Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke-Chapter 133 - The Oath That Shook the Realm

133 The Oath That Shook the Realm

Just as the Grand Duke was about to repeat his challenge, another voice cut through the silence.

"Tristan Hern has something to ask of Dame Felicia!"

All eyes turned as Tristan suddenly rose to his feet.

He extended a hand toward Felicia.

"As a knight, would you swear yourself to my service?"

"…!"

A bold—almost brazen—proposal.

But Tristan was not finished.

"If you ride under my banner, you will ride beside me in battle, share my table in peace, and stand at my side until the end of days. When my final breath leaves my lips, it is you who will hear my last words."

It was more than an offer of servitude—it was a declaration of absolute trust.

To ride alongside one’s lord was an honor given only to a few.

To be granted the right to witness their final moments meant they would be entrusted with their legacy.

Tristan’s voice rang with conviction, his determination plain for all to see.

Felicia bowed her head slightly.

"I am honored by your offer," she said, "but I must refuse."

"What—!"

Before Tristan could even demand an explanation, another voice rang out.

"Then, would you serve under me instead?"

Joshua stepped forward hastily, clearly unbothered by appearances.

Desperate.

Shameless.

He didn’t care—so long as he could secure her.

"If you join me, no knight shall stand above you. All shall bow to you in respect. Until my dying breath, I will uphold this vow!"

Though heavily exaggerated, his words boiled down to a simple truth—he was offering her the undisputed position of second-in-command.

No matter what she accomplished, under Joshua, she would never have a superior.

But Felicia shook her head once more.

"I am grateful for your high regard," she said, "but I must decline."

"…!"

A second rejection.

A murmur spread through the gathered crowd.

She had accepted knighthood under the Grand Duke, yet she refused every oath of loyalty.

Then, Jordi rose with an easy smirk.

"Successor to the Swordmaster, Dame Felicia! Would you swear yourself to me?"

"If you do, I will grant you anything within my power. Name your price, and it shall be yours! I swear it upon the Eight Masterss above!"

Gasps filled the air.

The Oath of the Pantheon.

A vow that, once spoken aloud, could never be taken back.

To invoke such an oath was to risk eternal servitude.

Even the Grand Duke frowned at Jordi’s recklessness.

But before anyone else could react, Felicia simply smiled.

"I appreciate the offer," she said, her voice clear, "but I must refuse, and I ask for your understanding."

"…!?"

"My sword already belongs to another. No matter what I am offered, I will not swear loyalty to anyone else."

Jordi’s face contorted.

Even after making an unbreakable oath, she had rejected him in front of everyone.

A heavy silence settled over the crowd.

Then, William rose from his seat.

Stepping forward, he met Felicia’s gaze.

"William Hern has a proposal for you," he said.

"But as you can see, I have nothing to offer. No great wealth. No grand titles. Nothing to promise you at all."

"…"

"The future is uncertain, the rewards are few, and danger is inevitable. But if you walk this path with me until the end—then together, we will carve our names into history."

The spectators gaped at him in disbelief.

Was he trying to be rejected?

Everyone braced for yet another refusal.

But then,

"You made your offer incorrectly," Felicia said softly.

And then—smiling—she knelt before him.

"It does not matter if we must walk through hell itself," she said. "So long as I may walk beside you."

The moment Felicia swore her loyalty, a stunned silence fell over the crowd.

No demands for wealth. No requests for status.

All she asked was to serve.

It wasn’t mere devotion—it was madness.

Everyone was shaken, but no one more so than William’s brothers.

"What in the world—?!"

Tristan’s eyes widened in disbelief, while Joshua stood frozen, mouth agape.

Jordi, lips pressed so tightly together that blood trickled from the cracks, was flushed red with barely contained fury.

While his brothers reeled, William unsheathed his sword and lightly tapped Felicia’s shoulder.

"Then let it be sworn," he declared. "William Hern vows that we shall walk through hell together."

With that, the oath between knight and lord was sealed.

Felicia lowered her head deeply before stepping to William’s side.

In that moment, the heir to the Swordmaster had chosen her master.

The gathered knights exchanged bewildered glances, struggling to process what had just transpired.

A display like this should have been met with thunderous applause, yet the sheer shock of the event left them speechless.

Then—

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A soft, rhythmic sound rippled through the silent crowd.

At first, it was just a few scattered knights, striking their sword hilts against their scabbards.

A handful of soldiers followed, tapping their spears against the ground.

The ritual was one of deep respect—one performed on the battlefield to honor those worthy of admiration.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The sound spread.

More and more knights and soldiers joined in, the beats growing louder, their rhythm uniting into a steady, powerful pulse.

Visit frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓ for the b𝘦st novel reading experience.

It echoed through the city of Kelheim like a war drum.

Those unfamiliar with the ritual hesitated at first, but it wasn’t long before understanding dawned on them.

’These are the soldiers from the Krefeld rebellion.’

’They’re showing their respect to the one who led them in battle.’

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The sound was no longer just a ritual—it was a declaration.

A declaration from those who had fought under William’s command, asserting to the world that he was worthy of Felicia’s loyalty.

As the crescendo reached its peak—

"Waaaaaaaah!"

"Long live the Third Prince!"

"Glory to Dame Felicia!"

"Hern, eternal and unyielding!"

A deafening roar of cheers erupted.

William’s past accomplishments, once dismissed by many, were now remembered with renewed clarity.

Even those who had hesitated to acknowledge him were swept up in the fervor, adding their voices to the thunderous celebration.

Amidst the overwhelming noise, William and Felicia exchanged quiet words.

"From this day forward, I entrust my sword to you, my lord."

"And I to you."

"The Swordmaster’s successor is a woman!"

"And she swore loyalty to the Third Prince!"

Within hours of the ceremony’s conclusion, these two revelations swept through Hern territory like a storm.