Concerned with questions about paladins in this world, Victor sat down in an armchair, and a small cloud-like window appeared before him showing an image of a knight wearing precisely the same armor as his own.
Within the cloudlet were numerous digits, but primarily visible were four parameters:
Strength – 4 (7)
Agility – 3 (5)
Intelligence – 10 (4)
Luck – 7 (3)
All gear items were marked red, accompanied by a notation stating "-96%".
Unclear what the numbers in parentheses signified, he assumed the other figures represented his attributes, while percentages referred to reduced effectiveness of the armor.
While contemplating this, Lulu cheerfully entered the library heading straight toward him. Recalling the floating cloud before his face, he waved his hand to disperse it.
— What happened? — the maid inquired.
— It seems invisible to you, evidently only I can see it. — Thinking this, he mentally dismissed the cloud as he had done with the armor, causing it to dissipate successfully.
— Must've been a fly buzzing around, — Victor explained, smiling warmly at her.
— Shall I serve dinner, young master? — asked the diminutive maid.
— Yes, please do, — he replied, proceeding toward the dining area situated elsewhere in the vast mansion.
Entirely comparable to a palace, the residence accommodated comfortably upwards of 100 individuals.
After enjoying supper and taking a prepared bath, he retired to sleep.
Early the next morning, Lulu and two additional maids awoke him, standing ready with towels preparing him for the day ahead.
Once completed, he faced a polished bronze mirror struggling to discern his appearance clearly.
Such mirrors were fashioned from painstakingly burnished copper sheets, rendering detailed inspection impossible.
Following breakfast, he departed for the main mansion, entering directly into his father's study.
There, the Count remained seated writing continuously, pausing only half an hour later.
— I want to inform you that henceforth you'll receive the title of Baron and, subsequent to your betrothal ceremony, relocate immediately to your ancestral domain bordering the western frontier of the county, — proclaimed the Count, tossing aside his quill. — I'm expecting no significant achievements from you, but refrain from creating problems. Your inheritance may lack prestige, but it's suitable for a viscount nonetheless.
— Father, I appreciate your generosity, — replied Victor.
Delving into his memories, he searched for data regarding this region. Western territories constituted arid lands plagued by unknown causes, producing few crops. Their lone advantage was access to the sea, although maritime trade remained underdeveloped here.
Residing there were five thousand serfs sufficient for comfortable living even for a noble ranked as low as a viscount. However, receiving the rank of Baron equated to substantial demotion.
Originally, as the son of a Count, his status exceeded any lower-ranking peer. Now officially titled Baron, nobody would consider his lineage important.
Given his sidelined position within the family tree, many lesser nobles across the county shared familial ties.
Effectively excluded from primary branches, he was placed equal with others.
Nevertheless, this suited Victor well since being hundreds of miles distant from his father afforded tranquility free from discovery as a foreign soul transplanted into this new existence.
How extraordinary was it, transforming from an average human on Earth into a member of nobility? One must rejoice rather than lament. This was essentially handed to him on a silver platter.
Subsequent to the Count rising from his seat, Victor followed suit, emerging outdoors where a carriage awaited alongside forty knights clad in bright armor.
Curiously, he perceived their aura, typically reserved for those endowed with magical powers, yet now accessible to him.
Radiation emanating from them caused mild shortness of breath, but he masked his discomfort skillfully.
Knights rode majestic steeds bred from monster bloodlines. Each beast cost equivalent to a quarter of a Baron's landholdings. Only elite royalty owned fifty such horses, unaffordable to lesser noblemen.
These creatures consumed alchemists-grown magical grass called Elisis, priced exorbitantly as brewing potions contributed significantly to cultivation costs. Monsters naturally inhabited areas saturated with dark magic.
Throughout the kingdom, fewer than two thousand such horses existed.
Servants and butlers formed ranks beside the exit, while a knight stood guard by the carriage door.
Boarding, the knight loudly commanded departure, prompting the vehicle to lurch forward.
— Sorry, Victor, — unexpectedly apologized the Count. — I cannot offer more assistance. I cherished your mother deeply, but I can't allow someone bereft of mana to lead our family.
Stunned temporarily, Victor scrambled through recollections attempting to reconstruct the relationship dynamics between father and son.
Yet no insights surfaced because prior to six years old, his father had either embarked on campaigns or attended to County affairs, and now he sought forgiveness.
An odd sensation gripped his chest, blending sorrow, joy, and relief simultaneously coursing through his heart.
First thought crossing his mind: Perhaps the original soul acknowledged the speaker's apology, something yearned for lifelong from the single relative in this alien environment.
— I comprehend, Father, and am grateful for everything you've done, — he responded, having regained composure. — Your choice is correct; Andros brings honor to our clan.
Alexander Shermann eyed his useless offspring incredulously, entrapped similarly by circumstance stemming from the child's lack of mana.
— You won't gain anything meaningful from this union. Simply maintain official matrimony; thereafter, marry whichever lady strikes your fancy, — repeated the Count.
Care showed in Victor's eyes, and he nodded obediently listening.
They traveled onwards in silence covering nearly twelve hundred kilometers. Despite riding monsters-bloodline horses galloping eighty kilometers hourly and enhanced magic-carriage, achieving passage within a single day remained impractical.
Thus, halting within neighboring counties occurred thrice, regardless of tense relations between respective regions. Aristocratic circles overlooked animosities welcoming guests accordingly.
