Reborn As Noble - Chapter 328

Chapter 328: Memories of a King ( 328 )
King Edmund grinned, lifting a handful of gold coins, letting them fall back into the bag with a satisfying clink.

He turned to Gilmon, shaking his head in amusement.

“Gilmon, this is what we call a tribute! Not like those nobles who love war and send me silver coins.”

Gilmon chuckled. “Truly, Your Majesty. A real tribute from a real ruler.”

Edmund leaned back, fingers tapping the armrest of his throne.

“Heh… Armand really has risen, huh?”

His eyes flicked toward the delegation leader.

“Tell your lord that if he has time, he should visit me sometime.”

The delegation leader nodded respectfully.

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

Edmund smirked.

“I know the war between him and those stupid Coalition fools just ended… but honestly, I’m bored here.”

He exhaled, stretching slightly.

“It’s been a while since I had a proper drink with that bastard.”

King Edmund leaned back, staring at the gold coins with a thoughtful expression.

Then, with a quiet chuckle, he muttered—

“Garius could have declared independence.”

The court stilled.

Even Gilmon’s smirk faded slightly, listening carefully.

“He could have risen as the ruler of his own country… built his own kingdom… and no one could have stopped him.”

Edmund’s fingers tapped slowly against the armrest.

“And yet…”

His eyes softened, just a little.

“…He chose to remain with my kingdom.”

The weight of those words hung in the air.

A man like Garius—with his military strength, his resources, his intelligence—

Could have easily broken away and carved his own empire.

But he didn’t.

Because—

“He really is my best friend.”

Edmund smirked, shaking his head.

“And… he’s still keeping his promise.”

The promise they had made years ago.

The court remained silent.

No one spoke.

Because they all knew—

These were words not of a king speaking of a vassal.

But of a friend speaking of another friend.

Inside King Edmund’s Mind

“Garius… you really meant it, huh?”

As he sat upon his throne, his expression remained unreadable.

But his mind drifted to the past.

A memory from years ago.

Back when they were still young nobles, standing side by side.

Before the Blessing Ceremony.

Before they reached the age of twelve.

Before the weight of the throne and rulership fell upon them.

That day—

Garius had stood before him, arms crossed, his expression calm and certain.

And in a voice that carried no doubt, no hesitation, he had said—

“I will make sure Armand stays as your kingdom’s vassal… for as long as you live.”

Not for a generation.

Not for stability.

But for as long as Edmund himself lived.

A promise that wasn’t political.

But personal.

Even now, decades later—

Garius was still keeping that promise.

Edmund exhaled softly, his eyes flickering with something rare—

A quiet understanding.

He smirked to himself.

“Idiot. Always so stubborn.”

King Edmund remembered.

Back when he first met Garius.

At that time, Edmund was just the third prince.

Not yet a king. Not even an heir.

Just a royal prince sent to noble school, surrounded by ambitious young nobles who either feared him, flattered him, or avoided him altogether.

But on the very first day—

He met a boy who did none of those things.

A mere lower baron’s youngest son…

Who had the audacity to challenge him to a fistfight.

And not out of hatred.

Not out of jealousy.

But just because he felt like it.

Edmund smirked as the memory resurfaced.

The moment their eyes met, Garius had grinned and cracked his knuckles.

And with zero hesitation, he had said—

“You look strong. Let’s fight.”

The entire classroom had frozen.

A lower baron’s son was challenging a royal prince to a fistfight.

Everyone expected Edmund to refuse.

To punish him. To put him in his place.

Instead—

Edmund had rolled up his sleeves.

And punched Garius in the face.

Edmund remembered it clearly.

The moment his fist connected with Garius’ cheek—

Instead of getting angry, instead of backing down—

Garius grinned.

And punched him right back.

The two of them staggered, then laughed.

And just like that—

The fight truly began.

No formal duels. No noble etiquette. Just fists.

They weren’t fighting as a prince and a noble’s son.

They were fighting as two boys who loved a challenge.

Blow after blow, they traded punches, neither willing to back down.

Their faces bruised. Their knuckles bled.

But their grins never faded.

Meanwhile—

Their escorts were in chaos.

The royal guards panicked, trying to intervene but terrified of hurting a prince.

On the other side—

Alf, Erinnete, and Hesbeirn were desperately trying to stop Garius.

“Young master! Please stop!” Alf yelled, his voice unusually frantic.

“You’re fighting the prince, you fool!” Erinnete scolded, her hands hovering as if she wanted to drag him away.

Hesbeirn?

He just sighed and rubbed his forehead.

But neither Garius nor Edmund listened.

The moment one got knocked down, they just got back up and kept swinging.

They were laughing, bleeding, and having the time of their lives.

Edmund chuckled to himself as more memories flooded in.

Not just the first fight.

But all the chaos that followed.

Like the time Garius kept stealing his food.

One moment, Edmund would be happily eating. The next?

Garius would snatch a piece of meat, wave it in front of him with a smug grin—

And run.

“Oi! That’s mine, you bastard!” Edmund had shouted, immediately chasing after him.

Garius?

He laughed while running, waving the stolen meat like a trophy.

And when Edmund finally caught up—

Garius ate it in front of him.

Slowly.

With zero shame.

Edmund had been furious.

But Garius? He just grinned and said—

“If you don’t want your food stolen, eat faster.”

Edmund clicked his tongue even now, sitting on his throne. “That bastard.”

And then—

Another memory surfaced.

Garius and his Pekko.

The damned Pekko that made Edmund jealous.

While he had a royal warhorse, trained for battle, disciplined and strong—

Garius had a Pekko that could dance.

Dance.

Edmund could still remember the way that oversized bird moved.

Hopping, spinning, flapping its wings in rhythm—all while Garius proudly showed it off.

Meanwhile, Edmund’s horse?

Nothing.

It just stood there.

And every time he tried to make it move—Garius just laughed.

“Edmund! Your horse is stiff! Maybe it needs dance lessons!”

Edmund groaned at the memory.

He had seriously considered trading his royal steed for a Pekko that day.

But amidst all that nonsense—

They became best friends.

And not just them.

Arnold.

The son of the headmaster.

And now—the current headmaster himself.

Arnold was always challenging Garius.

Magic duels, fistfights, strategy games—

And he lost.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Edmund smiled.

He could still picture it.

Arnold huffing in frustration, covered in dirt or spell dust, while Garius just smirked and said, “Again?”

They had shared meals.

Did mischievous things together.

Fought, laughed, and grew stronger side by side.

That was why—

Even now, as a king—

Garius was still his best friend.

( End of Chapter )