Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke-Chapter 43 - The Fall of the Marquis’ Son: A Public Reckoning

Philip paled.

William’s smirk widened.

"Sigmund Hern’s third son, William Hern, hereby arrests you under legitimate authority."

"...!"

Philip froze.

The son of the Grand Duke of Hern—one of the most powerful men in the empire—stood before him.

And he had just admitted to selling drugs in Hern territory.

No excuses.

No way out.

"W-Wait!" Philip stammered. "This is all a misunderstanding! Surely, we can—"

William rolled his eyes.

"Save it. You can explain yourself to my father."

He turned to the Black Lions.

"Take him."

"Yes, Third Young Master."

The Black Lions moved in.

Philip panicked.

"W-Wait! I’ll come willingly!"

William arched his brow.

"Oh?"

"I may be guilty of a crime," Philip said through gritted teeth, "but I am still the fourth son of the Logran Marquisate! As a prisoner of war, I have the right to proper treatment!"

William chuckled.

Ah.

So now that his crime was exposed, he wanted to hide behind his family name?

"Fine by me," William said, smirking. "If you don’t want to walk, you can be dragged."

Philip stiffened.

"Or," William added, tapping his sword against the ground, "I can just break your legs."

Philip fell silent.

And with that, the Logran Marquisate’s fourth son was taken away in chains.

With Philip and his entourage captured, William wasted no time returning to Kelheim.

A messenger had already been sent ahead to Grand Duke Sigmund Hern, informing him of the situation and requesting a few preparations.

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Gather the citizens and make sure they see the criminals being taken into custody.

Philip confessed his identity himself—this is our chance to publicly expose the Logran Marquisate’s involvement.

"Brilliant!"

The Grand Duke had laughed the moment he read the message.

"That bastard Bernhardt won’t be able to worm his way out of this one!"

Without hesitation, he ordered the people of Kelheim to assemble.

By the time William and his party arrived at the city gates, a sea of people had gathered.

Philip’s face twisted in horror as he saw the sheer number of spectators.

This wasn’t just an arrest—this was a spectacle.

"William Hern! You’re turning us into a public show?!"

"This is disgraceful! At least allow us to keep some of our honor!"

"Just kill us instead! I would rather die than suffer this humiliation!"

Philip’s knights were more outraged than Philip himself, their pride shattered.

They had been caught not in battle, nor in an assassination attempt—but in something as lowly as drug trafficking.

For a knight, it was a disgrace beyond words.

And now, that disgrace was about to be paraded in front of the entire city.

They had no choice but to resist.

William, however, found their struggle pathetic.

"Knights? You’re nothing of the sort."

His voice cut through the protests like a blade.

"The moment you chose to sell drugs, you forfeited your honor. There’s nothing left to tarnish—so don’t waste your breath."

A smirk curled at his lips.

"You were already filth. I’m just wiping away one more stain."

"Bastard…!"

"William Hern, you…!"

Two of the knights flushed red with shame, visibly shaken by his words.

Perhaps they had at least a shred of conscience left.

But the rest?

They were too far gone, their anger driven not by guilt, but wounded ego.

William scoffed.

If they had any dignity left, they wouldn’t have accepted this job in the first place.

With a sigh, he turned to the soldiers his father had provided.

"Restrain them. If they resist, you have my permission to beat them into submission."

"...Sir, they are still knights. Are you certain—?"

"Knights?"

William raised an eyebrow.

"They’re drug peddlers. Treat them accordingly."

The soldiers exchanged glances.

Then, with a nod, they moved in.

"Unhand me, you dogs!"

"You dare lay hands on a knight?!"

The knights struggled, but it was futile.

They were still wounded from their defeat against the Black Lions—they couldn’t even stand properly.

In moments, they were subdued and dragged forward like criminals.

As the disgraced knights were paraded through the streets, the crowd erupted into whispers.

"Wait… Why are knights being hauled away like criminals?"

"I heard they got caught making drugs."

"Knights? Dealing drugs?! What kind of madness—"

"Apparently, the Marquis of Logran was behind it. He’s hated the Grand Duke for years and set this up behind the scenes."

"No way!"

"And get this—that noble brat over there? That’s his son."

"You’re joking! The marquis had his own kid selling drugs?!"

The murmurs grew louder, and Philip’s entire body shook with rage.

Humiliation burned in his chest.

But despite the insults, the whispers, and the sheer public disgrace—he didn’t fight back.

Better to endure in silence than risk further humiliation by resisting.

And then, another whisper reached his ears.

"You know who figured it all out and caught them?"

"Who?"

"The Third Young Master."

"What?!"

"You mean William Hern?! The Deer Prince?!"

"That can’t be right! He’s just a weakling!"

"Then explain why he’s the one leading the prisoners."

Philip stiffened.

So did the disgraced knights.

William, pretending not to hear, straightened his back, walking with perfect posture—making sure the citizens got a good look at him.

This wasn’t just an arrest.

It was a public statement.

And he was the one delivering it.

Reputation spreads from the bottom up.

If I don’t correct how they see me now, I’ll be ’The Deer Prince’ forever.

His gaze remained firm, his expression composed.

Every step forward cemented his new image in the minds of the people.

As they approached the inner gate, a commotion broke out ahead.

Then, suddenly—"The Grand Duke!"

William looked up.

At the entrance stood Grand Duke Sigmund Hern, waiting for them.

William immediately dismounted and dropped to one knee.

"William Hern, by your command, has captured Philip Logran and all involved in this crime! They were caught manufacturing and attempting to distribute illegal substances—please deliver them the punishment they deserve!"

The words rang loud and clear, echoing through the assembled crowd.

People stared, wide-eyed.

This confident, commanding noble—was this really the same Third Young Master?

Sigmund narrowed his eyes, watching the shifting expressions of the people.

You sly little fox. So this was your play?

William glanced up, his expression innocent—except for the mischievous glint in his eyes.

Just tying up some loose ends. You approve, don’t you?

Sigmund exhaled through his nose, then—

He grinned.