114 Gamble in the Capital
For any noble who frequently interacted with high-ranking figures, having a steward was not a luxury—it was a necessity.
"? A steward?"
Hans blinked rapidly, staring at William as if he had misheard.
The sheer absurdity of the suggestion left him montarily speechless.
"You're not joking, are you?"
"Why would I joke about this? I personally requested your training."
"But—but stewards are always nobles! I'm just a commoner!"
"I know. That's why I'll elevate you to nobility later."
Hans' eyes widened to an almost comical degree.
Nobility? Without even earning battlefield rit?
"W-Wait, is that even possible?"
"If you have the title, yes. A count or higher can elevate a commoner to the rank of baronet. Of course, there are limits on how often they can do this per generation, so they can't hand out promotions recklessly."
In other words, as long as a noble had the authority, they could grant noble status to a subordinate at will.
The reason it was typically reserved for battlefield promotions was twofold.
First, it ensured that only those who had proven themselves worthy were elevated.
Second, if the newly titled noble wasn't recognized by their peers, they would be treated no differently than a lucky commoner—making the promotion aningless.
"If you were aiming for knighthood, recognition from others would be crucial. But a steward is different. As long as you retain the trust of the head of the family, nothing else matters."
Knights required external validation. A steward did not.
Their role was confined to managing the household and its affairs, making outside recognition irrelevant.
In fact, the more well-known a steward beca, the more suspicion they would attract within the family.
For a steward, trust from the head of the household was worth more than any fa or reputation.
"So, learn well. You'll be sleeping less, but if you want to continue assisting , you need to be trained properly."
"Y-Young Master…"
Hans' throat tightened.
He had feared that William was beginning to outgrow him—that he was being left behind.
But instead, his master had been thinking of his future all along, preparing a path for him to walk.
Regret for his mont of doubt and gratitude for the opportunity mixed together, making it hard for him to speak.
After a long pause, Hans finally bowed his head deeply.
"I will never—never—disappoint you. I'll learn everything properly and make sure I'm of real help to you. Please wait for ."
"I expect nothing less. But don't push yourself too hard. If you collapse before you even finish training, that'll just make my life harder."
William's voice was light, but Hans took his words to heart.
His master was soaring higher and higher.
And if he wanted to keep up, he would have to run with everything he had.
Unlike before, William's journey to the capital was accompanied by only a single escort—Raymond.
Even considering Raymond's skill as a Black Lion, it was an unusually small entourage.
But neither the Grand Duke nor William was particularly concerned.
Partly because the capital was close.
But more importantly—
'Who in their right mind would dare cause trouble on the road to the capital? They'd have to be insane.'
On one end was Kelheim, the heart of House Hern.
On the other was the Imperial Capital itself.
The two were connected by a well-maintained highway, lined with relay stations and military outposts at regular intervals.
Any attack on this road would be t with imdiate and rciless retaliation from both the Grand Duke's forces and the Imperial Guard.
To disrupt this route was to court execution.
Even Raymond, who was usually cautious, had to admit it.
"In terms of safety, the road to the capital is actually safer than the capital itself. At least here, we don't have to deal with pickpockets, con artists, and street thugs."
With that dry remark, the journey proceeded smoothly.
Before long, they reached a town on the outskirts of the capital.
It was larger than most villages, benefiting from its proximity to the Imperial City. Though not quite a city itself, it was wealthy enough to boast upscale inns and accommodations.
William wasted no ti securing a room.
"The best room you have. A double, not a single—I'll be sharing it with my escort."
"Understood, my lord! When would you like your al served?"
"After my bath. Prepare the water."
"Right away, sir! I'll have warm water ready at once!"
The innkeeper, well-practiced in dealing with nobles, responded with practiced deference.
Inside their room, Raymond suddenly spoke, as if he had just rembered sothing.
"I heard you're looking for soone in the capital. Who is it?"
"…An alchemist."
Raymond frowned.
"An alchemist? You an those guys who've been completely drained by the Imperial Family, left as nothing but empty husks? I doubt you'll find anything worthwhile."
William smirked at Raymond's blunt assessnt.
At this point in ti, the status of the Alchemist's Guild truly was pathetic.
"I'll give you so advice," he said. "Never say that in front of an alchemist. Their reputation is all they have left—insulting it will send them into a rage."
Raymond snorted.
"What are they going to do about it? Even the so-called black mages cast them aside as useless."
The term 'black mages' here did not refer to actual practitioners of dark magic.
Rather, it was a derogatory term for the rogue mages who had rebelled against the Empire three centuries ago.
The Alchemist's Guild had sided with the Imperial Family during that rebellion, ensuring their continued recognition as an official discipline.
The Guild often recounted this history with pride.
But most people only sneered at their so-called loyalty.
"They claim they were being loyal, but that's nonsense. The truth is, the other mages never saw them as equals. The only reason they sided with the Empire was because they had no choice."
Even in modern tis, proper mages regarded alchemists as re imitators—charlatans who lacked the talent to wield real magic and instead relied on potions to mimic it.
And during the rebellion, the renegade mages had completely ignored the alchemists, not even bothering to recruit them.
That alone spoke volus about their status.
"If they at least produced sothing useful, maybe people would respect them. But all they've done for centuries is leech off Imperial funding while contributing nothing of worth."
Raymond's voice was filled with open disdain.
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