As soon as those words dropped, the entire honors ritual hall erupted in a wave of shocked commotion.
A countship?!
Wait a minute—wasn't this Nigel Charles just a regular nobody, according to the records?
Most people spend a lifetime striving, racking up accomplishments year after year, just to hopefuly earn a title this high. And this guy, this young, fresh face, gets a countship as his starting point?
Off in the lounge to the side, Arnold Abinson and the other honored recipients who had already finished the ceremony instantly sat bolt upright, eyes flashing with uncontainable jealousy.
Down on the first floor, the city's socialites looked at each other, then their eyes began burning with fierce ambition.
If he can do it, then why not me?
Up on the second floor, Anno's bright eyes went wide as she clapped a hand over her gaping mouth. Then she grabbed her father's arm and bounced in her seat, nearly bursting: "Dad, it's a countship! He's been directly made a count! Lady Laeral must really like him!"
Grant frowned slightly. He could hear that his future son-in-law was favored, but cutting straight to a countship… Wouldn't that stir up massive backlash from the nobility?
He wasn't sure. A quick glance at the nobles' expressions all around him filled his heart with unease and worry.
In the waiting room, Charles was just as stunned. After Arnold's talk, he hadn't dared hope for anything more than a barony—yet here he was, turning count.
Was it that the Empire of Sein's titles had tanked in value, or had his own achievements truly been that astounding?
He couldn't tell. Getting a title this high, this easily, made him question the actual "weight" of the honor—would the promised rights and privileges really hold up?
Yeesh… With a countship that means a huge fief; that could be hundreds of square kilometers, a whole little city…
Wait, could he convert that land into monastery territory for himself?
His mind spun with possibilities—until he quickly pulled himself together, straightened his collar, and strode out of the waiting room toward Vajra.
Technically, this was his and Vajra's first face-to-face meeting in this world; as Charles approached, even he couldn't help but be impressed by her.
That tiefling skin was dark, but not rough or inky—more like smooth, dark chocolate, with a sheen that almost made one hungry just looking at it.
Not surprising, though: every legendary-class powerhouse, upon reaching that status, would first pick the blessing of unaging immortality—their features and form forever stopping at their peak. From that moment, they'd only become greater, never weaker.
Vajra was no exception: smooth black skin, deep crimson eyes, striking features, and those amber horns crowning her head—her exotic beauty was impossible to miss.
But as Charles was sizing up Vajra, she too was assessing him. Even someone as worldly as Blackstaff had to admit he was striking—and she started to understand why Anno had fallen so hard for this young man.
Not that it mattered. If it had been fifty years ago, I might have had feelings for someone so promising. Now, I've locked all that away—nothing stirs me anymore.
But all those thoughts happened in a heartbeat. Charles bent down on one knee before her, on the ceremonial stone step, as she solemnly took the badge from the silver tray and officially declared:
"By the will of His Majesty… you are hereby named Count."
She leaned forward, draping the badge around his neck, then stood tall and tapped his shoulder lightly with Blackstaff.
Charles couldn't help but sneak another look at the famed artifact, mental gears whirring as its legendary powers flashed to mind.
Basically, besides all the "standard" legendary functions, this thing did two big things.
First: it contained the records of every 10th-level spell in history, and when you cast them, the cost was absorbed by the Goddess of Magic herself—or at least, it used to be; now, it's still a game-changer for any legendary mage, letting you sling 10th-level spells without study or research, just at will.
Practically puts you on par with a demigod.
Second: it was also a key, opening a demi-plane created by the Goddess of Magic, with eight giant fifty-meter-tall adamantine golems inside.
When Liberl Port is under attack, those eight colossi could be unleashed anywhere around the city's outskirts to annihilate any invaders.
Only problem…
Like every tide of steel in history, nothing could stop the rot and decay that always begins from within.
Those thoughts flashed through Charles's mind, but on the surface he was calm, listening as Vajra finished her statement, then turned and followed the attendant out of the hall.
The majordomo on the dais was already calling the next name, and Charles, guided by an attendant, was led through another door into a smaller lounge.
Here, where the other honorees might have been joking or celebrating, a heavy silence prevailed. As Charles entered, every gaze shot his way—some shocked, some envious, some flat-out jealous, and even a few brimming with outright anger, as if this ceremony had been rigged.
But Charles was the picture of serenity. Sure, it was a high title—but if anyone deserved it, he did.
Honestly, if you think it's unfair, go kill an Abyssal Lord yourself.
Unfazed, he met every gaze head-on. Soon, Owlin musician McCartney and half-orc Bronzer made their way over to offer congratulations, and Charles politely returned the well-wishes; but after everyone drifted off, his mind quickly wandered.
With the ennoblement finished, was it time for him to leave?
No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than a familiar figure began hurrying his way through the crowd.
Charles's eyes lit up—"Anno?"
Before he could finish, the girl rushed straight to his side, cheeks pink, blue eyes sparkling with excitement.
Charles drew her into a gentle hug. "Hey, what are you doing here? Aren't these halls supposed to be off-limits?"
Anno shook her head, grinning. "Not exactly, they just aren't that strict today."
She tipped her flushed face upward, voice bubbling with excitement. "Congratulations, darling! Going straight to a countship—how does it feel?"
Charles paused, recalling the moment—he was happy, but it wasn't the sort of thrill that would send him over the moon. He couldn't fully embrace the mindset of a native; nobility, at the end of the day, didn't instantly boost his power or flood him with Purification Points. At best, it might bring a little wealth and intelligence. So really…
But seeing Anno's glowing face, he couldn't rain on her parade. Instead, he nodded with a warm smile. "It feels great. But this is just a beginning—and now I can aim even higher."
