Reborn As Noble

Garius inclined his head, his expression calm, voice measured with polished courtesy.

”Ah, pardon my rudeness, Your Honorable Marquis,” he said smoothly.

”I would not dare force belief upon anyone. Whether you regard my words as truth or as tales fit for the hearth is entirely your choice.”

His gaze swept subtly across the nobles lingering behind Saten, then returned with a faint, composed smile.

”After all, belief changes nothing. The evidence is plain to see, how Armand thrives, how its markets swell, how its people flourish, how its soil yields. Call it tale or truth as you please, but the results... speak louder than either of us.”

He turned slightly, his eyes narrowing just enough to let the weight of his words fall.

”Perhaps, Your Honorable Marquis, the true question is not whether Armand’s story is believable... but whether others can afford to ignore it.”

Marquis Saten’s lips curled faintly, though his eyes were already hunting. His gaze drifted past the golden Pekko, past the knights, until it lingered upon the line of youths standing with composure at Garius’s side.

”Ah... now I see. You’ve brought all of your children with you,” he said, his tone heavy with mockery masked as observation. ”How unusual. To parade every heir into the capital at once... into the heart of the council. Some would say reckless. Dangerous, even. What if misfortune should strike? What of Armand’s future then?”

Garius’s smile was as calm, voice steady, refined.

”Your Honorable Marquis, how quick your tongue always is. Yes, I have brought all of my children with me. Rare, perhaps. Unusual, indeed. Yet tell me, what father would not wish his sons and daughter to witness, to learn, to understand the weight of governance with their own eyes? To keep heirs shut behind gilded walls, blind to the burdens they will inherit, that is reckless.”

He turned slightly, his hand gesturing toward Marcellus, Cedric, Aelius, Athine, and Heres, each standing firm in their place.

”My sons and daughter walk here not as ornaments nor as shields of pride. They walk here because they must see with their own eyes how nobles speak, how they scheme, how they wield their masks. They must understand the game before it falls into their hands.”

His tone deepened, each word edged with iron despite his unshaken smile.

”One day, whether tomorrow or in many years hence, I may fall ill... or I may fall in battle... or simply depart this world. When that day comes, would you rather they remain coddled, like so many pampered heirs who know only how to squander coin and cling to privilege? Soft and ignorant of the world they are meant to rule? Or heirs sharpened by fire, steady under scrutiny, capable of carrying the Armand name without faltering? Prepared, tested, and sharpened, capable of standing on their own feet, ready to shoulder what is theirs by right?”

He inclined his head with flawless courtesy.

”So, Your Honorable Marquis, call it unusual if you wish. I call it the duty of a father who refuses to raise children too fragile for the world they are meant to inherit.”

”Besides...” His proud smile deepened, his eyes sweeping across his children.

”Surely, all of you know my two eldest sons, Marcellus and Cedric.”

His hand lifted slightly, gesturing with a noble’s poise.

”Marcellus, the strongest wizard in this kingdom. And Cedric, the one and only true paladin worthy of the title strongest. My proud sons.”

Marcellus stepped forward first, his movement measured and dignified, placing his fist against his chest before bowing with refined coolness. Cedric followed, his presence like a steady wall, his bow carrying both strength and humility. Together, they stepped back in perfect sync, their composure unshaken, leaving no doubt of their titles.

Garius’s gaze then shifted, his hand turning with subtle flourish toward the younger pair.

”And these two...” His eyes lingered warmly on them, though his tone carried the same weight of pride. ”Aelius and Athine. Genius in trade and in the flow of wealth. Because of them, Armand not only avoids the stain of red, but flourishes, overflowing with abundance that others can scarcely imagine.”

A ripple of murmurs passed through the nobles, but it stilled the moment Athine stepped forward.

She moved with grace as natural as the wind itself, lowering into a refined curtsy. Her every motion flowed like silk, her poise serene, each line of her frame speaking of cultivation and dignity. The sunlight caught upon her features, highlighting the calm brilliance of her expression, the soft curve of her lips, the composure in her eyes that shone brighter than jewels.

A noble’s gasp broke through the silence.

Athine rose with quiet elegance, her beauty and refinement echoing louder than any title, then stepped back beside her brother with the same calm dignity her family carried.

Garius’s gaze settled last upon Heres, his expression calm but carrying the weight of expectation.

”And this,” he said evenly, his voice steady yet proud.

”Is Heres. Though he has not yet shown the full extent of his strength, do not be deceived. For matters of governance, the balance of region and people, he already holds the makings of a ruler. Among all my sons, he could well step forward as the next to carry the land.”

Heres inclined his head with quiet composure, his steps measured as he placed his fist lightly to his chest in a show of respect.

Garius’s smirk returned, calm yet edged with a touch of weariness that only a father could bear.

”And surely,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying with deliberate weight, ”every one of you has noticed, or perhaps, too preoccupied with your own schemes, you have failed to, that the eyes of your daughters, your maids, even the palace attendants, linger far too long on my sons.”

His hand moved with subtle grace, gesturing toward Marcellus, Cedric, Aelius, and Heres. Each of them stood straight, refined, handsome, adiating the kind of presence that drew stares without effort.

A ripple of glances followed Garius’s words, nobles turning to confirm what they had indeed overlooked. Maids flushed and looked down, young noble daughters fidgeted with their sleeves, even palace staff averted their gazes with guilty haste.

Garius exhaled softly, his smirk shifting into a sigh of feigned burden.

”This,” he continued, voice dipping into dry amusement, ”is the only true headache they give me. Not disobedience. Not incompetence. But the endless line of gazes that follow them wherever they go.”

He let the words linger, the subtle mock twisting into elegance, before returning his eyes to Marquis Saten.

( End Of Chapter )