Reborn as a Useless Noble with my SSS-Class Innate Talent-Chapter 90: Ch : On my Terms - Part 2

Kyle's offer had the potential to anger the Duke. But he could not let it affect his decision. He was not going to back down under pressure.

The Duke raised an eyebrow.

"Amend it?"

"Yes,"

Kyle replied to test the waters. But once he saw that the Duke looked interested, he decided to "continue.

Rather than receive a portion of your army, I would like the right to choose and train my own men. In addition, I request a reasonable budget to outfit and sustain them—and a small territory to govern, one that is mine in name and action. With no outside interference."

It was a huge thing to ask for, but it was not uncommon for the son of a Duke to have these things already.

The fact that Kyle did not have any of it until now showed how lowly he was being thought of by everyone.

The Duke was silent for a long time.

Then he laughed.

It wasn't a warm sound. It was more of a bark—sharp and incredulous.

"Do you even understand what you're asking for, boy?"

Kyle didn't flinch.

"I do. And I've thought it through."

The Duke leaned forward slowly, his stare piercing.

"You want a budget, a personal force, and a land title. That's not the request of a child stepping into war. That's the ambition of a man seeking independence from his house."

Kyle met his father's gaze evenly.

"Then consider it a gamble. If this is a test, then the reward should be one that I find worth striving for."

The room fell into silence again. The Duke studied him, fingers drumming on the armrest.

Kyle knew the risk he was taking.

Asking for a territory and control over his own men was essentially asking for power—real power, the kind that came with obligations, scrutiny, and political weight.

But it was necessary.

He couldn't rely on pre-existing forces, not if he wanted true loyalty.

He needed to shape his forces from the ground up. To train them, mold them, and earn their trust in blood and fire.

The Duke sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"You really are becoming troublesome."

Kyle did not pretend to be happy to hear these words.

"I will be heading to war soon. Surely, you do not want to part on sour terms?"

It sounded like a hollow threat coming from Kyle, but somehow, the Duke intuition told him to take these words seriously.

Another long moment passed before the Duke waved his hand in dismissal.

"Fine. I'll change the terms. But know this—if you want a reward that heavy, the test will be twice as hard. No complaints when it breaks you."

Kyle stood with grace, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve.

"That's fair. And I won't break."

"You'd better not. Now get out. I need to think about what to throw at you."

The Duke muttered, turning away.

Kyle bowed his head once before turning on his heel and walking toward the door.

As he stepped out of the office, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of satisfaction.

The first piece of the board had moved.

And Kyle Armstrong was no longer a name to be dismissed.

______

With the Duke's approval secured and the terms of his test settled, Kyle knew the real work was only just beginning.

He didn't need trained knights or elite soldiers handed to him on a silver platter.

What he needed were people who would follow him not because they were told to—but because they wanted to.

Because they had nowhere else to go, and Kyle was the hand that reached down and pulled them out of the dirt.

That kind of loyalty couldn't be bought with gold or forced through authority—it had to be earned.

And Kyle wasn't above using desperate circumstances to cultivate it.

'Once I have a little bit of their loyalty, I can influence their mana to be loyal to me. Ah, to think I would have to use these deplorable methods again. But it's all for a good cause in the end.'

The next morning, he summoned Bruce to his office.

"I need you to start searching,"

Kyle said, eyes sharp with purpose.

"I'm not looking for polished knights or trained soldiers. I want people who have been abandoned. Mercenary guilds on the verge of collapse. Platoons discarded by nobles with no banners left to follow. Anyone who's willing to cling to hope again, even if it's through me."

Bruce blinked, brows raised.

"It'll take some time to dig up groups like that. Most of them don't advertise their desperation."

"I know. but we don't have time to waste. Even one lead is worth chasing.""

Kyle said, leaning back in his chair.

Bruce nodded, though his expression grew thoughtful.

"Actually… there might be another group worth considering, at least to start with. They aren't soldiers or mercenaries, but they're desperate—and desperation breeds loyalty."

Kyle raised a brow.

"Go on."

"There's a village not far from the southern hills. It's made up of the poor and homeless—people who've been discarded by society, war refugees, sick, starving. Nobles don't bother taxing them because there's nothing to take. But they'd follow anyone who offers them food and safety."

Kyle considered the suggestion for a moment.

On the surface, they were weak, unskilled, and untrained.

But that didn't matter. Aura training, done properly, could raise even the weakest person to a respectable level of strength.

And unlike trained soldiers with pride and ambition, these people would cling to him—not just because he gave them power, but because he gave them purpose.

They wouldn't betray him. They couldn't afford to.

"That'll work. Start with them. I want to see the village tomorrow."

Kyle said at last.

Bruce bowed his head, but he couldn't help the small smile on his lips.

"Understood. I'll prepare the horses."

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As he left the office, Bruce shook his head with quiet amusement.

Any other noble would've dismissed such a plan the moment it was brought up. Recruiting beggars?

Training the homeless to be warriors? Ludicrous. Wasteful. Unthinkable.

But Kyle wasn't like the others.

He didn't see tools. He saw opportunity.

And that was what made him dangerous.

By evening, Bruce had returned with the details of the village.

It was located in a secluded region, half-forgotten, tucked near a dying forest.

Less a village and more a cluster of makeshift homes, the people there survived on scraps and desperation.

Disease was common, and the local lord had long since stopped sending aid.

Bruce entered Kyle's study and bowed.

"They won't expect someone of your status. When should we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning. The sooner we make contact, the sooner we can start rebuilding."

Kyle replied, not missing a beat.

Bruce hesitated a second longer, then chuckled under his breath.

"You know… You really are insane."

Kyle arched a brow.

"Only slightly."

"You're the only noble I've seen willingly walk into a village of starving strangers. And you're not doing it for charity. You're doing it to give them a new life—and make them fight for you in return."

Bruce said, folding his arms.

"Exactly. They don't need pity. They need a reason to stand again. And I'll give it to them—one they won't ever forget."

Kyle's eyes were calm, calculating.

It was a white lie, but even if it was, who cared. After all, Kyle was helping himself out and if it just happened to help someone else as well…then it was none of his concern.