Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke

Chapter 142 142 Into the Frozen Abyss

142 Into the Frozen Abyss

The small group accompanying him waited in silence, watching as their leader prepared to set off.

There was Hugo, along with his ten-man squad, the up-and-coming swordmaster Felicia, and Raymond, who had now officially pledged himself as a vassal.

A modest number. But for traversing the treacherous northern lands swiftly, this was just right.

"Let's move out."

At William's command, the group rode through the castle gates and out of the inner city.

For a fleeting moment, he turned his gaze back toward the ducal residence.

On the balcony, his younger brother, Jordy, stood watching. Their eyes met, but Jordy's expression remained unreadable.

Then, without a word, he turned and disappeared inside.

William frowned.

What was that about?

Something about Jordy's gaze unsettled him, but he pushed the thought aside.

From this moment on, the north would be hostile territory. Unlike before, the name of Hern would no longer guarantee his safety.

There was no room for distractions.

As if to break the heavy silence, Raymond spoke.

"It's been a long time since I've been to the north."

William's interest piqued. "You've been there before?"

"About ten years ago," Raymond replied with a wry smile. "I was a wandering knight back then. Spent some time traveling through the northern lands."

"And?"

"I suffered quite a bit," Raymond admitted, chuckling. "But it wasn't a bad place."

William listened attentively.

He had traveled across the continent in his past life, but the north had remained unfamiliar territory. He had met many northerners—mercenaries, warriors, wanderers—but they rarely spoke of their homeland.

Most of them had left for a reason, and memories of home were best left untouched.

"In that case, you can give me a briefing before we arrive," William said. "Tell me what I need to know—customs, precautions, anything that might be important."

"There's not much to it," Raymond mused. "It's cold. Very cold. And the way people treat nobles is... different."

"Different?" William raised a brow. "I've heard northerners are generally reserved—distant, even. Unless they've acknowledged someone, they tend to be taciturn."

Raymond laughed. "That's true—outside the north. When they travel to other lands, they keep to themselves. But in their own homeland? Why would they be the ones watching their words? It's the outsiders who need to tread carefully."

"...That makes sense," William admitted.

A memory surfaced—mercenaries from the north, wary and guarded even in friendly company.

"This doesn't feel natural," Felicia murmured, scanning the area. Her senses, sharper than most, were on high alert. "A few steps ago, it was tolerable. Now it's like we've walked into a frozen abyss."

Raymond nodded. "Some say this land was cursed in ancient times. There are plenty of old legends about it."

"Curse or not, this reeks of magic," William muttered. "There's no way this is natural."

Then—A sharp, metallic clang rang out through the air.

Everyone froze.

"What was that?"

Felicia's eyes narrowed. "Sounds like... weapons clashing."

A second later, another clang.

And then—Faint voices, carried on the wind.

"-You treacherous bastard! You listened to that viper's lies and turned your blade against your own father!?"

"-Father, just accept it! It's time for you to join our ancestors—I'll make sure you have a grand funeral!"

William's party stared in stunned silence.

What in the hell were they walking into?

"What should we do?"

Hugo spoke for the group, his gaze fixed on William.

Interfering in another's affairs always carried the risk of becoming entangled in their problems. But depending on how they played this, it could also be an opportunity—to gain allies in the north.

William hesitated only briefly before making his decision.

"Let's go."

With that, he turned his horse toward the sound of clashing steel.

They were already moving in this direction—sooner or later, they'd cross paths with the conflict. Better to approach it on their own terms than be caught unawares and dragged into it blindly.

The clang of weapons rang sharper as they drew near.

Clang. Clang. Slash.

"There," someone murmured.

As they crested a hill, the battlefield came into view below them.

Roughly thirty men clashed in the valley, steel glinting as they moved.

Or rather—they were all attacking one man.

"You disgrace to the north!" the lone warrior bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos like a battle horn. "Do none of you bastards understand a warrior's honor!?"

With a roar, he swung his axe.

Crack.