Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke

194 A Prophecy of Betrayal

"...A prophecy?"

"Not all mages summon fire or call down lightning," Colin said matter-of-factly. "Prophecy and divination are just as much a part of magic as any other branch."

His expression was strangely resigned, as if he had already made peace with the absurdity of his own reasoning.

He explained in measured tones—how he had an acquaintance gifted in divination, someone whose predictions had proven disturbingly accurate time and time again. That acquaintance had foretold something about William, something that had convinced Colin to betray his former comrades and take this chance.

"The prophecy said that if I let Your Grace slip away, I would die by the hands of death itself," Colin said. "But if I held onto you, I would meet a benefactor."

William stared at him, unimpressed.

"And you based your decision entirely on that?"

"I did."

William couldn't comprehend it.

Even if the prophecy had been accurate before, it was just a vague prediction, completely lacking in evidence. And yet, this man had staked his life on it? He had walked straight into the lion's den based on nothing more than a hunch?

Noticing William's skepticism, Colin gave a faint, almost self-deprecating smile.

"I don't expect you to understand," he admitted. "But Your Grace, when a person has no hope left, they cling to anything—no matter how foolish it seems."

William frowned. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"

"The mage rebellion failed," Colin said simply. "And the persecution that followed has lasted for three hundred years. Do you have any idea how many mages have been hunted down and killed in that time?"

He didn't wait for an answer.

Mages had been driven underground, unable to establish stable research, struggling just to survive. Some had starved to death, their talents wasted in the face of sheer, mundane hunger. Others had taken on apprentices in secret, only to watch them be discovered and executed before their training was complete. Entire schools of magic had been wiped from existence, their legacies vanishing into oblivion.

"I am no different from any other mage," Colin said. "I've spent my life scraping by, barely keeping ahead of those who wanted me dead. I survived through a mix of quick thinking and sheer luck. But I know my limits. I can't keep doing this forever."

He had lived like a shadow, hiding from the world. Forced to act like an assassin just to survive, surrounded by people who would turn on him the moment he let his guard down.

One by one, his acquaintances had disappeared—dragged away by witch hunters, leaving behind only the gruesome stories of their deaths.

And just when he had started to lose hope, when it felt like his life had shrunk into nothing more than a long, miserable countdown to his inevitable end, a prophecy had given him something he hadn't felt in years.

A choice.

"If the prophecy had only spoken of death, I might have ignored it," Colin admitted. "But it spoke of an opportunity as well. And for someone who has been running their whole life, that was enough of a reason to take the risk."

William said nothing.

"If you don't believe me, there's nothing more I can do to convince you," Colin continued. "But this is the truth, Your Grace."

With that, he bowed his head slightly, awaiting judgment. There was no further argument left in him. If William chose to kill him, so be it.

Silence stretched between them.

William propped his chin on his hand, watching Colin with an unreadable expression.

A mage, showing up at his feet at the exact moment he happened to need one. A man willing to swear loyalty to him, not out of self-preservation, but because of a prophecy.

How strangely convenient.

Regardless of how suspicious it all seemed, William knew one thing—there was little chance that the mage before him was lying.

After all, without the prophecy, there was no reason for a mage to willingly seek him out.

But even if every word Colin had spoken was the absolute truth, that didn't mean William could trust him enough to keep him by his side.

The bigger problem was that there was nowhere to put him.

Every single soldier, every servant, every guard in the estate had been assigned by the Imperial Family. No matter where he hid Colin, it would only be a matter of time before he was discovered.

And if he simply let him go, there was no guarantee they would ever be able to make contact again.

Colin was a fugitive, and William's own movements had become increasingly restricted. Any attempts at secret meetings could go awry at any time.

Not to mention, there was still the issue of explaining Godfrey's death.

…No. There was one way.

A thought occurred to him, an alternative solution taking shape in his mind. There was an element of risk, yes, but if it worked, it would resolve everything in one stroke.

"I have a proposition for you," William said.

"A… proposition?" Colin repeated warily.

"It benefits me and costs you. But if things go as planned, you might just achieve your goal, too."

Colin stiffened at the ominous remark. His instincts screamed at him that whatever William was about to say would not be in his favor.

And when he finally heard the full plan, his face turned utterly pale.

"His Highness has returned from the Centenary Hunt?"

The northern nobles exchanged stunned glances, their conversation suddenly filled with hushed, urgent whispers.

The Centenary Hunt still had five more days left. William was returning ten days early.

"Did he give up?" someone muttered. "The very event he proposed himself?"

"Nonsense! There must have been an incident—he wouldn't have left otherwise!"

"It's… complicated," one of the attendants admitted hesitantly. "His Highness has stated that he will explain everything himself. Please, make your way to the hall."

The nobles murmured among themselves, making their way toward the grand banquet hall.

Something wasn't right.

William had always been arrogant, too proud to turn back on his own decisions. If he had abandoned the hunt early, then something had gone terribly wrong.

Among the gathering nobles, Norbeck gripped his cane tightly, his palms slick with sweat.

He had waited so long for good news. Yet now, the target of the assassination had returned, but his son had not.

Did the attempt fail?

Then what happened to Godfrey?

How did that bastard make it back alive?