Anno gazed at him with adoration, cheeks flushing deeper. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face to his chest, voice soft as velvet. "Dad and I saw it all. You looked so graceful—a true noble, through and through!"
Charles grinned, a little bashful. "Really? Well, I just hope your father didn't mind my performance."
He thought back—honestly, all he did was kneel on Vajra's step, and she handled the rest.
Guess Anno thinks everything I do looks good…
His nerves ticked up. "Hey—your dad's here, right?"
Anno nodded. "Yeah, want to meet him?"
Charles took a deep breath, resigning himself—no escaping this. Still, his smile was a bit strained. "Wish I'd known, so I could've brought a gift…"
Anno just squeezed his hand, leading him out. "Don't overthink it. Your presence is the best present!"
There was no wriggling out of it, so Charles let himself be led along.
Up in the gallery, Grant sat with his eyes closed, considering all possible repercussions. That high a title for Charles would definitely cause outrage among Liberl Port's nobility.
And then, what would Laeral Silverhand do?
Thinking it over, Charles had made a huge contribution—but he and Lady Laeral had no special bond.
If the nobles banded together to pressure Laeral Silverhand, there was no reason for her to stick her neck out for Charles's benefit.
But—now that the ennoblement was done publicly, the title couldn't be taken back. The most likely scenario? Charles would be "encouraged" to bleed for the city, asked for a whole lot more in return…
Grant opened his eyes again, worry shadowing his face.
He knew his fellow nobles all too well, and their greed was boundless. For Charles, keeping this title wouldn't be easy.
Just then, an elegantly dressed elderly woman in her sixties or seventies leaned forward from the seat behind him, addressing Grant: "Lady Laeral Silverhand has gone too far this time—granting such a high title to a mere commoner from the outset shames the entire nobility! What are we supposed to do when people believe just anyone can become noble?!"
Grant agreed inwardly. But, given this was his future in-law, he paused then said, "It's not so bad—as long we play up the Demon Lord angle. After all, this only happens once in decades, a rare exception, nobody else can use it as a precedent."
Seeing her expression, he quickly added, "In the end, it's Lady Laeral Silverhand's decision. Perhaps she foresaw something we can't understand. I trust her judgment."
The woman left it at that, retreating into her seat. Grant let out a troubled sigh, unsure how many more trials still lay ahead.
At that moment, Anno emerged from the crowd, Charles in tow. Seeing his daughter's shy smile, Grant listened as she said, "Dad, this is Nigel Charles."
She bowed her head, nudging Charles to speak. Meeting Grant's stern gaze, Charles mustered his courage: "Hello, sir. I'm Nigel Charles—Anno and I are together."
Grant's expression was extremely complicated. In these times, girls marrying at fifteen or sixteen was common, especially among nobility. But this was Anno—his brightest, most beloved star. He hadn't prepared himself for the thought of her leaving home… and probably never would.
He clenched his jaw, steaming inside, especially seeing Anno's blushing smile—but his training as a gentleman held. He managed a strained smile: "Impressive. To be granted a countship at your age is almost unheard of in recorded history. Keep it up—your future is boundless."
Charles was humble: "Thank you, sir. This is only step one; I know I've got a long journey ahead. I hope you'll help show me the way."
Anno sat Charles beside her, but with their backgrounds so different, the conversation drifted to politics and economics—criticizing the gold dragonborn nation for bullying smaller realms, roasting the Red Dragon-laden empire, and soon the three were chatting like old friends.
Meanwhile, behind them, other nobles were watching. The older lady from before turned and whispered to her neighbor, "So Grant's defending this Charles because he's the chosen son-in-law!"
Someone else piped up, "Think Grant pulled strings behind the scenes? Unless another great noble put in a word, I doubt Lady Laeral would knowingly break protocol to grant such a rank to a commoner."
Nods and agreement all around as speculation grew: "If it were me… well, Grant's gone too far, even to aid his son-in-law."
Another added, "Let's visit Lady Laeral Silverhand. We can't allow the sanctity of noble titles to be profaned like this."
All immediately agreed. A target united them—the greatest threat to the sacredness of nobility.
But we'll leave their muttering for now. The ritual was winding down. Waiters ushered everyone, nobles and socialites alike, out in an orderly fashion.
By then, it was nearly noon; the sunlight outside was comfortably warm. The Amcastra family's carriage had been waiting by the hall all morning, with the driver resting up top.
Grant glanced at the sky and suddenly spoke, "Charles, it's late already. Why don't you join us for lunch?"
Charles checked the time—he wanted to accept, but couldn't leave the nuns unsupervised back at the monastery. After a moment's hesitation, he gave Grant an apologetic look: "Thank you, but there's work at the monastery that calls for my attention."
Grant raised an eyebrow: "Oh? What is it?"
"Headquarters says there are a lot of non-compliances at the monastery that require correcting," Charles replied, "The inspector arrived just days ago and is at my place now."
Grant nodded understanding. "That is more important, indeed."
At that, Anno suddenly turned to Charles. "By the way, how's that new instructor training your battle nuns working out?"
Charles replied, "She's a Moon Elf—I didn't really ask why she traveled all this way to join the Church of the Goddess of Life, but she's strong, that's for sure."
"Only downside is, she doesn't use a shield, so she just plays the role of opponent in combat drills. They just started yesterday, so I'm not sure yet how effective she'll be."
Anno considered. "Hmm… Maybe I'll come with you and see how she's training your nuns?"
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