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Reincarnation: World of Astria

Join Cassius as he is ruthlessly destroyed by nuclear fire, only to be reincarnated into the body of a young noble in the strange and unfamiliar world of Astria. Cassius will need to adapt and figure out his path to an easy life in this new and war-torn medieval world. His only goal? Earning his way to an early retirement, discovering who tried to kill the body he incarnated into, and trying his hardest to stay alive as both friend and foe try to kill him. ... "This child created a Blast Furnace at 11?" "The boy invented the steam engine at 13?" "He protected the territory from the kingdom without losing a single man at 15?" Join Cassius as he discovers the World of Astria, and re-writes the course of history! "Become the Margrave? No way! I just want to retire peacefully!"

eaglesword · Histoire
Pas assez d’évaluations
41 Chs

Brotherly love & Carmen's task

Before Maron could utter another word, a sharp knock at the door silenced the room. All eyes turned to the entryway as Elric appeared, clad in his full battle attire, his presence commanding yet tempered by the quiet satisfaction in his expression.

His gaze swept over the room, landing on Cassius. Behind him, he'd seen Baron Hektor and the smith—clearly pleased—leaving the room in a rush. That alone piqued his curiosity, but seeing Cassius seated calmly at the table with his men murmuring in the corner raised even more questions.

Elric stepped inside, his armour catching the faint glow of the nearby hearth. "I didn't expect to find you here, Cassius," he said, his voice steady but touched with intrigue. "What's going on?"

Cassius smiled easily, the corners of his mouth tugging upward with a knowing amusement. "Nothing too grand—just spent the last hour convincing them to invest in our future. I think it went well."

Elric raised an eyebrow, unsure of what exactly his brother was orchestrating, but pride welled up inside him nonetheless. Whatever Cassius was doing, it seemed have impressed the men greatly.

"I'd stay longer to ask more," Elric said, glancing back towards the hall, "but I've got my hands full overseeing the changes to my patrol. Father was impressed with our plan and wanted me to make sure I thanked you for your advice."

He hesitated, his proud demeanour faltering just slightly as he ran a hand through his hair. "He also told me to ask you for any... final words of wisdom before I go. Thought it was strange, but here I am."

Cassius leaned back in his chair, his sharp gaze softening as he regarded his older brother. Elric had always been the warrior, the one destined to inherit their father's land and responsibilities, there was clearly a weight on his shoulders that Cassius could see without much effort.

"You're the rightful heir to the March of Stenfall, Elric. As your younger brother, it's my duty—and my choice—to support you and offer counsel whenever you need it. Beyond all titles and responsibilities, family stands by one another."

Cassius's tone softened, but he hoped his voice carried his sincerity clearly. "If I were ever in need of advice, I'd trust you to have my back just as I've got yours, I won't come to blows with you over the March, it is rightfully yours to inherit, just don't get yourself killed before then."

Although he didn't know him well, he saw a lot of the uncertainty and pressures that plagued the early years of his career and life and hoped the boy avoided the many pitfalls he stumbled into.

Elric's stoic expression cracked ever so slightly, a faint smile curling at the edges of his lips. His back straightened, renewed strength rising in him. "Thank you, Cassius. That means more than you know, I wish our middle brother shared these views…"

Cassius's eyes narrowed at the mention of his other older brother, noting with suspicion that this is the first time he'd heard mention of him directly.

"You're welcome El, but try not to stress about things outside of your control and make whatever you do fun or at least find a hobby to entertain yourself with outside of constantly pressuring yourself to excel. It'll save you years and years of stress. Remember to listen to your advisors, and always trust your gut. If you feel something is wrong, it likely is."

Elric smiled, though a flicker of curiosity still lingered behind his eyes. "You speak as if you've lived this already. As if you know what awaits me?"

Cassius gave a small, knowing smile but said nothing to confirm or deny. Instead, he patted Elric's shoulder. "You'll learn soon enough. Just remember that every decision you make won't always be perfect, but what matters is the strength to stand by them."

Elric gave a nod, and silent understanding passed between them. The sound of footsteps outside grew louder as he prepared to leave, but before stepping out, Elric glanced back one last time. "I'll be back in a month. We should talk more then."

With a final nod, he stepped out, leaving Cassius to watch him go, feeling the weight of their shared responsibility.

