Happy Daily Life of a Reincarnated Noble Blessed with Vassals - Chapter 28

I first met Rex Hesselink during my time at the Royal Secondary Academy. We were both around 12 or 13 years old. 

Although my family was of viscount rank, it wasn’t particularly high among the nobility. Yet, the name Southfield goes beyond just being a simple viscount house.

The “Warmonger Southfield.” I liked that nickname, given to our family, a mixture of both fear and disdain.

I was trained from a young age to someday inherit the title of warmonger. Alongside that training, I learned from my father and grandfather how to deal with subordinates. This included not just praising or scolding them, but also the finer skills of attention and care on the battlefield. As a child, I didn’t quite understand it. I thought being strong on my own would be enough.

However, the nature of my family required that one excel at winning over their subordinates, or nothing would work out.

Just as it had been for my father and grandfather, by the time I could remember, I was already surrounded by many people who would one day become my subordinates. Most of them were my peers. Some were nearly ten years older. Among them was a child from a commoner family that had served us for generations, who remains one of my oldest and most loyal subordinates.

But I digress. Let me get back to Rex.

When I first entered school, I quickly applied everything I had learned and soon gained control over most of the class. The ones I couldn’t sway were three individuals: Brave of the Ronfriend Barony, Rex of the Hesselink Countdom, and Rischard of the Crishwood Duchy.

Up until then, I thought I had a decent grasp on things. I was even treated as a prodigy, so I entered the academy brimming with confidence.

Within half a year, I had established a solid position for myself, and I thought that the real challenge would start from there. But standing in my way, and soon becoming my closest friends, were these three.

In written exams, the rankings were always Brave, Rischard, Rex, and then me. Can you believe it? From secondary school through to the upper academy, those rankings never once changed.

In practical skills, Rischard and Rex would constantly vie for the top spot in magic, followed by Brave and me. I believe, in the end, Rex had the most victories. As for physical combat, I barely held onto first place, though it was a close call with Rischard, while Rex and Brave didn’t perform as well.

Somewhere deep inside, I believed I could be the best in every area, so the shock of it hit me hard. There’s always someone better. I knew the phrase, but it was the first time I truly understood its meaning.

Still, I think that was what I needed.

I began actively approaching the three of them, determined to aim even higher. By then, I was already at the head of a group large enough to be mocked as the “Southfield Army,” but that didn’t matter. I wanted to learn from them as an individual, Mick Southfield.

And through that process, I came to realize something: the one person you should never turn into an enemy wasn’t the duke’s son, Rischard, but Rex, the heir of House Hesselink.

Of course, I, too, was born into nobility, albeit not to the same degree, but still as part of the esteemed House Southfield known for its martial prowess.

I had some prior knowledge of Orenang, the territory of the Hesselink Countdom, also known as the “Garden of Magical Beasts.” I’d also heard that the men of that family had been called madmen for generations. But hearing about something and experiencing it firsthand are two entirely different things. And even seeing something firsthand is nothing compared to actually engaging with it.

Brave, Rischard, and I must have had countless discussions about Rex. Yet no matter how hard we tried, we could never get a clear picture of who he really was. The more we interacted with Rex, the more he felt like a mystery, and the more distant we became from understanding him. I even started questioning whether I was the one going mad.

Looking back, it’s a nostalgic feeling now.

In the end, we concluded that he was just an overly self-confident guy who was honest with himself. We all laughed at the absurdity of it. Now, though, I think that might have been the right answer after all.

My youth was intertwined with Rex. Even after graduation, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve used my connections to help resolve the many troubles Rex somehow always managed to attract, but never once did those efforts lead to a bad outcome.

There were even times when I was praised by great nobles I had never met, for standing up to Rex Hesselink without fear and guiding him to the best possible outcome. Each time, I wanted to shout, “That’s not it!” But Rex would just laugh and say, “Praise is free, so you might as well take it.”

Only Rischard, Brave, and I truly understood Rex’s worth.

Even though I advised him to make an effort to increase the number of people who understood him, he wouldn’t listen. So, whenever I got the chance, I would quietly spread the word about him to our peers, the next generation of noble heirs.

The results haven’t been great. It’s mostly because Rex, unaware of all the trouble he causes us, continues to stir up chaos.

Recently, I received reports of the growing tension around the Hesselink Count family, with signs of war brewing. Apparently, House Hesselink butler, Jean-Jacques, renowned as the “Massacre General,” had been racing across the land with a terrifying expression, driving his horses to exhaustion one after another.

Of course, my father strictly ordered me to stay out of it. Yet, the loyal subordinates who have been by my side since childhood quietly prepared for action, ready at a moment’s notice.

It wasn’t as though I had forced them to. But when I hesitated to act for Rex’s sake, I was scolded, “That’s not like you.”

It’s true—back when we took down an underground criminal organization called the Dark Serpent, a group so dangerous that even our parents’ generation avoided them, I couldn’t do anything useful to help.

Compared to me, look at Rischard. When the duke threatened to disown him, Rischard told him to go ahead and charged into the enemy’s headquarters alongside Rex.

How weak I must have been.

That’s why, this time, I was ready.

But nothing happened. Not that a civil war would’ve been a good thing, but it felt like a letdown.

There were rumors about some trouble with Artemitos afterward, but there hasn’t been any concrete follow-up.

One day, as I continued to gather information, restless and impatient, a letter arrived from House Hesselink. It was unmistakably Rex’s handwriting and seal, addressed directly to me.

“Lord Mick, I hear a letter arrived from Lord Rex.”

Some of my oldest and most trusted subordinates gathered in my room. I had called them myself. Knowing how unaccustomed Rex is to writing, I naturally assumed this letter must be a call for help, requesting aid in battle given the recent developments.

“Command us, Lord Mick, to march with you in order to save Lord Rex! What’s a little scolding from the viscount or our fathers? We’re used to it by now, right, everyone?”

The group laughed cheerfully. They were all ready to face whatever foe was strong enough to make even the madman Rex Hesselink ask for help, even if it meant going to their deaths.

But how could I tell them? At a time like this, could I really say it?

Could I really say that this letter was… a wedding invitation!?

Damn you, Rex! I swear I’ll get my revenge by spilling all your embarrassing past mistakes to your bride at the ceremony!