Reborn As Noble

Inside the meeting room of the Armand estate, Garius smiled as he received the message scroll delivered by the king’s wyvern unit. The scroll, sealed with the royal insignia, was handed to him by a courier who bowed deeply before exiting the room.

Garius unfurled the scroll, his sharp eyes scanning the contents as a smirk played on his lips.

He chuckled. ”As expected.”

Alf and Erinette exchanged glances.

”My lord?” Alf inquired.

Garius set the scroll down on the table and leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose. ”The King will not be sending the royal army. The court has ruled that this conflict is a dispute between nobles, meaning each house must rely on their own forces.”

Hesbeirn tore another piece of meat from the bone, chewing thoughtfully. ”Hah! So the bastards want to play war without the King getting involved.”

Rasdingen took a deep swig from his flask, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ”Bah! Let ’em come. We got plenty o’ sharpened steel waitin’ fer ’em.”

One of the captains, a grizzled man with scars across his arms, frowned. ”Even without the royal army, they have numbers. If they strike all at once—”

”They won’t.” Garius cut in, his voice calm yet absolute.

He tapped the map laid out before them, where red markers represented enemy noble houses gathering their forces.

”These nobles are arrogant. They don’t trust each other enough to move as one unified force. They’ll attack in separate waves, trying to claim the most credit for Armand’s downfall.”

Alf crossed his arms. ”So, they’ll break themselves against us piece by piece.”

Erinette smirked. ”How foolish.”

Garius leaned forward, his eyes glinting with cold amusement. ”We will ensure that each ’wave’ they send is utterly destroyed. And by the time they realize their mistake—”

”They won’t have enough men left to fight,” Hesbeirn finished with a grin.

Garius leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he surveyed the fifty veteran warriors before him—his personal unit.

These weren’t just any soldiers.

They were the warriors who had stood by him when he was just a child—when his family had been slaughtered, and the Armand name had nearly been erased from history.

These men had fought beside him to reclaim their land, shedding blood alongside Hesbeirn, Erinette, and Alf.

Time had made them older, but not weaker.

They were legends in their own right—veterans who had faced countless battles, assassins who had struck down enemies in the dark, and strategists who had ensured their survival against insurmountable odds.

Garius’s smirk widened. ”To think… the fools in the royal court believe they have a chance against us.”

One of the veterans chuckled, adjusting his gauntlet. ”Same as always, my lord. Nobles with big armies but empty heads.”

Another grunted defiantly. ”Let ’em come. We bled for this land. We ain’t givin’ it up.”

Hesbeirn slammed a fist against the table, his expression brimming with pride. ”They think we’re just another noble house. They forget what we’ve been through.”

Alf remained silent, his cold gaze locked on the map, analyzing every detail. Erinette smirked, ”They’ll learn soon enough.”

Garius stood, his eyes gleaming with the same fire he’d had as a child fighting for his survival.

”This land was taken from me once.” He swept his gaze across the room, his voice unwavering and resolute. ”It will never happen again.”

The veterans responded with a thunderous pounding of their fists against their chests.

”For Armand!”

”Alf! Hesbeirn! Erinette!”

”Yes, my lord!”

”Prepare for war. Hesbeirn!”

”Yes, my lord!?”

”How many armies do we have ready right now?”

”20,000 ready to deploy, my lord. And another reserve army is prepared,” Hesbeirn replied, smirking as he glanced at the ”veteran unit”.

Garius smirked.

”Good. We’ll need every single one of them.”

Hesbeirn took a bite of the meat, ignoring Rasdingen, who was reaching for the plate. The dwarf scowled.

”Oi, Hesbeirn! Pass me the damn meat, ya greedy bastard!”

Hesbeirn chuckled, taking another bite before shoving the plate toward Rasdingen. The dwarf grabbed it instantly, stuffing his mouth with a satisfied grunt.

Alf adjusted his gloves, his expression as sharp as ever.

”Shall we deploy the advance scouts, my lord?”

Garius nodded. ”Do it. I want eyes on every noble house mobilizing their armies. We need to know their routes, their supply lines, and their weakest points.”

Alf bowed. ”It will be done.”

Erinette folded her arms, her lips curling into a smirk.

”Shall I prepare the battle maids, my lord? The new recruits are itching for real combat.”

Garius glanced at her. ”Deploy them as needed. Their first priority is handling any assassination attempts. The nobles will get desperate once they realize brute force isn’t enough.”

Erinette’s emerald eyes gleamed dangerously. ”Understood.”

Hesbeirn leaned forward, placing his hands on the table. ”My lord, should we call in the reserve forces immediately, or hold them back for reinforcement?”

Garius tapped the map, his gaze sharp. ”Hold them back for now. We’ll let the first wave of fools throw themselves at us. When they think we’re at our limit… that’s when we strike.”

The veterans grinned.

They had fought beside Garius before. They knew exactly what that meant.

This wasn’t just defense. This was a massacre waiting to happen.

Garius turned toward Rasdingen.

”And you? Is the supply line secure?”

The dwarf wiped his mouth, nodding. ”Aye, my lord. Our blacksmiths are workin’ non-stop, and our fortifications are stronger than ever. If those bastards think they’ll starve us out, they’re in for a nasty surprise.”

Garius exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable.

”Then it’s settled.”

He gazed around the room at his most trusted warriors—men who had fought and bled for this land.

”The nobles want a war?”

A slow, predatory smirk spread across his face.

”Then we’ll give them one.”

”So, my lord, are we going to crush them when it starts? Or do we stay at our border wall?” Hesbeirn asked, leaning forward with a grin.

”We use a defensive stance,” Garius replied, his voice calm but firm. ”Let them come to us. Alf?”

”Yes, my lord?”

”Inform all the overseers and village chiefs to ensure the food stock for our people is secure. And ensure the trading with the Demon Territory and the beastkin continues without interruption. After all, our region is—” Garius gestured to the map on the table, ”—backed by the Demon Territory, separated by the sea but connected by one main land route. Armand’s defenses are designed to face frontal attacks only. We have no need to worry about rear or flanking assaults.”

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Hesbeirn grinned. ”So, we let ’em bash their heads against our walls until they realize it’s pointless?”

”Exactly,” Garius smirked. ”We have the terrain advantage, supply lines secured, and a defensive fortress designed for war. Let them march. The longer they stay in the field, the more exhausted they’ll get.”

Alf adjusted his gloves.

”Shall we deploy the shadow units to sabotage their logistics?”

Garius leaned back in his chair. ”Not yet. We let them gather their forces first. When they’re deep in our territory, we’ll strike from the shadows—cutting their supply chains, assassinating their commanders, and forcing them into chaos.”

Erinette smirked.

”I’ll ready my battle maids. If they try sending spies, they won’t leave alive.”

”Good,” Garius nodded.

He then turned to Alf. ”Make sure the overseers and village chiefs are prepared. Our people come first. Secure food storage, rationing, and supply routes.”

”Understood, my lord.”

Garius exhaled slowly, his mind calculating every possible outcome. ”And the trade with the Demon Territory?”

Alf responded immediately. ”Still stable. The demons have no interest in the human conflict, and our agreement holds strong. The trade ships continue as usual.”

Garius smirked. ”Perfect. Even if the kingdom cuts us off, we won’t starve.”

Hesbeirn chuckled. ”They think they can choke us out? Ha! They don’t realize Armand is more independent than they assume.”

Garius nodded. ”We prepare for war, but we won’t make the first move. Let them come, and when they do—”

His eyes gleamed with cold calculation.

”We make them regret it.”

( End of Chapter )