The ball that was supposed to take place immediately after the wedding was canceled, and the nobles began leaving the count's palace. Only the most illustrious guests remained, now gathering in the main palace.
Fortunately or unfortunately, Victor did not belong to this circle and was able to return to his townhouse.
The entire wedding ceremony proceeded at breakneck speed, skipping numerous procedures. Furthermore, it concluded with merely signing documents between him and Sylvia, witnessed only by the count and duke.
No clergymen were present, as they maintained no contact with the aristocracy, despite attempts to influence imperial affairs.
Every such attempt was rigorously suppressed, leading to a tacit agreement: churches abstained from intervening in noble or royal matters, while nobles allowed churches to operate freely within their dominions.
Given that all lands belonged to nobles, ecclesiastical institutions reluctantly acceded to this arrangement. Exceptions existed, notably the Church of Holy Light, situated beyond the eastern empire, possessing its own autonomous territory.
Currently, however, Victor's focus lay elsewhere. The king's death signaled unprecedented repercussions.
Previously, springtime conflict between Lantaris and Armondale was merely probable; now, it became inevitable.
Northern neighbors would undoubtedly exploit this opportunity. Fortunately, winter favored Lantaris; had the tragedy occurred during campaign season, it might have devastated troop morale and thrown nobles into chaos.
Priority now was assessing how swiftly aristocrats resolved succession and balanced power dynamics.
Internal instability loomed, with springtime prompting widespread rebellion among discontented nobles, demanding policy revisions.
Presently, Count Kilicito faced the direst predicament. Bordered by Armondale, his lands hung precariously.
Without timely reinforcement, he risked losing territory, encouraging envy among Lantaris nobles.
Kilicito, uniquely neutral among aristocrats, repeatedly rebuffed recruitment attempts by coalitions. Trapped in crisis, he would likely choose sides, incentivized by the best offer.
Reflecting on events, Victor brushed a stray spiderweb from his face, only to find it suspended obstinately before him.
Raising his gaze, he traced a transparent strand linked to the library wall, resembling a fine, glistening thread.
Instinctively, the paladin reached for it, hearing prayers. Unexpectedly, supplicants expressed gratitude, praising him for enabling aid and saving lives.
Absorbed, he identified Nalita, and upon grasping the strand, three menu windows appeared.
Familiar with two—his statistics and skills—the third, titled "Follower," invited action via a rune-inscribed button "Add."
Curiosity urged him to transfer the strand, triggering a flash of light and revealing new data:
Nalita — Human — Class — Priest
Strength — 7
Agility — 4
Intelligence — 9
Luck — 3
Skills:
«None»...
"Bizarre. Am I recruiting followers? Must they pray to me? Am I now a god? Hardly. But why now?"
Victor contemplated the occurrence, anxious to return home. Events escalated rapidly; acquiring a follower magnified his apprehension.
"No instruction manual provided," he complained aloud, examining the windows.
— M-mil-lord? — Nalita's startled voice echoed.
"She heard me? Can we communicate remotely?" Instantly realizing implications, he opted for discretion.
— Lady, I am here, but can't explain now. We'll discuss upon my return, — he declared, testing the link.
Subsequently, Nalita fell silent, prompting concern regarding connectivity.
— M-milord, are you in my head? — Finally, she articulated her confusion.
Amusement overwhelmed him, laughing at her interpretation.
— No, I'm afar, but yes, we can communicate. Please maintain secrecy, — he instructed, probing updates from his domain.
Establishing direct communication with his estate, he breathed relief, learning plans executed smoothly. Progress included cement production innovations accelerating construction and road-building.
Roads facilitated cement delivery, connecting villages throughout his territory.
Advances astounded him; preparations for concrete road laying commenced sooner than anticipated.
"Fantastic. Experiments succeeded, and the mill is operational."
Smiling broadly, he reviewed Nalita's stats. Magical aptitude remained unclear; the priestess herself couldn't discern.
Alganis' consultation seemed premature; isolation until his return seemed prudent.
— Nalita, conclude our chat, — he ordered, issuing strict confidentiality directives.
Girl acknowledged, prompting Victor to locate the communication toggle. Fifteen minutes later, he disabled the link mentally.
"I now have direct communication with my domain and acquired a follower, albeit obscurely. Returning home, I'll resume development, creating a sanctuary where everyone flourishes beyond anyone else in this world."
