Reborn As Noble-Chapter 442: Taste of Equality ( )

An older merchant near a fruit stall, clearly a longtime resident, approached carefully with a respectful dip of his head.

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"Young master Javier, may I ask something?"

Javier paused and glanced his way. "Hm? Sure, go ahead."

The merchant rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating.

"It's just… unusual seeing you without your usual escorts."

He glanced around, slightly concerned.

"Miss Liana and Miss Gloria… are they well?"

Javier chuckled. "Ah, you mean those two."

He waved his hand in a casual, reassuring manner. "They're fine. Father assigned them to a special task, so they're not with me this time."

The merchant looked relieved.

"I see. That's good to hear. The people here admire them, too. Especially Miss Liana—she's... well, rather famous."

Javier smirked. "Yeah. She has that 'don't mess with me or you die' kind of charm, right?"

The merchant laughed awkwardly.

"Something like that… but also graceful and kind. Just… sharp."

After inspecting the anti-air mana guns stationed along the outer edge of the Armand border, Javier stepped back with a satisfied nod. Each unit was in top condition, linked with small mana recharge towers, and watched over by his personal puppet knights—still and silent like armored statues but ready to act at a moment's notice.

Javier smiled to himself.

"Good. This'll buy us time if something flies in uninvited."

He stretched his arms above his head with a light sigh.

"Alright then. I'm crossing the border after this."

A nearby officer—one of the town's patrol leaders—stepped forward anxiously.

"Young master, if I may… shouldn't you rest first? Perhaps wait until morning—"

Javier waved him off with a small grin.

"After I cross into the Beastkin Kingdom, I'll rest. Besides, I've got Buddy. He runs better at night."

The soldiers exchanged uneasy looks.

"Allow us to escort you at least," the captain said firmly. "Even if just to the edge."

"You can't," Javier replied with a shrug.

"It's a direct order from my father. After I pass this border, I move alone. No soldiers, no staff."

"But young master…"

Javier turned, still smiling—but his voice now held a quiet certainty.

"Don't worry about me. I've got my puppet knights to keep me company."

The soldiers had no choice but to nod.

Then Javier's stomach growled.

"…I should at least eat first."

He looked around.

"Where do the troops usually eat around here?"

The captain straightened up.

"W-we'll bring something from the officer's tent, young master. Or the kitchen staff can prepare—"

Javier narrowed his eyes slightly.

"I said, where do the troops eat?"

"Young master… the food there isn't suitable for someone of your position. We'll prepare something better—"

"No," Javier cut in, his tone sharp now.

"Don't you dare give me anything else. I'm not here for luxury. If my soldiers eat it, then so will I."

The soldiers fell silent for a moment, then quickly nodded.

"Understood, young master. Right this way."

As Javier followed them toward the mess area, Buddy proudly marched beside him, puffing his chest.

"Cuquawked~"

"Yeah, yeah," Javier muttered, smirking.

"You better not steal anyone's rations this time."

Once they arrived at the mess tent—a wide, open shelter with rows of wooden tables and benches—Javier took a seat near the center. The soldiers inside froze the moment they noticed him.

"Y-Young master…!"

"At ease," Javier said casually, waving a hand as he sat down. "Eat like normal. Don't mind me."

The troops hesitated at first but slowly returned to their meals, stealing glances at the young noble sitting among them.

Outside, Buddy was surrounded by the kitchen staff, chirping happily as he was fed a large bowl of mixed grains, roasted roots, and a slab of dried meat. One of the cooks gently scratched behind his feathers, earning a smug squawk and a proud puff of feathers.

Back inside, a soldier placed a tray in front of Javier.

Bread. Stew with thick-cut root vegetables. A scoop of grain rice. A single boiled egg. Basic but hearty.

Javier didn't touch it immediately. Instead, he scanned the other tables.

Same stew. Same egg. Same everything.

He nodded in approval and picked up his spoon.

"Good. This is real food," he murmured before taking a bite.

The stew was salty and rich, warming his stomach with every spoonful. Nothing fancy—but made with care.

A few soldiers nearby looked shocked that he wasn't even using his own utensils, just the same metal spoon and wooden bowl as everyone else.

"Young master," one soldier dared to speak, "is it… really okay for someone like you to eat with us?"

Javier glanced up, spoon halfway to his mouth.

"You think I'm better than you just because I have noble blood?" he asked, his voice calm but firm.

The soldier paled. "N-no! I didn't mean—"

"I fight for Armand, same as you. I bleed the same. I eat the same."

He smiled. "I just happen to have a prettier bird."

Laughter rippled through the mess tent.

Even the tense shoulders of the younger soldiers began to relax. A few grinned, while some nodded with newfound respect.

Javier leaned back slightly on the bench, spoon resting in the bowl as he quietly observed everything around him.

"This meal is good," he thought. The flavor was honest—simple, filling, and nutritious. "If they just added a bit more meat to the stew, it'd be perfect." The fact that even the frontline soldiers were eating decent meals spoke volumes.

"Father must've increased the food budget again." It wasn't just a guess—Javier knew the signs. A well-fed soldier was a sharper soldier, especially in prolonged campaigns. And the Armand region wasn't preparing for a skirmish—it was bracing for war.

His gaze swept across the soldiers at nearby tables. Their armor shone faintly—not from polish, but from enchantments. Their swords, crossbows, bows, staffs, and robes were all newly issued. The latest models.

"Everything's already in place. The new designs, the mana infusion, the reinforced layering… all the upgrades have rolled out." Javier knew because he designed most of it. While others were still refining old blueprints, Armand had leapt forward.

Other kingdoms might've been rich in numbers or magic, but none could match the equipment quality of Armand's forces.

And perhaps the most important difference was the mana talkie system.

The small devices in every squad leader's ear, the instant relay towers across every outpost, and the communication centers in every base could relay messages across cities and fronts in mere seconds.

"Other regions still rely on runners or messenger," Javier thought with a smirk. "But we can coordinate a counterattack before the enemy even finishes setting up camp."

After finishing his stew, Javier set the spoon down and quietly watched the soldiers talk, eat, and laugh around him. They didn't know how far ahead they were compared to others.

"And I want to keep it that way."

He stood, brushing off his coat and nodding to the cook who served him.

"Thanks. Tell the others—it was great."

The cook stammered a quick thank-you, stunned that the lord's son had taken the time to eat among them.

Outside, Buddy squawked proudly.

Javier gave him a pat on the beak.

"Let's go, Buddy. Time to visit the beastkin side."

( End Of Chapter )