Gunmage
Chapter 143: The Prince, the bastard, and the ball

Chapter 143: Chapter 143: The Prince, the bastard, and the ball

The night had already been filled with excitement, danger, and unexpected news and appearances.

Little did both the attendees and the host know, it was only going to get worse.

His arrival was like an artillery shell—sudden and impactful. Stumbling through the front door while supporting himself with a cane, a concerned and overly worried butler clung to his side.

The announcer, already quite drunk, lost his tongue.

The guests blinked in confusion, a silence lingering for only a breath before an explosion of noise shattered the hall.

A man who had been the hot topic of headlines, articles, and serialized novels for the past few months.

A survivor of Drakensmar, someone everyone thought would never awaken.

The Third Prince of Ophris, Major General Lovainne.

His arrival wasn’t the only thing that shocked the crowd. It was the words that came out of his mouth that left most confused and a few anxious.

"I’m looking for Lugh Von Heim."

A ripple of furious whispers spread throughout the room.

Oh? So he’s looking for a member of the Von Heim family? Why?

More importantly... who was Lugh?

Above, watching the whole commotion unfold, Lugh facepalmed.

Wonderful, he thought. Lovainne had just ruined a lot of his carefully laid plans. But he could draw conjectures as to why.

It was that question.

The one they always asked him when he told them his name.

"I never knew the Von Heim family had an heir?"

He had always greeted it with silence—which, he now realized, was confirmation enough.

Further down the line, as his well of knowledge and life experience grew, he realized something deeper: the question itself was a trap.

If he truly wanted to keep his identity hidden, the best answer would have been,

"They don’t. I’m from a branch family."

Plots and schematics.

Considering not just Lovainne, but also Lyra had once asked him that same question, it could only mean one thing: the political game was deeply engraved into their bones as nobles.

Never mind that.

What mattered now was that Lovainne knew. He knew Lugh was a bastard child of the late patriarch, kept secret.

Someone with a buried claim to leadership of the household. Considering Lugh had run away from home to join the frontlines, the prince must have believed that staying in Ophris would’ve been more dangerous.

And, at the time, Lugh thought the same.

The Major General—a strategist by nature—would have designed machinations for him. A way to, if not use Lugh, then extract the most benefit from him.

He must’ve been anxious upon waking and realizing Lugh wasn’t among the surviving soldiers. In fact, Lugh suspected he had already made contact with General Garrick and found out where he was.

Ah, how troubling.

He wasn’t entirely sure what the Prince’s game was here. All he knew was that he was doing this out of goodwill... mostly.

Lugh would have appreciated this sort of help any other time. After all, living in the shadows wasn’t something he had chosen.

But now?

With royal guards and the Inquisition gathered out front... with the Queen and the High Cardinal present... with disguised beastkin scattered among the guests—whose ears visibly perked at the sound of his name—appearing in public was more than perilous.

His life could be in serious danger. For all his strength, he wasn’t omnipotent. Or omniscient.

Down below, things were getting really rowdy. Members of the Von Heim family looked the most confused.

They had never heard of a Lugh before.

What was this man trying to pull?

He could see others guests bringing out notes, beginning to scribble furiously. Journalists, no doubt. What happened tonight would certainly appear in the Daily Oracle.

"Who is this Lugh you speak of?"

The voice belonged to the acting patriarch of the Von Heim family.

His face was deeply lined with age, his hair pale white. He wore a stern expression.

It was Lord Cedric, Lugh’s supposed grandfather, and husband to the extravagant Selaphiel.

"There is no Lugh in the Von Heim family. I think you might be mistaken, Third Prince."

Isolde quickly stepped forward, her icy glare and chilling voice brimming with warning.

Lovainne ignored it without a second thought, one might even believe he hadn’t noticed it at all.

"Lugh Von Heim. The secret son of General Lucas Von Heim. A 15-year-old who followed his late father’s legacy and served as a sergeant in my division during the raid of Drakensmar."

That got a reaction. A big one.

Even Isolde took a step back.

Cedric turned sharply to her.

"What is the meaning of this? Who is Lugh?"

The murmurs had reached a crescendo. And yet, the live orchestra kept playing, strings and horns blending with the chaos.

They had been given strict orders, after all:

No matter what happens, don’t stop playing.

Isolde didn’t panic. Instead, she regained her calm, standing straighter as her voice took on a mechanical, almost detached tone.

"Lugh is the bastard son of my late husband."

Unbelievable.

There it was. Confirmation.

The crowd grew electric with excitement.

Mirelle watched with a worried expression, as did her sisters. They were peppered with questions from their peers.

"You had a secret brother?"

"Did you know?"

Even Lirienne, who had mostly been left alone, was now swarmed with people, much to her dismay.

"Bring him here."

"Lugh is currently feeling unwell."

"BRING HIM HERE!"

Lord Cedric roared.

Isolde clicked her tongue in irritation, then snapped her fingers. Her shadowy attendants dispersed.

"You’ll have to wait."

Without sparing them another glance, she turned and strode out of the ballroom, vanishing into the inner halls of the manor.

Lovainne, still very much weakened, stumbled toward a nearby chair, gripping his cane as he went. He was sure the wait would be long.

A good thing Lugh was still alive by the time I got here.

Now that his existence was known to everyone, she couldn’t just outright dispose of him.

Things were going smoothly.

Now all he had to deal with were the retaliatory assassination attempts that would definitely follow.

He clutched the parcel in his hands tighter.