In the blink of an eye, it was sunday. Hobart woke early and stared blankly at the unfamiliar ceiling for a while.
Even now, Hobart still found the experiences of the past week somewhat surreal. He had gone from being a lawyer to a baron, from a financially comfortable Backlund tycoon to a nobleman who would spend 50 Gold Lire in two months even if he did nothing but eat and drink.
Hobart sighed and struggled out of bed. He was quite busy today. After breakfast, he took a carriage to the royal palace. He had submitted a request to return to his fief yesterday, and expected to receive a reply this morning.
Nobles had to report to the king when returning to their fiefs. If they also held official positions, they had to report their work in person to the king and prime minister, and could only leave after both agreed.
Hobart held no position, so he could leave immediately as long as the king approved.
If he wanted to return to the capital, he had to submit an application to the king in advance and could only return after the king approved it, unless the king summoned him back.
However, these formalities were basically just for show now. Many nobles would have their servants submit applications when they were almost at the capital already, and the king's Court Earl would generally approve them by the next day.
When he arrived at the palace and made inquiries, he found that it had indeed already been approved. The king did not concern himself with such trivial matters. It was probably the Court Earl handling this official business.
Next, Hobart took his baron-standard carriage to Christine's residence to bid farewell to Christine and Doffis.
Christine reminded him, "Once you go to