I reincarnated as the Duke from the North.

The Duke.

Flying to Kirgfield.

 

They will leave us alone for now.

My fingers cut through a cloud as I rode the currents. With the sun shining above me, my shadow flew over the green pastures of Vioden. Such fertile land yet its rulers want more.

How… convince….

I lowered my altitude. The prince, despite his tender, greenhouse upbringing, loves bold individuals. People with balls that can talk back, especially to him. He wants for nothing, and people want him, so he craves something he can't easily grasp.

A hunter, Kyros wants to be challenged. And Vanessa was the perfect girl to give him one. I remembered his chiselled face and was irritated once again.

I just gave him some entertainment.

If I wasn't a Duke, it would have been a harder task.

The connection wobbled as Venessa struggled from her end, with fewer circles. With a burst of strength, the link became stronger than ever before.

Why don't you tell him… about Grandi?

I descended further. Grandi is too interwoven in court. Any advisor watching could tell all to them, bringing us back two steps. Until Countess Trak and Susan supply us with information on their people, we should keep our cards close.

My men point up at me. Calling others from their tents.

I have arrived at the tents. Please make sure the bastard doesn't sneak out again.

I landed amongst, bowing men.

Can't…promise…that. Take care. The link dropped and I walked past more bowing men as I entered a large tent.

“We can proceed.”

Jimmy smiled excitedly, rushing to me. Although he is inexperienced in the way of war, he is a quick learner. He is quick to follow commands while also bringing his ideas forward. If strength increases as time goes on, I could see a bright future ahead for the soldier.

With long hair tied in a knot, the sixth circle lieutenant picked up his helm. “I shall get Ceta ready for deployment.”

“Go on. I will meet you there.” I said while Jimmy saluted as he left my tent. In the corner of my eye, something glinted in the dark tent. I touched my cloak and it was sent to my inventory. Mana tethers pull the shining metal to me. One by one, I slid on armour pieces. Greaves snap onto boots. I fastened silver cuisses on my thighs. Lifting my leg up, I tested the flexibility of the poleyn on my knee.

I could wait. Starve them out.

Thin gloves in my inventory, tethers float gauntlets to my hands. I make a fist in the tough leather that has survived centuries. I flicker jabbed the air, popping the air with My metal fist.

But weeks or months could pass with the amount of food they have stored.

“Nice.” Vambraces and rerebraces latch on, my muscles barely fit in the moulded metal. Coulters connect the pieces together on the elbow.

But I can't afford to waste time. I must meet my uncle at Durum.

From the front and back, halves of a cuirass connected, and it felt snug against my doublet. Grabbing the gorget from the air, I wrap the metal neck guard around my throat. Pauldrons fused to my shoulders and one thought I brought my cloak back to hang on my back.

“One last piece.”

Mana Tethers slowly slid a helm onto my head. It clicked into a gorget and the old armour reverberated. Runes shallowly engraved on armour glowed subtly with mana from the last time it was used.

“Father… I wish you could have seen me put it on.”

I give mana to the armour.

Plonk

 

 

Plonk

A thought and the armour flickered away into my inventory. Another thought and the armour equipped itself on me.

I'm ready.

 

Jimmy

My Duke trudged down the muddy pathways through the tents, dividing men in his way with his sheer presence. Soldiers revered him with eyes locked on the tall sauntering figure as if they were witnesses to history in the making.

Inside the gleaming helm, the duke bellowed.

“Guard. IN FORMATION!”

Boots stomped on mud, and soldiers ran to the position. With a gentle, soundless leap, His Grace landed on the makeshift podium, joining me with the rest of his earls and barons.

For many of the uptight nobles, this will be their debut battle. But as soon as His Grace's helm disappeared in a flash of blue light, calm showed in their expressions as they saw the duke's confident face. Under the leadership of a man who had gone against hundreds and survived to tell the story, there was no need to worry about a simple siege.

Mana carried His Grace's voice in the wind. “Today we fight for Pirn. Today we fight another Pirn that can never happen again. Protect yourself. Watch comrades back. For this is the first of many castles to fall to Osbeg.” His Grace dropped down from the podium.

“Follow me.”

A blue light flashed and his helm was equipped. His speech was quick and he began to stroll in his heavy armour towards the castle. Ceta, in their lightweight armour, followed near, and I joined the regiment to walk in tandem with the Duke. I soaked up the atmosphere. A thousand foot soldiers at our back, the flags of our duchy wave the sword and the moon emblem of His Grace’s great house.

“First proper siege, Your Grace. You nervous?”

“Haha, not at all.” His voice was muffled under his intricately designed silver helm. “Stop trying to sike me out, you fucker.”

Kellen Wolfburn.

Kirgfield Castle

After two weeks, the ground rumbled, and the enemy advanced on our wall. I held on to my sword and shield, waiting on top of the battlements of Kirgfield Castle. A moat between our base and the approaching army, all eyes are on the draw bridge.

“What could they be planning, brother?” I asked.

"Intimidation, I reckon. They know we have enough food to last a while. Bringing ladders would be futile because they would have to swim across our large moat and they would be easy to pick for our archers.” Thorn leaned on the merlon dress in his red surcoat of our house colours. “Help will come from Durum and the pill would be of no use. I hope.”

I stood beside my older brother in a red surcoat and chain mail armour, observing my brother's dejected look as he stared at the army below. As the seventh child of the head, he has used his invisible status to do as he wishes. Not wanting more than was needed, he only took what he thought was expected by doing the least of what was expected of a man of Wolfburn. He was wise. Our dirt is deep and once stuck in it, there is no climbing out. I am glad he didn't make the same mistake I did. But with the rumour spreading around of our family's discretion, the dirt has caught up to him.

“Kellen…” Thorn leaned on the wall, looking closer at the army. “What are they doing?” I follow his pointing finger. A line of light armoured men put on the helmet and crouch into position. A full suit of armour walked to the front. A flash of blue and a large, beautiful greatsword appeared in his hand.

“That cloak. It's that…”

“Yes.” My gauntlets crack the stone. “He is planning something.”

Mana erupted from a hundred boots and the dark blue army flew high above the moat.

“What the…”

“ARCHERS!” Thorn screamed his orders to the bowmen, drawing the mana-imbued arrows.

“FIRE!”

Blue mana streaked into the sky and the armoured man held out his hand in flight. Mana-infused wind pulsed, shielding the hundred flying soldiers.

What the…

“RING THE BELL!”

“Thorn!” From my pocket, I brought out a bag. “From father.”

From the bag to my eyes, disappointment was all I saw In his blues. “Kellen…You give me something you're not willing to take yourself.” My brother's longsword swished out of his sheath. “Sword out. We have a duke to kill.”

“Yes, brother.”

I ran with Thorn down the stairs into the courtyard. The last of the Osberg soldiers crashed on the stone ground, unsheathing the blades while they were surrounded.

“SOLDIERS! PROTECT THE BRIDGE!”

“Ceta.”

My sword flared brilliantly with rage at the sound of the armoured man's deep, booming voice. Harold’s killer. So close yet seemed untouchable. Falling down like an angel of myth, his hair floated weightlessly from his glossy helm. His black cloak, rippling like waves, spread out like crow wings.

His boots touch the earth, and a heavy aura surges from the invaders. Faith in the duke showed in the trained movements. Faced with hundreds of our soldiers, they do not buckle under pressure and await his order.

“Bridge.”

“YES, YOUR GRACE!!” Invaders sprinted for the bridge pulley system. A wave of mana stopped us in our tracks and a sword of legend taunted us as its owner's men ran behind.

“Come forth.”