Wondering who these paladins were in this world, Victor sat down in a chair, and before him appeared a small cloud-like window, depicting a knight in exactly the same type of armor he himself had used.
The cloud contained a bunch of digits, but the core values were clearly distinguishable:
Strength: 4 (7)
Agility: 3 (5)
Intelligence: 10 (4)
Luck: 7 (3)
All his gear was highlighted in red, with a "-96%" label next to it.
Victor didn't fully understand what the bracketed numbers meant, but he guessed that the other values represented bodily attributes, while percentages referred to armor effectiveness being reduced by 96%.
While he pondered this, Lulu entered the library and cheerfully approached him. Recalling the cloud-like menu hovering before his face, he waved his hand, trying to disperse it.
— What's wrong with you? — the maid asked.
"It seems she can't see this. Apparently, only I can see it." Thinking this, he mentally attempted to dissolve the cloud, mimicking the act of removing his armor, and it indeed dissipated.
— Sorry, there was a fly buzzing around, — he replied, smiling at her.
— Young master, shall I serve dinner? — the petite maid inquired.
— Yes, please, — he answered, rising to head toward the dining hall, located in a distant wing of the mansion.
This entire mansion was like a palace, capable of accommodating at least a hundred guests comfortably.
After supper and a bath prepared for him, he retired to sleep.
The next morning, Lulu and two other maids awakened him early, already standing by with towels and ready to assist him.
Once finished, Victor stood before a polished copper mirror, where his reflection was barely discernible.
Mirrors in this world were copper sheets polished to shine, but trying to see finer details in them was pure folly.
After breakfast, he set off for the main mansion, and upon entering the building, he was escorted to his father, who sat in his office.
The count remained seated at his desk, busy writing, and only glanced up after half an hour.
— I want to inform you that henceforth, you will receive the title of baron and, immediately after the engagement, you will depart to your estate on the western frontier of the county, — the count announced, tossing his pen aside. — I expect no achievements from you, but don't cause me any problems. Your estate isn't ideal, but the territory is worthy of a viscount.
— Yes, Father, I appreciate your kindness, — Victor promptly replied.
In his mind, he searched for information about this territory. Western lands — arid and barren, where nothing flourished, save for the oceanfront. The catch was that maritime exploration here was nonexistent.
Its population numbered around five thousand serfs, ample for a comfortable life even for a viscount-level aristocrat. However, becoming a baron represented a severe demotion.
Born the son of a count, he had enjoyed a higher status than any low-ranking noble. But as a baron, nobody would care who his father was, since he was now relegated to a side branch of the family tree. Many other lower nobles in the county were somehow related to each other, meaning he was separated from the main line and leveled with the rest.
Yet this suited Victor fine. Living hundreds of miles from his father meant tranquility and no risk of exposing himself as a stranger from another world.
"From a regular guy on Earth to a nobleman here? There's plenty to rejoice about, not regret. It's like receiving a gift on a silver platter." Grinning to himself, he thought.
Following the count's departure from his desk, Victor followed suit. Exiting the office, they walked outside, where a carriage and forty knights in colorful armor awaited them.
Oddly, he could sense their auras, a feat exclusive to magi. Now, he too could detect them.
Radiating from them, the energy made him slightly gasp for air, but he masked his discomfort.
All knights rode enormous horses with monster blood coursing through their veins. One such beast could fetch a quarter of a baron's territory. Owning fifty was restricted to the highest nobility. No other aristocrat could afford such costs, as maintaining each horse annually cost as much as supporting a commoner's family for a year.
These horses fed on magical grass cultivated by alchemists, priced astronomically since the potions used for growth were manufactured by the alchemists themselves. Monsters naturally thrived only on lands saturated with dark magic. Across the kingdom, such horses numbered no more than two thousand.
Servants and the butler stood at the exit, while a knight held the carriage door open.
Boarding the coach, the knight loudly commanded departure, and the carriage rumbled into motion beneath the rhythmic beat of hooves.
— Forgive me, Victor, — the count suddenly spoke, — I cannot do more for you. I loved your mother deeply, but I cannot allow a man without mana to lead our family.
Victor's mind blanked for a moment, but quickly recovering, he delved into his memories, searching for insights into his relationship with his father.
Tragically, he found nothing meaningful. Until he was six, his father had been absent, either on expeditions or immersed in county affairs.
A tight knot formed in his chest, mingling sorrow, joy, and nostalgia.
First, he realized the soul of the previous owner had stirred at the words of the man before him. Perhaps this was what the former self had yearned for all his life: recognition from the only relative in this world.
— I understand, Father, and thank you for everything you've done, — Victor replied, calming himself. — You made the right choice; Andros will bring glory to our family.
Alexander Shermanin gazed at his worthless son with surprise, aware that he too was constrained by circumstances tied to the child's lack of mana.
— Don't expect anything from this marriage; all you need is official union. Later, you can marry whoever you wish, — the count repeated.
Victor's patience was already fraying, but he merely nodded, listening passively.
They continued their journey in silence. Reaching the duchy's territory would require traversing nearly 1,200 kilometers, even with demon-blood horses racing at speeds upwards of 80 km/h and a magic-reinforced carriage. Arrival in a single day was unrealistic, so they stopped overnight in neighboring counties.
