For a noble, a steward is a presence that indirectly symbolizes one's own status.
A son who has yet to inherit the family, or a low-ranking minor noble, has no real need to employ a steward.
The caliber of guests they receive is low enough that ordinary servants are more than sufficient.
But once one's status rises and dealings with powerful figures begin, the situation changes.
'Because mistakes are bound to happen at the insurmountable wall between commoners and nobles.'
As status rises, the etiquette one must observe naturally becomes far more exacting.
From simple greetings to the terminology to be used, from the posture taken when withdrawing to soundless footsteps—
no matter how experienced a servant may be, there is no way to know such details without specialized training.
'In the worst case, mishandling a guest of higher status than one's master could lead to serious trouble. Whether retainer or servant, those a lord employs are, in effect, the lord's own face…'
What was needed in such circumstances was a steward.
A hired attendant, usually from a lower noble family, thoroughly trained in etiquette and possessing a basic understanding of politics.
Because they were well-versed in noble affairs, as long as they were trustworthy, they could handle most emergencies.
If one frequently met high-ranking nobles, employing a steward was practically essential.
"Young Master. Me, a steward? What are you talking about all of a sudden? Isn't there some kind of misunderstanding?"
Hans blinked blankly for a long moment at Lucian's words, then asked again in disbelief.
He looked so shocked that it seemed he wondered if he had misheard something.
"What do you mean, mistaken? I told you—I personally asked for you to receive steward training."
"But steward is a job only nobles do, isn't it? I'm a commoner."
"I know. That's why I'll have you promoted to the nobility later."
Hans's eyes widened as if they might split open.
Being raised to the nobility without even earning merit on the battlefield?
"Is… is that even possible?"
"As long as there's a title, it is. From the rank of count upward, one can elevate a commoner to the rank of quasi-baron. There's a limit to how many promotions can be granted per generation, so it can't be abused."
In other words, even without any achievements, a count-ranked noble could promote someone if they so wished.
The reason promotions were usually granted only after battlefield merit came down to two things.
First, it was proof that the person was truly a talent.
Second, without recognition from those around them, they wouldn't be treated as a noble anyway.
No matter how much one was promoted, if everyone continued to see them as nothing more than a lucky commoner, the elevation would be meaningless.
"Well, that's a rule that mainly applies among knight-nobles. For a steward glued right to the Clan Lord's side, it doesn't really matter."
Knights needed public recognition, but a steward only needed to retain the Clan Lord's trust.
In the first place, what use was outside recognition to someone whose job was to manage household affairs?
If they gained fame and attracted attention, it would only invite suspicion within the clan.
For a steward, the lord's trust was hundreds of times more important than any such pointless fame.
"So learn properly. You'll be sleeping a bit less, but if you want to keep helping me in the future, you need to learn this now."
"Y-Young Master…"
At Lucian's smile, Hans felt a lump rise in his throat.
He had thought his master was forgetting him—but instead, Lucian was even planning to raise him to the nobility.
A choking mix of guilt for having doubted his master and deep emotion at such undeserved treatment tightened Hans's throat.
When he finally managed to speak, he bowed deeply.
"I will never—never—disappoint you. I'll learn properly and make sure I become a true help to you, Young Master. Please wait for me."
"I'll look forward to it. Just don't push yourself too hard. If you collapse before you finish learning, that would put me in a bind."
Lucian answered lightly, but Hans was utterly sincere.
To keep up with a master who was soaring ever higher, he too would have to run with everything he had.
****
Unlike usual, Lucian's escort to the capital consisted of only one person: Raymond.
Even considering that Raymond was a member of the Black Lions, it was an exceptionally small detail.
Yet neither the Archduke nor Lucian himself was particularly concerned.
The distance was short, and more importantly, the public order was excellent.
'Who in their right mind would mess with the road from Kelheim to the capital?'
One end was the heart of the Archducal House of Valdeck, the other the imperial capital.
The two territories were connected by a well-maintained main road, complete with relay stations and guard posts at regular intervals.
Trying to ambush someone in the middle of such a road would be madness—if only to preserve the dignity of the Archducal House and the imperial family, summary execution would be likely.
"Honestly, if it's just about safety, the road to the capital is safer than the capital itself. Inside the capital you have con artists, pickpockets, and thugs—but out here, you don't even see those."
Raymond joked as they rode side by side, which said it all.
As expected, the journey was smooth, and before long Lucian and Raymond arrived at a town relatively close to the capital.
Perhaps because of its proximity, it wasn't quite a city, but for a town it was quite large, and even the inn was luxuriously appointed.
"Give us your best room. Since my escort will be staying with me, make it a double, not a single."
"Yes, my lord! When would you like your meal served?"
"After we bathe. Prepare the water."
"Then I'll have the water heated right away!"
The innkeeper accepted Lucian's requests with practiced politeness.
Judging by how deftly he bowed and scraped, he had clearly dealt with noble guests many times before.
Raymond, who entered the room with Lucian, spoke as if something had just occurred to him.
"Come to think of it, I heard you're heading to the capital to find someone. Who is it you're looking for?"
"An alchemist."
"…What? An alchemist? Aren't those guys nothing but empty shells after the imperial family sucked all their secrets dry? You won't get anything out of them even if you go."
At Raymond's blunt assessment, Lucian gave a wry smile.
At this point in time, that really was about the standing of the Alchemists' Guild.
"I'm just saying this in case—don't talk like that in front of alchemists. They've got nothing left but their pride now, and if you trample even that, they'll snap."
"So what if they snap? They're the ones even the dark mages threw away as useless."
By "dark mages," Raymond wasn't referring to true practitioners of dark magic, but to the mages who had led the rebellion three hundred years ago.
