The carriage entered Tiament, the capital of the Leomvillean duchy.
Unlike the Shermanyn County, the duke's main palace was situated outside the city, specifically ten kilometers away.
Within the city itself stood another palace, intended to accommodate guests attending the banquet celebrating the duke's birthday, including Victor and his father.
In fact, Victor was only pleased by this arrangement, as he did not want to share the same grounds with his fiancée. This minimized the likelihood of communication, pleasing him as much as discovering a way to dissolve their engagement.
The event itself was scheduled for two days hence, but there was still one more thing he needed to accomplish.
As soon as the count retired to his chambers, the young man left the palace, accompanied by guards, and ventured into the city.
Tiament was encircled by walls, like any major settlement in this world, differing only in size among different cities.
In this particular case, the city's population numbered ninety-four thousand, though confirmation was impossible, as censuses in this world were conducted based on declarations from nobles, who could only estimate the number of serfs and even less reliably determine the number of commoners.
Hence, territorial governance was inefficient. How could you plan food expenditures if you didn't even know the exact number of people?
After harvest, grain was transported to the city, and, deducting the portion retained by serfs—usually twenty percent—it was stored in warehouses. Upon calculating the number of residents, only the amount of grain needed to sustain them through winter was left in storehouses, with the remainder sold to other regions and nobles whose crops had failed.
This created problems, as actual populations exceeded official figures, due to laziness and corruption among officials who failed to perform their duties.
Come winter, food supplies became so scarce that starvation ensued, and food prices skyrocketed. But officials and nobles profited immensely from this situation, and if such crises occurred only once or twice every decade, one might attribute it to inexperience. However, this happened annually.
This was something Victor corrected on his own territory first. Hence, he not only facilitated budget planning but also enabled tax collection with minimal discrepancy.
As soon as they stepped off palace grounds, the group found themselves on the central street, paved with cobblestones. Buildings lining the street were wooden structures painted with lime, which greatly intrigued Victor. However, painting walls with lime was the last thing he would choose to do.
Walking along the street and examining the houses, they finally reached their initial destination—the apothecary shop.
Victor immediately entered the building and found himself in a room cluttered with glass bottles and jars.
— Good afternoon, is anyone here? — he asked.
A moment later, a man in his forties emerged from the backroom, bowed, and greeted him.
— I want to buy glass containers; what can you offer me?
Apothecaries specialized in crafting crystal items of any form, and this was exactly what he needed.
The man, named Alakor, led him deeper into the room and passionately described the merchandise, but seeing the client's lack of interest, he asked him to wait and disappeared into the storeroom.
When he returned, he carried a package, which he promptly placed on the table before Victor.
— My lord, this item is extremely rare and very expensive, — the apothecary said gently, but his words were toxic to any noble. Such statements were intended to provoke an aristocrat, testing his pride...
Except that before him stood an atypical noble.
— Show it to me, and we'll discuss the price, — Victor calmly responded, unnerving the vendor.
When he unwrapped the package, a fully crystalline box measuring 20 × 20 × 10 cm lay before him. This truly met the lord's needs.
— How much? — he asked the vendor.
— My lord, this item is exceedingly rare, and I am willing to part with it for five hundred gold pieces, — the vendor declared.
Victor almost struck this "swindler"; the price was outrageously inflated. Alganis' armor and sword combined cost the same amount demanded by the apothecary. Nonetheless, controlling his anger and taking a deep breath, he decided to bargain.
— I am willing to give you two hundred gold pieces, and that's the absolute maximum I can afford, — he deliberately added, knowing that after such a statement, no noble would even attempt negotiation.
The apothecary hesitated, lowering his head as he pondered the words of the aristocrat before him. After a minute, he finally nodded, confirming the transaction.
Browsing further, Victor found a few more items he purchased and, bidding farewell, left the shop. He needed to return to the palace and prepare for the banquet.
The remaining days, the young man spent virtually imprisoned in the library. Deprived of internet and television, his only entertainment was reading books, tedious as they were, written in a childlike style.
