Reborn To Change My Fate-Chapter 225 - Two Hundred And Twenty Four

The morning of the departure was grey, a thick, damp mist clinging to the stone walls of the Thompson estate. The air was cold, biting through the woolen cloaks of the soldiers who had gathered in the main courtyard. It was a hive of controlled, grim activity.

Hundreds of men in the black and silver armor of the Thompson Army moved with efficiency.

They were loading heavy wooden crates onto a long line of sturdy wagons. The crates were marked with the seal of the household—Marissa’s medicines, dried rations, blankets, and weapons. The horses stamped their hooves, their breath forming white clouds in the chill air, sensing the tension of the coming march. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

Derek stood at the foot of the grand stone steps leading up to the manor’s entrance. He was dressed in his full commander’s uniform—a heavy black coat with silver buttons, a high collar to block the wind, and his sword, polished and sharp, hanging at his hip. He stood with his arms crossed, his face a mask of stoic leadership. He watched his men work, checking the straps, checking the wheels, but his eyes kept darting to the main gates, waiting for the final piece of the puzzle to arrive.

The sound of wheels on gravel, louder and smoother than the supply wagons, announced the arrival.

A royal carriage, sleek, black, and pulled by four white horses, rolled through the gates. It bore the golden crest of the Crown Prince on the door.

The carriage stopped in the center of the courtyard. The door opened.

Prince Liam stepped out. He was not dressed for war. He wore a dark blue velvet coat, simple but expensive, and a silver cravat. He looked out of place among the armored soldiers, like a peacock in a flock of crows. He held a sealed parchment in his hand, tapping it lightly against his thigh.

And then, a second figure stepped out behind him.

A ripple of murmurs went through the ranks of the soldiers. Heads turned. Work slowed.

It was Carlos.

He was wearing a brand new uniform, one that looked suspiciously clean and stiff. He had shaved, and his hair was slicked back. He didn’t look like the exile who had been dragged out of this very courtyard. He looked like a man who had been given a second chance by god himself.

"Why is he here?" a sergeant whispered to his comrade, hefting a crate.

"Did the Prince pardon him?" another soldier asked, frowning. "I thought the Dowager banished him to the mines."

"Look at him," a young recruit muttered. "He looks like he owns the place again. Smug bastard."

Derek’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Liam, then at his brother. He saw the smug set of Carlos’s jaw. He saw the cold, calculating amusement in Liam’s eyes.

"So this is the play," Derek thought, his mind working fast. "He is forcing Carlos on me. He is putting a spy in my camp. A spy with my own name."

Liam walked up the steps, his boots making a soft tap-tap on the stone. He stopped a few feet from Derek. He held up the parchment, the royal seal gleaming red.

"Grand Duke," Liam greeted him, his voice smooth and carrying over the noise of the courtyard. "The King values the outcome of this war greatly. He has ordered me to arrange everything properly, to ensure success for the realm."

He tapped the scroll against his palm.

"So I am here to give the final verdict on the command structure," Liam announced.

Derek remained silent. He waited. He knew whatever was coming was a poison pill.

"After much consideration," Liam continued, glancing at the soldiers to ensure they were listening, making this a public decree, "and seeing the deep bond of family that holds this house together..."

He gestured to Carlos, who stepped forward, puffing out his chest and standing beside the Prince as if they were equals.

"Since Carlos and the Grand Duke are brothers," Liam said, a faint, mocking smile touching his lips, "they will surely work well together. Blood is stronger than steel, is it not? A brother’s support is invaluable in war."

Derek stared at him. It was a trap. A perfect, political trap. If he refused, he was disobeying the Prince’s direct order and insulting his own family in front of his men. If he accepted, he was taking a traitor into his war room, a man he knew could be dangerous.

Liam looked at Carlos.

"I recommend him," Liam declared, his voice ringing out, "as the one in charge of the river barges. He will oversee the transport of supplies down the River Swift."

Derek’s heart went cold. The river barges. It was the most crucial role in the entire strategy. The barges were the lifeline of the army. If they failed, the army starved. If they were delayed, the flanking maneuver failed. If they were sabotaged... the entire campaign would collapse.

Liam was putting the army’s throat in Carlos’s hands.

Carlos stepped forward. He went down on one knee on the gravel. He bowed his head, a picture of humble, redeemed gratitude.

"Honored by the King, His Majesty," Carlos said, his voice loud and dramatic, designed for the audience. "And by Your Highness. Your subject is truly grateful for this chance to serve."

He looked up at Liam, his eyes shining with ambition and a secret, dark understanding.

"I will fulfill my part in serving the Crown," Carlos vowed. "I will not fail you. The supplies will reach Strathmore."

Liam reached into his coat. He pulled out a heavy golden token, stamped with the Prince’s personal seal—a hawk in flight.

"This token grants you my authority," Liam said, handing it to Carlos. "Use it well. It supersedes local command in matters of supply."

Carlos took the token. He stood up. He clutched the gold in his fist, feeling its weight, feeling the power it represented.

Liam turned back to Derek.

"You will set off soon," Liam said. "Prepare yourself, cousin. The road is long, and winter is coming."

Derek looked at Liam. "We are ready, Your Highness."

Carlos stood there for a moment. The soldiers were watching him, wary and confused.

He looked at Derek.

A slow, arrogant sneer spread across his face. It wasn’t the face of a brother. It was the face of an enemy who had just been given a loaded weapon.

He held up the golden token, flashing it in the morning light so Derek could see the hawk.

"You see?" his eyes said, gleaming with malice. "I am back. And I have power you cannot touch. I have the Prince."

He turned and walked into the house to gather his things, his head held up high, striding past the soldiers who had dragged him out that day, acting as if he were already the Grand Duke.