Reborn As Noble - Chapter 265

Chapter 265: Tides of Treachery ( 264 )
The grand chamber of the Royal Court was filled with the most powerful nobles of the kingdom. The air was tense, heavy with murmurs and veiled whispers. Ornate chandeliers cast a golden glow upon the long table where the highest-ranking nobles sat, each representing their respective territories.

At the head of the table sat King Edmund , his piercing gaze sweeping across the gathered lords. He was a man of strength and wisdom, a ruler who had long maintained peace in his kingdom. But today, that peace was under threat—not from an external enemy, but from the growing influence of the Saint of the Three Gods.

The cult had spread like wildfire, consuming fifty-eight out of fifty-nine noble territories. Now, their “holy expansion” faced resistance—led by none other than Count Garius De Armand.

The King leaned back in his throne, resting his chin on his clasped fingers. His voice was calm but carried the weight of authority.

“What is the meaning of this summons?” His sharp gaze landed on Duke Ibzles, one of the most powerful nobles and a known supporter of the Three Gods’ faith.

Duke Ibzles rose, his crimson and gold robes flowing as he spoke. “Your Majesty, we must address the heresy within our kingdom. The Armand region openly rejects the faith of the Three Gods, despite the overwhelming will of the people.”

The King frowned. “And? That is hardly cause for concern. The Armand region has always been autonomous in its affairs.”

“That is precisely the problem, Your Majesty,” Marquis Billoton interjected, his voice oily and smooth. “The people of Armand are being deceived by Count Garius. He refuses to allow our priests into his territory. This isn’t just about faith; it’s about unity. If we allow one noble to reject the faith, others may follow. The kingdom cannot afford such division.”

A few nobles nodded in agreement, while others remained silent, unwilling to openly side with either faction.

The King tapped his fingers against the armrest. “Let me be clear—Count Garius has broken no law. We have never mandated a single faith upon our people.”

Duke Ibzles’s expression darkened. “Then perhaps, Your Majesty, it is time we reconsider. The faith of the Three Gods brings order to the kingdom. It is the will of the heavens.”

“It is also convenient for those who profit from it,” the King remarked coldly.

Duke Ibzles clenched his jaw. He was well aware that the King despised religious interference in politics. However, the influence of the cult had grown far beyond mere faith—it was now a political and military force.

Marquis Billoton pressed further. “Your Majesty, we do not ask you to act against Count Garius directly. However, the noble court must be allowed to address his heresy in our own way. The other nobles have already agreed—Armand must be brought in line, by force if necessary.”

The King’s expression darkened. “You mean to say you are proposing war against a loyal noble?”

Duke Ibzles spread his hands. “Not war, Your Majesty. A necessary correction. The faith of the kingdom cannot be challenged by a single Count. If you will not act, then the nobles must defend the faith on their own terms.”

The King’s fingers clenched slightly. He understood the implications.

By refusing to send the royal army, he could avoid direct responsibility. However, if the nobles mobilized their private armies under the guise of religious duty, he could not easily stop them—not without risking open rebellion from half the kingdom.

A dangerous political game was unfolding.

If he opposed the noble court outright, he could weaken his own rule. But if he allowed this to continue, Count Garius and the Armand region could be crushed under the weight of the combined noble forces.

One of the neutral nobles spoke hesitantly. “Your Majesty, would it not be wiser to summon Count Garius here and hear his side of the matter?”

Duke Ibzles immediately cut in. “Unnecessary. If he refuses the will of the gods, what argument could he possibly present? The court has already decided. We only seek your approval to mobilize.”

Silence filled the hall.

The King’s gaze swept across the room. Most of the court was already leaning toward action—some out of fear of the cult, others because they saw opportunity in war.

He exhaled slowly.

If he denied them outright, they would act anyway—but without his control.

If he approved, he could at least contain their actions within certain limits.

Finally, the King spoke. “Very well. If the noble court insists on action, I will not stop you.”

A murmur of satisfaction spread among the cult-aligned nobles.

But then, the King’s eyes narrowed.

“However—there will be conditions.”

Duke Ibzles stilled. “Conditions?”

“First, the royal army will not participate. This is a matter between nobles. The crown will remain neutral.”

Some of the cult-aligned nobles frowned but nodded. This was expected.

“Second, no harm shall come to the civilians of Armand. This is a dispute of faith and politics, not an excuse for slaughter.”

Marquis Billoton smirked. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

The King’s gaze hardened. “Third—Count Garius has earned the right to defend his land. If you wish to challenge him, you will do so openly, not through assassins or underhanded means.”

