Reborn As Noble - Chapter 302

Chapter 302: Official Decree ( 302 )
One of Armand’s captains stepped forward, his voice sharp.

“State your business!”

The Royal Force General pulled his horse to a stop, raising his hand in a gesture of peace.

His voice was firm but diplomatic.

“We come bearing an official decree from His Majesty, King Edmund.”

A short pause.

“We seek an audience with Count Garius De Armand.”

The Armand soldiers exchanged glances.

The captain narrowed his eyes, scanning the royal force.

Then—he turned toward one of his men.

“Call General Hesbeirn. Now.”

The soldier saluted and ran at full speed, weaving through the stationed troops and defensive lines.

Upon reaching the temporary command post, he burst inside, breathing heavily.

The officers inside immediately turned to him.

“Report!” one of them demanded.

The soldier straightened and saluted.

“Captain has ordered to inform General Hesbeirn immediately! The Royal Army has arrived at our border—they bring a message from the king!”

One of the senior officers didn’t waste time.

He grabbed the mana talkie, quickly adjusting its frequency.

A low hum filled the air as the connection stabilized.

Then—he spoke into the device.

“This is Southern Border Command. Urgent communication for the Gaze City Command Center.”

“This is Gaze City Command. Report.”

The officer’s expression was serious.

“A force of 1,000 Royal Army soldiers, led by a high-ranking delegation, has arrived at our border. They claim to bear an official decree from King Edmund and request an audience with Count Garius.”

Another pause.

Then—

“Understood. Stand by for further orders.”

In Gaze City, inside a private hall within the command center, two men sat at a grand wooden table, enjoying a well-earned meal.

At one end—General Hesbeirn,

Across from him—Rasdingen

Both men held large mugs of ale.

Hesbeirn took a long sip, sighing in satisfaction.

“Now this is the kind of battle I enjoy—me versus a full plate of roasted meat.”

Rasdingen chuckled, tearing into a lamb shank with ease.

“Aye, ’bout time we had a fight we want to win!”

The two clanked their mugs together, taking another hearty gulp.

For the first time in weeks, there was no war. No immediate danger.

Just good food and strong drink.

But then—

The doors to the hall swung open.

A breathless soldier rushed in, saluting sharply.

“Sir!”

Hesbeirn paused mid-bite, raising an eyebrow.

“What now? I was just winning this battle againts this giant dwarves”

He gestured to Rasdingen.

The soldier swallowed, then spoke quickly.

“A force of 1,000 Royal Army soldiers has arrived at our southern border. They bear a decree from King Edmund and request an audience with Count Garius.”

The room fell silent.

Rasdingen slowly put his mug down.

Hesbeirn let out a long sigh, rubbing his forehead.

“And here I thought I’d get to finish my meal in peace…”

Then—his expression hardened.

He pushed his chair back and stood.

“Prepare my mount. We’re heading to the border.”

The soldier saluted.

“Yes, sir!”

“A royal visit, huh? This should be interesting.”

Hesbeirn grabbed one last piece of meat, biting into it as he walked.

“Let’s hope they’re here to talk… and not cause more problems.”

Hesbeirn mounted his Pekko, gripping the reins as his elite Pekko riders formed up behind him.

Rasdingen remained at the Gaze City Command Center, coordinating intelligence in case things turned hostile.

With a sharp command, Hesbeirn and his riders took off.

As the gates of Armand’s great border wall came into view, Hesbeirn pulled his Pekko’s reins, slowing down.

The other riders followed his lead, forming up in perfect discipline.

Hesbeirn dismounted with a lazy stretch, rolling his shoulders.

Then—he turned to his Pekko, grinning.

“You stay here, okay?~”

“Cuquawked!!”

The large bird puffed out its feathers proudly.

Hesbeirn smirked, patting its beak.

“Good boy. Who’s better? Who’s better? My boy~”

The Pekko happily squawked again, hopping in place.

The elite riders held back their laughter.

Even in serious situations—Hesbeirn always had time to spoil his mount.

But now—his gaze turned toward the royal forces waiting beyond the gate.

Hesbeirn casually lifted a hand, waving lazily.

“Open the gate.”

With a loud groan of metal, the massive iron gate slowly parted, revealing the 1,000 Royal Army soldiers standing in formation.

The Armand soldiers remained on high alert, their hands still gripping their weapons.

But Hesbeirn?

He walked forward lazily, hands resting behind his head, completely at ease.

Then—his eyes landed on the Royal Force General.

And instantly—he smirked.”

“Ahhh!!! Gilmon!!”

