Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke-Chapter 84 - Duel of Shadows and Steel

84 Duel of Shadows and Steel

William’s words had been playful, but the mockery was undeniable.

"You didn’t even know its worth. What right do you have to demand it back now?"

For a moment, the marquis merely studied him in silence before finally speaking. "And what if the eagle refuses? What if it insists on reclaiming its sword—no matter the cost? Even if it means clashing with the lion, drenched in blood?"

William met his glare with a cold smile.

"Then the eagle will have to enter the lion’s den," he said smoothly. "Had it kept the sword close to its chest, the lion might have had to trespass into the eagle’s nest. But the situation has changed. Now, I wonder… how well would an eagle fare in the lion’s territory?"

The moment the words left his mouth, both men came to an abrupt halt.

Neither of them even bothered to mask the hostility between them anymore.

Bernhardt’s gaze darkened, his expression twisted with barely concealed rage.

Finally, after a long silence, the marquis turned on his heel, muttering under his breath.

"You’ll find out soon enough."

It was unclear whether he was talking to himself or issuing a warning.

William merely scoffed as he watched the marquis walk away.

Soon enough?

Oh, so he means I’ll soon witness the eagle being torn to pieces? How amusing. The man didn’t even recognize the value of his own treasure, and now he has the audacity to demand it back?

"P-Prince…"

A trembling voice called out hesitantly.

Nigel was still standing there, drenched in cold sweat, his complexion ghostly pale.

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Having overheard the entire conversation, he had likely pieced together William’s true identity.

William let out a small chuckle and waved dismissively.

"Calm yourself. I’m not angry."

"But I… I have spoken out of turn… I was disrespectful…"

"I told you, didn’t I? I’m not angry. These kinds of diversions happen all the time. By tomorrow morning, everyone will have forgotten about it."

Nigel swallowed hard before bowing his head repeatedly. "T-Thank you. Truly, thank you."

"Nothing to thank me for. I had fun."

William patted him lightly on the shoulder before turning away, making his way toward his tent.

Now that his identity was exposed, there was no point in engaging in casual conversation as before.

By the time he reached his quarters and pulled off his mask, a familiar voice spoke from the shadows.

"Prince, are you sure you should have provoked the marquis like that? You know he won’t take this lying down."

William turned to see Raymond step forward, his expression unreadable.

With a shrug, William replied, "Let me ask you something. Between a man who spends his life cowering before his enemies, praying they won’t notice him, and a man who strikes first, ready for battle—who would you rather serve?"

Raymond blinked, caught off guard by the question.

Then, after a brief pause, a slow, satisfied smile spread across his face.

Finally, with a theatrical bow, he answered with a chuckle.

"It is an honor to serve a master truly worth following."

The day after his clash with the marquis, William emerged from his tent, mask once again in place, and clicked his tongue in annoyance.

The camp, which had been bustling with nobles just a day ago, was now eerily empty. Those who remained took one look at him and immediately turned the other way.

"Tch. Word sure travels fast," he muttered.

"Do you think that Nigel fellow spread the rumors?" Raymond asked, his tone contemplative.

William considered it for a moment before shaking his head. "Unlikely."

Nigel was known in his past life as a master at walking the fine line of political neutrality. Would someone like that go out of his way to do something so reckless—something that could anger William?

He doubted it.

William had seen firsthand how careful Nigel had been, trying to avoid exposing his own identity the entire time they were together. That wasn’t the behavior of a man looking to stir trouble.

"If I had to guess, it was probably the marquis himself," William mused. "He didn’t exactly try to keep his identity a secret. He wanted recognition. Anyone watching from a distance would’ve figured out who he was, and once they saw him arguing with me, it wouldn’t take much to put the pieces together."

Raymond nodded. "That makes sense. But with this, I suppose we won’t be able to hear the nobles’ true thoughts anymore."

"Nothing we can do about it. Besides…" William’s lips curled into a smirk. "This situation works in our favor in other ways."

Raymond raised a brow. "Other ways?"

William turned his gaze across the deserted camp. "There’s no one left to enjoy this performance anymore. Do you really think the First Prince will continue his little masquerade if all the players have left the stage?"

Raymond blinked before letting out a small chuckle. "Ah, I see."

This entire event—the masked gathering of nobles—was nothing more than entertainment for the First Prince. A game designed to pit the nobles against one another while he watched from the shadows.

But a stage was useless without actors.

And now, thanks to William and Bernhardt’s little skirmish, the audience had vanished.

The First Prince, left with nothing to amuse himself with, would soon grow bored. And once that happened—’He’ll finally step into the open. That’s one less game I have to play along with.’

If the masquerade had dragged on, tensions among the nobles would’ve festered further, leading to deeper divisions in the alliance. Even putting aside his own objectives, this outcome was far better for the morale of the coalition army.

And just as expected, the very next day, a royal messenger arrived at William’s tent.

"His Highness, the Supreme Commander, the First Prince, has issued a summons."

William sighed. Couldn’t even last two days, huh?

Still, he wasted no time in making his preparations before heading toward the First Prince’s command tent.

It was significantly larger than the other tents in the camp—easily several times the size of the others. By the time William arrived, a large number of lords and their representatives had already gathered inside.

His gaze swept over the room before settling on the figure seated at the highest position.

Bernhardt Logran.

Their eyes met.

A long, heavy silence stretched between them.