— Milord, it's time to get ready for the banquet, — announced the maid with a bright smile, as if it were her birthday and the feast was organized for her.
In this world, a lord had few reasons for joy, but Luula could uplift his spirit simply by being present. She could rejoice over any trifle, though she could also cry over nonsense, but she was the most genuine person he had ever met.
Accompanied by her to his bedroom, the youth got dressed—or, rather, was dressed, as this attire was even more ridiculous in his eyes than all preceding ones. There were too many gold-adorned accessories, resembling an attempt to embroider silk with golden thread.
Dressed, Victor descended, unexpectedly encountering the count, who was already dressed and waiting for him. Usually, it was the reverse, but this time Alexander seemed intent on ensuring his son did not falter.
Both men nodded to each other and, without further ado, headed towards the duke's palace.
When the count's carriage arrived at the palace gates, they encountered a local "traffic jam." Around a hundred carriages were queued, awaiting admission, and only after an hour did they manage to enter.
Inside the palace, there were approximately five hundred people. Crowds were so dense that finding free space proved challenging. However, this situation would not persist long, as most guests would leave after delivering their presents and could not remain even if they wished.
This gave them a brief window to network with other nobles, and no one would pass up such an opportunity, but ultimately, only the inner circle would remain to enjoy the banquet.
Victor picked up a glass of local wine and, taking a sip, stood by the wall, far from the duke's throne.
Although he had never seen the king's throne room, he doubted it could be more lavish and gaudy than this one.
The baron observed the nobles, who were dressed in whatever garments they deemed fitting, adorning themselves with jewelry. Magical ornaments and jewelry hung from them like Christmas tree decorations.
The sole motivation behind their behavior was to exhibit wealth, not elegance. Compared to them, the lord looked like a pauper, as he refused to drape himself with everything the small maid tried to pin on him.
An hour later, the celebrant himself appeared, accompanied by Victor's fiancée.
The duo emerged onto the balcony of the second floor and witnessed everyone bowing to them and expressing their respect, as if before a king and queen.
After five minutes of such homage, they descended, with the duke taking his seat on the throne and Sylvia settling into a chair placed behind him.
Now the main part of the festivities was about to commence, and each participant had to demonstrate, through their gifts, how devoted they were to the duke and how much they valued him.
This procedure lasted more than three hours, but, to Victor's surprise, the duke did not move throughout the entire time, occasionally smiling at those presenting new gifts.
— Count Alexander Shermanyn, — announced the butler, standing before the throne and receiving gifts.
Victor's father stepped forward and handed over a scroll, which the butler promptly unfurled and read aloud to everyone.
It was a deed of sale for a mythril mine located on his territory, which was bizarre, as no sane person would surrender such a valuable asset. Even kingdoms would wage wars over the poorest mythril deposit.
Victor stared at his father, puzzled by what was happening, while the entire hall stood frozen, holding its breath, as no one had anticipated such a move. Regardless of their familial relations, their families were, in essence, separate entities, comparable to different countries.
However, the atmosphere was diffused by the duke's loud laughter, who, chuckling, rose from his throne, approached the count, and embraced him, expressing his gratitude.
The count bowed in return and returned to his place.
— Baron Victor Baltas, — the butler announced again.
They were announced last, as they represented foreign territory. All previous participants had been either vassals of the duke or nobles residing on his lands.
Victor stepped forward, and palace servants entered the hall, carrying his gifts.
First, he withdrew a crystal box and handed it to the butler, who, unaware of its contents, was uncertain how to announce the gift.
— What is this? — the duke inquired, intrigued by what the butler held.
Previous gifts had included magical artifacts or jewelery, and he did not need to guess their nature, but now he was at a loss as to what he had been given.
— Your Grace, this is salt, — Victor modestly disclosed.
A wave of discussion swept through the hall, accompanied by snickers directed at the provincial baron, who had chosen such a humble gift. But this was precisely what the young man had counted on. Advertising was advertising, regardless of its appearance.
