One day later.
Amidst the tense preparations for the arrival of an important figure, Carter was on his knees, scrubbing the stone slabs of the stables with all his might.
A fleshy-faced Groom roared at him, "Haven't you eaten? Scrub more carefully! If Lord Tommy Han sees a single stain, you'll be in for it!"
Carter hastily complied, hunching even lower and scrubbing with renewed vigor.
He remembered the last time he'd failed to properly clean a piece of horse manure. The lashings he'd received on his back still ached.
"Go change the water!" the Groom added, kicking the bucket by Carter's feet. "This water's all murky! How are you supposed to use this?"
Carter didn't dare utter a single complaint. He picked up the bucket and trotted off to fetch more water.
Even as the son of the Sheriff, only the second son of the family could actually get a position in Baron Duval's Castle.
The eldest son would inherit the position of Sheriff, leaving the second son to seek his own fortune here.
Unfortunately, Carter had failed to be chosen as one of the followers and ended up a mere Groom, with no future to speak of.
Just then, footsteps approached. The eyes of the Groom who had been bossing Carter around lit up, and he hurried forward to greet the newcomer. "Murphy, you're just in time. Lord Tommy Han's mount has been restless lately and won't cooperate during grooming. Could you take a look and see what to do?"
Murphy approached the stall and carefully observed the restless black warhorse. "The saddle's position needs to be adjusted; it's pressing on its shoulder muscles right now. Also, there are a few stones stuck in its hooves. You'll need to be careful when cleaning them out."
Holding the water bucket and standing in a corner, Carter gripped the brush in his hand so tightly his knuckles turned white.
'Dammit!'
'Before the border war, a "mud-leg" like that would never have been able to become a Groom.'
But Carter already understood that such resentment was useless.
Life inside the castle and outside were two different worlds, and his father, the Sheriff, would never waste precious favors here for the sake of a second son.
He could only bury his churning emotions deep inside, get back on his knees, and continue scrubbing the seemingly endless stone slabs.
Just then, Murphy and the Groom named Bart started talking about the important figure's visit.
"I hear it's the Lord Duke's heir who's coming this time," Bart said in a low voice. "Even the Lord Baron himself is going to the city gate to greet them."
"No wonder the standards are so high," Murphy nodded. "But washing out the stables over and over like this really isn't good for the warhorses' health."
Listening to their conversation, Carter felt a pang of bitterness as he recalled how, just a year ago, he himself had been an "important figure" to Murphy.
With no other outlet for his frustration, he could only scrub the stone slabs even harder, the brush making a harsh, grating sound against the stone.
Bart noticed Carter's unusual effort and praised him. "Carter's doing a good job! So diligent! You're making Lord Tommy Han look good!"
Being praised like this in front of Murphy, Carter felt a rush of hot blood to his head, and his whole face flushed crimson.
Bart clearly paid no mind to Carter's reaction, turning back to chat with Murphy. "You're right, but when do these big shots ever care if a warhorse is comfortable? As long as everything looks good on the surface, that's all that matters."
Murphy didn't pay any attention to Carter either. Or rather, even if he did notice, he acted as if he hadn't.
'He was just a lowly Groom. What right did he have to interfere with how others disciplined their subordinates?'
Murphy suggested, "Since repeated washing is bad for them, why not try scrubbing the stone slabs with a mix of hay ash and fine sand? It will remove the stains without making the ground too damp, and it will keep the stables dry and clean."
Bart nodded repeatedly. "Good idea! That way, it's clean and better for the warhorses."
He turned his head and barked at Carter, "Did you hear that? Go to the storeroom and get some hay ash and fine sand!"
Carter gritted his teeth, his chest heaving with rage, but ultimately, he didn't dare to disobey.
Everyone knew that scrubbing the stone slabs with a mixture of hay ash and sand was much more laborious than simply washing them with water.
