Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke

William immediately bowed.

"It would be my honor, Your Majesty."

This was not an offer to be refused.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freeweɓnovēl.coɱ.

Setting aside matters of political gain, William personally wanted to understand this man better.

As the allied forces—now under the Emperor’s watchful presence—resumed their march toward the border, William found himself riding beside the Emperor at the very front.

And for the first time, the two spoke alone.

"I have heard much about you, William. Even at just sixteen, the rumors of your achievements are impressive."

William chuckled lightly. "I fear those rumors have been exaggerated, Your Majesty."

"Ah, humility. First, you insist my gratitude is excessive, and now you claim your own deeds are undeserved. Are you certain you aren’t trying to outdo me in modesty?"

The Emperor laughed, clearly enjoying the exchange.

His initial interest in William had now turned into undeniable favor.

But as the Horsen River came into view, and the prying eyes of the nobles began to drift away, the Emperor’s tone suddenly lowered.

"…Tell me, William. Do you have any interest in leading a noble house?"

William stiffened. "Your Majesty, with all due respect, the affairs of my family are—"

He trailed off, uncertain. Even the Emperor could not meddle in the succession of the Hern House.

The Emperor raised both hands in a placating gesture.

"Ah, no. I do not mean the Grand Duke’s seat. I have no intention of interfering in Hern’s succession."

William frowned. "Then what are you referring to?"

A knowing smile crept onto the Emperor’s face.

"What if I were to offer you a new title—one of your own? A chance to establish a new noble house, as its very first ruler."

William’s eyes widened.

A Margraviate. A border lordship of his own.

The Emperor was offering him a territory to rule.

A margrave, of all titles…

William’s mind raced.

A Margrave wasn’t just any noble title. It was a position of immense power, given only to those ruling border territories where Imperial interference was limited.

Due to the strategic importance of their lands, margraves paid lower taxes to the crown and had almost no restrictions on maintaining standing armies. Their noble rank might be equivalent to that of a Count, but in practical terms, a margrave’s military strength often exceeded that of a Marquis.

It was a title so significant that the Imperial Court only ever granted it to those they fully trusted.

So why me?

Even if he had saved the Emperor’s beloved son, wasn’t this too much?

Even if the Emperor recognized William’s potential and valued House Hern, was that enough to justify offering him a position of such immense authority?

The Emperor, watching William’s expression, chuckled.

"You’re wondering why I would make such an offer."

"I apologize, Your Majesty."

William quickly lowered his head, realizing that his surprise had been too obvious.

The Emperor, amused by his reaction, let out a small laugh.

"Don’t be so nervous. I have my reasons, of course—but this is not a scheme. As I said before, I do not believe anything between a ruler and his vassal should be considered ’expected.’"

His lighthearted tone faded as he spoke with measured seriousness.

"Unquestioning loyalty does exist—but such devotion is found only in fairy tales. If a ruler fails to reward his vassals, he loses their loyalty. And if a vassal fails to fulfill his duties, he loses the ruler’s trust."

A simple truth.

If a ruler neglected his obligations, he had no right to resent his vassals for abandoning him. If a vassal failed in his responsibilities, he had no right to complain when discarded.

"The same principle applies to manipulation," the Emperor continued. "When a ruler entrusts a vassal with a task, he must issue it as an official duty and reward the vassal accordingly. Forcing someone into a situation where they have no choice but to comply… is a betrayal of trust."

William found himself nodding unconsciously.

Some of the most insidious political maneuvers in history were not obvious betrayals—but calculated burdens disguised as rewards.

Awarding a noble a border territory, only to ensure they would be crushed in the front lines.

Gifting a priceless artifact, knowing it would incite hatred from rival houses.

So many rulers had wrapped malicious intent in the illusion of generosity, glorifying themselves while trapping their own vassals.

And time and time again, such schemes had only fueled rebellion and treachery.

William now understood what the Emperor was getting at.

"So, there is something you want from me in return."

"Indeed. Two things, actually."

"If I may ask, what are they?"

The Emperor’s gaze sharpened.

"The North has grown… unstable."

William’s eyes widened slightly.

He knew what that meant.

His maternal family, the Dukes of Grimaldi, hailed from the North—a land long estranged from Imperial control.

The Emperor nodded, confirming William’s thoughts before continuing.

"The North has always been difficult for the Empire to govern. It is distant, harsh, and fiercely warlike. But until now, we have maintained peace—by allowing them to operate with relative autonomy."

William didn’t respond.

Because he knew the real reason behind that so-called peace.

The Emperor had wisely chosen not to meddle too much, and the Northern Lords had quietly accepted their place in the Empire.

But that fragile balance was now crumbling.

"With external threats rising around the Empire, the North has been drawn into the chaos. As our focus has shifted elsewhere, the lords of the North have begun warring amongst themselves, seeking to expand their territories."

William grimaced.

The Imperial Court loathed internal wars between lords.

Because no matter who won, the victor would emerge stronger, potentially powerful enough to challenge the Empire itself.

That was why Imperial policy had always been to suppress noble conflicts before they could escalate.

"And yet, the current situation prevents us from intervening." The Emperor’s voice was calm, but William could sense the weight behind his words. "If we take the wrong approach, it may backfire, pushing the North further from our grasp."

William’s sharp mind immediately caught on to what the Emperor was implying.

"…You want me to take control of the North in your stead."

The Emperor’s lips curled into a knowing smile.

"That’s correct."

He locked eyes with William.

"Your mother’s family, the House of Grimaldi, was once royalty in the North. A house older than even the Imperial Dynasty."