The Royal Force General—Gilmon—looked up, squinting.

Then—his stern military posture dropped in an instant.

“Hesbeirn!!”

A booming laugh escaped the general as both men strode toward each other, clapping hands in a firm grip.

“Good to see you!” Hesbeirn smirked.

“Same!!” Gilmon grinned.

The nobles and officers behind him exchanged confused glances.

Weren’t they supposed to be negotiating?

Why did it sound like two old drinking buddies just met again?

Hesbeirn crossed his arms, still smirking.

“Oho~ I remember back then—you used to be Edmund’s escort when he was just a brat.”

Gilmon sighed, shaking his head.

“Back when he was still a prince, yeah…”

Hesbeirn chuckled.

“Didn’t you say you never wanted to work for him?”

Gilmon rolled his eyes.

“And didn’t you always complain about your ‘lord’ being too cheeky and mischievous?”

A brief pause.

Then—both men laughed.

Because nothing had changed.

One served King Edmund.

The other served Count Garius.

And both had their hands full with absolute troublemakers.

Somehow—they had always been on opposite sides of the same chaotic coin.

Gilmon sighed, rubbing the back of his head.

“So… care to help me out here, Hesbeirn? As an old friend… you know.”

Hesbeirn clicked his tongue, already regretting this conversation.

“Ugh… what now?”

Gilmon grinned, then lifted a sealed document.

“Well, King Edmund sent this.”

Hesbeirn’s eyes flicked to the golden emblem on the parchment.

“…Ah, the royal decree.”

He reached out lazily, grabbing it without care.

Then, with an unimpressed tone—

“Fine. But tell me, why the hell did you bring 1,000 of your men just to deliver this?”

Gilmon shrugged.

“Hmm? Do you really think I’d bring just 10 or 20 soldiers while the roads are still unsafe?”

Hesbeirn grunted, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, yeah… whatever.”

He turned on his heel, motioning with his hand.

“Come inside.”

The gates fully opened, and the royal delegation entered.

Gilmon chuckled as he glanced around the massive fortress

“I wonder if your lord still remembers me.”

Hesbeirn snorted, shaking his head.

“Heh, do you really think Garius would forget?”

Gilmon grinned.

“Woo~ someone’s casually calling their lord by name.”

Hesbeirn shrugged lazily.

“Hmm? He’s not some tyrant. I’ve been with him since he was a brat. So—well…” He sighed. “I just can’t do this in front of Erinnete.”

Gilmon raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? Still afraid of your older sister?”

Hesbeirn visibly shuddered.

“Who isn’t?”

Gilmon laughed, shaking his head.

“So, how are Erinnete and Alf these days?”

Hesbeirn grunted, rolling his shoulders.

“Still as intimate as ever. From before Garius even took over the land till now.”

He let out a small chuckle.

“Even their kids are grown. All three of them are over twenty now.”

Gilmon raised an eyebrow.

“Oho~ Time really flies, huh?”

Hesbeirn waved dismissively.

“Enough about them. What about you, Gilmon?”

Gilmon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Nothing much. Just the usual—handling the royal force, training new recruits, dealing with discipline issues.”

Hesbeirn snorted.

“Hah! Sounds the same as me.”

Then—his smirk faded slightly.

“…Except this time, well… you know what happened.”

A pause.

Both men fell silent for a moment.

Then—Gilmon let out a tired sigh.

“Yeah… the war.”

There was nothing else that needed to be said.

They both knew how much damage had been done.

And now—they had to deal with the aftermath.

Suddenly—

Gilmon’s stomach let out a loud growl.

A deep, rumbling sound that even the nearby soldiers could hear.

Hesbeirn blinked.

Then—he burst into laughter.

“Ahahahaha! The mighty General Gilmon—brought down by hunger!”

Gilmon sighed, rubbing his stomach.

“Tch. Can’t negotiate on an empty stomach.”

Hesbeirn grinned, slapping Gilmon’s back.

“Come, let me treat you to something before we meet Garius.”

Gilmon crossed his arms, pretending to think.

“…Fine.”

Hesbeirn turned toward the captain of the Armand forces, giving a casual wave.

“Treat our guests with good hospitality.”

The captain straightened, saluting sharply.

“As you command, sir!”

The Armand soldiers quickly moved to accommodate the royal delegation.

Meanwhile—Hesbeirn smirked at Gilmon.

“Better eat up, old friend. Once we meet Garius, you’re gonna need the energy.”

Gilmon chuckled.

“Don’t remind me.”

( End of Chapter )