I Died and Became a Noble's Heir-Chapter 281: A Tale

He looked different than the last time Joseph had seen him. Harder. Leaner.

The kind of difference that came from months of single-minded focus on a goal that consumed everything else.

His eyes tracked Annabelle’s entrance with the focus of a predator identifying prey.

"Cousin," Marcus said, his voice carrying satisfaction that bordered on gloating. "I see you’ve successfully completed your assignment."

"As promised," Joseph replied, stepping aside so Marcus could get a better view of Annabelle.

Annabelle, for her part, studied Marcus with the same focus she applied to everything. Her eyes tracked across his face, his posture, his hands. Cataloging details for the inevitable sketch she’d produce later.

"Lady Annabelle Kaiser," Marcus said, moving around the table with grace. "What an unexpected pleasure to have you visit our humble camp."

"It’s not that humble," Annabelle replied cheerfully, apparently missing or ignoring the threat in Marcus’s tone. "The organization is quite impressive. Joseph said you run a tight operation, and I can see he wasn’t exaggerating."

Marcus blinked, clearly not expecting that response. "You’re... not concerned about your situation?"

"Why would I be?" Annabelle tilted her head, genuine confusion in her expression. "Joseph brought me here to see the camp. I assume we’ll be heading back to the estate before dinner. Octavia doesn’t like it when we’re late for meals."

The tent fell silent. Joseph shifted uncomfortably, unable to meet Marcus’s gaze.

The guards by the entrance exchanged glances that suggested they were reconsidering their career choices.

Marcus’s expression shifted through several emotions, confusion, disbelief, settling on amusement.

"I see," he said slowly. "And it hasn’t occurred to you that perhaps Joseph’s intentions weren’t entirely... social?"

"Oh, I’m sure they weren’t," Annabelle agreed, pulling out her ever-present sketchbook from the bag at her side. "He’s been courting me for weeks. Very properly, I should add. The flowers were lovely. But I suspect he also wanted to show off his cousin’s military operation, which is honestly quite fascinating from an organizational standpoint."

She flipped open the sketchbook, her fingers already moving across the page with the practiced ease of someone who’d been drawing since childhood.

Marcus watched her sketch for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he looked at Joseph with something approaching disbelief.

"This is your prize?" Marcus asked quietly. "The leverage you promised me?"

"She’s the Kaiser’s youngest daughter," Joseph replied defensively. "You said you wanted someone from the family. Someone they’d negotiate for."

"I wanted someone who understood they’d been taken hostage," Marcus snapped. "Not someone who thinks this is a fucking field trip!"

Annabelle looked up from her sketching, her expression brightening. "Oh, is this a hostage situation? That makes much more sense now. I was wondering why Joseph seemed so nervous on the ride over."

The casual way she said it, as if discussing weather or lunch plans, made Marcus’s eye twitch.

"You’re not concerned," he said flatly.

"Not particularly," Annabelle replied, returning to her sketch. "Though I suppose I should be, given the circumstances. But honestly, the whole thing seems rather pointless."

"Pointless." Marcus’s voice dropped to something dangerous. "I have fifteen thousand mercenaries preparing to assault your home, and you think taking you hostage is pointless?"

"Well, yes." Annabelle continued sketching, her hand moving across the page with confident strokes. "Because you’ve fundamentally misunderstood who you’re threatening."

She looked up then, meeting Marcus’s gaze with eyes that carried none of the fear or concern he’d expected. Just calm certainty that made something in his chest tighten.

"My brother," Annabelle said, her voice sounded a little harder, like she was talking down to a servant.

"Woke from a coma less than 2 months ago. Within one month, he’d killed a Disaster-class dragon with dual affinity. Alone. While recovering from injuries that should have kept him bedridden for months."

Marcus’s expression shifted slightly. "I’ve heard the stories. Exaggerations, most likely."

"He solos dungeons that require full parties," Annabelle continued, ignoring the interruption. "He’s started destroying established markets with his products because he wants to help his people rather than maximize profit. Every guild in the capital is scrambling to understand how one person can produce that volume and quality."

She flipped a page in her sketchbook, revealing another drawing. This one showed a figure wreathed in lightning, standing over fallen enemies.

"But here’s what you really need to understand," Annabelle said, her tone becoming more serious. "If you threaten his family or his people, he will kill you. All of you. Not because he’s cruel or because he enjoys violence, but because protecting what’s his is as natural to him as breathing."

Marcus leaned against the table, his arms crossed. "Bold words for someone in your position."

"They’re not bold," Annabelle corrected. "They’re accurate. My brother is a Chosen One. He wields lightning with divine authority. Do you know what Chosen Ones are worth in military terms?"

"Enlighten me," Marcus said dryly.

"One hundred thousand soldiers," Annabelle replied. "That’s the tactical assessment. One properly trained Chosen One equals one hundred thousand conventional troops. And my brother can channel divine power through his body, which means he’s already operating beyond what most Chosen Ones achieve in their entire lives."

She returned to her sketch, adding details with precise strokes.

"So your fifteen thousand mercenaries?" Annabelle’s voice carried certainty that transcended mere faith. "They’re not enough. Not even close. You’ve picked the wrong family to mess with, Marcus Thorne."

The tent had gone completely silent. Even the sounds from outside seemed muted, as if the camp itself was holding its breath.

Annabelle turned her sketchbook around, displaying the page she’d been working on.

The drawing was vivid, almost photographic in its detail.

It showed Marcus and his mercenaries, dozens of them, scattered across a battlefield. Lightning arced between their bodies, frozen mid-strike.

And standing at the image’s center was Jack Kaiser, one hand extended, electricity crackling from his fingers.

The expressions on the drawn mercenaries’ faces captured the moment between realization and death.

Terror mixed with understanding that they’d made a fatal miscalculation.

"My advice to you would be to charge now and hope you can best my family before my father or little brother return."

Annabelle continued to smile through her lecture to the fool Marcus.

"Not only is my brother strong, but you must have forgotten how strong father is. Did you know, that when he wields his sword he’s as strong as Chiron Stormblood."

"WHAT!!!" A mercenary shouted as he stood up. "What non sense, if he was that strong everyone would know about it!"

"You would be wrong. My father doesn’t wield his power lightly because the destruction he causes would be catastrophic. Did you know after Jack fell into a coma, my father went dungeon diving."

...

She paused for a moment before continuing.

"He returned with enough meat to feed the town of Sorne for a year. He was angry at himself for holding back."

"This is what’s going to happen," Annabelle said, her voice carrying the absolute conviction of someone who’d seen the future and was simply reporting facts. "Maybe not exactly like this. The details might vary. But the outcome will be the same."

She met Marcus’s gaze with eyes that held no uncertainty.

"If Father doesn’t kill you," Annabelle said, her voice quiet but carrying weight that filled the entire tent, "my brother will surely kill you."