Reborn As Noble

Klimbert hid his smirk, carefully masking his true intentions behind a look of concern. He stepped forward once more, his voice filled with urgency.

"Listen, my lords! If we do not attack with our full coalition force—if we hesitate now—we are leaving ourselves open to destruction!"

Some nobles looked uneasy, while others frowned in confusion. Klimbert continued, his tone dark and foreboding.

"Do you all know what kind of man Garius is?"

He paused, letting the tension build. Then, with a serious expression, he spoke the blatant lie.

"If we leave Armand standing, knowing Garius… he will surely counterattack! Not just defend—he will come for us next!"

Gasps filled the room. Some nobles' faces paled, while others gritted their teeth, gripping their armrests tightly. One of the viscounts clenched his fists. "You mean… Armand will go on the offensive?!"

Klimbert nodded firmly. "Yes! If we let him recover, his forces will not remain idle. They will march—and the first place he will target? Our borders!"

More murmurs spread through the room, a palpable wave of fear and uncertainty. Duke Ibzles slammed his fist on the table again, eyes burning with rage.

"Then we strike first. We wipe out Armand before he has a chance!"

The nobles who had been hesitant before now looked determined—some out of greed, others out of fear. Klimbert lowered his head slightly, hiding his victorious smirk.

As the nobles continued to argue and plan, Klimbert calmly raised his hand.

"Anem."

His personal butler stepped forward, bowing respectfully. But unlike the other nobles, Anem noticed the subtle glint in his lord's eyes.

Klimbert then asked the question loud enough for every noble to hear.

"How many troops can we spare for the coalition?"

Anem, playing his role perfectly, bowed once again before answering. "Around 6,000, my lord."

Murmurs spread throughout the room. Many nobles nodded in approval, believing Klimbert was fully committing to the war effort. But in reality, that 6,000 was not part of his true army; it was a mercenary force. Only Klimbert, his butler Anem, and his own general knew the truth.

Klimbert rubbed his chin thoughtfully before speaking again, ensuring he sounded responsible and committed. "Hmm… If we send all 6,000 to the coalition, what about our border?"

Anem smiled slightly, knowing exactly how to respond. "Do not worry, my lord. The '6,000' troops are not part of the forces guarding our border."

More nobles nodded in agreement, reassured by Klimbert's supposed "sacrifice" for the war effort. Duke Ibzles grunted approvingly. "Good. Every noble should follow Klimbert's example."

Klimbert lowered his head slightly, hiding the satisfied smirk forming on his lips. Everything was going perfectly.

Klimbert turned slightly, his expression calm yet unreadable. His butler, Anem, stood silently beside him, awaiting further orders.

Without hesitation, Klimbert spoke in a low but firm voice.

"Anem."

"Yes, my lord?"

"Tell the 'general' to prepare the 'troops.' Make sure they are fully ready to deploy at our border."

Anem nodded, his face remaining neutral. "Understood, my lord."

But only the two of them knew the real meaning behind those words. The 'troops' were mercenaries, not Klimbert's actual soldiers. The 'general' was a hired commander, someone completely disposable if things went wrong. And the 'border deployment'? It wasn't to defend Klimbert's land; it was to stand by and watch, ensuring Klimbert was never truly at risk—while the rest of the nobles threw themselves into battle.

Klimbert glanced toward the gathered lords, his voice turning smooth and reassuring.

"Once the coalition army is ready, my forces will march with them under their assigned commander."

Anem bowed deeply, playing his part. "As you command, my lord."

As the nobles continued finalizing their war plans, unaware of the deception at play, Klimbert allowed himself the smallest, hidden smirk. No matter who won this war… Klimbert would come out on top.

While the nobles discussed strategy, Klimbert remained silent, but inside, he was already calculating his next move. If Duke Ibzles truly committed 20,000 of his forces to this war, the remaining forces protecting his own region would drop below 100,000. A strong force—but not invincible.

However, Klimbert wasn't foolish enough to consider attacking Duke Ibzles directly. That would be suicide. No—his true targets were elsewhere. His gaze flickered toward the maps laid out on the war table, specifically to the three lesser territories bordering this conflict: High Baron Relles, Viscount Thorne, and Baron Farndale. All three were sending troops to support the coalition, which meant their borders would be nearly defenseless.

Klimbert's lips curled into a subtle smirk, hidden beneath his thoughtful expression. Soon. Once the battle against Armand reached its peak, he would sweep in and take everything left unguarded. Let the fools exhaust themselves against Garius. By the time they realized what was happening, their lands would already belong to him.

Screw the nobles. Screw Duke Ibzles. Screw the Saint of Three Gods and their so-called holy war. Klimbert gritted his teeth, barely keeping his smirk from stretching wider. This entire war? A joke. These fools still thought they were fighting for glory, faith, and land. But Klimbert? He knew better.

"Soon…"

He could already see it: the coalition forces crushed, the nobles weakened, the so-called "holy cause" shattered into nothing. And then—these shitholes would beg. But he wouldn't show mercy. Not to Ibzles. Not to the nobles who still believed in their pathetic war. Not to anyone.

He would crush them. The whole lot of them. And when the dust settled—he would take everything. All of it.

Once all the land he planned to conquer was under his control, Klimbert wouldn't stop there. His next move? Mass recruitment. He would raise a new army—far larger than before.

But, of course, the King would notice. And if the King asked why he was suddenly building up so many troops? Simple.

"These nobles attacked my borders while I was busy fighting for the coalition against Armand. I had no choice but to defend myself."

A perfect excuse. It would make him look like a victim, not an opportunist. It would justify his military expansion without raising suspicion. It would allow him to fortify his newly conquered lands without interference.

And what if the Saint of Three Gods Church tried to interfere? If they attempted to mobilize a 'holy army' or demanded he acknowledge their authority? He already had the answer.

"I have investigated these lands and found that they do not truly follow the teachings of the Saint of Three Gods."

That would shut them up instantly. After all, the church couldn't defend lands that didn't 'properly' worship their faith. With one move, he would undermine both the nobles and the church—while growing his power unchecked. And when the time was right… even the King himself wouldn't be safe.

Klimbert sat comfortably, his fingers lightly tapping against the armrest of his chair. His eyes gleamed with anticipation.

"Anem."

Anem stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Yes, my lord?"

Klimbert's lips curled into a small, knowing smirk. "Did you already send my regards to them?"

Anem remained calm, but a sharp glint flickered in his eyes. "Yes, my lord. They are all waiting."

Klimbert leaned back, exhaling slowly. "Good."

Everything was in motion. Now, all that was left—was to watch the fools march to their ruin.

( End of Chapter )