Reborn As Noble

Inside the royal palace, King Edmund sat on his throne.

Beside him stood General Gilmon, along with the Royal Elite Guard—the finest warriors in the kingdom.

Before them—

Five men knelt, their posture respectful, heads lowered in submission.

One of them stepped forward, speaking with practiced politeness. ”We are the delegation sent by Count Garius De Armand. Our lord presents this to you.”

A box was placed before the king.

Edmund glanced at it, scanning the contents.

Exotic dried food. Expensive. Rare. A gift fitting for royalty.

But…

He wasn’t fooled.

He had known Garius for far too long.

And Garius—

Would never send a delegation of unknown men.

He would send familiar faces—those he trusted.

Still—

Edmund kept his expression calm and indifferent.

He leaned back slightly, waving a hand. ”Just place it there. I will eat it later.”

The men obeyed, but one hesitated.

One of the kneeling men carefully stepped forward and presented a sealed envelope.

Edmund nearly took it, but once he saw the paper—

His suspicion deepened.

It was a small detail.

But knowing Garius…

This wasn’t his style.

Garius was always cheeky and mischievous with him, his letters filled with personal touches, teasing remarks, and hidden jokes.

But this?

This was far too formal.

Edmund’s lips curled into a small smirk. ”Just put the letter there.”

The five men stiffened.

One asked hesitantly, ”But, Your Majesty—”

Before he could finish—

The sound of steel rang through the air.

Gilmon had already moved, along with the Royal Elite Guard.

Swords were now at the throats of the five men.

The room fell into tense silence.

King Edmund finally spoke—his tone calm, but laced with quiet amusement.

”Do you really think that Garius would send something like this?”

The five men did not answer, but their silence said everything.

Edmund’s smirk deepened as he looked down at the kneeling men.

Their faces had gone pale.

They knew they had already failed.

The Royal Elite Guards held their swords steady, the sharp edges pressing against the men’s throats.

The air was thick with silence.

Then—

Edmund leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

”Do you know the mistake you and your men just made?”

The five men remained silent.

Edmund chuckled. ”First… Garius would never send a letter this formal. Too stiff. Too proper. Too boring.”

His smirk deepened.

”And second…” He gestured at the box of dried food. ”If Garius wanted to send food as a gift, it wouldn’t be in a box like this.”

The five men swallowed hard.

”It would come in one of two ways,”

Edmund continued casually, as if explaining a simple fact.

”Either inside a wooden crate—one he personally crafted—with a Pekko head pattern on the side…” He tapped against the armrest of his throne.

”Or in a simple paper bag, as casual as possible.”

His voice lowered, almost in amusement. ”And… he would slip the letter inside—completely informal.”

Edmund turned the envelope over in his hands. ”Garius doesn’t care for official seals.” His eyes flickered toward the fake insignia on the wax. ”But if he ever does use one… it always comes with his little Pekko drawing.”

He chuckled again. ”But this?” He tossed the letter onto the table in front of him. ”This is nothing like him.”

He leaned forward, his smirk fading slightly. ”So tell me… Who sent you?”

The five men remained silent.

But their trembling hands told him everything.

Edmund exhaled.

General Gilmon grinned. ”Shall we ’convince’ them to talk, Your Majesty?”

The five men shook.

King Edmund raised a hand slightly.

”No need, Gilmon.”

The general stopped, tilting his head curiously.

The five kneeling men visibly tensed.

Edmund’s smirk returned. ”How about we feed them with this food instead?”

The five men froze, their faces turning deathly pale.

One instinctively jerked back, only to feel the cold steel of a sword press against his neck. There was no escape.

Gilmon chuckled, slipping off his current gloves and replacing them with a black leather pair. He flexed his fingers, then turned to the king.

”Your Majesty, may I?”

His tone was respectful, but there was an unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes.

Edmund nodded. ”Go ahead.”

He sat back, watching the scene unfold like mild entertainment.

Gilmon picked up the dried food from the box, inspecting it for a moment.

Then—

He grabbed the nearest man’s jaw and forced it open. ”Eat.”

The man struggled, muffled screams escaping as he tried to resist. The other four panicked, their eyes darting between each other in terror.

King Edmund chuckled, watching one man collapse, his body convulsing violently on the floor. Foam bubbled at his lips. His eyes rolled back, and within seconds—

He stopped moving.

Dead.

The remaining four shook with fear.

Edmund sighed, shaking his head. ”How stupid your master must be, sending all five of you like this. Such a great mistake.”

He lazily leaned against his throne, crossing one leg over the other. ”I’ve known Garius since our noble school days. I know exactly how he operates.”

His eyes gleamed with cold amusement. ”He never had ’no respect’ for the royal family. No, he just hates excessive formality.”

He gestured toward the letter again. ”This? This isn’t him.”

The four remaining men were trembling now.

Gilmon, still holding the poisoned food, smirked. ”Your Majesty, should we continue feeding them?” he asked casually.

Edmund ignored him for a moment, continuing his thoughts. ”Garius always sends the same people as his delegation.” His voice was calm, smooth—almost mocking.

”Alf and Erinnette? No. Those two are practically attached to his side, like baby chicks following their mother hen.”

Gilmon chuckled, but Edmund wasn’t done.

”Hesbeirn?” Edmund glanced at Gilmon, smirking. ”That friend of yours will never set foot in this palace unless Garius forces him to.”

Gilmon nodded, clearly entertained.

”And Rasdingen? That giant dwarf?” Edmund scoffed. ”I don’t even know whether to call him a giant or a dwarf. But one thing’s for sure—if Garius truly wanted to send a delegation, the same people would always come.”

His fingers tapped against the armrest.

”They always come in teams of ten.”

He let the weight of those words sink in.

The four remaining men stiffened.

”If one of them is sick, the other nine come with a new face so I can recognize the entire group. Garius is predictable like that.”

Edmund chuckled again. ”But now? You all arrived as just five.”

He tilted his head, smirking. ”Oops… wait. Four now.”

His gaze flicked toward the dead body, now lying in a pool of his own bile. ”Looks like one of you just died from the poison. Huh.”

Edmund’s smirk widened. ”Well? Any last words?”

The four remaining men were silent.

But their faces…

Were filled with absolute terror.

( End of Chapter )