Reborn as a Useless Noble with my SSS-Class Innate Talent

The fort loomed ahead, its rough-hewn stone walls darkened by age and the stains of a long winter.

Kyle approached at a steady pace, his boots crunching against the gravel path that led to the heavy iron gates.

The air was tense; the guards lining the battlements gripped their spears tighter, eyes darting between him and the narrow entrance they were sworn to defend.

"He's the one. That's Kyle Armstrong."

One of the guards muttered from above, his voice low but audible in the crisp air.

Another spat to the side.

"Do we let him in… or do we put him down before he reaches the gate?"

Kyle didn't slow, his expression unreadable, though his eyes were sharp. Every step was calculated, his presence alone enough to make a few hands tremble on spear shafts.

A third guard shifted uneasily.

"If we attack and fail, the retaliation will be worse. But if we let him in…"

Before they could reach a decision, movement stirred behind them.

The massive wooden doors groaned open just enough for two figures to emerge—Silvy and Grand Duchess Amana, both walking with unshakable confidence.

Between them, bound and subdued, was the young lord they all served.

A ripple of shock moved across the battlements. Weapons lowered, but the resentment in the guards' eyes was plain. Their leader, their reason for defiance, was in enemy hands.

"Stand down."

Silvy's voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

The hesitation was palpable, but slowly, the guards stepped back from the edge of the walls, some dropping their weapons entirely.

The gate creaked open wider, and Kyle stepped inside. The courtyard smelled faintly of smoke and iron, the air thick with the stares of the defeated.

The young lord was forced to his knees before Kyle. Despite his disheveled state, his eyes burned with defiance.

Kyle crouched slightly, meeting his gaze.

"Explain."

The young lord swallowed hard, then spoke.

"High taxes. Rations cut every month until we were starving. My people—your people—were left with nothing. The upper nobles sat in their halls, feasting, while children died in the snow. I gathered my men to take what we needed to survive. Call it banditry if you want, but it kept us alive."

There was no pleading in his tone, only a bitter truth.

Bruce stepped closer.

"What now, young master Kyle?"

Kyle's eyes didn't leave the young noble's face.

"Take him into custody first. Then we'll look into the rest of it. Lady Rose is careless and proud, but this doesn't feel like her. Someone else is pulling the strings."

Bruce nodded, signaling for the men to secure the prisoner.

The guards of the fort watched in silence, their grips tightening on their weapons again—not to fight, but out of quiet anger. None looked happy about surrendering.

Kyle's mind was already working through the problem.

If Lady Rose wasn't behind this, then someone with far more subtlety—and far more intent—was. The kind of rot that spread without drawing attention until it was too late.

—

In her well-lit study, Lady Rose Adam leaned back in her velvet chair, the faint scent of ink and parchment filling the air.

Stacks of documents lay neatly arranged on her desk, each sealed and cataloged. She flipped through a report, her brow furrowing as her eyes skimmed the lines.

Something about it felt… incomplete.

She read it again. The numbers were there, the signatures too, but she couldn't shake the feeling that a piece of information was missing.

Her butler, standing patiently at her side, noticed her frown.

"Is there a problem, my lady?"

Rose tapped the page lightly with a manicured finger.

"Something's off. There's a detail missing here. I can't say what exactly, but I feel it."

The butler leaned in, scanning the document briefly.

"With all due respect, my lady, I see nothing missing. Everything appears to be in order. Perhaps it is only your imagination causing this feeling."

Rose's lips pressed into a thin line. She wanted to believe him, to dismiss the nagging doubt in her mind, but the unease clung stubbornly.

Still, she set the paper down, her expression smoothing into a mask of indifference.

"Perhaps you're right. Leave me."

She said, though her tone lacked conviction.

The butler bowed and withdrew, leaving Rose alone with her thoughts.

The candlelight flickered across her desk, casting long shadows over the documents—shadows in which secrets could easily hide.

Rose leaned back, her mind turning over the possibilities. She didn't yet know what was wrong with the report, but she intended to find out.

The trouble was, by the time she did, Kyle might already be standing at her door.

______

Kyle stood in the fort's courtyard, now eerily quiet. The surrendered soldiers had been disarmed and corralled under Bruce's watch, while Silvy took the young lord to a secured chamber.

The air still carried the sharp tang of steel and the faint stench of burnt oil from the battle earlier.

Melissa approached, her boots crunching against the gravel.

"Young Master… their supplies are nearly gone. I checked the storerooms. Even their grain barrels are scraped clean."

Kyle glanced toward the keep.

"And yet, the capital recorded full deliveries last season."

Her brows furrowed.

"Which means someone intercepted them."

"Exactly. The question is whether it was the lord himself or someone higher up… someone who wanted this fort to turn desperate."

Kyle began walking toward the inner hall, his steps echoing through the empty space.

Bruce fell in beside him.

"Why? A hungry garrison is a useless one. Unless…"

"Unless, someone wanted an excuse to move in on this territory without directly breaking the crown's laws."

Kyle finished for him.

Inside the hall, maps and ledgers lay scattered on a long table. Kyle picked up one ledger, flipping through its pages.

Each line was meticulous, every shipment noted with seals from the capital. But as he turned the pages, his eyes narrowed.

"The handwriting changes here."

He murmured, pointing to a mid-year entry.

Melissa leaned in.

"Forgery?"

"Likely. And whoever did this is good—they mimicked the clerk's style almost perfectly. Almost. Small mistakes give them away."

Kyle tapped a faintly different stroke on one letter.

Bruce crossed his arms.

"So, someone in the supply chain diverted food and left this fort to rot. That means…"

"That means, we're looking at a coordinated theft. One bold enough to risk rebellion by starving a border post."

Kyle said, placing the ledger back down.

His voice lowered.

"And if this isn't just greed, then it's politics."

Melissa frowned.

"Should we report this to Lady Rose?"

Kyle's lips curved faintly—not quite a smile.

"We will. But I'd like proof first. The kind that doesn't vanish when it reaches her desk."

They left the hall, stepping out into the fading light. The soldiers eyed them from a distance, their distrust still palpable. Kyle didn't mind. Trust could be earned—or leveraged.

Silvy emerged from the secured chamber.

"He's calm for someone in chains. And he keeps repeating that he has nothing to hide."

She reported.

"That's good. A man who talks too much can reveal more than he intends."

Kyle replied.

Bruce gave a short nod.

"Where to next?"

Kyle's gaze swept the horizon toward the distant roads.

"The supply route. We'll follow it back, see where the trail breaks. If someone thinks they can choke a fort into surrender and remain hidden…"

His tone hardened.

"They'll soon find they've starved the wrong people."

The soldiers shifted uneasily as Kyle's words carried across the courtyard, the weight in them more dangerous than any drawn blade.