Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke

A mercenary who doesn't die is third-rate. The reason they get paid so much is to die in place of nobles and commoners.

Nobles often joked about mercenaries like this. Naturally, every time words like these were spoken, mercenaries felt a surge of anger.

One moment, the nobles would act as if they were ready to grant them land and titles in times of danger, only to turn around and make such dismissive remarks once the war was over.

As a result, the longer a mercenary served, the stronger their distrust and disdain for nobility became. To be hired by nobles repeatedly meant witnessing countless acts of treachery firsthand.

Jayce, the commander of his mercenary company, was no exception.

Another excuse, another betrayal.

The enemy suffered too few casualties. The leader wasn't slain, so it wasn't a true victory. The battle was won, but the war remained unchanged.

Excuses came in all shapes and forms—so much so that even the retainers of the employers sometimes appeared embarrassed by them.

Yet, despite their creativity, all these excuses led to the same predictable conclusion: We won't pay what was promised.

Jayce had heard countless justifications over the years, but this was the first time he had encountered something so utterly absurd.

"Die for me."

"..."

Jayce blinked in stunned silence at the knight standing before him. Had he misheard?

Of all nobles, this was the last person he expected such madness from.

"I'm sorry. I must be exhausted—I thought I misheard you," Jayce said, rubbing his ear as if to clear his hearing.

"You didn't mishear. I said, die for me."

Madman.

Suppressing the curses rising in his throat, Jayce narrowed his eyes at the knight.

Had the string of defeats finally driven him insane?

Regardless, the mercenaries had already fulfilled their contract. They had fought as they were paid to, and Jayce had been planning to withdraw. Yet now, he was being asked to die?

"Sir, do you know what my profession is?"

"You're a mercenary."

"Ah, so you do understand. For a moment, I thought you mistook me for a knight."

"If only you were a knight."

If that were the case, the request would have been far easier to make.

The knight sighed, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again. This time, the exhaustion and self-reproach that had been hidden before were clearly visible.

"I apologize. I spoke too bluntly. That must have been misleading."

"Misleading?"

"I had intended to request that you hold the line. However, given the hopelessness of our situation, my words came out poorly."

So, in other words, the mission was so dangerous that it weighed on his conscience.

What a way to phrase it.

Jayce suppressed his irritation and put on his professional smile.

The knight was the right-hand man of their employer. Even if the situation was frustrating, showing open hostility could cause issues with the remaining payment.

Besides, despite the grim request, the knight's mannerisms still showed a certain level of consideration. Throughout the campaign, the tasks assigned to the mercenaries had always been within reason.

No matter how perilous this might be, there were likely still limits to what they would be expected to endure.

"The task is simple," the knight continued. "Tomorrow, the rebels will launch their full assault. While our lord makes his escape, I need you to hold the line with me."

"...Excuse me?"

"Hold for as long as possible. Ideally, until I fall. Once you retreat, you will receive your remaining payment with this."

The knight reached into his coat and placed an object before Jayce.

A crimson gemstone, roughly the size of a man's fist, glowed with a mesmerizing radiance.

There was no mistaking it—Tears of the Prince, a gem mined only from the southernmost reaches.

A stone of this size would sell for more than three years' worth of the mercenary company's wages.

Yet, Jayce didn't even glance at the gemstone. Instead, his expression darkened.

"Sir, did you eat something rotten yesterday?"

"I'm perfectly fine."

"The insane never think they're insane."

"Watch your mouth. If you cross the line, even you—"

"You're the one crossing the line. Are you planning to drag us into your grave just so we can be buried alongside you? Do I look like an idiot to you?"

The knight's offer sounded noble enough.

A tale of loyalty and sacrifice, where a knight remains behind to ensure his lord's escape while the mercenaries fight alongside him before retreating at an appropriate moment.

To a naïve fool, it might have been convincing.

Unfortunately for the knight, Jayce was no fool.

"You're the supreme commander, aren't you? And yet, you're telling me to wait until you die before I leave? So we're supposed to fight until we're wiped out? Do you think the enemy will just let us walk away?"

"You are mercenaries, not knights. The enemy will not chase you too aggressively—"

"We're not just mercenaries. We're the mercenaries who have been carving through them like a goddamn scythe. You really think they'll just let us go?"

A mercenary fights for pay. The moment the employer dies, the contract ends, and the mercenaries retreat. Most armies wouldn't waste resources chasing them.

But that was only true when there were no deep grudges involved.

"Do you have any idea how much damage we've done to their forces? Even a low-ranking soldier shudders at the sound of my name! You really think they'll just let me leave?"

Money meant nothing once an enemy was consumed by rage.

And Jayce hadn't just been an obstacle—he had personally driven the enemy command to the brink of annihilation.

If he tried to run, the enemy would send pursuit teams after him. And now he was expected to stand in plain sight, right in the middle of the battlefield?

"You're offering us sacrifices."

"..."

"You want to buy time for your lord to escape, and you're planning to force us into it. What an incredible display of honor. I feel so privileged I might just kneel on the spot."

The knight bit his lip, his face betraying his shame.

At the very least, he had the decency to feel guilt over the situation.

But that didn't change the fact that he had no intention of letting Jayce walk away.

"...If you refuse, I'll be taking command of your company. I'm sorry, but you'll have to see this through to the end."

"What if I refuse?"

"Then I'll have to use this."

Click.

The knight's sword slid slightly from its sheath.