Back then, the alchemists had sided not with the mages but with the imperial family, and thanks to that, they had managed to survive to the present day as a sanctioned school.
The Alchemists' Guild often boasted of this history, but most people responded with ridicule.
"The alchemists claim it proves how loyal they were, but that's all nonsense. The other mages never considered them the same kind to begin with, so they had no choice but to cling to the imperial family. Loyalty, my foot."
Mages regarded alchemists as "talentless hacks who only imitate magic with potions," and looked down on them accordingly.
Even now, when the standing of mages had fallen considerably after the rebellion, this attitude persisted—so one could imagine how much worse it had been in the age when mages reigned supreme.
It was said that not even the rebel mages had ever invited the alchemists to join their uprising, which spoke volumes about how they were treated.
"Even if nothing else, if they were at least of some help to the world, people might acknowledge them—but they're not even that. They've been living off imperial support for centuries without doing anything, so they deserve every bit of criticism they get."
They couldn't improve the effects of existing potions, nor did they create anything new.
At best, all they did was refine already-invented potions to a higher purity.
On top of that, their manufacturing methods had long since been thoroughly extracted by the imperial family, so even if they vanished, it wouldn't cause any real trouble.
'It's strange—coming back to the old atmosphere after so long feels oddly uncomfortable.'
Lucian gave a wry smile at Raymond's grumbling.
At this point in time, Raymond's assessment of alchemists was spot-on.
A bunch of has-beens living idly off past glory.
And yet, that evaluation would be completely overturned in just a few months.
"You're not planning to hire an alchemist to develop some new miracle elixir or something, are you?"
"Of course not, so don't worry. I have no intention of investing in something with no real chance of success."
At Raymond's skeptical look, Lucian answered sincerely.
What Lucian wanted was a daring genius of the century—not a coward mired in complacency.
And just as Raymond had said, the vast majority of current alchemists belonged firmly to the latter category.
"Besides, the guild would be far better equipped to develop new elixirs anyway. If they couldn't do it there, then it's over."
"Exactly. With all that imperial funding and those fine facilities, what on earth are they even doing?"
"But no matter how rotten an organization is, there must be at least a few people with a spirit of adventure left. Let's start by going to the guild and—"
Crash! Bang!
—"What kind of ridiculous nonsense is that?!"
A loud, angry voice rose from below, cutting Lucian off mid-sentence.
It sounded as though some sort of trouble had broken out downstairs.
"Sounds like something's going on. Did some hot-tempered noble show up?"
"Shall we go take a look?"
"Let's. If we leave it like this, there's no telling when it'll end."
At times, a noble's pride could easily lead to extreme confrontations.
Left alone, such situations tended to escalate rather than calm down.
If possible, it was best for someone of higher status to step in and settle things before that happened.
'I'd rather not reveal my status if I can help it, but it's better than getting dragged into something troublesome by trying to hide it.'
Just in case, Lucian took his weapon with him and headed downstairs.
***
"Why the hell can't you accept it?! Do you have any idea how much this item is worth?!"
"How would I know, sir? I've barely ever even used potions properly."
"Then ask someone else! If you sell it, it'll cover a month's lodging at least!"
"Even if you say that, I've never sold something like this before…"
Lucian spotted the innkeeper, cold sweat dripping down his face as he dealt with the guest.
The customer shouting in his face was waving a potion bottle around right under his nose.
From the sound of it, the man was trying to use the potion as payment instead of coin.
"You blind fool! This potion contains moon sugar, powdered pearl, and even silk scales! Materials you'll never touch in your lifetime!"
At those words, Lucian and Raymond exchanged glances.
That was practically a declaration that he had made the potion himself.
And each of the ingredients he named was, without exception, extremely expensive.
There was only one profession capable of procuring materials of that caliber and brewing a potion with them.
"That man must be from the Alchemists' Guild."
"They say speak of the beast and it appears."
With a wry smile, Lucian approached the two locked in their argument.
The man looked like a has-been at first glance, but if he belonged to the guild, he would possess inside information.
Hearing from an insider before even reaching the capital wasn't a bad idea.
"All right, let's stop here and calm down. Forcing the issue won't lead to anything good."
"Who are you to butt into someone else's business—"
The alchemist, who had been about to snap, quickly softened his tone after taking in Lucian's attire.
It wasn't particularly flashy, but he seemed to recognize the quality of the materials.
"It looks like you need money for lodging. I'll cover it for you. In exchange, would you tell me a little about alchemy? From the sound of things, you seem quite knowledgeable in the field."
"Ah-hem, well… if you insist…"
Perhaps thinking there was nothing to gain from continuing to make a scene, the alchemist backed down.
When Lucian placed a few gleaming gold coins into the innkeeper's hand, the man practically folded at the waist.
"Thank you! Thank you so much, my lord!"
"That's enough. Bring our meal up to the second floor. I'll cover this gentleman's share as well, so don't worry about it."
"Yes! I'll bring it right away! As for the bathwater—"
"Later."
After dismissing the innkeeper, Lucian led the alchemist up to the second floor.
Once the surrounding gazes disappeared, the alchemist cleared his throat repeatedly.
"Ahem. So, what is it you want to know about alchemy?"
Seeing the alchemist plunge straight into the matter without even a word of thanks, Lucian let out a small chuckle.
It was amusing—he must have been telling himself, This is a transaction, so I don't owe him anything, just to preserve his pride.
"Let's at least introduce ourselves first. We don't even know each other's names yet."
"That's true enough. I'm Haide. Haide Fobor. And your name?"
The moment he heard the answer, the smile froze on Lucian's face.
Across all of his past life, there was only one alchemist's name he remembered.
'The developer of Nektar—Haide Fobor.'
The man standing before him was introducing himself with that very name, the one spoken of in legend.
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