Reborn as a Useless Noble with my SSS-Class Innate Talent

The royal herald stepped forward and struck the marble floor with the butt of his staff. His voice rang out clearly across the grand hall, silencing the idle murmurs.

"Presenting Grand Duchess Amana and Sir Kyle Armstrong, Hero of the Realm!"

The heavy double doors opened, and Kyle and Amana stepped through together, heads held high.

They walked with calm, measured grace, but Kyle's sharp eyes immediately scanned the room.

It was packed.

Nearly every noble of note within the capital was present. The great lords, the minor dukes, the barons whose loyalties always shifted with the wind.

And more than half of them were glaring—or worse, whispering behind guarded hands. Some bore expressions of ill-contained fear, others of open resentment.

Kyle didn't miss the way a few of them went pale at the mere sight of him.

'Good. They should be afraid.'

He thought grimly.

At the far end of the long banquet hall, beneath a canopy of silver and blue velvet, stood Crown Prince Mikalius.

Dressed in regal black robes adorned with his house sigil, he was smiling brightly, arms outstretched in welcome.

"Cousin! And my soon-to-be cousin-in-law! You've finally arrived."

He called.

The prince stepped forward and embraced Amana first, pressing a warm kiss to her cheek before turning to Kyle.

"And you, the hero who not only defied a god but brought one to her knees. I've always said we should stop worshipping things that only treat us like toys. You've proven me right."

He said with an almost theatrical grin.

A few nobles stiffened at those words. Others glanced away, unwilling to meet Kyle's gaze.

Kyle caught the lingering scent of divine mana in the air and narrowed his eyes. It wasn't faint. It clung to more than just one or two nobles.

'So that's how it is. Most of them have already sold themselves for favors. That's why they're afraid now.'

He thought.

Before he could speak, Amana stepped forward, all grace and confidence.

"We only did what was necessary. The gods will not stop. And if we want to preserve our world, our people, our families—we must be willing to go even further."

She said to her cousin.

Mikalius clapped his hands once.

"Beautifully said! And that is why this feast is in your honor. Let it be known that in this palace, we celebrate those who fight for freedom—not kneel for mercy."

The musicians struck up a cheerful tune, and servants began rushing forward to fill the long tables with food and wine.

Kyle remained silent as he and Amana were led to the high table.

He watched every movement, every whispered conversation. The tension in the room hadn't eased. If anything, it had only shifted—like a lion's den gone quiet when a bigger predator stepped in.

The first course arrived quickly, steaming platters and golden cups of wine laid before them. Amana, still riding high from the victory and praise, smiled and lifted her goblet.

"To freedom."

She said, and took a long drink.

"Wait—"

Kyle started.

But the wine was already downed.

He scowled and picked up his own goblet, sniffing it lightly. The scent of fruit and spice was strong, but beneath it, a thin metallic tang curled in the air.

He didn't drink.

Instead, he set the cup down slowly and leaned back in his seat, eyes flickering toward the nobles at the lower tables.

A few of them were watching closely, trying too hard to look casual.

He made a mental note of their faces.

Amana, still smiling, leaned toward him.

"You're not drinking?"

"Later. Don't draw attention."

Kyle replied, voice low.

She looked at him more closely now, and though she said nothing, the way her eyes narrowed told him she understood.

Something wasn't right.

The feast continued with music and dancing.

Nobles toasted one another and tried their best to appear celebratory, but Kyle could feel the tension humming underneath it all.

There were too many eyes on him. Too many secrets in the room.

And now, he had confirmation—whatever victory they'd earned on the battlefield, the war in the shadows had just begun.

______

Despite the unease boiling just beneath his calm exterior, the evening passed without incident.

No poison in the wine. No assassins slipping from the shadows. No magical traps hidden under goblets or plates.

Just nobles with too much to drink and even more to hide.

And now… a drunk duchess in his arms.

Kyle glanced down at Amana, who was clinging to him as if the floor might fall away at any moment.

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes hazy with drink, and she muttered something incoherent about gravity being broken.

"Everything's spinning. I think the table tried to fight me. You need to take me to my room, Kyle. Now. Before I declare war on the furniture."

She groaned, burying her face against his shoulder.

Kyle sighed, shifting his grip on her so she didn't fall flat on her face.

"You're a duchess. Try to maintain some dignity."

He muttered under his breath, amused despite himself.

"No. I left my dignity on the battlefield."

She mumbled petulantly.

With a tired shake of his head, Kyle guided her out of the banquet hall and through the quiet palace corridors.

Most of the guards averted their eyes politely, pretending not to notice their drunk liege lord being half-carried by her fiancé.

He reached her chambers without issue, opened the door with one hand, and gently deposited her on the plush bed.

Amana bounced once, blinked up at the ceiling, and then rolled over like a restless child, dragging a pillow onto her face.

"Too many people. Too much noise."

She muttered.

Kyle crossed his arms and watched her with mild curiosity. The composed, brilliant strategist was nowhere to be seen.

In her place was just… a woman, raw and relieved, allowing herself to be unguarded for the first time in a long while.

Then, to his surprise, she stilled and turned her head to look at him seriously. Despite the alcohol clouding her mind, her eyes were clear.

"I didn't think I'd survive that fight. I… I made peace with dying back there. I thought it was the right end for me. But somehow, I didn't die. And I realized… it was because of you."

She said softly.

Kyle didn't reply. He remained still, arms folded, listening.

"I just want to say thank you."

She continued.

"Not just for saving me—but for fighting beside me. For never abandoning me."

Her gaze dropped to the sheets for a moment.

"I never expected love from this union. Only loyalty. Duty. But you've given me more than that. You gave me someone I could trust."

She paused, then smiled faintly.

"And… I think I've come to like you more than I expected."

Kyle's brow lifted slightly, caught off guard by the rare moment of vulnerability.

But before he could say anything in return, Amana blinked slowly, her eyelids drooping. Her breath evened out. She had fallen asleep mid-confession.

Kyle stared at her for a long moment.

"…That's just like you."

He muttered.

He reached down, pulled the covers over her carefully, and stood there for a few seconds, silently watching over her before he turned and left the room.

The war wasn't over. But at least, for now, she could sleep in peace.