Reborn As Noble

Kimar Region.

Duke Kimar Estate

Inside the grand meeting hall, the air was thick with the scent of roasted meat, spiced wine, and quiet ambition.

Duke Kimar sat at the head of the long table, his fingers drumming lazily against the carved armrest of his chair. Around him, the remaining noble houses that had survived the chaos of Edmund's reign filled their plates and goblets, feasting while whispering their schemes.

Kimar's lips curved into a smirk as he broke the silence.

"It seems… the Roland household did not attend this meeting, hm?"

One of the nobles leaned forward with a sly smile.

"Your Grace, it appears that Viscount Roland has no interest in aligning with us. Perhaps… Your Grace should consider removing him from...well..."

A ripple of chuckles passed around the table.

Kimar chuckled low in his throat.

"Hmm… very well. If the Roland household does not wish to bend, then they can be cut away. The kingdom no longer has room for hesitation."

He lifted his goblet, letting the wine swirl lazily inside. His gaze swept over the gathered lords and ladies, their hushed talk silenced under his eyes.

"Now… everyone. While you eat, listen carefully." His smirk sharpened.

"Yes, Your Grace," the voices echoed in unison, a mix of obedience and fear.

Kimar leaned forward.

"The throne of the Human Kingdom is cracking. Edmund left nothing but ashes. The last heir, Princess Kliatana, is weak. Fragile."

One noble rose slightly from his seat, goblet in hand. "Your Grace is the one who suits the throne."

Murmurs of agreement spread across the hall, others nodding firmly.

Kimar's smirk deepened.

"This is why I gathered all of you the remaining households that still hold power, influence, and land. The rest are gone, erased by war and corruption. Only we remain to decide what path the Human Kingdom will take."

He gestured toward the nobles with his goblet, his tone sharp.

"Do you wish to bend your knee to a child, barely fit to hold a crown? Or will you pledge to me, Duke Kimar, to restore order and dignity to our kingdom?"

One older noble cleared his throat.

"If Your Grace can protect our lands, ensure trade flows again, and secure our borders… then Roland and the others who hesitate are fools. The kingdom must have strength, not sentiment."

Another banged his goblet on the table.

"Yes! The people need a ruler who inspires fear in enemies, not pity. If Princess Kliatana wears the crown, chaos will spill further."

Kimar leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening.

"After the war… after the Celestial corruption, my late brother Edmund damaged this kingdom beyond repair. Our coffers run dry, our people suffer, and our income, has crumbled." He let the words hang, his smirk never fading.

The nobles shifted in their seats, nodding gravely as if they hadn't been bleeding their own peasants dry.

Kimar's voice dropped lower, but sharper, each word deliberate.

"And what of the lands? The vast estates that belonged to our peers, the houses erased by my useless brother's madness?" He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. "Now, those lands lie empty… lordless. A region with vast fields, villages, and mines… all without rulers."

The hall stirred at once. Some nobles hid their eagerness behind half-sipped goblets, others barely contained their smiles. They knew exactly what he was hinting at.

Kimar let the silence linger, savoring their hunger. Then he continued smoothly,

"But you all know… only the ruler of the Human Kingdom has the power to assign such lands to anyone. Not a council. Not a regent. Only the throne itself."

The nobles exchanged glances, their hearts racing though they tried to mask it with feigned solemnity.

One baron finally spoke up, his voice dripping with sycophancy.

"Your Grace… no man is more fit for such a throne than you. Under your banner, those lands would not lie wasted. They would be governed, taxed, and defended again."

Another lord leaned forward eagerly.

"Yes, and surely Your Grace would remember those who stand with you now. Loyal men, deserving of stewardship over those vacant estates."

A chorus of murmurs followed, each voice layering the same idea in different tones. "Our soldiers are ready…" "My family has long served the crown faithfully…" "With Your Grace as King, the people will prosper again…"

Kimar drank in their words like fine wine. The flattery, the desperation, the greed, it was all expected.

He smirked, swirling his goblet idly. "Ah… I see you all understand. Loyalty now… will not be forgotten later."

Kimar's voice grew colder, carrying weight.

"But betrayal, hesitation, or siding with the child queen? That too… will not be forgotten."

The nobles straightened at once, pressing fists to their chests, voices rising together in forced loyalty.

"To Duke Kimar! The rightful throne!"

Their voices shook the chamber.

And in the back of his mind, Kimar's smirk widened. Yes… wag your tails. Once I sit the throne, you will eat from my hand like dogs. And fight each other for my scraps.

"But… Your Grace," one of the nobles finally spoke, hesitation in his tone.

Kimar's smirk faded into a thin line. "Hmm?"

The man licked his lips nervously, eyes darting toward the others before blurting out the thought everyone else had buried.

"What about Count Garius? Surely you know how strong his region is. Their troops, their weapons, their… magic technology. Not only that...their economy, their food, their trade. All of it is unmatched."

The hall quieted for a moment, the thought of Armand's overwhelming strength hanging in the air.

But Kimar only leaned back, his smirk widening.

"Ah… Count Garius," he said slowly, his voice dripping with amusement. "Do not mistake his silence for hostility. An ambitious man such as he surely wants something for himself. And remember…" Kimar's gaze swept across the table, pinning each noble in turn. "…he has yet to pledge his loyalty to the last princess. Not once."

Some nobles shifted in their seats, their anxiety easing, as Kimar's tone remained steady.

He lifted his hand, brushing the air as though dismissing their worry.

"My useless late brother once waged war against Armand. Garius fought, yes… but he has no reason to bend his knee to Kliatana. That child-queen holds nothing of value to him. Surely his eyes, his ambitions, are fixed on something greater."

One baron spoke up, half whisper, half plea.

"Then perhaps, Your Grace… he will side with us?"

Kimar's smirk turned colder, his eyes narrowing like a man already certain of his game.

"It is not whether he sides with us or not. All we need… is for him not to side with her. As long as he remains neutral, the remaining nobles hold the power to decide who rules."

A ripple of murmurs spread across the table, agreement, relief, greed.

Inside, Kimar's thoughts sharpened.

Garius. Surely, he still hungers for land. Especially the regions neighboring Armand… and the lands once owned by Klimbert, the house that murdered his family when he was a boy.

Kimar's smirk deepened as he swirled his goblet lazily. If I offer those lands to him… he will never stand beside my niece. He will look the other way, and that will be enough.

( End Of Chapter )