The duke waved his hand and requested the box be brought to him, as he found this peculiar. Upon opening it, he saw snow-white crystals, but he did not bat an eyelash and, nodding, accepted the gift, fueling further discussion in the hall.
— Your Grace, this is wine from my territory, — Victor declared, handing over a crystal flask containing three hundred milliliters.
The flask was transparent, as the liquid inside resembled vodka more than wine, and, knowing the duke's capacity, regular wine would have no effect on him.
The entire hall buzzed with chatter, as someone mentioned the new wine served at the count's banquets, and now everyone was debating it with renewed interest.
Aware of the discussions sweeping the hall, all Victor had to do was reinforce the effect, and a servant brought forth a sword, which appeared plain but immediately caught the duke's attention.
This was a weapon from his inventory, the simplest he could find.
As soon as it was handed to the butler, the duke ordered it brought to him. Rising from his throne, he took hold of the blade, drawing it from its scabbard. The sword was impeccably polished, though unadorned with gems, its blade gleamed with a cool luster.
The duke did not hesitate and channeled his mana into the sword, smiling broadly.
— This is the most precious gift today, — the duke declared, laughing infectiously.
The entire hall erupted in excitement, debating his declaration, as the count had donated a mythril mine, whereas a sword could hardly compare. Speculations abounded concerning the nature of this sword and its unique qualities, while the duke, having sheathed the blade, returned to his throne. However, he kept the weapon close, clearly unwilling to part with it.
— Your Grace, the last gift I wish to present is for my bride-to-be, with your permission, — Victor pronounced.
The count, standing beside him, proudly nodded in approval, signaling to all observers that his son had not disappointed him.
When Victor gifted the salt, he imagined they would leave the palace in shame, but after the final gift, everything else seemed trivial. Even overshadowing his father's donation did not perturb Alexander, as their acts would be discussed collectively as belonging to one family.
Victor withdrew a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and extended it to the butler.
Originally, the lord intended to find a container for the necklace but decided it would be better to present it thus, demonstrating his feelings, which only she would comprehend.
The butler took the parcel and, turning to the duke, unveiled it.
— Concentration stones, — the celebrant instantly declared, rising from his throne.
At that instant, Victor felt a stab.
"Something is probing my magic! Damn it!" flashed through his mind.
He turned his head toward the source of the sensation and saw his father, who appeared bemused, gazing at his son.
When Shermain heard about the concentration stones, he immediately tested his son, as he himself had been seeking these stones to aid him. And now his son was generously handing them over, which could not fail to astonish him.
Naturally, he discerned his son's latent magical abilities. However, his mind was now brimming with questions, but it was not the time to interrogate.
Meanwhile, the butler stood before the duke, while Sylvia ogled the necklace greedily. Her eyes sparkled, and she struggled to suppress her urge to grab it. However, propriety forbade such impulsive behavior.
Everyone present witnessed the stones glowing brilliantly, and they heard the duke's declaration, prompting the hall to transform into a marketplace, where vendors discussed their wares with customers.
Duke Alestor Leomvil spread his aura, which instantly blanketed the hall and everyone within it, silencing them and reminding them of their surroundings.
— Baron, you have amazed me twice today, something no one else has managed, — he remarked with a smile.
Then, rising from his throne, he seized the necklace from the butler's hands and approached his daughter. Placing one hand on the jewelry she wore, he effortlessly dissolved it into fragments strewn across her collarbone. Unperturbed, Sylvia pivoted her back, awaiting the placement of her new accessory.
The duke expertly secured the clasp, then stepped back, allowing Sylvia to pivot and reveal her new image.
Even Victor was captivated by the sight. She was breathtakingly beautiful, and the necklace, illuminated by the palace's magical lanterns, ensnared everyone's attention.
— I hereby announce that your wedding will take place in three months, — the duke declared emphatically.
"What's happening? Hasn't he learned that his daughter can recover her magic? Why? Could I have erred?"
Questions tumbled through his mind, but he could not find answers to any of them.