Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke-Chapter 52 - The Art of Command: William’s Strategic Insight

52 The Art of Command: William’s Strategic Insight

Joshua hesitated.

"But earlier, you said that concentrating too many troops would—"

"Do you believe mercenaries and my elite soldiers are the same?" Sigmund’s voice carried a sharp edge now, irritation seeping into his words. "To think you lack even this basic understanding!"

Joshua flinched, visibly shrinking under his father’s gaze.

As he fell silent, it was William who finally spoke.

"The difference is clear," he said, his tone calm. "Even if mercenaries gather under a new employer, the total number of fighters in the area remains the same. Unlike moving an army, it does not create the same level of disturbance."

"...Exactly," Sigmund acknowledged.

"Furthermore," William continued, "mercenaries fight for money, not for loyalty. That may make them unreliable at times, but it also makes them less threatening to those who fear military escalation. A lord who would be wary of an elite force marching into their land would not react the same way to a hired band of sell-swords. Even His Majesty will likely turn a blind eye to temporary contracts."

Sigmund’s irritation cooled.

His son had grasped the logic behind the plan instantly.

William could feel the Grand Duke’s gaze on him—measuring, evaluating… perhaps even approving.

"Then tell me," Sigmund said, "do you understand why I am sending one of you instead of simply commanding Tristan to hire mercenaries himself?"

William gave a small nod.

"Mercenaries are difficult to handle," he explained. "If pushed to their limits, they will betray their employers. It is a simple truth of their profession. At the end of the day, mercenaries do not fight to die—they fight to earn. If the risk outweighs the reward, they will cut and run."

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That much was common sense to any seasoned warrior.

Even in his past life, William had encountered cases where mercenaries abandoned their posts rather than obey suicidal orders.

Some commanders refused to acknowledge this reality. They demanded the impossible, only to be deserted in the thick of battle.

The truth was simple: mercenaries did not gamble their lives blindly.

"Bornholm is already in bad shape," William continued. "If the mercenaries sense that the situation is spiraling out of control, they will flee. The only ones left will be the knights of our house—who will, in turn, be forced to prevent them from running."

And that’s where the real disaster would begin.

Hern knights, sworn to protect Bornholm at any cost.

Mercenaries, willing to abandon the battlefield the moment the odds turned against them.

A volatile mix.

One misstep and it would turn into open bloodshed.

"If Tristan were to command the mercenaries directly, it wouldn’t be an issue," William said. "Even in the worst-case scenario, they wouldn’t dare betray him."

"Because?" Sigmund prompted.

"Because they know that if they harmed a member of House Hern…" William trailed off meaningfully.

Sigmund smirked coldly and finished the thought for him.

"I would hunt them to the ends of the earth."

William nodded.

It wasn’t an empty threat.

House Hern had the resources, the time, and most importantly, the will to pursue revenge to its absolute limits.

Even if years passed, even if innocent villages had to burn along the way—House Hern would not stop until the last traitor was erased from existence.

The mercenaries knew this.

They would rather die fighting than provoke such wrath.

"Which means," William continued, "they will follow Tristan’s orders no matter what. Even at the cost of their lives."

Sigmund hummed in agreement.

"But the problem," William added, "is that Bornholm’s territory is vast. There are two separate threats—the rebels and the monsters. Tristan’s forces need to be spread out to monitor both fronts."

Which meant that even if he hired mercenaries, he wouldn’t be able to command them directly.

Instead, that task would fall to a subordinate.

A knight. A lieutenant. Someone capable—but not irreplaceable.

And therein lay the issue.

"If mercenaries find themselves cornered under the command of an ordinary knight," William said, "they will consider their options. A noble knight’s life, no matter how skilled, does not hold the same weight as a direct heir of House Hern."

If the situation turned grim, if survival meant betrayal…

They would take their chances.

"But," William concluded, "if one of us is there…"

The words lingered in the air.

The answer was obvious.

No mercenary band would dare cross a direct heir of Hern.

Their fear of retaliation would outweigh their fear of death.

"And that, I assume," William finished, "is why you are sending one of us. Bornholm needs a front-line commander capable of keeping the mercenaries in line—one they cannot afford to betray."

A long silence stretched between them.

Then, Sigmund chuckled.

A rare, satisfied smile formed on his lips.

William had answered perfectly.

"Impressive," Sigmund said, leaning back in his chair. "You’ve covered nearly everything I intended to say."

"You flatter me, Your Highness," William responded with measured humility.

"Perhaps," the Grand Duke mused, "but there are still a few points to address. Not for your sake, but for the others—since they seem to need a more detailed explanation."

A cutting remark.

Jordi and Joshua stiffened, their faces burning with shame.

The meaning was clear—William grasped the situation immediately, but they needed it spelled out for them.

This wasn’t just about the mission anymore. Their standing as heirs had taken a hit.

The bitter taste of humiliation settled in their throats, but they remained silent as Sigmund continued.

"Tristan has already hired mercenaries," he revealed. "But the problem is that he cannot control them."

Jordi frowned.

"Even with him leading the negotiations?"

"Yes," Sigmund confirmed. "It appears the mercenaries see an opportunity. They know we are in desperate need of manpower, so they intend to use that to their advantage."

Extortion.

Knowing that House Hern had no choice but to rely on them, the mercenaries were squeezing for more money, testing how far they could push their demands.

From their perspective, it was a simple transaction.

But from House Hern’s…

It was a negotiation that could not afford to fail.

"And unfortunately," Sigmund continued, "Tristan is utterly hopeless at this sort of thing."