Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke

198 The Chains of Vengeance

The man moved with purpose, his steps confident. He knew exactly where he was going—as if he had studied the White Palace's layout in advance.

They navigated through the shadows, bypassing patrols with ease, and soon reached the western wall of the palace's outer perimeter.

That's when the man turned and tossed something toward Norbeck.

"Drink this."

Norbeck caught it instinctively—a small glass vial filled with a milky-white liquid.

"A potion?" he asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.

The man nodded.

"A collaboration between an alchemist and a certain mage. Temporarily enhances strength."

Norbeck's frown deepened.

"And why, exactly, do I need enhanced strength?"

"Because we're climbing that."

The man tapped a section of the massive stone wall beside them.

Norbeck's gaze followed—and that's when he finally noticed it.

A rope.

A thin, nearly invisible climbing rope hung from the top of the wall, secured by a hook.

"...You expect me to climb this wall?"

"That's right," the man confirmed casually. "I'll go up first and steady the rope. You tie yourself in and climb the rest of the way."

Norbeck stared at him in disbelief.

"That's insane."

The wall was massive, stretching high above them. Scaling it with nothing but a rope? That was impossible—even for a young, able-bodied man.

"Trust me," the man said. "The potion is that effective."

"You expect me to believe that a single potion will turn me into some sort of acrobat?" Norbeck muttered.

"I climbed up the opposite wall using the same method," the man replied. "Of course, I had inside help to secure the rope, otherwise it would have been a lot harder."

Norbeck's jaw tightened.

The logic made sense—but that didn't mean he trusted it.

What if the potion was poison?

What if this was all an elaborate trick?

His hesitation must have been obvious because the masked man let out a sigh of irritation.

"Really? You'd rather stand here debating than escape?"

Norbeck crossed his arms.

"If it's so safe, then why don't you drink it first?"

The man rolled his eyes but didn't argue.

With a single swift motion, he popped the cork and drank the entire vial.

Norbeck blinked.

There had been no hesitation. No attempt to fake it. The man had drained the entire thing without a second thought.

He even wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, expression unbothered.

"Happy now?" the man asked dryly. "Here, take yours."

Norbeck had no excuse left.

Silently, he grabbed the potion and drank it down.

Moments later, he understood.

Standing at the top of the wall, Norbeck looked down at the ground far below.

Even with assistance, even with someone pulling him upward, he still couldn't believe he had climbed that high, that quickly.

This potion… it's real.

"What are you waiting for?" the masked man called impatiently. "We don't have all day."

"Right," Norbeck muttered, nodding.

His tone had shifted—subtly, but noticeably.

He had been skeptical before, but now?

He respected this man's resources.

To have access to such potions, to have an insider within the White Palace—this was no ordinary benefactor.

Norbeck wasn't dealing with some small-time schemer.

This was an organization with power.

"Secure the rope around your waist before you descend," the man instructed. "And don't rush. Wouldn't want to die right after escaping."

Norbeck snorted.

"And once I'm down?"

"There's a horse waiting below, along with supplies. Ride straight to your territory. There's enough rations to last you until you return."

Norbeck hesitated.

Then, before he could stop himself, he asked:

"...Who are you?"

The man let out a soft chuckle, as if amused by the question.

"You really think I'll answer that?"

Norbeck sighed. "I suppose not."

"Glad you understand."

The man turned away, his voice adopting a mocking edge.

"Just focus on your revenge, old man. Make yourself useful for once."

A sharp, cutting remark.

But Norbeck didn't react.

Because within the mockery, there was something else.

A clue.

He's not from the north.

If he were, he would have at least some interest in maintaining stability here.

But no—this man didn't care about what happened to the north.

What he cared about was stopping William.

It wasn't much, but it was enough.

If his benefactor was a foreigner, then at least Norbeck could be certain that he wouldn't interfere again.

That was all he needed to know.

"Goodbye, then," Norbeck muttered. "I doubt we'll meet again."

The man said nothing.

Just gestured toward the rope, silently telling him to go.

Norbeck didn't hesitate any longer.

Minutes later, he was galloping away, a dark silhouette against the night.

The masked man stood at the edge of the wall, watching him disappear into the distance.

Then, without a word, he turned and vanished into the shadows.

Only after Norbeck had disappeared into the night did the masked man finally lower his hood and remove his face covering.

"Give it your best shot, old man," Torkel muttered, a grin tugging at his lips. "Not that it'll make the slightest difference."

He chuckled to himself for a moment before pulling the hood back over his head.

The mission was complete.

It was time to report back.

The next morning, news of Norbeck's escape spread like wildfire.

The White Palace was in an uproar, and the northern nobles, though shocked, were not entirely surprised.

"It was bound to happen," some murmured.

The palace had only recently reopened.

Even William himself had yet to fully map out every corridor, every hidden passage.

If someone had inside help, an escape was not impossible.

But there was one person who refused to accept it.

Glenn.

"What do you mean Norbeck Calix escaped?!" he bellowed.

"The guards were deceived," one of the officers reported. "Someone unlocked the cell door. We're still uncertain how."

William merely shrugged.

"Not much we can do about it," he said. "Even I don't know every inch of this palace yet. If someone had the right connections, they could slip through the gaps."

Glenn clenched his fists, frustration clear on his face.

He wanted to argue.

He wanted to demand answers.

But he couldn't.

Because he knew.

Knew that the White Palace had been abandoned for too long. That entire sections of it had yet to be fully secured.

If someone had planned carefully, they could have used those gaps to their advantage.