Chapter One

At midnight, the study hall was still brightly lit.

The countless choppy sounds of people reciting their notes merged together, like ten thousand flies buzzing. The already stifling midsummer night became even more oppressive because of it. No one noticed that one of those buzzing voices was growing fainter and slower.

"Human nature is the sum of all social relations... rela... relations..."

His consciousness rapidly plunged into darkness. In his daze, he seemed to hear screams and shouts erupting around him. He wanted to tell them he was fine, to help him up so he could keep reciting, but that effort vanished in an instant along with his consciousness.

"I've been drifting through another world for ten years. Sometimes I miss the happy days of being a shut-in together~"

"Even if I could make people tremble and bow their heads in submission, I'd still miss home~"

Richard lay on a cart piled high with goods, humming a little tune no one could understand. A coarse handkerchief covered his face, shielding it from the blazing midday sun.

Before long, apparently finding the journey unbearably dull, he suddenly sat upright.

He was probably not yet twenty, but he was tall, well-built, and perfectly proportioned. A leather cuirass was fastened beneath a broad cowhide belt, while a pair of fine deerskin hunting boots and the longsword hanging at his side completed his lean, heroic bearing.

Unfortunately, the constant yawning and eye crust had somewhat damaged that bearing.

"Hey, you there. Tell your master the truth. Exactly when are we reaching that, that..."

"Corun." The driver, already accustomed to this strange traveler's memory, supplied the answer. "My lord, you can already see Corun's walls."

Richard perked up and turned his head to gaze into the distance along the road.

At the end of the hazy horizon, where the sky met the earth, a thin ocher line gradually grew larger as the cart approached. It was the distant city wall.

"Faster!"

The caravan, which had been traveling through the wilderness for nearly a week, was eager for the city's bustle as well. The sound of hooves suddenly grew denser. An hour later, all of Corun's splendor unfolded before Richard's eyes.

This was a mighty city renowned throughout the Pompey Empire. Its original designer had taken considerable pains, slightly altering and dredging the river that passed through the area to turn it into a natural moat.

The architecture of the Northeastern Province was plainer than that of the south. The walls bore few extra decorations. Only banners bearing an eagle and crossed swords fluttered listlessly from the flagpoles—the emblem of Corun's ruling Augustus Family.

Yet the towering walls, built from massive stones and reaching fifteen blades in height, were enough to make it worthy of the title "mighty city."

A long line had formed before the city gate. There were local commoners as well as desert caravans driving camels, clearly showing that commerce was flourishing. Two soldiers in silver armor and carrying long halberds guarded a waist-high wooden chest, collecting entrance taxes of varying amounts from each person.

When it was Richard's turn—

"I'm a noble." With a smug grin, he pulled a badge from his money pouch and flashed it. A wave of envious yet fearful looks followed, and the caravan's two-gold entrance tax was waived just like that.

The tax soldiers reluctantly moved aside. The wheels creaked as the cart entered the gate passage and soon emerged from the other side.

"My lord." The caravan manager approached with a broad smile, holding a small cask of expertly brewed dark rye beer. "We owe you our thanks for looking after us on the road."

He had picked up this strange traveler in the Southern Province. The traveler had openly declared himself a noble and offered to help the caravan avoid the road taxes. The manager had not believed him at first. What noble would do such a thing?

But the facts proved that Richard had been telling the truth. They had saved at least ten gold coins in taxes along the way.

Richard accepted the beer, glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then rubbed his index and middle fingers together against his thumb.

The Pompey Empire was full of varied customs and local traditions across its northern, southern, eastern, and western regions, some of them completely different. But the meaning of this gesture was understood throughout the empire—money.

"What are you doing?" The manager stared at Richard in confusion.

"What am I doing? What else could I be doing? A handling fee!" Richard slapped a palm against the wagon. The thick oak board cracked, leaving a blurry palm-shaped dent. "You saved ten gold coins in road taxes and thought you could fob me off with a single cask of beer?"

Commerce could not create goods, and virtuous people ought to treat it with caution, much less profit from it. A down-and-out knight was still a noble, and the more down-and-out he was, the more he should care about his dignity. How was this behavior any different from that of a street thug?

The manager stared at Richard. His expression first showed confusion and disbelief, then transformed entirely into profound admiration.

He really ought to learn from the young people of today. No wonder he was already so old and could only be a manager! If he did not change his way of thinking, how could he ever own his own caravan?

He opened his mouth to say something, but after looking at the handprint on the wagon, he ultimately decided that silence was golden. He honestly counted out five gold coins from his money pouch and handed them over. "My lord, please take these."

"That's more like it." Richard snatched them up and turned to leave.

"Wait!" The manager suddenly called after him.

"What?"

"That beer is mine." He snatched the wooden cask away with a vicious glare.

Richard was sprinting down Corun's broad streets with one hand on his sword.

His destination was Noble's Estate, the institution responsible for administering the fiefs of nobles throughout the province.

The place was easy to find. From any corner of the city, one only had to look up and turn around to see Noble's Estate's soaring dome. It was a relic left behind by the ancients. Modern Pompeians rarely built structures so tall anymore.

Some said it was because doing so was economically unfeasible. Others said the exquisite geometric algorithms required had long since been lost. Still others claimed it was because the lord of Noble's Estate had been born without a certain part, and had forbidden any taller buildings from stealing the limelight.

Richard privately leaned toward the last possibility.

Regardless, the building standing atop a six-story base was unquestionably the most magnificent structure in Corun City.

Twenty-four granite pillars extended symmetrically on either side of the main entrance, supporting a massive bread-shaped arched dome. Between the ends of the pillars were epic narrative reliefs depicting stories from the ancient era of Nero's Rebellion.

Suspended above the main entrance was a bronze mermaid statue two blades tall (one blade equaled one meter), holding scales in her left hand and a codex in her right. One glance was enough to tell that it had been made by a master. Every detail was exquisite, and it seemed almost alive.

Richard walked toward the main entrance. The moment he stepped onto the first stair of the base, a male servant with green eyes jogged over to greet him, wearing a standard smile that showed eight teeth.

"Sir, this is Noble's Estate."

The servant's tactful reminder conveyed two meanings: if you were a noble, you had come to the right place; if you were not, you should take the hint and leave at once.

"Richard Orlando. I've come regarding a fief." Richard took two crumpled pieces of parchment from his pig-bladder money pouch.

The green-eyed servant accepted them and carefully checked the documents and signatures, paying particular attention to the seal at the bottom.

The corner of Richard's mouth curved slightly, as if in concealed mockery.

For a swordsman, exceptional observation was a basic requirement. He noticed that the servant had subtly stiffened when he heard his name.

Servants working at Noble's Estate were sure to be the most highly trained. It was difficult to see any expression on their faces beyond a faint smile, so such a reaction could only mean that something had stirred within him.

Richard naturally knew why.