Ron shook his head—he didn't know the answer.
Viscount Gordon patiently explained, "You and I are Feudal Lords. We hold actual land within the Kingdom. An Honorary Lord is also a noble, but without a territory. They must either attach themselves to a Feudal Lord or serve within the Royal Palace."
He paused, then suddenly asked, "Speaking of which… your Arnold Family has a knight, Abel Guy—an Honorary Knight-Lord. Why didn't he come with you?"
Ron stiffened.
So that's why Abel had a surname—he's technically a minor noble.
He maintained a calm expression and replied lightly, "I didn't arrange for him to accompany me. Uncle, please continue."
"Very well. The most important distinction is this: Feudal Lordships can be inherited. Honorary titles cannot. The Kingdom grants those to meritorious merchants, scholars, and soldiers."
Ron responded at the perfect moment, "Merchants provide funds, scholars provide governance, soldiers provide loyalty. Granting titles is a way of gathering talent… but what does all of this have to do with taxes?"
Viscount Gordon nodded in satisfaction. "Regarding taxes, the Royal Palace sends officials to audit each territory. The envoy differs from year to year—sometimes a Feudal Lord, sometimes an Honorary Lord."
He leaned back, smiling knowingly.
"Arnold Territory and my lands are both far from the Royal Capital. Most Feudal Lords don't want to travel to such remote places. If the envoy is an Honorary Lord… things become much easier."
Ron immediately understood.
So that's the meaning of "the mountains are high and the emperor is far away."
No matter what the Royal Palace demands, only a portion is ever delivered—and the rest is… handled privately.
Seeing Ron's expression brighten, Viscount Gordon's eyes shone with approval. "Good. Now listen well. I'll teach you how to deal with Feudal Lords and Honorary Lords. These are the methods I've refined through many years."
Ron respectfully poured tea. "Please advise me, Uncle."
—
The two spoke deep into the night, and Ron absorbed everything like a sponge. Although Viscount Gordon treated him kindly, that kindness was paired with a shrewd, seasoned mind. His methods were subtle, precise, and full of old-fox wisdom—Ron was thoroughly impressed.
He now felt no fear about future tax audits.
Raise the rate all you want. If I hand over even one extra copper coin, I lose.
—
By late night, a servant led Ron to his room.
"Baron, this will be your chamber. My name is Babel; I will stand guard outside. Please call me if you need anything."
Ron entered, collapsed onto the soft bed, and exhaled.
"A strange twist of fate—and I end up receiving valuable guidance as a guest. I really should thank Viscount Gordon."
Earlier, he had already taken the chance to examine Gordon's trait entries.
The first was self-explanatory: water magic talent.
The second one was particularly impressive—Ron even felt it surpassed most other green entries.
[Many Children, Many Blessings (Green): The more direct descendants, the greater the accumulated blessings. Current Blessing Value: 2]
Viscount Gordon currently had two children, so two blessing points.
Ron wondered, half-seriously, if he should encourage the viscount and viscountess to… increase production.
He's so good to me. I ought to repay him somehow…
With such absurd thoughts drifting around, Ron fell asleep.
—
Morning.
"Lord, please wash up."
Veronica stood by his bedside with a basin. Ron took the towel and casually asked, "Where are Sig and the others? Did they behave yesterday?"
"Sir Sig and the knights are sparring with the viscount's knights. There were no incidents," Veronica replied, retrieving the towel and folding it neatly.
"Oh? Let's go see."
Ron was surprised. Given they all suspected Viscount Gordon, he fully expected someone—especially Sig—to start trouble.
Perhaps Thomas managed to rein them in?
They soon arrived at a large training yard, where a ring of knights watched an intense duel. Thomas's voice boomed across the field.
"Sig! Get up! Don't lose to him! Don't embarrass the Lord!"
The atmosphere was lively. Ron quickened his pace.
In the ring, Sig faced a knight in his late twenties. The man spoke calmly, "You're young and already a Second-Order Knight. Your potential is high… but for now, you still cannot defeat me. Yield."
Wind swirled around him, gathering at his blade. With one thrust, it shot toward Sig like a compressed cyclone.
Sig, drained from earlier exchanges, knew he couldn't block it—but still raised his sword, refusing to retreat.
"Stop!"
A commanding voice cut through the arena.
The crowd parted as Viscount Gordon and Lady Tiffany approached.
"Viscount."
"Lord."
Everyone saluted. The two duelists sheathed their swords.
But Viscount Gordon ignored them. He instead approached Ron with a warm smile. "I sent a servant to summon you, nephew, yet here you are watching the fun so early."
Only now did the knights realize Ron had been standing behind them. A wave of embarrassment swept over Sig and the others—Sig especially felt crushed. The Lord had witnessed his defeat yet again.
"Uncle, if you needed me, you could've sent a servant. There was no need to come personally," Ron said lightly.
Tiffany chuckled. "Baron Arnold is leaving soon. He must be reluctant to depart, so he came to stay a little longer. Even my two children were never so affectionate."
Viscount Gordon forced a polite smile. "My lady loves to tease."
Ron offered a diplomatic smile.
"Nephew, since you'll be setting off soon, I'll assign another squad of knights to escort you."
He clearly wasn't reassured. A dozen strong knights were selected—among them the very man who had just defeated Sig.
—
After a brief breakfast, Ron bid farewell to Viscount Gordon and resumed his journey—now with thirteen additional elite knights.
The days passed quickly. Staying in inns meant Ron experienced none of the "fun" of outdoor adventuring.
They crossed paths with several roadside bandits, but upon seeing more than ten armored knights, the bandits immediately stepped aside, opening the road without a word.
Thus, without any major disturbance, Ron and his entourage reached the Royal Capital of the Carlo Kingdom.
Darren, the leader of the escort squad, stepped forward. "Baron Arnold, we will remain in the city until your business is concluded. Then we will escort you home. We've also delivered a letter to Young Master Michelle—he will contact you shortly."
Ron nodded. "Thank you for everything."
Darren bowed. "It was our duty. We'll secure lodging and notify you once it's arranged. I wish you a smooth visit, Baron."
The rest of the squad saluted in unison, then departed.
Thomas watched them go with mixed emotions.
Along the way, he had deeply admired these knights—not only for their strength and discipline, but for the noble bearing they carried effortlessly.
When we return, I must speak with Captain Abel. Our discipline needs serious fixing.
Ron then turned to Marvin, handing him a document.
"Marvin, go to the Royal Palace and submit the investiture application."
"Yes, Lord." Marvin accepted it and immediately departed.
With official matters handled, Ron finally had a moment to take in the magnificent sights of the Royal Capital.
_____________________
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