Reborn As Noble

Chapter 820: Cutting Through Pomp ( 820 )

Duke Kimar’s smirk lingered, his eyes sweeping across the chamber like a man already draped in the crown.

Soon... very soon. The throne will be mine.

Every noble’s applause, every eager nod of support, was a stone placed on his path to power. Their loyalty was shallow, but shallow loyalty was enough when backed by numbers.

Garius...

Kimar’s thoughts tightened, his gaze flicking toward the Count who sat with calm composure.

You are the only stone in my way. But no matter. Let him have his turn, let him speak with that silver tongue. The council does not bend to words, it bends to votes. And the votes are already mine.

The Duke lifted his goblet with perfect grace, tipping it toward Garius as if in genuine respect, his voice smooth as polished steel.

”By all means, Count Garius. Your words enlighten us as always.”

The chamber hummed, nobles leaning forward with expectation. Some smiled, others waited, but all turned toward Armand’s seat.

Kimar reclined slightly, hiding the dark glint in his eyes behind the mask of courtesy.

Yes... speak, Count. For in the end, when the tally is cast, the crown will not rest in your house. It will rest on mine.

Garius’s smirk lingered, the curve of his lips refined and unshaken. His eyes swept the table, then returned to Duke Kimar with that same calm composure.

”Are you certain, Your Grace?” he asked, voice smooth, each word wrapped in courtesy yet carrying an edge sharp enough to draw blood.

”With Marquises seated here, so many eager voices waiting their turn, surely it is not my words alone that deserve such anticipation. After all, each rank carries its own dignity, its own duty to be heard. Would it not be unjust, even unbecoming, for their presence to be eclipsed by mine?”

Duke Kimar’s smirk widened, his eyes narrowing with a glint that carried both courtesy and command.

”Ah, Count Garius,” he said smoothly, voice laced with feigned warmth,

”Do not trouble yourself with modesty. The marquises have their place, yes~ but none here can claim the weight your words carry.”

His gaze swept briefly across the marquises at his side, and though he spoke as if praising them, his smile made clear the dismissal. The marquises caught the meaning and returned faint smirks and subtle nods, basking in his favor, content to play their role as his shadows.

Kimar then leaned slightly forward, his tone polite yet unyielding, the kind of insistence no one could refuse without appearing discourteous.

”Please, Count Garius,” he said, gesturing with an open palm toward the floor as though offering it formally. ”Enlighten us with your thoughts. Surely, it would be a shame to deprive the council of the clarity you are so well known for.”

Garius let a faint chuckle escape, his hand resting lightly on the carved Armand cup. He inclined his head toward Kimar, voice smooth, words dipped in courtesy but edged with deliberate ease.

”Ah~ your grace, thank you for such kind invitation,” he said, his tone calm and measured. ”But as you can see, mine is not the sort of speech that requires me to walk to the floor. If you please, allow me to deliver my thoughts from here.”

He tapped the rim of his cup lightly, the sound echoing in the hush of the chamber. His smile lingered, faint but deliberate.

”After all, the road from Armand to this royal capital is long and weary. A lesser man might have chosen to remain behind. I have come not for pomp or posture, but to speak plainly. If my words carry weight, they will reach every ear even from this chair. And if they do not, then no hall nor stage will give them wings.”

His eyes met Kimar’s across the table, the smirk never fading.

”So, if the council permits, I shall speak from where i seated.”

Kimar’s smirk lingered as he leaned back, gesturing lightly. ”Very well, Count. Please do.”

”As you wish, Your Grace.”

Garius rose with refined ease, his chair sliding back without a sound. Alf stepped forward with practiced timing, pouring a measured stream of wine into the gold diamond-crystal glass. Garius lifted it in one hand, the other set behind his back in the polished formality of a noble’s stance.

His eyes swept the hall.

”My respect to all council members,” he began, his voice calm yet resonant, carrying without strain.

”Today we are gathered not by whim, nor by convenience, but by duty. To attend the grand council and secure the stability of our kingdom.”

He let the silence breathe a moment, the faint ripple of shifting robes and hushed breaths marking the weight of his words.

”From regions far beyond this capital, we have come. From estates of wealth, from strongholds of arms, from halls of lineage, all under one roof. And why? To decide a crown.”

The glass tilted slightly in his hand, catching the chamber’s light.

”Not to adorn the head of ambition. Not to be claimed by flattery or schemes. But to settle who shall carry the burden of this realm. For a crown is not treasure, nor ornament, it is a weight. A yoke upon the neck, pressing until only duty, strength, and the will to endure remain.”

He paused, his smirk faint but unmistakable, his gaze sliding across the chamber until it brushed Duke Kimar himself.

”So let all petty grievances fall away. Let whispers of wealth and rank be silent. What matters here, in this hall, is who among us may bear the fate of a people, without faltering, without corruption, without shattering beneath it.”

Garius let the silence stretch, his smirk deepening just enough to stir unease. The crystal glass in his hand caught the chamber’s light as he lifted it slightly, his gaze sweeping not only across the dukes and marquises, but also toward the rows where heirs, daughters, and attendants sat. Their eyes lingered on him, caught in the quiet gravity of his presence.

”Though,” he continued, voice calm yet edged with subtle amusement.

”I fear I may have already exhausted my tongue before this council even began. Some of you...”

His eyes shifted deliberately toward a cluster of nobles.

”...were present when I was pressed to speak earlier. Wisdom and words, I am told, are dearer than coin. If so, then perhaps I have already emptied a treasury’s worth before even setting foot inside these walls.”

A ripple moved through the chamber, some nobles shifting uneasily, others pressing lips to hide knowing smiles.

”So forgive me, Your Grace, and all gathered here, if I lack the mood to stretch my speech further. Surely none among you wishes me to repeat what so many ears have already heard, and what so many lips will whisper long after this day ends.”

He paused, his smirk sharpening as he glanced at the rim of his glass.

”Alf?”

The butler stepped forward at once, bowing slightly. ”Yes, my lord?”

”This glass,” Garius remarked mildly, ”is... how shall I phrase it... rather unclean.”

Alf bowed deeper, his smile calm, flawless. ”Forgive my negligence, my lord.”

From within his coat, he drew out another glass. Andamantite, surface gleaming with a muted brilliance that caught even the most jaded noble’s eye. With a folded napkin, Alf polished it in deliberate silence, each motion precise, before presenting it with both hands.

Garius accepted the vessel with unhurried dignity, allowing Alf to refill it with wine.

He lifted the adamantite glass, letting its rare sheen reflect the chamber’s light. A simple act, yet heavy with meaning.

”Thus,” he said evenly, ”let us exclude what is unimportant. Let us not waste this chamber’s breath on ornaments, courtesies, or vanity. The matter before us is clear, and only one burden justifies our gathering here.”

His gaze settled on Duke Kimar, courteous, steady, but sharp as tempered steel.

”The deciding. Shall we not move directly to it?”

( End Of Chapter )