Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke-Chapter 80 - Masks of Deception

80 Masks of Deception

"We are simply repaying the trust of the Imperial House." His tone was even. "William Hern, here as Duke Sigmund’s representative."

"Ah, so it is Lord William." Jurgen’s expression brightened.

"I have heard much about you. Even His Majesty himself was deeply impressed by your performance in Bornholm."

William’s brow lifted slightly.

"Quite the compliment."

"The Emperor said you would one day be a pillar of the Empire."

William smiled politely. "That’s quite the exaggeration. I simply did my duty."

Jurgen grinned.

But even after the formal greetings ended, he kept talking.

And kept talking.

And kept talking.

Endless praise.

William endured it for a while.

But at some point, he had enough.

"I appreciate the compliments," he cut in, "but I believe it’s time I met the First Prince."

Jurgen visibly stiffened.

William’s gaze sharpened.

There were many noble houses here, all waiting for orders.

By protocol, the first thing he should do was report to the supreme commander.

Yet here he was, standing outside the camp, being stalled with meaningless conversation.

William’s expression darkened.

"I don’t mind being kept here," he said smoothly. "But delaying my report to the First Prince would be a grave discourtesy."

Jurgen swallowed hard.

"Ah… y-yes, of course. It’s just that…"

William’s eyes narrowed.

Jurgen was hesitating.

He was nervous.

William’s instincts flared.

Something was wrong.

"Don’t tell me… the First Prince isn’t here?"

"No, no! That’s not it, but…"

At William’s sharp inquiry, Jurgen let out a deep sigh—one that carried the weight of someone wishing the answer had been yes.

Then, after a brief moment of hesitation, he reached into his coat and pulled something out.

"…Please take this."

William frowned as he accepted the object.

"A… mask?"

At first, he thought it might be some kind of artifact.

But upon closer inspection, it was nothing of the sort.

Just a simple masquerade mask. Thin, fragile—something that would break apart with the slightest force.

William raised a brow.

"And why, exactly, are you handing me this?"

Jurgen’s expression stiffened. "Until all the nobles have gathered, you are required to wear it. Also, you must avoid revealing your identity."

William’s patience thinned.

"…And what exactly does that mean?"

Jurgen exhaled before answering.

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"This is a… social game that has recently become popular among the aristocracy. Participants wear masks and conceal their identities while mingling. Eventually, they reveal themselves."

"A… game?"

William’s tone flattened.

That word didn’t sit well with him.

"…Did you just say game?"

"Yes, apparently it is an excellent method for building camaraderie. Nobles can interact without concern for status, allowing for—"

"That’s not what I’m asking."

William’s voice dropped to a dangerous level.

"We are here to suppress a rebellion, not to attend a party."

Jurgen winced but nodded.

"You are absolutely right. But… unfortunately, this was a direct order from the First Prince."

William’s expression turned blank.

"…The First Prince himself ordered this?"

"Yes."

Jurgen swallowed hard.

"So please… I know it’s frustrating, but I must ask you to comply. There is a reason behind this, even if it is difficult to see."

William let out a short, breathless chuckle.

"A reason, huh?"

That was bullshit.

No matter how he looked at it, this was nothing more than the First Prince amusing himself.

He wanted to watch the nobles stumble around, clueless about each other’s identities, colliding into awkward social blunders.

"Does that man have no sense of responsibility?"

If this were a gathering of court nobles, fine.

Court nobles were the Emperor’s hounds—they wouldn’t dare rebel against the imperial family, no matter what childish nonsense was thrown at them.

But territorial lords?

They were not bound to the imperial court the same way.

They had armies.

They had power.

And while many were loyal to the throne, not all of them were.

"Even if he wanted to play these ridiculous games, he should’ve had the sense to avoid pulling them on the wrong crowd."

If this nonsense had been limited to the lesser lords, William might have been able to ignore it.

But the Hern family?

The single most powerful ducal house outside the imperial family?

This was an insult.

It could even be interpreted as a direct slight against Hern.

William could let it slide.

Or he could treat it as an offense worthy of retaliation.

The only reason Jurgen was this nervous was because he knew exactly how dangerous this situation was.

William clicked his tongue.

Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he took the mask.

"Well… I suppose there’s nothing wrong with unwinding a little before battle. I have no idea how much ’team-building’ this will actually accomplish, but if His Highness wishes it, then as his vassal, I will obey."

Jurgen’s face lit up with relief.

"Thank you! Truly, thank you, Lord William!"

He bowed repeatedly, looking as though he had just barely avoided an execution.

William had just excused the First Prince’s idiocy as nothing more than a harmless game.

If he had treated it as a deliberate insult, the Hern family could have made this a scandal.

"A truly wise decision, Lord William! House Hern is the pillar of the Empire! And with a future leader as brilliant as yourself, I am certain it will continue to—"

"I am not the heir."

Jurgen didn’t even blink.

"Not yet, perhaps. But from what I’ve seen today, there is no doubt in my mind that House Hern’s future belongs to you."

More flattery.

William ignored it.

Instead, he turned to leave.

But before he could take a step—

Jurgen rushed forward and blocked his path.

"P-please wait! There is one more thing I must tell you!"

William’s patience was wearing thin.

"…What now? Are you going to personally check if I put the mask on?"

Jurgen didn’t deny it.

"That would… be preferable. Additionally, we also have a cloak for you. While moving around the camp, please keep your identity concealed. Only one guard is permitted at any time."

What followed was an excruciatingly long list of rules.

Jurgen rattled them off one by one, sweating profusely the entire time.

By the end of it, William had to rub his temples.

This coalition was a disaster waiting to happen.

Inside the tent, Gerard looked furious.