Baron Bisadas

The tall man jogged up to Punk and put on an utterly distorted noble servant's bow. Because he tried to bend lower, his inflexible burlap clothes actually creaked.

Obviously, he had only heard about such manners secondhand. He probably had never even seen a real noble servant bow.

Punk had no intention of acknowledging his absurd display of etiquette. He was not surprised that this man had recognized him as a mage; anyone who was not blind could see the glow on his robes. But the fellow's fawning act and abrupt approach displeased Punk greatly. He was on guard now, and anything that suddenly came close to him gave him the urge to attack.

"Re... respected Mage, this is Baron Bisadas's fief. What... what are your... your orders?"

The tall man seemed to sense Punk's displeasure. He took two small steps back and became even more timid.

"Take me to your baron!"

Half of Punk's face was hidden beneath the hood of his mage robe, making him look like a mysterious and noble mage.

The tall man seemed to want to ask something, but in the end, his throat merely twitched twice before he awkwardly squeezed out a warped reply.

"Please... please follow me, Mage."

Punk was somewhat surprised by that answer. Logically, a noble with the title of baron, even in a small kingdom, should have lived in a town, with dozens of surrounding villages making up his fief. Punk had expected the tall man to name a town, but judging from his reaction... this baron actually lived in this village.

Only after Punk questioned the tall man bit by bit, like squeezing toothpaste from a tube, did he learn that the baron's full name was Aiklan Bisadas. He was already over fifty years old, a fallen... no, a destitute minor noble. Punk also heard that he had once offended an "important person" and been suppressed as a result. Now, he possessed only three villages as his fief. His baronial manor stood on a small hill south of Moke Village, and the tall man was a servant of Baron Bisadas's household specifically responsible for managing the poor.

So he was just a ruined noble. Punk felt that he had overreacted. On the Faerun plane, any professional could theoretically speak as an equal with any noble, including kings. Although in reality, that "theory" was more or less affected by all kinds of factors, Punk was still a level-three Mage Apprentice, having advanced through constant meditation and spell practice along the way. A powerless, destitute baron posed no threat to him at all!

Still, he needed to think of a surname for himself. That was the only way to maintain his bearing, because in this world, only nobles and professionals were allowed to have surnames. Commoners were not.

Walking along the uneven dirt road through the countryside, Punk arrived at this clearly dilapidated "villa." Yet as he approached, his expression grew increasingly solemn. He could sense a professional of the same Apprentice Level inside that villa, even though its iron fence was rusted through.

After Punk said he no longer needed the tall man to lead the way, the man, who had been trembling all along from fear of the mysterious mage, left as though fleeing for his life. Punk could not help rubbing his smooth chin.

Was I really that scary?

Just as Punk was about to knock on the baron's iron gate with his staff, the house's front door suddenly burst open. A figure clad in steel armor, carrying a knight's shield and lance on his back, leaped from the doorway and sailed more than ten meters through the air, landing precisely outside the iron fence. With a crisp clash of armor, dust spread from where the knight landed!

"Whoa, a rare ma~ge! In a dump like th~is, there's actually a professional other than me? That's just too~ unbelievable!"

After saying that, he casually kicked away a clod of dirt, raising another small cloud of dust.

This knight who had "sprung out" was a blond youth. He looked roughly the same size as Punk, but despite wearing a set of visibly heavy knight armor, he appeared utterly effortless.

This sudden appearance made Punk almost instinctively begin constructing the spell model for the Apprentice Level conjuration spell—Lesser Haste—within his soul. He only paused when he saw that the unhinged knight made no further hostile moves.

Punk examined the surrounding terrain and found that the knight had landed in an open space where he could advance to attack or retreat to defend. If that landing spot had not been a coincidence... then he was definitely not as unreliable as he appeared!

"Kane, is this how you welcome a guest who has come from afar? What happened to the noble etiquette I taught you?"

A middle-aged man leaning on a cane walked out from the doorway. His golden hair was combed into an impeccably neat style, every strand lying perfectly in place, forming a stark contrast to the disheveled blond locks fluttering around the youth beside him. He wore an old-fashioned gray formal suit, with the fringe at its edges hanging neatly toward the ground.

The middle-aged man strode out of the doorway and performed a noble bow with a standard motion that seemed carved from a mold.

"I am Baron Aiklan Bisadas. My unruly eldest son, Kane, has made a spectacle of himself before you."

"Hey, hey, how am I unruly? This look is super~ cool, all right..."

The blond youth, Kane, immediately began protesting noisily. Only after the baron glared at him did he mutter a few words and fall silent.

"I am Punk Sian, a traveling mage. I was planning to visit a nearby city and see the sights."

Punk returned a mage's salute that was equally flawless. He had not forgotten to keep an eye on the seemingly unreliable knight. The baron's assessment of his son contained no rebuke at all; instead, it was filled with pride.

These father and son were probably playing good cop and bad cop, trying to throw me off balance. Little did they know, people had worn that trick out back on Earth.

As he thought, Punk said calmly,

"It is no matter. I can see that your eldest son is quite... 'lively.'"

Needle against wheat awn—neither gave an inch.

Punk was quite annoyed by Kane's suddenly aggressive, provocative entrance. Now, he could use the baron's own words to return the favor.

"You brat, you're only a few years older than me, and that smug face of yours is just too~ infuriating!"

Kane's body language was clearly very expressive. As he waved his arms around, his heavy armor clattered crisply, making it look as though he was about to rush forward and fight. Yet Punk could sense that the battle energy within him had actually calmed down.

"Haha, young people are so full of spirit."

In the end, the baron expertly seized the moment to laugh things off.

"If you do not mind, please stay and sample our simple fare. The wheat of Moke Village is exceptionally fragrant, you know."

"Then I shall gratefully accept your hospitality."

Since the other side had shown goodwill, Punk did not mind showing some sincerity in return. He still needed to obtain information about traveling to the city from the baron. With neither side holding a significant advantage in strength, it was necessary to sit down for a "friendly" conversation. Besides, Punk had already determined through system analysis that Kane was also a level-three professional. With no conflict of interest, there was no need to start a dispute lightly. And Punk was rather curious: how had a professional appeared in such a remote backwater, especially a knight, whose rarity was second only to that of mages?