Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke-Chapter 188 - The Banquet of Kings

188 The Banquet of Kings

At this moment, he was no longer some nameless third prince.

No longer just a stand-in for someone else.

He was the Duke of Grimaldi. The Lord of Asagrim. A ruler in his own right.

"Rise, Sir Gareth," William said. "I appreciate you coming all this way. I will be relying on you for some time."

"It is by His Majesty’s command that we serve as your sword," Gareth replied. "Wield us as you see fit. Should you order it, we shall stand against even an army of a million."

William smirked. "Spoken like a true knight. Very well—I won’t hold back."

He clapped Gareth on the shoulder, but the moment their eyes met, William felt an odd chill.

The knight’s gaze burned.

Not with mere determination, but something more desperate—more fierce.

Ambition.

William narrowed his eyes.

This isn’t just a formal pledge. He wants to fight.

Could it be that the Blue Rose Knights had been overshadowed by other Imperial Orders?

Had they been ignored or sidelined for too long?

Is that why they’re so eager to prove themselves?

If so, it was good news.

He had borrowed this army, but the last thing he needed was troops that hesitated in battle.

If they were hungry for glory, then he wouldn’t even need to encourage them.

Perfect.

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William’s gaze swept over his newly arrived forces.

With this, everything is ready.

The soldiers were here.

The servants needed for the banquet had arrived.

The supplies were secured.

All that was left…

Was to send out the invitations.

TO THE LORDS OF THE NORTH—

DUKE William GRIMALDI HERN, MARGRAVE OF ASAGRIM, INVITES YOU TO A BANQUET.

The invitation was short, but it sent shockwaves through the North.

Hadn’t this boy just been a nameless third prince not long ago?

Now, suddenly, he was the Duke of Grimaldi and the Lord of Asagrim?

"This is absurd! Asagrim is under Imperial jurisdiction—how can he claim the title of Margrave?"

"And what’s this about the Duke of Grimaldi? Even if he’s a descendant, this is a step too far!"

"First Count Calix, now the Imperial Court? Is he trying to make enemies of everyone?"

The northern lords scoffed.

Surely, William was simply declaring these titles without the Emperor’s approval.

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But their scorn turned to shock when the full details arrived.

"He didn’t just claim Asagrim—the Emperor granted it to him? And gave him the Grimaldi stronghold?"

"Impossible! The Emperor would never—"

"But he did! The royal family just revived the Grimaldi line!"

The revelation sent the North into turmoil.

The lords were confused, alarmed, and intrigued.

Some saw it as an opportunity.

Others feared what it meant for Count Calix’s faction.

But one thing was clear:

Every single one of them would be attending that banquet.

"Asagrim is hosting the gathering? Then of course I must go!"

"This marks the revival of the North—how could I not be there?"

"I need to see that boy’s face with my own eyes. What the hell did he do to make this happen?"

"Damn it, I sided with Calix… Do you think if I grovel, he’ll forgive me?"

The reasons varied, but no one dared refuse.

Everyone knew—this banquet would decide the fate of the North.

And amidst them, hidden among the guests, was Count Calix’s own delegation.

"This is our last chance," Count Norbeck growled, his face twisted in desperation. "If we don’t eliminate him now, we’re finished."

His followers nodded grimly.

Only one man remained quiet.

At the very edge of the gathering, a lone figure idly traced his fingers over a deck of cards.

"…Last chance, huh?"

Collin pondered his latest reading.

Would this banquet bring a savior? or a harbinger of death?

The northern territories trembled as their most powerful lords began their great migration.

The official reason was a banquet.

But everyone knew the truth—this was a gathering that would decide the future of the North.

No one expected much from the banquet itself.

’The foundation hasn’t been fully established yet. It’s bound to be modest.’

’It’s just an excuse for a meeting. The event itself will be underwhelming.’

A proper banquet required more than just a venue.

It needed servants, skilled craftsmen, fresh ingredients, and an abundance of supplies—all prepared with meticulous care.

And logically, there was no way William could have gathered all of that so soon after reclaiming Asagrim.

Yet, the moment the lords laid eyes on Asagrim, all those concerns vanished.

The city alone was enough to shake them to their core.

"By the masters… Is this truly the fortress our ancestors built?"

"A thousand years have passed, yet it still stands as if untouched… Incredible."

"I never thought I’d live to step foot inside the White Palace! Grandfather, are you watching this?"

Titles and ranks didn’t matter—every lord was too busy marveling at the city’s magnificence.

Some even fell to their knees, tears streaming down their faces as they pressed their lips to the walls and floor in reverence.

There were a few skeptics, dismissing it as nothing more than a relic of the past, but even they couldn’t stop the shiver of awe running through them.

And then, they arrived at the White Palace.

—Where a line of attendants greeted them at the entrance.

"The esteemed lords of House Birne, welcome. We will take care of your carriages and horses—please entrust them to us."

"…!?"

The sudden appearance of the attendants took them by surprise.

Their movements were flawless—every action smooth, every word perfectly measured.

This wasn’t the result of mere days or weeks of training. These were seasoned professionals, men and women who had dedicated years to their craft.

Even the servants bustling around inside displayed exceptional efficiency, carrying out their tasks without a single wasted motion.

’Where in the world did he find such people?’

’There was no word of him recruiting servants, and yet…’

’No noble house would have lent him this many people. And every single one of them is this skilled? This isn’t normal.’

And it wasn’t just the servants.