Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke

The duke's words were a test—one that countless nobles had heard before. Will you abandon your own achievements for the sake of safety?

William's response was immediate.

"Yes," he said without hesitation. "I would gladly make that choice."

The room froze.

Even the duke blinked, caught off guard by the unwavering answer.

And then William spoke, his voice steady and firm.

"A hunt's success is the most important thing. What kind of leader would I be if I let my people live in fear, insisting that I must strike the final blow myself? Even if I succeed, that would be nothing more than reckless bravado. A ruler who seeks glory at the cost of his people's safety is not a leader—he is a fool."

The duke remained silent, but something shifted in his gaze.

"And even if my name is overshadowed for now, what does it matter?" William continued. "A hunter may not boast, but his fellow hunters will always recognize his achievements. The day a master archer can no longer draw his bow, who do you think he will entrust it to? The reckless fool who hunts barehanded, or the disciple who has learned to sharpen his blade?"

He bowed deeply.

"If my achievements go unrecognized, so be it. By then, I will have learned to carve my own weapons, to walk the mountains as a hunter in my own right. That is how I choose to hunt."

A weighty silence filled the chamber.

The attendants held their breath. Speaking so boldly in front of the duke himself…

Then, suddenly—

"Pahahaha!"

Duke Sigmund von Hern burst into laughter, his voice echoing through the hall.

Even the servants, who had grown accustomed to the duke's temperament, were left speechless. But William was perhaps the most stunned of all.

Duke Sigmund von Hern—always composed, always the image of dignity—was laughing. Not just a light chuckle, but a full, unabashed roar of laughter, as if he had cast aside all formality.

It took him a while to regain his composure, wiping away the faint tears that had gathered at the corner of his eyes.

"I can't even remember the last time someone openly argued with me to my face," the duke said, his voice still tinged with amusement. "Not since I took the position as head of the family. And now, of all people, it's you who dares?"

William inclined his head respectfully. "If I have offended you, I apologize."

"Offended?" The duke let out another short bark of laughter. "Do I look offended? No, boy—I haven't laughed this freely in years!"

His laughter gradually died down, but a smirk remained on his face as he studied William with renewed interest.

"That was a fine answer. A man should have conviction in the path he walks. If a mere word can sway his resolve, then he has no right to call himself a man at all."

William's eyes sharpened at those words.

"…This was a test?"

"Of course it was." The duke leaned back in his chair, satisfied. "I wanted to see if you'd waver."

It all made sense now.

Sigmund was not a fool. He knew full well that William couldn't handle this matter alone. Even if William was the fourth prince, the opponent was still a direct descendant of Marquis Logran.

Had this been a mere business dispute, it would have been a different matter. But this was dangerous. Even a minor misstep could result in bloodshed, and without proper preparation, William would gain nothing and lose everything.

Sigmund, being Sigmund, must have already considered all of this. And yet, he had seemed oddly indifferent—as if he expected William to charge ahead recklessly. That had been the clue.

This was never about strategy or logistics.

It was about his resolve.

"You were right about one thing," the duke continued. "Blinded by ambition, fools often reach for things beyond their grasp and end up losing everything. That much is common sense."

His gaze locked onto William.

"But common sense means nothing if you can't speak it aloud when it matters."

William remained silent, absorbing the words.

"If you can't form your own answers, that's one thing. But if you can and still change your stance depending on who you're speaking to, then you're even worse than a liar."

William exhaled slowly. A man who wavers is more dangerous than a man who deceives.

A liar, at the very least, might tell the truth when it suits him. But a man who bends his words at the slightest pressure? He would never be trustworthy.

Sigmund's gaze softened slightly.

"I had a similar conversation with your brothers, you know. The firstborn pressed forward without hesitation. The second analyzed the situation and sought a compromise. But you—you're the first to contradict me to my face."

The duke chuckled again, shaking his head in amusement before reclining in his chair.

"Regardless, your answer was a good one. I'll grant you the support you need."

William's expression remained neutral, but a spark of satisfaction flickered in his eyes.

"How much support are we speaking of, exactly?"

William took a moment to consider his options before answering.

"A large force would draw too much attention. The fewer the numbers, the better. But that also means our opponents will likely have an elite guard as well."

"Meaning, if you're not careful, the tables could turn against you."

"Exactly. If we fail even with an ambush, it'll be clear that the Logran family's elite outmatched us. That would be disastrous."

In other words, give me your absolute best.

The duke's expression shifted ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing in amusement.

"Clever brat," he muttered. "You're basically telling me to hand-pick the finest warriors myself, aren't you?"

William smiled innocently. "I would never be so presumptuous, Father. This is purely for the honor of House Hern."

"Enough nonsense." Sigmund waved a hand dismissively. "I'll send five Black Lions."

William's composure wavered for the first time.

"...What?"

The Black Lions.

They weren't just elite warriors. They were the duke's personal shadows—ghosts of the battlefield.

It was said that a single Black Lion could butcher three knights in direct combat.

Back when William served as a guard, his colleagues would occasionally whisper about them. A common soldier might never even see one in his lifetime. Many dismissed them as nothing more than a legend.

And yet—

They're real?