Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke-Chapter 76 - Bloodlines and Betrayals

76 Bloodlines and Betrayals

"They claim legitimacy by blood, take with entitlement, and steal away loyal retainers under the pretense of personal connections. They pretend to be self-made, but everything they achieve is stolen from the lineage that birthed them."

His voice grew bitter, seething with something that sounded almost personal.

"They claim what is not theirs. They use their noble blood to justify why they should be crowned, and they demand inheritance that was never meant for them. If that’s not thievery, what is?"

William listened quietly as Jordi hurled one insult after another at those who sought to branch off from their family.

Jordi hated cadet branches.

William could guess why.

"…You certainly sound passionate about this," William remarked dryly. "But I fail to see why you’re bringing it up to me."

Jordi’s expression didn’t change.

"The First Prince is a dangerous connection. If things go south, you’ll be the first to be discarded. You must realize that."

"I do."

"Then why aren’t you worried?"

Jordi’s hand suddenly shot out, gripping William’s shoulder.

It wasn’t painful, but there was an undeniable weight behind it.

He leaned in and whispered, "Listen to me, William. You are a Hern. I am a Hern. Our brothers are Herns. We live and die with Hern."

"…"

"If you fail, you fall with us. That is the only fate allowed. Do not dream of plucking feathers from this house to build wings of your own."

Jordi released him, pushing him back slightly as he turned to walk away.

Before disappearing around the corner, he left one final remark.

"You either take everything, or you lose everything. There is no in-between."

William watched him go, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"Damn," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

’…His instincts are terrifyingly sharp.’

The greatest power of nobility came from their blood itself.

The purer the lineage, the stronger the claim to authority.

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And when it came to the House of Hern—whose bloodline was entwined with the imperial family itself—such a truth was undeniable.

William was well aware of this. He even had a claim to the imperial throne, though it would only matter if the royal bloodline were ever to be extinguished. Unlikely, of course. But in times of chaos, even remote possibilities could become reality.

The privileges granted by his lineage were overwhelming. His nobility, inherited by birthright, was perhaps the most valuable asset in his possession. And on top of that, while he lacked direct power, even his maternal family traced its roots back to the Northern royal bloodline.

"If I had enough personal strength and a compelling justification, I could claim rulership at any time."

William recalled his earlier conversation with Jordi and let out a dry chuckle.

"Take nothing with you?" "If I can’t become the head of the house, let’s fall together?"

What a ridiculous notion.

"That won’t do, brother. With such a golden road laid out before me, why would I refuse to walk it?"

He understood Jordi’s unease.

Unlike William, Jordi’s maternal family had only risen to nobility three generations ago from a merchant background. If he lost in the competition for succession, he would never have another chance to stand on the same stage again.

Perhaps it was natural that he was nervous upon realizing that William, whom he had considered an equal, was showing signs of complete independence.

But from William’s perspective, there was no reason to abide by Jordi’s rules.

"I will use what I have, and you will use what you have. That’s how the world works, isn’t it? A place that is maddeningly unfair and irrational."

In his past life, William had been crushed beneath that unfairness.

Jordi, on the other hand, had thrived above it, competing with his siblings from a position of privilege.

Now, their circumstances had reversed. William felt no sympathy.

Over the next two months, William focused solely on training his body.

If he was to enter the battlefield, no amount of preparation could be considered excessive.

Fortunately, his training was centered around raw destructive power rather than intricate technique, making the process simpler. And the results were satisfying.

Boom!

The air cracked apart with each strike, and William smiled with satisfaction.

He still had a long way to go compared to what Aizen had demonstrated, but in terms of sheer destructive force, he was second to none.

If he were to fight his past self now, he could end the battle in a single clash.

"Unless I face a renowned knight, the moment my sword meets theirs, the fight will be over."

That is, as long as his weapon could endure the force.

William’s gaze darkened as he recalled his recently shattered sword.

It had been a fine blade—one he had been reluctant to part with. Since he had justified it as necessary supplies for his mission, he could request a replacement. But whether he would receive one of equal quality was another matter entirely.

"Wait a moment. I’m heading to war, aren’t I?"

If he played this right, he might even get something better.

A battlefield assignment was far more significant than his previous mission. Surely, that meant he could justify requesting superior equipment.

"There’s nothing to lose. Might as well ask."

"Young Master! The Grand Duke has arrived!"

William, lost in thought, snapped his head up at Hans’s urgent call.

"What? Father?"

He barely had time to collect himself before Grand Duke Sigmund stepped into the training ground.

"Father, I—"

"There’s no need for formalities in private. It’s good to see you training."

Sigmund’s eyes glimmered with satisfaction as he took in William’s sweat-drenched form. Then, with a firm clap of his hands, servants entered, carrying something in their arms.

"A gift has arrived for you, and I came to deliver it personally."

"A gift…?"

William’s eyes widened as he took in the sight before him—armor and a sword.

"Do they meet your expectations?"

William instinctively nodded.

It was unmistakable. That sword was exceptional.

As he stood mesmerized, Sigmund chuckled and handed the blade to him.

"Draw it."

"Are you sure?"

"A warrior must personally confirm the sharpness of his own weapon."

Bowing his head slightly at his father’s words, William grasped the hilt and drew the sword.

The blade slid free with an almost imperceptible sound.

William ran his fingers along its edge. The weight was perfectly balanced, and the sharpness was undeniable.

"This is an incredible blade… It’s not ordinary steel, is it?"

"I had adamantium mixed into it. Not a large amount, but enough to ensure it won’t break easily, no matter how rough the handling."

William’s eyes widened.