Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke

Chapter 83 83 Eagle's Claim and the Lion's Defiance

83 Eagle's Claim and the Lion's Defiance

Bernhardt's gaze carried an almost playful glint, but William saw it for what it was—an attempt to exert dominance.

"Who is this young man?"

William resisted the urge to scoff.

As if you don't already know.

William might not have recognized Bernhardt immediately, but there was no way the reverse was true. The Logran Marquessate was one of the most powerful noble houses in the Empire. Their intelligence network was among the best.

More than that, William was the one who had crushed his carefully laid schemes.

Even if it weren't a matter of information gathering, his sheer indignation alone would have been enough motivation to investigate William thoroughly.

So why the pretense?

William quickly figured it out.

Bernhardt wasn't trying to learn anything—he was waiting for William to lower his head first.

A power play.

William had deduced his identity. But if he bowed first, acknowledging the Marquess, it would be as if he were admitting inferiority. That was the game Bernhardt was playing.

A noble house head stands on different ground than a mere prince. Even if our families are of equal status, I am not a house leader.

So he expects me to yield first.

A meaningless display of authority, but one that Bernhardt clearly enjoyed.

William had no intention of playing along.

His voice remained smooth as he met Bernhardt's gaze head-on.

"How rude. And who might you be, to so freely interrupt conversations and insult other noble families?"

"...!?"

Bernhardt stiffened. Nigel's face turned the color of chalk.

The air between them turned glacial, an almost tangible tension forming in the silence that followed.

Nigel, finally snapping out of his shock, grabbed William's shoulder and whispered urgently.

"P-Prince, this is—!"

William cut him off with a raised hand. His voice remained light, even amused.

"It's nothing complicated," he said smoothly. "The eagle once owned a sword, but the lion took it and adorned it with jewels. Now, the lion claims that the sword has changed in value and insists that it belongs to him. Tell me, then—who does the sword rightfully belong to?"

A strange analogy, but William immediately understood its meaning.

The eagle and the lion—those were the emblems of House Logran and House Hern, respectively.

The sword? That was Felicia.

And the jewels? They symbolized her newly bestowed title as the Swordmaster's disciple.

So he's saying that Felicia was originally House Logran's? That I simply took her and now I should return her?

What a laughable notion.

Most people, upon hearing such an analogy, would instinctively agree that no matter how many jewels were added, the sword still belonged to its original owner.

Bernhardt was demanding—though in veiled words—Hand over Felicia now that she's become the Swordmaster's disciple.

William nearly laughed aloud at the absurdity of it.

Considering how House Logran had treated Felicia all these years, the claim was nothing short of delusional.

"Well," William said, his voice measured, "if the eagle had truly cherished the sword, then of course, the lion would be nothing more than a thief. But if the sword was treated like trash, abandoned and left to rust, and the lion took it, polished it, and adorned it with jewels—then wouldn't the situation be quite different?"

Bernhardt's lips curled into a smirk. "I disagree. Whether it was cherished or not, the sword was always the eagle's property. The moment the lion took it without permission, it ceased to have any rightful claim."

William tilted his head slightly, as if in thought. "I wonder... does the sword still favor its original owner? If it were truly such a fine blade, wouldn't it choose its own master?"

"A mere tool selecting its wielder? That would be arrogance beyond reason," the marquis scoffed. "Regardless of what the sword believes, the rightful owner decides how to wield it."

William let out a sharp laugh. "Is that so?"

Bernhardt chuckled along with him, though the amusement never reached his eyes.

Between them, the air crackled with tension.

Trapped between their exchange, Nigel was sweating profusely, caught in the suffocating weight of the conversation.

The laughter between them was little more than a brittle pretense.

Then, with a lighthearted tone, William spoke again. "Actually, there's a very simple solution to all of this."

Bernhardt raised a brow. "A solution, you say? And what might that be?"

William's grin sharpened.

"Well, considering the eagle never even realized it had a sword to begin with, here's my proposal—just grab any old stick, wrap it in cloth, and decide that it's the sword you lost. That should solve the issue, shouldn't it? After all, you never used the sword before, so it shouldn't matter."

Bernhardt's expression hardened.