You had to bend over to spread the mixture all over the floor, then scrub hard to remove the stubborn stains, and finally, sweep up all the ashy, sandy filth.
But Carter silently put down his brush and turned toward the storeroom.
In this place, resistance would only bring about harsher punishment.
That was the most important lesson he had learned over the past year.
...
Another day passed.
Murphy was busy in the stables when he suddenly heard a commotion coming from the direction of Lord Tommy Han's warhorse's stall.
He saw Leo, the Mill Master's son, berating Carter. "You useless piece of trash! You can't even clean a stable properly! I'd let it slide on a normal day, but if the important guest sees even a hint of untidiness at a critical time like this, can you bear the consequences?"
Carter said deferentially, "Lord Leo, we used to play together as children. Just last year, we were in the same recruitment batch. We even made a promise to each other before the recruitment... Why are you treating me like this now?"
Leo grew even angrier at his words and struck Carter with a whip. "You lowborn filth, you think you're worthy of being compared to me? I'm a follower now, and you're just a lowly Groom! Remember your place!"
Carter's face twitched in pain from the whip's lash, but he forced himself not to cry out, his eyes filled with deep humiliation and suppressed fury.
The surrounding Grooms were used to this. No one stepped forward to speak up for Carter; some even wore expressions of schadenfreude.
Murphy watched this scene with complicated feelings.
He was well aware of this world's rigid hierarchy and understood that the relationship between a Groom and a follower was far more than a simple superior-subordinate dynamic from modern society.
Followers were quasi-nobility, while Grooms were commoners. There was no need to curry favor with a Groom to ensure a horse was well-cared for. A Groom who failed to do their job would be punished directly, perhaps even beaten to death.
It was an unspoken understanding forged over hundreds, even thousands, of years—as insurmountable as the father-son relationship in the ancient societies of Murphy's previous world.
No matter how a father treated his son, the son had to observe filial piety. It was a rule that defined social strata and could not be challenged.
A Groom could never use their skills to blackmail a Lord Knight.
Not even against a follower!
But witnessing such an event firsthand still weighed heavily on Murphy's heart.
It also strengthened his resolve. No matter how difficult the options presented by the Immortal Cultivation System were, he had to complete them. He had to keep improving, to ensure something like this would never happen to him.
...
Two more days passed, leaving nine days until the option's reward.
The day of the important figure's arrival had finally come.
Murphy and the other Grooms naturally weren't qualified to go to the castle front to greet the guest. They could only wait in the stables, on high alert.
They had long since cleaned every stall until it was spotless. The stone troughs were polished to a shine, the hay was laid out neatly, all the tack was hung in order, and even the horses' hooves had been meticulously washed.
The fresh scent of hay filled the air; the usual mingled stench was long gone.
As the sun began to set in the west, a Groom suddenly came running, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Quick! Everyone gather at the main stable gate to welcome the distinguished guest!"
Murphy and Hank exchanged a glance and followed.
In front of the main stable gate, the Grooms had already lined up according to their status. Those who cared for the Knights' warhorses stood at the very front, followed by those who tended to the followers' mounts. Inexperienced Grooms like Murphy were ranked at the very back of the line.
Everyone held their breath, their gazes fixed on the gate, not daring to even breathe too loudly.
'This was nothing like the world Murphy had transmigrated from. The nobles here were high and mighty; the slightest misstep could lead to one's death.'
'A lesser offense would lead to humiliation, just like Carter suffered.'
He silently reminded himself that he had to be cautious in his words and actions and allow for no mistakes.
Just then, the important figure finally appeared.
She was a girl of about fourteen or fifteen, exceptionally beautiful, with long, jet-black hair that made her skin seem as white as snow.
She wore a hairnet adorned with Pearls, a dark green velvet dress with a delicate lace ribbon tied at the collar, and a skirt that cascaded in layered folds like a fluffy cloud. With her white stockings and patent leather shoes, she looked just like a meticulously dressed doll in a shop window.
