Reborn As Noble-Chapter 621: The Unseen Cost ( )

That’s why.

He never refused a mission.

Not once.

Even if he was being used.

Even if it was political.

Even if it was dangerous.

Because it gave him something valuable.

Freedom.

Freedom to leave.

To travel.

To see the world with his own eyes.

He didn’t waste it.

He watched the people.

He listened to their struggles.

He saw burned villages.

Empty homes.

Children clutching old rags in place of parents who would never return.

He saw real suffering—not stories, not reports.

And every time he returned from a mission,

he understood something more.

How cruel war is.

How easy it was for kingdoms to send armies.

How hard it was for the common people to survive after.

He didn’t want to sit in a study, ruling by theory.

He wanted to understand it all before the day came.

The day he could no longer say no.

The day he would have to take the seat he hated most.

Count of Armand.

He would take it when he was ready.

When he knew the weight he carried was real—

Not just numbers, not just maps.

But lives.

And until then...

He would keep walking.

Keep accepting every task.

Keep watching the world, piece by piece.

So that when it was finally his turn—

He would never rule blindly.

But Javier also knew—

The moment the Human Kingdom and Halfling Kingdom realized he was involved...

The moment they confirmed that Armand had moved.

Even indirectly.

That would be the day everything changed.

Armand would be marked.

Declared an enemy.

Not just by kings.

But by the entire noble coalition across the Human Kingdom.

Sanctions. Isolation. War.

They would say Armand interfered.

They would pretend it was betrayal.

But Javier wasn’t afraid.

They had tried that once before.

During the Noble Coalition War.

When greedy nobles, backed by the so-called Saint of the Three Gods,

tried to force the Armand people to abandon their way of life.

To adopt a foreign religion, pay tithes, obey their laws.

All in the name of the gods.

But everyone knew the truth.

It wasn’t about faith.

It was about control.

It was about taxes, wealth, power, drained from the people in the name of holiness.

Just like the world Javier came from.

Where churches cloaked in gold preached about peace.

While lining their pockets with offerings from the poor.

But Armand didn’t bow.

They resisted.

They fought back.

And the coalition lost.

Crushed.

Even with blessings.

Even with numbers.

They lost.

Because Armand wasn’t just strong.

They were unbreakable.

And if those nobles thought they could try again—

Javier smiled faintly.

Let them.

They’d learn the same lesson twice.

Javier stood silently, hands behind his back.

The wind carried the scent of grilled wyvern—smoky, rich, almost sweet.

His Pekko, Buddy, stood nearby, tilting his head toward the food, eyes fixed like a hawk locked onto prey.

"...You already ate," Javier muttered.

Buddy ignored him.

Javier turned his gaze back toward the royal palace.

Gumarak.

The massive dwarven chieftain was still resting under heavy guard, well-treated, not chained—just under watch.

He was strong.

Dangerous.

But silent now.

And Javier?

He was thinking.

How exactly was he supposed to bring that big guy to the Beastkin Kingdom?

Logistics were one thing—he could solve that.

But the bigger question lingered:

Why?

Why would his father want Gumarak delivered there?

Garius wasn’t the type to move pieces without reason.

And he wasn’t cruel.

Javier was sure—he wouldn’t order an execution.

So what purpose?

A prisoner exchange?

A political offering?

A message?

He didn’t know.

And that made him uneasy.

Javier stroked his chin slowly, gaze sharp but distant.

Buddy let out a low, longing chirp beside him.

"...No, you can’t eat the meat directly from the grill either," Javier said flatly.

Buddy squawked in protest.

Javier sighed, half amused.

Then looked back at the sky—

toward the direction of the Beastkin Kingdom.

Javier narrowed his gaze.

And began to think.

Hard.

How am I supposed to stop this war?

Killing King Gurdan of the Halfling Kingdom?

Killing King Edmund of the Human Kingdom?

No.

He couldn’t.

Not without direct orders from his father.

That line wasn’t his to cross.

And even if he could.

The consequences would be enormous.

A kingdom without a ruler wasn’t peace.

It was chaos.

The moment a king dies, the nobles rise.

Each one greedy.

Each one prepared.

Each one waiting for power.

It wouldn’t end the war.

It would make it worse.

A fractured nation.

Civil war.

More bloodshed.

More innocent lives lost.

Javier knew that kind of aftermath.

He’d seen it.

Sometimes, killing the king was the easy part.

What came after... was the real nightmare.

Knowing how greedy nobles were...

And knowing that both King Edmund and King Gurdan had sons—

Javier could already see the future forming.

Factional war.

Noble houses lining up behind royal heirs.

Each one claiming legitimacy.

Each one desperate to seize the throne before the others.

And once that began...

No outside power could interfere.

Because the moment someone tried.

"Invader."

It wouldn’t matter if Armand had saved lives.

It wouldn’t matter if he tried to stop the bloodshed.

They would call them foreign aggressors.

They would call them conquerors.

They would rally the people against them in the name of "national pride."

Even the ones who were suffering the most—

would be forced to choose between dying in silence or dying under the name of rebellion.

Javier clenched his fist.

Because he couldn’t do it alone.

And even if he did—

The world wouldn’t thank him.

They would curse him. ƒreewebηoveℓ.com

Javier had seen it all before.

Not here.

But in the history books of his old world.

Page after page filled with betrayal.

Kings poisoned by their own brothers.

Generals rising in rebellion.

Whole clans executed under false charges,just to secure a shaky throne.

Young emperors placed on the seat of power—

not to rule, but to be controlled.

Puppets.

Chosen not for merit, but for weakness.

Because the real power wasn’t the crown.

It was the ones standing behind it.

The regents.

The ministers.

The warlords.

They governed from the shadows—

until they were strong enough to throw the puppet away.

And the cycle began again.

Blood. Power. Blood. Power.

Again and again.

Javier remembered one example that stuck with him—

A boy emperor, just a child, placed on the throne after his father’s sudden death.

They dressed him in silk.

Gave him a throne of gold.

But he never made a single decision.

Not one.

Every command came from the elders behind the curtain.

Until he was no longer useful.

And then?

Erased from history.

Another name. Another tragedy.

Javier exhaled slowly.

History didn’t repeat itself.

It simply never stopped.

( End Of Chapter )

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