Reborn As Noble

The day of the Royal Council.

The capital was awake in full tension. Royal Guards lined the streets, their armor polished, their halberds gleaming beneath the morning sun. Knights patrolled in heavy numbers, their disciplined movements turning the city into a fortress of steel and banners.

At the gate of the capital, the line of nobles waiting to enter was long. Carriages rolled forward one by one, crests of the great houses glinting on their doors.

But then came the thunder of talons.

Garius De Armand and his escort arrived astride their Pekko.

Giddie at the front, the proud sons of Armand at his flanks, their personal maids close behind. Hesbeirn led the chosen guards, their formation tight, banners of Armand rippling.

The moment the knights at the gate caught sight of the Armand crest, their posture shifted. Helmets turned, boots clicked together, and every man struck his fist to his chest in unison.

”Good day, Count Garius De Armand!” the knight captain called, his voice carrying firm respect.

Garius inclined his head slightly, his smile calm but commanding.

From his cloak, he drew a pouch and pressed it into the knight captain’s hands.

”Please,” Garius said, his tone steady yet warm, ”use this to treat your men to a drink and a good meal.”

The captain’s eyes widened. He clutched the pouch with both hands, bowing low, his voice trembling despite years of discipline. ”Your generosity... we are honored, my lord.”

Garius smile.

”Your duty is not light. Let your men eat and drink well, so they may continue to guard this city with strength.”

The knight captain pressed his fist to his chest once more, bowing even lower than before.

”Your words humble us, Lord Armand.”

Around them, the men at the gate who had been stiff and formal could not hide the gleam of relief in their eyes. They were being treated not as faceless guards but as men, recognized in a way few nobles ever bothered to do.

”Let Count Garius and his escort pass!” the captain bellowed.

The gates rumbled open, and the formation of Armand moved forward, talons striking stone, the golden Pekko leading. Nobles waiting in their carriages watched in silence, some with envy, some with awe.

Among the waiting nobles, whispers stirred like snakes in the grass.

”Tch. I hate how Garius flaunts his wealth like that,” one baron muttered under his breath, his lips curling.

”Indeed,” another sneered, arms folded inside his embroidered cloak.

”He makes a spectacle of himself, tossing gold to common guards as though he were richer than the royal treasury.”

A viscount leaned forward in his carriage window, his tone dripping with scorn. ”Damn that Garius. Always so composed, always so admired. Now he parades his sons dressed in fine tailored robes, riding those... bird monsters. As if to remind us all the Armand house has no equal.”

Their mutters grew sharper, but not one of them raised their voice too high. For all their bitterness, none dared let their complaints reach Garius’s ear. The Count of Armand was not just a noble, he was power itself, a wall no family wished to provoke directly.

Garius tugged lightly at Giddie’s reins, the golden Pekko slowing its stride as they passed through the bustling market district just beyond the gate. Merchants scrambled to bow as they recognized the emblem upon his cloak, but Garius raised a calm hand.

”Continue your trade,” he said evenly. ”But today, let it be my coin that feeds your neighbors.”

He drew another pouch from his robe and pressed it into the hands of a bewildered fruit seller.

”Distribute these freely to the people. No one should leave hungry.”

The merchant’s eyes widened, his hands trembling as he bowed deeply.

”M-my lord... this...!”

Garius merely smiled. ”See it done.”

One by one, he repeated the act, slipping gold to bakers, to butchers, to sellers of grain and cloth. Each time, his words were the same:

”Give to those who need. Let no child sleep hungry tonight.”

Cries of gratitude rose from the crowd. Commoners pressed their fists to their chests or bent low to the ground. Some wept openly, clutching bread and fruit they could not have afforded that morning.

”Lord Armand!” voices shouted. ”Bless the Count! Long live the Armand house!”

From within a polished carriage, two nobles leaned close, their jeweled fingers clutching the curtain edge as they watched the crowd cheer for Garius.

”Tch... do you see? Even the guards are lowering their heads to him as if he were king already.”

The other sneered, his voice sharp but low.

”This is dangerous. He buys loyalty with coin and false kindness. Knights, guards, merchants, even the common rabble, all smile when they see him. That is not the duty of a count... it is the ambition of a usurper.”

The first noble’s eyes narrowed, glinting with malice.

”We should tell Duke Kimar. He must hear of this. If Lord Armand continues unchecked, he will turn the council against us.”

”Yes,” the second whispered, his lips curling. ”Let him flaunt his wealth, let him play at generosity. The higher he climbs in their praise, the more glorious his fall will be.”

Once Garius and his sons had passed beyond sight, the street lost its shine. The cheers of the people dimmed, replaced with the sharp bark of noble orders.

A merchant who had just bowed gratefully with Garius’s coin still clutched in hand looked up in surprise as a cluster of carriages rolled up, draped in family crests less respected than Armand’s. Their doors opened, and out stepped nobles with narrowed eyes and twisted smiles. Behind them, their private soldiers marched

One noble jabbed a jeweled cane toward the merchant’s stall.

”You there. Those crates of bread and fruit , hand them over.”

The merchant stiffened. ”My lord, those goods were already purchased. Paid for by..”

”Silence!” the noble snapped, his lip curling. ”They were paid, were they not? Then they are mine by right. Do you ,a mere commoner, dare to question me? A noble by blood?”

Another noble stepped in, his tone mocking as he waved his hand.

”Besides, Armand lord didn’t mention about not giving it to us. So this belong to us now. Unlike Armand, we don’t have endless gold to throw at peasants. Consider this... a redistribution.” He smirked, and his soldiers began hauling the sacks away without hesitation.

Soon, more nobles joined in, their greedy eyes flashing as they saw the opportunity. They shoved past one another, barking orders to their men. The crates of grain, the barrels of wine, even the cloth bundles meant for common families, all seized and loaded onto their carriages.

”You all should pay your taxes properly,” one noble lectured with a sneer, plucking an apple from a basket as if it were his due.

”Work harder for food and wealth. Don’t depend on the handouts of an outside lord.”

The merchant’s fists trembled at his sides, nails digging into his palms. His teeth ground together, but he could do nothing. The private soldiers loomed too close, armored boots crushing the dust into the cobblestones.

Inside his mind, the rage burned. You talk as if you own this city... when you are nothing but lords from distant regions. What a rotten pack of men. Shitty, all of you.

( End Of Chapter )