CHAPTER 108: THE END OF THE PARTY

The duel had ended, but the echoes of Reginald’s madness still lingered in the hall. No one dared speak, for in the center stood Marquess Eron Halbrecht, cradling his grandson.

Despite his age, the Marquess Halbrecht was once a glorious warrior who fought for Norvaegard. As a kingdom that values martial honor, he gained his reputation through his skills.

Even though he later became a doting grandfather, he was still one who survived several territorial wars.

He looked at his unconscious grandson, who was in his arms, and couldn’t help but sigh. He already expected Reginald to lose once he saw Lucen’s physique.

It was true that once upon a time, his grandson did try his best to become a good swordsman, but he became complacent. He saw that he was better than most his age and thought he was something special.

He started to practice less and became boisterous. It was then that he was faced with reality when Elyra Runescar defeated him with ease. Instead of improving himself and pushing forward, he made excuses and fought others again, and when he saw that he could still defeat them, he felt like one loss was acceptable.

"Even though you have already been disowned by your father... I hope that you can learn from this and move forward..." Marquess Halbrecht spoke in a murmur and sighed.

He remembered comrades who, like Reginald, had once believed themselves untouchable. On the battlefield, arrogance was sharper than any blade. It cut down men before their enemy could. Those who could not bow to defeat, who could not learn from failure, were the first to die.

"I apologize for my grandson’s attitude."

When Count Vermont heard the Marquess still call Reginald his grandson, he understood where the old man stood. ’I guess he truly cannot abandon any of his grandchildren.’

Count Vermont sighed, his face a mask of iron, but his eyes betrayed exhaustion. He knew the old man could never abandon any of his grandchildren, no matter the disgrace.

Elandra Vermon looked at her husband, father, and child. Things have become even more complicated.

’It was so simple, just apologize and it was over... Why did you need to do all this?’

Elandra looked at her unconscious son and sighed. She could not understand how her son had turned out this way.

Her fingers tightened around her gown as she looked at her unconscious son. A noble who could not hide his claws was doomed from the start... But a mother’s heart still ached all the same.

A mother always sees her child as simply that, her child, not the way others see him. Elandra could still recall Reginald as a boy clinging to her skirts, eager to show his first clumsy sword swing. Somewhere between then and now, she had lost that boy. Was it her fault? Or had the weight of the Vermont name crushed him before he could stand on his own?

"You have won, young Thornehart. I understand that you might think very lowly of my grandson, but I promise you he will no longer bother you."

A heavy silence lingered, all eyes on Lucen, expecting solemn words, perhaps even magnanimity. Instead, Lucen tilted his head, his tone light.

"It’s alright. It was actually quite a fun duel. So, about the sponsorship for the play I want to make."

Harlik only shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. "As expected of the little leader, duels one second, plays the next. Always thinking ahead."

Halbrecht was momentarily stunned by Lucen’s answer, then a low chuckle escaped him, easing the tension in his shoulders. A gentle smile followed

’As expected of the son of the Iron Duke... I hope that you could shine just as brightly as he someday, Reginald...’

"I will give you full support. No matter what, as long as it is within my power, I will give it. Of course, I will also be watching the play you make, young Thornehart."

Lucen extended his hand, smiling faintly. "Deal." It was less the close of a duel and more the sealing of a transaction. The Marquess, despite himself, chuckled as he clasped it.

When Halbrecht clasped Lucen’s hand, it was not the indulgent gesture of an elder to a child, but the firm seal of equals.

The Marquess, then carrying his grandson on his shoulder, went in front of the King and knelt.

"I apologize, Your Majesty, for causing such a scene during your youngest’s birthday party."

The King leaned back on his chair, lips twitching in amusement. "It’s fine. Truth be told, it was far more entertaining than expected."

"Thank you for magnanimity... Your Majesty, I also wish to leave early with my son-in-law, daughter, and grandchild if you allow it," The Marquess spoke, his head lowered.

"I understand you may leave."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." With that, the Vermont Family, alongside Marquess Halbrecht, left the castle.

Even though they were no longer present, and the party continued, the nobles could not stop talking about them.

