Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke

184 The Fox's Gambit

"At first, I thought my brother was just being an idiot," Torkel said with a nonchalant shrug. "But then my father started talking about you, and well—"

William could already guess the contents of that conversation.

The rightful heir of Grimaldi. The master of Asagrim. A noble favored by the Imperial Court, yet with ambitions for the throne.

A monster who, at the mere age of sixteen, had bested Viscount Harald in direct combat despite the latter wielding an artifact of power. Continue your saga on My Virtual Library Empire

"Honestly? I couldn't believe it," Torkel admitted. "So, I decided to see for myself."

His grin widened.

"And since I knew Your Highness would eventually pass through the late Grand Duke's territory, I figured if I headed straight for Asagrim, I'd run into you sooner or later."

William stared at him in disbelief.

"…So, you ran all the way here just to meet me earlier?"

"Exactly."

William rubbed his temple.

"You do realize you would've had plenty of chances to meet me if you'd just stayed with your father?"

At this, Torkel shook his head, as if the very idea was ridiculous.

"Oh, no. If I stayed, my father would have left me in charge of his domain while he ran off to serve you. I had to escape before that happened—I want to be the one by your side."

William stared at him for a long moment.

Then he sighed.

…What the hell am I supposed to do with this guy?

William couldn't find the words to refute him.

After all, it had been him who first asked Harald if he wanted to follow.

Harald had only refused because he had pressing matters to handle in his territory. But the moment things stabilized, it was clear he intended to join William without hesitation.

If his second son, Torkel, had shown enough capability to take over as heir, then Harald would have already abandoned his domain and come running.

And if that had happened, I would have much preferred Harald over a stranger I've never even met before.

Torkel had simply chosen the most efficient route to his goal. And in the end, he had achieved exactly what he wanted.

It proved that he could read the tides of the situation and act swiftly—a valuable skill, no doubt.

But there was one crucial flaw in his approach.

"You do realize… I have no intention of keeping you by my side."

"…What?"

Torkel's brows furrowed in surprise.

"Why do you look so shocked? Did you think I'd welcome you with open arms just because you're Harald's son?"

"That's not it, but… Are you testing my abilities, then?"

"No, I've already seen enough of your abilities." William's tone was flat. "It's your character that I don't like."

Torkel felt his mind spin.

Character? What had he done? He had never committed any misdeeds in William's presence.

When he failed to come up with an answer, William spoke again.

"'Take the throne.'"

Torkel flinched.

"It was an absurd thing to say," William continued, his voice laced with derision. "You're a fox—completely unlike your straightforward father. And yet, you said something like that in front of Imperial knights?"

"I was merely—"

"A passionate young noble, unable to restrain himself in his fervor for the North's former glory."

William smirked.

It was a well-crafted performance, he had to admit. The timing had been perfect.

The White Palace, sealed away for a thousand years, had just reopened. In such a moment, it wasn't unthinkable for a young man, overwhelmed by emotion, to cry out in nostalgia for their lost golden age.

And the other pilgrims had been quick to follow suit, swept up in the sentiment.

"Were you afraid the gifts I received from the Imperial Court were too generous?" William mused. "Worried that I might remain their loyal subject rather than restore the North?"

Torkel remained silent.

"Your instincts for testing the waters are impressive," William admitted. "Or maybe you just have no patience. You can't stand uncertainty, can you? You had to hear a definitive answer."

With every word, the color drained from Torkel's face.

Even in the cold air, sweat trickled down his back.

"You wanted me to react," William said. "Maybe even to get caught up in the moment and agree with you. That way, the Imperial Court would inevitably turn against me—and you'd get to confirm whether I truly had ambitions for the throne."

"Your Highness—"

"And even if I refused to give a clear answer, that would have worked out fine for you too. If I hesitated, the Emperor would have grown suspicious of me regardless."

"Your Highness!"

Shrrk.

A streak of blue energy slashed through the air.

Torkel flinched as a sharp heat brushed past his nose, leaving a faint, burning sensation. It was pure, concentrated mana, given form.

"Silence," a cold voice commanded.

Felicia stood beside him, her sword still raised.

The look in her eyes was frigid. If he spoke out of turn again, she might not aim to miss.

Torkel swallowed dryly and pressed his forehead against the ground.

William chuckled.

"You really do have a sharp mind. It's almost impressive how completely unlike your father you are."

There had been no scenario where Torkel came away empty-handed.

If William had accepted his words and leaned into the idea of taking the throne, it would have automatically distanced him from the Imperial Court. If he wavered, it would have sown the seeds of doubt between them.

And if he outright rejected the notion?

That would have been disappointing, yes. But even then, it was still better than the worst-case scenario.

At least that way, the Northern territories wouldn't end up ruled by an Imperial lapdog.

William's smile faded.

"You really thought you could manipulate me?"

Torkel stiffened.

"You didn't know what kind of ruler I'd be, so you tried to mold me into one that suited your interests?"

William's voice was icy.

"I've never met someone as arrogant as you."

Torkel's head shot up.

"No, that's not—"

Swish.

Felicia's sword flashed again, and a thin line of blood trickled down Torkel's cheek.

He barely reacted to the pain, his focus entirely on William.

"I would never dream of such a thing!" he protested. "Call me a crippled warrior, call me an unworthy claimant—but I have never once sought to hide in the shadows and manipulate from behind the scenes!"