As Cassius watched Elric leave, he mentally reviewed their entire conversation. Good, he thought. Neither of them raised a death flag. Cassius was a deeply superstitious commander in his past life, and the universe seemed to conspire to affirm his beliefs time and again. In fact, he had come to rely on these superstitions almost as much as he did on tactical strategy. Perhaps it was time to acquire a deck of cards.

Why a deck of cards? In his unit, superstition was more than a mere quirk; it was a matter of life and death. Before each patrol, every platoon commander or driver would draw a card from the deck. Over time, they had observed an unnerving pattern: those who drew Spades, particularly the Ace of Spades, were often the ones to either be blown up or suffer severe injuries during said patrol. A squad that drew what was known as a "Dead Man's Hand"—a combination of specific cards associated with doom—would immediately be pulled from the mission. The area they were meant to recon would be heavily scrutinised with drones or saturated with artillery fire.

This ritual was not just a peculiar habit but a crucial part of why Cassius was renowned in his past life. His uncanny knack for predicting and avoiding danger, paired with his superstitions, had saved countless lives. His unit had embraced these superstitions wholeheartedly, integrating them into their operational procedures as a testament to their efficacy and Cassius's almost mystical skill and good luck.

Maron eventually stepped forward however to see the relaxed sigh escape Cassius's youthful face. "What now, Lord Cassius?"

Cassius let out a weary sigh, his patience visibly fraying. "Please, drop the titles when we're alone like this. It's exhausting to adhere to these formalities even in my own study. Just greet me as 'My Lord' if you must, but speak to me informally unless the situation demands otherwise. I'm sick of hearing it."

The abruptness of Cassius's words caught all three off guard. Horace's mouth opened in surprise, clearly ready to object, but Cassius preemptively held up a hand, silencing him with a firm yet weary gesture. "Let's not dwell on this. Consider it a gesture of my goodwill, or an order if you prefer, but this is how it will be."

Cassius's tone left no room for argument, his frustration palpable. The shift from formal to personal made it clear that he valued a more genuine interaction, even within the confines of his role.

The three men exchanged an astounded yet weary look between each other, what Noble got sick of hearing their title? However Carmen's flexibility once again paid off as he quickly adjusted. "Then, Cassius? … What are your plans now?"

Cassius studied Carmen with a knowing smile, before reaching into his bag and retrieved a parchment and started writing down some simple instructions for him.

"For you? It's about time I start training you for the role I had intended for you Carmen."

"Ah." Carmen said, stunned that he actually had a role to play, he was still thin, lean, and his family were as poor as they came in this day in age. What value did he see in me? He thought

A few minutes passed by before he finished, "How many of you can read?" He asked.

Horace and Maron obviously raised their hands, Maron had learned roughly through experience, while Horace had been taught.

Carmen scratched the back of his head embarrassingly, being the only odd man out.

"Remind me to find you a tutor Carmen." Cassius said with a loud sigh, he figured this was the case but was heartbroken to find the literacy of the era to be so far behind.

"Anyway, Horace, after supper tonight, I want you to study this and pass these instructions off to Carmen, this will be a good experience as your role will often be to pass on my orders in the future anyway."

"Carmen, make sure he passes these instructions on to you, and I expect them to be followed starting tomorrow, I will teach you some of the methods present on that article so you can see how they are executed, how much you learn and grasp will rely on your natural skill, when the sky begins to darken, meet me at my room and we'll begin."

Cassius handed over a series of instructions that Carmen was to complete stealthily. The tasks required him to remain as quiet and inconspicuous as possible. Failure to do so would result in additional consequences: if caught, Carmen was to report to Cassius directly. The penalty for being discovered? An extra lap around the Castle during morning PT.

Horace's eyes widened in shock as he read the instructions. This is madness! he thought incredulously. The tasks were not just challenging—they bordered on the impossible. Carmen was to pilfer an item of clothing from Captain Jacobs's personal quarters, exit the Castle unnoticed, re-enter from a different point along the walls, and then break into the keep to report to Cassius under the cover of darkness.

Horace looked at Cassius with a mix of disbelief and apprehension, as though seeing a monster for the first time. Maron, sensing the tension, grabbed the paper from Horace's trembling hands and read through it himself. He then turned to Carmen with a sympathetic look.

"I must apologize', lads," Maron said with a grin and a voice laced with exasperation and sarcasm "It seems I was right—our new Lord is utterly mad."

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