Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke

Chapter 67 67 Blood for Stability

"To reclaim the glory they lost three hundred years ago, I suppose."

"Yes, normally that's the case. That's why the Imperial Liberation Army wouldn't suspect them. The mages believe their desired status exists within the new society the Imperial Liberation Army seeks to establish."

If the collaborating mages were ordinary ones, they would naturally support the Liberation Army to secure their place in the new order. After all, if the empire dominating the continent refused to accept them, then they had no choice but to help create a new hierarchy.

But for dark mages, who had no interest in rank or status, it was a different story entirely. Whoever held power made no difference to them. They would take what they needed and disappear.

"The Imperial Liberation Army is convinced there will be no betrayal," William continued. "And the dark mages plan to exploit that perception. By the time the army realizes it's been deceived, it will already be too late."

Most crucially, in his previous life, this incident had been completely covered up. In other words, it had never escalated to a scale too large to conceal.

If Bornholm Castle, an impregnable fortress and strategic stronghold, had been destroyed, it would have been impossible to keep it a secret. The events must have been written off as little more than a monster raid on Greve City.

"Well, at least we won't have to request aid from the imperial family," Tristan mused. "If this is their plan, then our current forces should be sufficient to handle it."

"...That's true," he conceded after a pause. A faint smile played on his lips, the weight of his greatest concern lifting from his shoulders.

"Since the dark mages' objective is clear, we need to reinforce Greve City's defenses," William suggested. "We should keep this quiet to avoid tipping off the enemy, but—"

"No, we won't move any troops," Tristan interrupted. "No one else needs to know about this. We will maintain our current vigilance toward the Imperial Liberation Army, nothing more."

"...What?"

William couldn't help but ask again.

What was he saying?

A pointless death at the empire's hands, or an unfortunate but inevitable loss—Tristan clearly saw a distinction.

William clenched his teeth, his rage barely contained.

"In that case, I'll take my mercenaries and stop them myself."

"You will not."

"Not even a small group of mercenaries? Are you that afraid of the imperial family?"

"No," Tristan said firmly. "I won't let you go because it's you. I won't send you into danger."

For a moment, William wondered if he had misheard.

Did his past self and Tristan share some kind of brotherly bond?

"You are a Hern," Tristan continued. "As a member of the ducal family, how could you recklessly put yourself in harm's way? Never forget the blood that flows through your veins. You must tread carefully and choose your path wisely."

The illusion shattered in an instant.

William exhaled sharply and rubbed his temple, irritation building.

'So he's a noble supremacist to the core.'

He had seen men like this in his past life. Those who believed noble blood alone commanded respect, who insisted even mortal enemies deserved courtesy if they were of high birth. The same people who would execute a commoner for the slightest offense but spare a noble even after they had burned entire territories to the ground.

"The Hern bloodline carries a weight of its own," Tristan pressed on. "Those who rule must always make difficult decisions. They must weigh lives on a scale and make the necessary sacrifices. Do not let trivial sentimentality lead you to throw your own life away."

Though the words were spoken with concern, William could feel a boiling rage rising in his chest.