Notifications sent in advance ensured guest mansions were prepared, hosting evening banquets.
Next dawn they resumed traveling, repeating ceremonies thrice until finally reaching the duchy's royal palace.
Up till now, he considered his father's dwelling overly grandiose, but witnessing this venue dispelled such notions.
Palace architecture towered five floors high featuring abundant windows facing various directions. Atop the central entrance stood a modest fountain topped by a suspended crystal absorbing water from below, generating ripples.
Before the entrance, a large number of retainers and knights welcomed visitors.
Foremost stood a young woman recognized immediately by Victor as his prospective bride based on societal norms governing introductions.
Her father, the Duke, would never greet a visitor inferior in rank irrespective of affection.
Delegating a family member, whether son or daughter, signaled respect appropriately.
Carriage halted, prompting a knight opening the door allowing Count and subsequently Victor to disembark.
— Good afternoon, Your Grace, — greeted the Count bowing deeply before resuming upright posture mirrored by Victor.
Unaccustomed to protocol, he mimicked actions performed by the Count.
— Welcome, Count Shermann, — the girl softly greeted, elegantly curtsying.
Contrary to their formal mannerisms, she gracefully inclined slightly, thereby extending courtesy exceeding expectations.
Observing Victor, she introduced herself and gently indicated he should acknowledge gratitude for recognition.
— Welcome, Baron Victor, — she nodded plainly. — My name is Sylvia Leomville, delighted to extend hospitality.
— An honor, Your Highness, — he replied courteously.
Only now able to examine her thoroughly.
Shorter than him by approximately one head height, her physique sculpted goddess-like perfection complemented golden tresses glistening gold under sunlight captivating spectators.
Vibrant azure irises sparkled reflecting splashing waters in the fountain, delicate facial contours seemed chiseled meticulously avoiding disruption of symmetry, neat straight nose paired with lips magnetically seductive inviting gaze.
At some point unaware, Victor moistened his lips involuntarily, but the girl either missed or ignored this gesture.
Under her escort, they entered the palace guided into a parlor seating them on couches. Informing them her father would arrive promptly, she exited.
Hitherto, Victor gave little consideration to this woman during transit, learning rumors circulating banquet halls suggesting she'd intended to wed the Kingdom's Second Prince. Engagement dissolved mysteriously; specific reasons unknown.
Still speculating, he guessed it likely connected to her inadequate mana, but gossip disclosed ongoing efforts reconnecting with the prince at social gatherings.
Absentmindedly immersed in reflections, realization struck him profoundly.
Though socially acceptable here, he originated elsewhere.
Should she continue consorting with another male post-marriage, enduring humiliation seemed untenable.
Who appreciates discovering one's spouse sharing intimacy elsewhere? Irrespective of cultural norms, subconscious jealousy ignited toward this stranger destined to become his wife.
Competing against a prince appeared unwinnable; remaining obscure forever seemed inevitable.
If mastery over Paladin-derived power improved, potentially elevating prominence within society, infidelity from a spouse threatened personal reputation irreparably.
Lost in introspection, fingers reflexively tightened into fists. Suddenly, doors opened admitting a statuesque gentleman.
Towering at two meters, he wore dress uniform emblazoned with sash supporting a jewel-encrusted sword, notably illuminated firestone crowning its pommel.
Matching hair color with the girl, square-jawed countenance framed piercing blue eyes set widely apart, flat lips accentuated by prominent bushy brows resembling blades.
Overall impression conveyed strength and authority.
According to known records, contrary to his father classified as Golden Knight apex level.
Duke achieved peak Earth-Knight status guaranteeing minimum lifespan lasting two centuries. Should fortune bless him ascending Heaven-Knight rank pre-eightieth birthday, lifetime extended to five centuries permitting eventual legendary status aspiration.
Presently, one Legendary Knight reportedly survived over eight centuries safeguarding Royal Family legacy.
Earth Knights numbered four: Two Dukes, Marquis, and Kylissito Count ruling northern domains bordering Armondale Kingdom.
Hierarchy comprised ten rankings: Iron, Bronze, Silver, Gold, Platinum, Diamond, Earth Knight, Heaven Knight, Legendary Knight, hypothetically attainable Eternal Radiance (existing exclusively in legends).
Historical accounts described continent separation orchestrated by Eternal Radiant Knight sacrificing life severing demon ruler dominions from humanity using impenetrable mountains.
Demons sporadically invaded human settlements, insufficient numbers preventing mass invasion.
Continental division created obstacles traversable solely via water routes equally hazardous owing to aquatic monstrosities exceeding terrestrial counterparts.
Upon entry, Count and Victor genuflected greeting the Duke, who ignored them striding past, settling into an adjacent chair signaling permission to sit.
— Alexander, I've arranged preparations culminating in Sylvia's wedding announcement week's conclusion. Do you object? — announced the Duke.
Statement rather than inquiry, as refusal remained inconceivable.
— Certainly, Your Grace, agreements stand firm, — concurred Count swiftly.
— Well then, proceed, — decreed the Duke dismissively without casting glance.
Both rose, bowing respectfully withdrawing.
Confused throughout, Victor wondered: Why undertake this trip yielding singular sentence?
"This another elitist absurdity? My impending embarrassment and domineering host treating us like servants render worthless a Count's title?"
Internally raging, externally maintaining stoicism inherited from prior inhabitant.