Her exquisite and opulent attire stood in stark contrast to the Grooms' coarse linen clothes, as if she had stepped out of another era.
Her accompanying Maids were also splendidly dressed in matching lavender silk gowns, their hair ornaments inlaid with tiny gems.
Two Knights in full Plate Armor followed close behind. Their faces were completely hidden inside their helmets, with only sharp glints of their eyes visible through the slits of their Face Armor. Their armor gleamed with a cold, metallic light in the sun.
Murphy suddenly understood.
'Wearing such a magnificent dress and shoes, of course she'd demand the stables be spotless. Otherwise, a single misstep could ruin her entire outfit.'
Baron Duval's Eldest Son, Sylvan, who stood nearly one-point-nine meters tall, was respectfully accompanying her. He was dressed in a deep red formal suit embroidered with mountains, rivers, and his family crest. Behind him was Glen, the man who had presided over the recruitment of followers, now also bowing his head in deep reverence.
Sylvan bowed slightly. "Miss Douglas, the stables are ready. You wish to select a mount for your expedition to the Twilight Mountain Range. My father specifically instructed me to help you choose the most docile steed."
Miss Douglas spoke, her voice as pleasant as a Silver Bell. "Can't I ride one of the Knight's mounts?"
Sylvan's expression faltered for a moment before he explained tactfully, "A Knight's warhorse is fierce. Without sufficient strength, they are very difficult to control..."
Just then, a Maid beside Miss Douglas interjected, "The horses of the Douglas Family aren't so troublesome. If our horses hadn't caught the plague on the way here, we wouldn't have had to come to your place to choose one."
Miss Douglas raised a hand gently to stop the Maid. "A Knight's warhorse is as loyal as the Knight themself. Don't make things difficult for Sylvan."
Her gaze shifted, sweeping over the interior of the stables with a hint of curiosity. "Since I can't ride one, you can at least let me have a look, can't you?"
Sylvan immediately replied respectfully, "Of course. It would be our honor."
With that, he led Miss Douglas into the stables, starting the tour from the inner section reserved for the Knights' warhorses, then moving to the outer section used by the followers, and finally walking through the public stables as well.
Finally, with the Stable Master's assistance, they carefully selected the six most docile warhorses from the public stables.
One of them was a brown Shire Horse.
It was John.
Although this horse was a warhorse, it didn't belong to any particular Knight or follower; it was one of the warhorses kept in the public stables.
Just as the Stable Master was about to assign Grooms to accompany them, Carter suddenly stepped out from the crowd. "Lady Douglas, Lord Sylvan, I've been familiar with John's temperament since I was a child. Before I came to the castle, my father often let me ride him."
Carter's reasoning was simple.
He was no longer willing to be a nobody who could be bullied by anyone; he wanted to latch onto a higher branch.
And what better ladder was there than a Duke's daughter?
He was willing to do it even if it meant offending Baron Duval's Eldest Son, the Stable Master, and even Baron Duval himself.
As expected, Sylvan's face darkened with displeasure. He was about to reprimand the ill-mannered Groom and, while he was at it, find out who his so-called father was and teach him a lesson.
"Commendable courage. Let it be him."
Miss Douglas's light words forced Sylvan to swallow the reprimand on the tip of his tongue.
In the end, in addition to Carter, five other Grooms were assigned to accompany them, along with six riding horses and two carriage horses.
As Carter walked past the line of Grooms, he deliberately shot a triumphant look at Bart. His gaze lingered on Murphy, carrying a well-concealed hatred.
Of course, if the follower Leo had been there, Carter's hatred would have been impossible to hide.
More than being surpassed and trampled on by a nobody like Murphy, he hated the betrayal of a former companion even more.
He swore to himself that once he truly established a foothold in the Douglas Family, he would make these people pay.
And so, Carter left with Miss Douglas's retinue, heading toward the grand future he so desperately craved.
However, on the fourth day, Carter returned.
As a corpse.