Reborn as a Useless Noble with my SSS-Class Innate Talent-Chapter 179: Ch : Risk Worth the Gamble- Part 2

By evening, the village’s main hall was packed to the brim.

Kyle stood at the front with a chalk in hand, staring at the sea of eager eyes.

Adults, mostly older men and women, were seated on hastily assembled benches, some even standing in the back just to listen in.

Bruce stood by the door, eyebrows raised.

"Didn’t think this many would show up, young master."

"I expected a crowd, but not this much enthusiasm. Seems people are more hungry for knowledge than food right now."

Kyle replied calmly, glancing over the room.

One of the elderly men raised a hand timidly.

"Young master… will we be learning how to read today?"

"Yes. We’ll begin with letters and move to common words. But before that, I need to split you into smaller groups."

Kyle nodded.

A few mutters rippled across the hall.

Kyle raised his voice slightly.

"This is too large a group to teach effectively. I’ll be assigning a few of you who already have some reading experience to help guide others. And I will begin with the elders."

"Elders? Shouldn’t the young folks learn first, so we can pass it down better?"

Asked one of the younger craftsmen in the back.

Kyle looked toward the chieftain, who had also taken a seat among the learners.

The chief chuckled and leaned toward Kyle.

"They’re curious. You’ll need to explain your reasoning, young master."

Kyle nodded and turned to the crowd.

"I chose the elders because they deserve to feel just as useful as the rest of you. Most of them no longer work the fields or smiths. But if they can read and write, they can help teach, record, manage. A village isn’t just built by strong backs—it needs wise minds too."

There was a beat of silence. Then, an elderly woman in the front smiled.

"You speak with kindness, young master. No one has said that to us before."

More nods followed.

"Besides, teaching those who have more free time ensures that your own work doesn’t stop. This way, we train the future without halting the present."

Kyle added.

The crowd murmured in agreement.

Bruce stepped up beside him and whispered.

"That shut them up nicely."

"I wasn’t trying to shut them up, just helping them see the value of those they might overlook."

Kyle murmured back.

The chieftain stood and clapped once.

"You’ve thought this through. Good. Let’s begin the lesson, then."

Kyle gave a nod and motioned to the board behind him.

"First letter—this is ’A.’ Repeat after me."

The chorus was rough, scattered, but loud:

"A."

"And this is ’B.’"

Kyle continue.

A few of the elder students scribbled on parchment, trying to imitate the shapes. Some turned to help those beside them.

Melissa stood by the window, watching the lesson quietly. Her hand tightened on her sword, not in alarm, but pride.

"Melissa, get some torches lit. We’ll need more light soon."

Kyle called without looking.

She nodded.

"Understood."

An hour passed, then another. By the time the lesson ended, people were smiling despite their clumsy writing.

As they filtered out, chatting and laughing, the chieftain remained behind with Kyle.

"You’ve changed things here. They came for words, but they left with dignity."

The old man said quietly.

Kyle looked out the door.

"That was the goal."

The chieftain chuckled.

"And here I thought you were just a noble boy playing village lord."

"Not playing. I’m building."

Kyle said, turning toward him.

The chieftain gave a nod of respect.

"Then we’ll follow you, young master. Wherever this road leads."

That night, under the faint torchlight of a newly educated hall, a forgotten class began to dream of letters and scrolls instead of only coin and bread.

And so, with a piece of chalk and a handful of faith, the first seed of revolution took root.

The village buzzed with energy.

Laughter rang through the training fields, children shouted letters at each other like battle cries, and inside the teaching hall, elders and craftsmen debated over handwriting styles.

What began as a single evening of lessons had bloomed into a vibrant culture of learning.

Bruce chuckled as he watched a group of children gather around a craftsman drawing shapes on the dirt.

"They’re treating the alphabet like magic runes."

"They are magic. The kind that can reshape a future."

Kyle replied, arms crossed, standing beside him.

"Still, this is going faster than I thought."

Bruce glanced sideways.

"They’re learning from each other. The more someone knows, the more they pass on. I don’t even need to oversee every lesson anymore."

"I saw one of the boys teaching a goat how to write ’B.’"

Kyle smirked.

"That goat might be ahead of some nobles."

Even Queen, resting in its nest near the central hearth with the dragon egg cradled in moss, seemed content.

It stretched its limbs lazily and curled around the egg, humming low as the mana inside pulsed gently.

Everything was going well.

Which was exactly why Kyle felt uneasy.

Far from the peace of the village, the mood was anything but calm.

Lady Rose Adam clenched her gloved hands tightly behind her back.

Her eyes flicked over the grand strategy map spread across the long table, barely listening as her father, Baron Adam, pointed at various tokens representing their forces.

"We’ll send a third of our troops to reinforce the eastern wall—Rose, are you listening?"

"Hm? Of course, Father."

She blinked and looked up.

"You’re frowning. Don’t tell me you’re already bored of war plans."

"I was just... thinking about logistics."

She lied.

Baron Adam raised an eyebrow.

"You’re grinding your teeth, girl."

"I am not," she snapped—too quickly.

He narrowed his eyes at her, then waved a hand.

"Fine. Just don’t take it out on the soldiers."

As the meeting dissolved and the other commanders left, Rose remained rooted in place, staring at the map.

One name haunted her thoughts more than the entire enemy force combined.

’Kyle Armstrong.’

He hadn’t sent a single word.

No raven. No letter. No spy whispering in a hallway.

Nothing.

After all the effort she made, all the risks she took in dragging his name before her father—this was how he treated her? Silence?

Her butler stepped close, bowing respectfully.

"My Lady."

"What?"

She hissed, still staring.

"You’ve been unusually quiet today. Is it the campaign?"

He said gently.

"It’s him! He hasn’t sent a single letter. Not even a meaningless one. I gave him time—respect—but he treats it like a joke."

She snapped before she could stop herself. She clicked her tongue and turned away.

The butler paused.

"You refer to Young Master Armstrong?"

"Of course I do! He’s ignoring me. Pretending like my words don’t matter."

She glared.

"Perhaps he is simply busy. The reports say he has taken over a settlement. He may be focusing on that."

"That’s no excuse! I offered him protection. Position. And he treats me like a nuisance?"

She said, her voice trembling.

The butler hesitated before speaking again.

"What would you like to do, my lady?"

Lady Rose stared ahead, her blue eyes cold.

"If he won’t take me seriously through words..."

She turned, her heels clicking sharply against the stone floor.

"Then I’ll make him take me seriously."

The butler didn’t answer. He bowed again.

"I shall prepare the necessary arrangements."

As she strode off, her mind turned not to reconciliation—but conquest.