Reborn As Noble

Meanwhile, Javier sat next to his father, shoulders slumped as the back-and-forth kept going.

Ugh... how long will they keep arguing like this? he thought to himself. That stiff, noble tone, with smiles and hidden jabs... it’s exhausting just to listen. Am I really supposed to talk like that when I’m in my father’s seat someday?

He breathed out hard and rested his chin on his hand.

Behind his chair, Liana leaned in, her whisper brushing his ear.

”Young master?”

”Yes?” Javier whispered back, still looking straight ahead.

”Is something bothering you?”

”...Yeah.” He slightly tilted his glass, speaking softly. ”Can you refill my drink with wine? I’m tired of this juice.”

Liana stiffened. ”...But, young master—”

”Please?” Javier slid the cup under the table edge, a faint grin on his face.

She bit her lip, torn between duty and giving him what he wanted, as Garius and Kimar’s polished argument echoed through the room.

She pressed the neck of the wine bottle lightly against Javier’s hand, her whisper soft but stern.

”Since Lord Garius is beside you, young master... please help yourself.”

”Guh...” Javier muttered under his breath.

Her lips curved a little as she leaned back.

”I don’t want to be blamed, young master~”

”Ugh! Fine...” Javier muttered, shooting her a sideways glance before pulling the bottle closer. He poured it carefully into his own glass, watching the red liquid swirl, while glancing at his father and Duke Kimar who were trading words that sounded more like blades than politeness.

Javier took a sip of his newly filled glass, leaning back with a quiet sigh.

Javier’s eyes drifted toward the rear of the chamber.

His brothers, Marcellus, Cedric, Aelius, and Heres, along with his sister Athine, still sat at the back rows. None of them had bothered moving to the grand hall for the feast.

They just lounged with glasses of wine in hand, their voices low, trading quiet remarks while ignoring the council’s endless prattle.

Aelius and Athine, as always, sat far too close, whispering and smiling at each other like a pair of lovers rather than siblings.

Ah~ figures. Probably waiting for Father to finish, or maybe they’re just as tired of this circus as I am and want to go home.

He exhaled softly, tilting his glass, letting the wine catch the light.

Speaking of which... wonder what Buddy’s up to outside. Let’s hope he didn’t wreck another carriage. If he rammed another noble’s ride, I’m the one who’ll have to explain it again.

A faint grin tugged at his lips, quickly hidden behind the rim of his glass as Garius and Kimar’s noble duel dragged on.

The chamber hushed as the doors opened.

From the private chamber, Princess Kliatana stepped forward, her pace measured, almost fragile beneath the weight of so many eyes. Every murmur died into silence as she approached the grand council table and lowered herself into the chair at its head.

Her gaze swept the hall, across the rows of dukes and marquises, over Duke Kimar’s smug composure, then across to Garius’s unreadable calm. It lingered on Javier for a heartbeat, then drifted further, toward the heirs seated in the rear.

There, her eyes halted.

For an instant, her composure cracked, her eyes widened, color rushing unbidden into her cheeks. She dropped her gaze quickly to the polished table, fingers fidgeting against each other as if to steady herself.

The silence weighed heavy, but it shattered with Duke Kimar’s voice, smooth and deliberate.

”Your Royal Highness,” he said, leaning forward, his tone laced with courteous gravity. ”I trust you have considered my proposal, the union of our houses, binding crown and blood alike. For the stability of this kingdom, and for the will of this council, what say you?”

Kliatana stayed quiet, her lips pressed together and her hands shaking in her lap.

Before the room could twist her silence into consent, Garius spoke up, calm, steady, unhurried.

”Your Royal Highness,” he said, eyes fixed on her, ” Remember this. Whatever decision you make, Armand will stand behind you. You are not alone.”

The words were soft, but they carried the weight of iron.

Duke Kimar’s smile faltered. His teeth clenched before he forced his calm back in place. He slowly turned his gaze to Garius, his tone polite but sharpened with implication.

”My~ Count Garius,” he said, voice light with false warmth.

”Surely you would not suggest that my proposal carries any stain? It stands upon law, upon custom, upon the very precedent of this kingdom. Her Highness is the last remaining heir, the final light of our royal line. Whether she wills it or not, duty binds her path. For without her hand... tell me, what would remain of the crown’s legitimacy?”

A chair scraped softly on the marble floor as Marquis Saten rose, calm in appearance, but his voice carrying the weight of reproach.

”Count Garius,” he said smoothly.

” One might almost think your words suggest... a lack of respect for His Grace, soon to be crowned. Surely that is not your intent? After all, the council has spoken, and the crown rests by right upon Duke Kimar. To imply otherwise would sound most improper.”

A ripple passed through the chamber.

One by one, other nobles joined in.

”Indeed, has not Count Garius always prided himself on upholding law? Yet now he seems curiously selective.”

”Ah, perhaps the laws of Armand weigh heavier than those of the kingdom itself?”

”Or perhaps he simply cannot bear that our votes did not bend to his will.”

”To speak so freely, while the crown is yet warm from the council’s decree, surely unbecoming of one who calls himself loyal.”

The chamber echoed with their voices, the air thick with smug superiority.

All the while, Garius remained unmoved, his cheek resting on his knuckle, a faint smirk unshaken, as if their words were nothing more than background noise.

”Hmm?” he said softly, almost surprised the room had forgotten this point.

”Did you really forget that I still have the Right to Bear Arms? By law, if Armand is treated unfairly, I am allowed.... No. Required to respond with force. If I had to, I could send my banners across your land, lay siege to your strongholds, and tear down any house that stands against what is just. If I must, I could march for the crown itself. And do any of you think you could stop me from doing it?”

He sipped his wine slowly, every movement deliberate and almost theatrical, as the chandelier light reflected in the adamantite glass.

”Ask yourselves. Have you ever seen me do so? Have you ever watched Armand’s banner rise against a neighbor for vanity, for greed, or for petty pride?”

His eyes scanned the room, his voice cold as stone.

”You have not. Because I prefer order to ruin. Because I value my people more than a triumph that would leave their fields empty. And because I know the cost better than most.”

A hush fell, heavier than any shout. The nobles’ practiced smiles faded, some fingers pausing on their goblets. Marquis Saten’s face turned pale.

Garius leaned forward, his chin resting on his knuckle, perfectly composed but cruel in a quiet way.

”But do not mistake restraint for weakness. Restraint is a choice. And choice can be taken away.”

( End Of Chapter )