I read through the proclamation written by my political rival and half-brother.
"Subjugate the traitor Walther Krustein and..."
I stopped reading and let out a snort of laughter.
"Is this bastard insane?"
Starting a rebellion was one thing. But this crossed the line.
No matter what, weren't they father and son who shared blood?
If Father was a traitor, then wasn't he also a traitor's son?
What did he hope to accomplish by denying that blood himself?
Or... did he believe that fake imperial princess wife of his would do something for him?
But wait... if you think about it that way, then calling Father a traitor when he set out to put that imperial princess on the throne doesn't make sense either.
Well...
Justification is everything, but it's also nothing.
You just slap it on and that's that.
"Little Duke."
I turned my head.
Sir Karl continued with a heavy expression.
"There were rumors that Ernst wasn't the Commander's biological son."
"What?"
"Of course, if you count the dates, the possibility is extremely low. But there were such rumors. And after your position suddenly jumped up, he seems to have started believing those rumors."
Not his biological son. There were such rumors.
I'd read almost everything in the family library. Though it was quite small compared to other noble families' libraries. I'd never seen such content.
"That wasn't in the family library."
"Would it be there, logically speaking?"
That was true.
Though having no connection to letters was the Krustein family tradition, the few books we had—naturally they would have been pre-screened.
But that didn't explain everything.
"Father still raised Ernst as his heir despite that."
"First, there's something you need to know, Little Duke. The Commander never once thought of Ernst as his heir."
"Never?"
"Yes. Never."
His tone was firm.
"Actually, though I said there were rumors, given the Commander's personality, there's no way he wouldn't have confirmed it magically. He must be his biological son."
"Then why..."
"It's simple. He lacked talent."
"Ah..."
"His talent is inferior to the Commander's and even mine. Even less than Wolfram or Heinrich. The Commander said this directly. That among all of us, his talent was the most pathetic."
Lack of talent.
He must be talking about martial talent.
But he was by no means mediocre. Not a genius either, but... if anything, he was closer to gifted.
From childhood, he was clearly ahead when compared to noble children from similar backgrounds.
And he was hardworking.
A hardworking prodigy, so to speak.
There was a time when we were close, so I knew.
After his swordsmanship development stopped, he worked even harder. Until his hands holding the sword bled.
But apparently he didn't measure up in the eyes of a true genius.
Rather, that genius probably thought this:
If he's stagnating despite working that hard, his talent is obvious.
And regarding swordsmanship development, his opinion was probably fact.
I wasn't stupid enough to argue with the top expert in that field.
"So you mean there's a realm that can't be reached through mere effort and good teaching, not just Swordmaster but even the stage right before it."
"Embarrassingly... yes. In the first place, I and the others were chosen because we had talent."
I suddenly became curious.
How much swordsmanship talent did I have?
Father didn't choose me because of my swordsmanship talent.
I knew that. My head just worked a bit, I had quick situational judgment, and I was lucky.
But still.
Could I reach this man before me? Sir Karl?
I already roughly knew the answer.
Yet I wanted to ask. Where my limits were.
The question rose to my throat and stopped.
I was afraid. And now wasn't the time for such talk.
There was no time to indulge in useless sentimentality.
"So what do you think we should do going forward, Sir?"
"That's for you to judge, Little Duke."
"I'm asking the opinion of the family's highest elder."
He was young to be called an elder.
But it wasn't a wrong title.
"I'll follow the Little Duke's will."
"Aren't you being too casual?"
A slightly irritated voice came out. I was genuinely asking for his opinion, so why was he being so insincere?
"Not at all. I may be your teacher in martial arts. But I can't match you in leading a group. Not just you. I couldn't even handle the maid you personally taught."
Lise's abilities were now properly recognized. I heard talk everywhere calling her the core of next-generation power, a genius.
The problem was all that credit came back to me. People thought she was smart because I taught her well.
Well, Lise herself went around saying "It's all thanks to Master," so what could I say?
But... they were wrong.
Completely wrong.
I was just using the convenient cheat of being a reincarnator.
Knowledge from my past life, experience from my past life, the countless books I read in my past life.
Combining those and packaging them plausibly.
That was all I did.
Lise was different.
But there was no need to correct that.
An outstanding family head awakening the talents of those slightly less outstanding than himself and cheering them on. Wasn't that the tradition of this short but brilliant family?
If the man before me mistook me for someone fitting that tradition, let him be mistaken.
"Actually, I've already made my decision. I'm just going to give a speech now."
"The expedition?"
"As planned. No, I'll make it even bigger than planned."