***
Over the next three days, Victor awaited the count's reply. Today, finally summoned, he entered the study.
Opposite the desk, his father, engrossed in paperwork, seemingly unaware of his presence, awaited patiently.
Taking the opposing chair, Victor settled in to await acknowledgment.
Near an hour elapsed before the count, discarding papers, glanced up.
— How long have you been here? — Alexander inquired, surprised.
— Not long. I saw you occupied and refrained from interrupting, — Victor replied, distracted by inventory studies.
— Excellent. Let's address business, — the count leaned back, addressing Victor earnestly. — You return home with Sylvia, alongside a letter for Fort Captain.
Outlining dangers facing Sylvia, the duke desired her proximity until the king's death stabilized. Military preparations and negotiations consumed his attention; he couldn't provide constant protection.
Trusting select vassals, the duke feared betrayal. Details omitted, but proximity to Baltas seemed advantageous.
Events resonated with Victor. Assassinations in this world rarely involved professional hitmen; raiders or minor nobles sufficed.
Infiltrating another's estate was complex, especially strongholds guarded by generational staff.
Loyal servitors benefitted sufficiently from masters, rendering bribes impractical.
Problems arose with the duke's vast retinue, numbering upwards of two hundred, creating potential vulnerabilities.
The count clarified that, in case of Sylvia's demise, the duke would lack heirs, becoming politically marginalized.
"If the duke remains heirless, chaos will erupt in his domains, forcing him to seek a successor. Consequently, he'll focus internally, allowing royalists unchecked reign" Victor surmised accurately.
Only, assassination prospects loomed large, particularly involving Lord Butterworth, allying with royalists, pressuring neighboring lands.
Expressing these reservations, Victor received swift resolution.
— Therefore, I provide you the captain's mandate: utilize the garrison as needed, — the count clarified.
Victor gaped, incredulous. Subordinated to him were one hundred soldiers, ranging from silver-tier to peak-gold, including the fort captain.
Faced with attack, he could summon reinforcements, confident his troops could defend the castle indefinitely.
— Father, why did I marry Sylvia? You would have been a better fit, — Victor finally broached the topic.
The count scrutinized his son, carefully selecting words.
— Because you lacked magic, and you'd precede her in death, safeguarding the duchy from her partner's threat, — the count admitted bitterly, lowering his gaze.
Far from troubled, Victor found clarity, posing a follow-up question.
— And when you learned I possessed magic, why didn't you alter your decision? — he pressed.
— I don't know. Ask the duke. We're hardly friends, and he doesn't divulge secrets, — the count quipped, amused by his son's equanimity regarding the arranged marriage.
Post-conversation, they discussed detached topics, primarily trade-related.
Securing the count's promise to support his son within the county, Victor gifted his father presents for his wife and son, then departed the study.
Leaving the count's palace, he proceeded to Sylvia's residence, announcing her impending departure.
Arriving, he discovered similar preparations ongoing, though their convoy dwarfed his.
Observing the loading of four carriages and twelve wagons, packed with furniture, trunks, and bundles, Victor marveled.
— She's transporting the entire palace? Half of these won't fit in my castle! — he muttered to himself.
Annoyance mounting, he approached the entrance, encountering Sylvia's maid blocking entry.
— Mistress refuses visitors; she's preparing, — the maid reported.
Victor resisted confrontation, appreciating her adherence to duty.
Recall his grandmother's remark: "Her husband courted her for thirty years." Clearly, he was a pushover, but the essence—that a woman shouldn't be subordinate to her husband—resonated with Victor, who despised overly dependent wives.
He had no desire to pursue Sylvia, attributing this largely to her age.
Fifteen, typical for this world, felt abnormal to him. The notion of sharing a bed with a minor seemed odd.
Thoughts drifted to women generally, foremost among them Shona, not yet fully formed Sylvia.
His mind wandered, envisioning girls surrounding him, until a dropped trunk and the maid's scolding drew his attention.
While everyone was distracted, he turned and walked towards his carriage, having exhausted errands.
Meanwhile, Sylvia watched from her second-floor window, calmed by his departure.
Words from Clissaos—about needing to grow stronger—weighed heavily on her, as she currently lacked means to defend herself. Were her husband to try anything, she had no power to resist or call for help.
But seeing him leave without comment, she sighed, still fearing his domain, though bereft of choice.