Duke Ibzles clenched his fist but forced a smile. “Naturally, Your Majesty.”

The King leaned forward. “And if I find out that you have violated these conditions, I will personally ensure your house is stripped of its titles. Do I make myself clear?”

The hall went silent.

Duke Ibzles forced a bow. “As clear as day, Your Majesty.”

The King said nothing more. He simply rose from his throne and walked out, his royal guards following behind.

Inside the lavishly adorned hall of Duke Ibzles’s estate, the most influential noble lords gathered. The air was thick with anticipation, each noble seated around a grand table covered in maps and strategic documents.

At the head of the table, Duke Ibzles tapped his fingers against the polished wood, his expression calm but authoritative. To his left, Marquis Billoton smirked, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of the coming conflict.

Among the gathered nobles, Viscount Klimbert sat with an arrogant grin, his fists clenched under the table.

“Finally,” Klimbert thought, “I will have my revenge. That arrogant bastard Garius, and his damn brat of a son, will pay.”

The nobles murmured among themselves, discussing their troop allocations.

Duke Ibzles raised a hand, silencing the room. “Now that the court has approved our campaign,” he began smoothly, “we must decide how best to distribute our forces. The Armand region is well-fortified, and Count Garius is no fool. We must strike with overwhelming power.”

He gestured toward the map, where the Armand region was marked in deep red, surrounded by their forces.

Marquis Billoton chuckled. “Garius may be strong, but he cannot stand against the combined might of the noble houses.”

Marquis Mikele raised a concern. “His private army is formidable. His forces are well-trained, and he commands loyalty from his people. We must not underestimate his defenses.”

Klimbert scoffed. “Then we crush them all at once. Burn their villages. Seize their towns. We have more men, more resources. Garius may have won skirmishes before, but he has never fought a full-scale war.”

The room nodded in agreement, fueled by a collective sense of vengeance and ambition.

Duke Ibzles leaned forward, a predatory glint in his eyes. “We will coordinate our strike for maximum impact. Speed and surprise will be our allies. We cannot allow Garius to rally support from other nobles who might think to side with him.”

“Agreed,” Billoton interjected. “We must act swiftly—before the King changes his mind or Garius can fortify his defenses any further.”

As they plotted, the tension in the room thickened. Ambition fueled their discussions, but beneath it lay an undercurrent of fear—fear of a noble who would dare defy the will of the Three Gods and, perhaps, the consequences of underestimating Count Garius.

“Prepare the men,” Duke Ibzles commanded, his voice steady and resolute. “We strike at dawn. This will send a clear message to all the kingdoms: the faith of the Three Gods will not be challenged.”

With the decree settled, the nobles nodded, a dark excitement coursing through them. They would soon march against a loyal Count, dragging the kingdom into chaos for the sake of their ambition and piety.

As they dispersed, the first hints of dawn began to light the eastern sky, oblivious to the storm of betrayal and conflict that was about to engulf the land.

Marquis Billoton tapped the map decisively. “We will split our forces into three main divisions. One will engage directly at Armand’s border wall. The second will take the southern route to cut off their supply lines. And the third—”

“Will burn everything in its path,” Klimbert finished, a sinister grin spreading across his face.

Duke Ibzles nodded in agreement. “Indeed. We shall ensure that no reinforcements reach them. The moment we breach their walls, Garius’s forces will crumble under the weight of our numbers.”

One noble hesitated before speaking. “What about the summoned heroes? Will they support us?”

Marquis Mikele smirked. “Some of them are already within our ranks. The church has convinced several that this war is righteous. They will serve as elite combatants and front-line commanders.”

Klimbert’s grin widened. “Perfect. With their strength, even Garius’s sons will fall.”

However, Duke Ibzles raised a hand, cautioning them. “Do not be overconfident. Garius is a man of strategy. We must account for every possibility.” His eyes darkened. “The moment we underestimate him is the moment we lose.”

Silence enveloped the room.

For all their might, the nobles knew one undeniable truth—Garius De Armand was not a man to be taken lightly.

Duke Ibzles turned to the gathered nobles, his tone resolute. “This war will be swift. We strike with full force. Within weeks, the Armand region will be ours.”

Klimbert, his hands trembling with a mix of excitement and anticipation, could hardly contain himself. “And when Garius falls, his brat will suffer the most.”

With that, the nobles signed their agreement, sealing their fates.

The Noble Coalition Army was now officially mobilized.

And the war against Armand had begun.

( End of Chapter )