***

Lucen was back at the party, thinking back to the sudden duel declaration. ’Well, that took a weird turn somewhere, but I still got the sponsorship for my play... I wonder if that guy will return later to mess with me again?...’

Lucen thought of Reginald ever since he met the guy; he continued to be the perfect cliché, arrogant, noble character.

’Usually, characters like him become one of two things later in the story. One is that they become allies of the antagonists and continue to try and kill me, or they change their ways and become my ally... Either way, both options sound troublesome.’

Lucen looked around the ballroom, watching the other nobles chatter.

Some whispered of Reginald’s madness. Others praised the Iron Duke’s son. A few kept their expressions neutral, weighing which way the wind was blowing.

’Yep... this is definitely how those political novels start,’ Lucen mused. ’One duel and suddenly I’m on everyone’s radar. First thing you know, some young lady I’ve never met will walk up with an innocent smile and try to recruit me into her family’s faction. Not that I mind the attention since I can use this later. Just hope that it won’t become too noisy.’

"Lord Thornehart."

Lucen turned his head. Sure enough, a noble lady who looked to be a few years older than him, who was in an elegant dress, approached, flanked by a nervous attendant. She curtsied with flawless grace, her eyes sharp despite the soft smile on her lips.

’Called it...’ Lucen thought, suppressing a chuckle.

"Congratulations on your victory," she said, voice honey-smooth. "I understand that you already have the Marquess sponsoring you, but my family is also interested in the arts, and I, too, am quite interested in your play. If you’re still looking for sponsors, maybe my family could help."

"There’s no need." Lucen cut her off with a smile that was just as polite as hers. "But thank you for your interest."

The noble lady froze for a second, then laughed lightly, masking her disappointment with practiced ease.

"Ah, I see... Very well. I look forward to the performance. If you wish to talk again, I’m always available. My name is Louise Ebon, only daughter of Marquess Ebon." She curtsied again and retreated, her attendant scurrying after her.

Harlik, who was standing behind Lucen with Mark holding a banner, leaned closer and spoke. "Why did you reject her little leader? The more coins, the better right. Also, I’m sure that little lady was interested in you, and she was quite cute. Are you perhaps not interested in girls yet, but you’re thirteen? At that age, I was already in bed with quite a few pretty ladies."

"First off, the more coins are better, but I have to think about the price of the names of the sponsors. For now, just having Marquess Halbrecht is fine. Second, I am interested in girls, but now is not the time for that kind of thing."

Harlik scratched his head, clearly unconvinced. "You say that, but if you keep turning down noble daughters, rumors will spread that you’re either too proud, too picky, or interested in things other than girls. Who knows, they might spread a rumor that you like orcish women."

Lucen smirked. "Good. Then they’ll stop bothering me faster. Anyway, it’s not like I’ll have any difficulty getting girls. Can’t you see my face? Unlike your ugly mug, I’m a handsome young man who’s also the heir of a dukedom."

"You really hit where it hurts, don’t you, little leader." Harlik acted as if he was hurt, but he was smiling. "Don’t you know, I had broken many women’s hearts before; they shed many tears for me."

Mark, who had been quietly holding the banner the whole time, suddenly chimed in. "Huh? That’s the first time I’ve heard about that. Maybe they were shedding tears because they were frightened by your ugly mug."

"You sh*thead, it’s not like you are any good."

"I don’t really care about that kind of thing. Just sending money to my sister, my family is already hard enough. A woman isn’t something I can have."

"Tsk, so you plan to be single all your life?"

Mark only shrugged at Harlik’s jab, leaving the mercenary sputtering. Lucen chuckled on the side.

Their argument drew sidelong looks from nearby nobles, who were clearly unused to mercenaries airing such crass banter in a royal hall. Lucen only smirked.

In truth, he welcomed it. Better Harlik’s bluster and Mark’s deadpan jabs than the empty laughter of nobles measuring daggers behind smiles.

As the music softened, the King once again thanked everyone for coming to the party. The royal family then left, and one by one, the other nobles started leaving as well.

The Third Prince’s Birthday Celebration had ended.