Sir Karl's eyebrow moved slightly.
"You're not even asking your maid."
She was certainly better than me.
I admitted that. Sincerely.
But let's think about it.
This was a judgment I was this confident about.
It was right from every angle.
The possibility of being wrong?
Objectively thinking, there was none.
Zero.
"It's such an easy matter that there's no reason to ask my staff officer's opinion."
"Then why did you ask mine?"
"It was courtesy to the highest elder and my martial arts teacher."
"Uhahahaha!"
Sir Karl burst out laughing. I'd never seen him laugh so heartily.
"Truly the Commander's son."
**
I arrived at the expedition assembly point.
Thousands of troops were waiting for the word to fall.
Krustein soldiers with strict military discipline.
But they weren't very orderly.
Murmuring could be heard from all directions. Anxiety was spreading like an epidemic.
"A rebellion broke out in the north?"
"Young Master Ernst raised an army?"
"Did he draw his sword because he's losing in the succession struggle?"
"Then what about us? Do we go south? North?"
It wasn't just the rank-and-file soldiers. Voices were rising among the knights too.
"We must force the expedition! His Grace the Duke is in danger!"
"No, we need to suppress the rebellion first. What if our home gets ransacked?"
Some were on the verge of coming to blows.
I climbed to the highest platform. Where commanders gave pre-expedition speeches.
"Be quiet!"
My voice echoed across the entire assembly ground.
The murmuring cut off abruptly.
Thousands of gazes turned toward me at once.
That weight pressed down on my shoulders.
But I didn't show it.
If you waver at times like this, it's over.
In the silence, one knight stepped forward.
"Little Duke, Your Grace! You must cancel the expedition! A rebellion has broken out in the north. We need to suppress that first. Isn't that the proper order?"
I could feel sympathetic reactions around him. Some were nodding.
But.
"Then what about Father who collapsed from poison in the south? Should we pretend not to see? Our liege who fell coughing blood. Should we abandon him?"
"Th-that's..."
It was obvious. This was so obvious it wasn't even worth pondering.
I turned my gaze to scan everyone.
"Listen, all of you. A rebellion broke out in the north. That's true. That idiot Ernst raised an army. That's also true."
The stirring grew louder.
"But so what? Are you scared of Ernst?"
No one answered.
"Good. Those who are scared, stay here."
I raised my hand and pointed north.
"Go there and kneel before Ernst. Beg him to spare you. Maybe he will."
I paused for a beat.
"But if you're a Krustein knight, and if you're a soldier, follow me."
I caught my breath briefly and continued.
"Not just you! The minimal defense forces left at the castle! Even the guards! Call them all in!"
"What?"
"What on earth are you..."
One knight stepped forward. His face had gone pale.
"Little Duke, Your Grace! That's too dangerous! Are you saying you'll completely empty the castle's defenses?"
"Correct."
I answered calmly.
Murmuring spread like a storm.
"Empty the castle?"
"What if the rebels attack?"
I could hear it all. But it didn't matter.
"We'll also double the supply quantities! We'll mobilize everything we can mobilize!"
Silence descended.
Thousands of eyes looked at me. There was doubt in them, fear, and perhaps even contempt mixed in.
A child's recklessness.
But so what?
We had to set out anyway. Father collapsed from poison. The southern front was collapsing. And behind us, Ernst was sharpening his blade.
The worst situation.
But thinking about it, the answer was clear.
Could we stop Ernst with the remaining defense forces?
No.
If that bastard really attacked, the meager forces would be torn like paper.
Then?
There was only one answer. We had to bet everything.
Redirect the forces meant for defense to offense. Don't spare supplies either. Go south with full strength, rescue Father, and turn the tide.
That was the only way to survive.
Rather than half-defending and half-failing, it was better to bet everything and settle it.
"The opponent is Müller anyway."
The moment I spat out that name, a subtle change occurred among the soldiers.
It wasn't fear.
Something closer to contempt.
"That idiot who was demoted from duke to count. And whatever that grandson of his does, we just need to go and come back. Like when we first came here."
I spoke of events from before I was even born.
Müller had talked big back then too. The result?
He knelt before Father and sold out three relatives.
Some still had dubious expressions.
But...
"Müller? Those rat bastards acting up again?"
"Guess they forgot we crushed them last time."
"Wonder if they'll even keep their count title this time."
"That's why Ernst got abandoned."
Laughter spread. At first, snickering sounds. Then it grew louder.
Someone shouted. That voice became the catalyst.
"Waaaaaaah!"
A roar erupted. Thousands of voices merged into one.
The die was cast.