Invitations for such occasions were distributed in advance, and their accommodation was prepared in guest mansions, with banquets organized each evening.
Setting off early the next morning, this routine repeated three more times until they finally reached the duchy's borders.
Up until now, Victor had imagined his father's residence as lavish, but this place exceeded his wildest dreams.
The duke's palace stood five stories tall, studded with windows facing every direction. Near the entrance, a small fountain graced the forecourt, its centerpiece a crystal suspended in midair, casting waves through its pool of water with magic.
Leading the welcoming delegation was an elegant young lady accompanied by her attendant.
Victor immediately inferred this must be his future bride, given the customs of this society.
A duke would never greet a visitor of lower status, regardless of familial ties, even if he loved his brother dearly.
Sending a family member—son or daughter—to welcome guests was acceptable etiquette, signifying respect.
When the carriage halted, a knight opened the door, allowing the count to descend first, followed by Victor.
— Good afternoon, your grace, — the count greeted the young lady, executing a deep bow, which Victor mirrored.
Protocol escaped him; he simply copied his father's actions.
— Welcome, Count Shermanin, — the girl replied in a gentle, melancholic tone.
Unlike them, she inclined her head only slightly, extending courtesy beyond the norm.
She cast a glance at Victor, who promptly introduced himself, bowing once more.
— Welcome, Baron Victor, — she nodded, conveying that he should be grateful she acknowledged his existence. — My name is Sylvia Lemoville; I am honored to greet you.
— It is an honor for me, your grace, — Victor replied.
Only now did he properly appraise her.
Shorter than him by a head, her figure was sculpted like a goddess', with golden hair flowing like liquid sunlight. Indeed, it wasn't exaggeration; her locks gleamed gold under the rays, captivating those around her.
Bright blue eyes sparkled, mirroring the splashes of water in the fountain. Her delicate features, like a sculpture carved with precision, complemented her straight nose and lips so tempting they magnetized the gaze.
Caught off guard, Victor almost licked his lips, but she either missed it or chose to ignore it.
Guided by her invitation, they entered the palace and were led to a salon, where she seated them on a couch and informed them her father would soon arrive, then departed.
Until now, Victor hadn't given her much thought during their travels. Banquet rumors painted her as destined for the kingdom's second prince, but the engagement had been annulled, and no one knew why.
He suspected the answer lay in her mana, but from the same rumors, he learned she still sought encounters with the prince, often contriving reasons to speak with him at balls and banquets.
Reflecting on these tidbits, he unconsciously felt disturbed. Perhaps it was normal here, but he came from another world.
If she were to consort with another man after their engagement, he doubted he could tolerate such humiliation.
Who wants their partner consorting elsewhere? Even if it were triple-standard practice, he found himself growing jealous of a girl he'd just met, and competing with a prince was beyond his means.
If he could harness the powers of a paladin, he might rise significantly in this world, but a philandering wife would become his lasting stain.
Subconsciously, he clenched his fists, and moments later, the salon doors opened, admitting a tall, robust man.
Two meters tall, he wore a ceremonial white uniform with a baldric, sporting a sword obviously embedded with magical stones, its pommel glowing with a fiery gemstone.
Sharing the same golden hair as the girl, he sported a square-jawed face with wide-set blue eyes, a slightly aquiline nose, and thin lips. His thick eyebrows, like swords, completed his fierce and dominant appearance.
From what Victor knew, unlike his father, who was at the apex of golden knighthood, the duke stood at the peak of terrestrial knighthood, guaranteeing him a lifespan of at least two centuries. If fortunate enough to attain celestial knighthood before eighty, his life span would extend to five centuries, unlocking the potential to reach legendary status.
Currently, the kingdom boasted only one legendary knight, reportedly over eight hundred years old, guardian of the royal family.
Terrestrial knights in the kingdom numbered four: two dukes, a marquis, and Count Kilicito, whose northern territory bordered Armondale Kingdom.
The world's rankings progressed through ten levels: iron, bronze, silver, gold, platinum, diamond, terrestrial knight, celestial knight, legendary knight, and theoretically possible — Eternal Radiance, existing only in myths.
Historically, the continent housing the kingdom had been larger, but the Eternal Radiance knight sacrificed his life to split it with impassable mountains, isolating the Demon Lord's lands from humanity.
Demons still infiltrated human lands, but not in the masses they could.
Now bisected, passage was possible only by sea, yet even that route was dangerous, infested with monsters far more terrifying than those on land.
When the duke entered, the count and Victor bowed deeply, greeting him. The man brushed past them, ignoring them, and seated himself in a chair, gesturing for them to sit as well.
— Alexander, everything is prepared. By week's end, I'll announce Sylvia's engagement to your son at a ball. Do you have any objections? — the duke stated.
This was not a question but a declaration, as no one would dare disagree.
— Naturally, your grace, all agreements will be honored, — the count answered promptly.
— Fine, then proceed, — the duke decreed, never once looking at them.
Both men rose and, bowing, withdrew.
Victor couldn't comprehend the purpose of their visit: why had they traveled so far just to hear one sentence?
"Is this more aristocratic nonsense? What was that? My future embarrassment and another man talking as if addressing servants? Doesn't a count's title mean anything here?" He complained inwardly, though his face remained stoic.
That poise and control over his body were gifts from the previous owner.