It was one thing to question William’s strategy, but openly ridiculing one of their strongest assets on the battlefield? That was sheer folly.

Everyone turned to William, bracing for an explosive reaction.

Instead, he chuckled softly.

"There’s no need for concern, Your Highness. My worries do not stem from a lack of courage. If anything, the Hern family is known for being too brave for its own good. I only hope we do not end up surprising you."

"Oh? We shall see just how courageous you are then."

William’s unshaken response left the First Prince visibly disappointed.

The prince scoffed and turned away, walking off as if he had lost interest in the exchange.

The gathered nobles exhaled in relief.

Jurgen, who had been standing nearest to the exchange, bowed repeatedly to William.

"Lord William, I cannot thank you enough! I am at a loss as to how to repay this favor..."

William waved him off with a smile.

"I hardly did anything. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to organize my forces before we depart."

"Hah..."

As William turned away, Jurgen let out an admiring sigh.

It had been a deliberate insult—one that could have infuriated a younger noble or unsettled even a seasoned one.

Yet William had brushed it aside without so much as a flinch.

When I first heard the rumors, I assumed they were exaggerated... but now I wonder if they were actually understated.

A man with such composure would never be just another noble.

Jurgen made a mental note to report William’s potential to the Emperor once the rebellion was suppressed.

Damn it. The young lion has already begun sharpening his claws.

While Jurgen was lost in admiration, Marquis Bernhardt frowned.

He had thought William was just another silver-tongued upstart.

But now he could see it clearly—even at his age, the boy’s cunning ran deep.

If William continued to rise, he would become an insurmountable obstacle for the Rogran Marquisate.

Bernhardt clenched his jaw.

Zygmunt was truly blessed with an exceptional heir.

Some noble houses struggled to find even a half-decent successor.

But his rivals had him—a sharp-minded, battle-hardened youth who was already shaping into a formidable leader.

"The future of my house may be in danger," Bernhardt muttered to himself.

He would have to accelerate his sons’ training.

Perhaps it was time to introduce them to some trials of their own.