Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

They were welcomed by servants as soon as they entered the building, with a man in a butler's uniform smoothly moving to take Quack's cloak and silently asking Nick if he wanted his to be stored away.

He shook his head. His cloak wasn't a magical item, at least not yet, but the inner pockets held important things.

That seemed to be something of a faux pas, because several maids looked at him askance. Man, if anything, Mom and Dad understated how uptight this guy is.

He could sense everyone's emotions, and the picture they painted wasn't quite that of a relaxed household.

If anything, everyone walked on eggshells, watching the lord as if waiting for him to erupt.

Quack, however, didn't spare them a glance and motioned for Nick to follow him. "When I received the official communication of House Crowley's promotion, I immediately got to work. I knew someone would be coming, you see, and it's only proper to welcome you in style!"

At his words, the servants dispersed, while an older man dressed in deep yellow robes approached them. "My lord, the preparations are following the schedule. We are just waiting for the Lady to finish the flower arrangements."

Quack sighed. "Yes, I should have expected her to take her time. Well, go back and triple-check that you haven't invited feuding clans. I don't want a repeat of the last harvest!"

The man nodded and left without another word.

"Ezekiel was my father's steward," Quack said, watching the old man walk away. "He's quite skilled at managing most things, but he tends to get sidetracked by the big picture, and when something goes wrong, he struggles to get things back on track. Unfortunately, it's hard to lure experienced servants away from the city. But I guess you already know all about that."

Nick raised an eyebrow. The image he had of Sir Quack was that of a pretentious knight more concerned with appearing aristocratic than anything else, but it seemed the man was more complicated than that. Very annoying and possibly abusive to his subordinates, but not necessarily one-dimensional.

"Are you hosting a party, then?" He asked simply to avoid answering the implied question. Quack should have known that House Crowley only employed the bare minimum staff to keep the Town Hall running.

His words could have been taken as an insult, but Nick suspected it was just another test to see if he'd lose his composure. Or to see if we've already gotten a big head.

"Why, it's only right I celebrate your family's spectacular raise! We are hosting a ball just for that tomorrow evening," Quack grinned. "All the movers and shakers of the South will be very interested in meeting you. I assure you, this will be very profitable if you make a good first impression."

Again, Nick merely nodded, as if he had expected it. Inside, though, he was gearing up to curse the man. What a bastard. Just by looking at me, he should know I was never trained to handle a situation like this. But then again, officially, he's only celebrating his new liege lord. Nothing can be said against that.

"I will be looking forward to that, then," he finally answered. It meant spending even more time here, but he could think of a few things to keep himself busy in the meantime.

Fortunately, they seemed to have reached the man's study, and he hoped to get the official business taken care of quickly.

He was watching the town in the meantime, hoping to spot someone who looked out of place, but either whoever set fire to the temple after killing the priests had already left, or they were very good at hiding their presence.

Neither option was something he relished.

Quack opened the door to his study without even acknowledging the soldier standing guard nearby. Nick made sure to meet the man's eyes and nod.

He got back a surprised blink before the soldier lightly bowed.

That was not missed by Quack, who looked back with annoyance. Still, he didn't say anything about it, merely guiding Nick inside.

The office bore little resemblance to a workspace and looked more like an exhibit of medieval knighthood.

Four full suits of armor, each engraved with protective runes that likely cost more than the steel itself, stood at the four corners. Banners from past tournaments, probably won by the man himself, hung all over the walls, while several weapons, ranging from swords to jousting lances, morning stars, and even bows, were scattered throughout the room.

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Overall, this room alone probably contained more wealth than the entirety of Floria's Town Hall. Given the luxurious decorations he had seen throughout the manor, it wasn't even a recent development like with the Poules.

Quack sat behind the solid ironwood desk, gesturing for Nick to take the smaller one in front of it. "Go on, I imagine you must be tired after your journey. And helping with the fires. Can't forget that."

Again, his words were technically praise, but the tone they were delivered in, and more importantly, the emotion Nick could sense behind them, was enough to know they straddled the line between recognition and mockery.

"It was nothing anyone else wouldn't have done," Nick replied, sitting down.

The chair he'd been given had no arms, making it a bit uncomfortable to sit in. Normally, he'd slouch to compensate, but from the way Quack was looking at him, he knew that was exactly what the man was looking for.

Deciding to move forward before these mind games became absurd, Nick grabbed the crimson scroll from his cloak and handed it over.

Quack stared at it as if it were a poisonous snake for a moment before rigidly grabbing it. He broke the seal and unfurled the parchment.

"I see, yes, I imagined as much." With that, he rolled the scroll back up and placed it on the desk. "I will, of course, give my oath of fealty to House Crowley. But as you might imagine, I will not be able to make it to Floria anytime soon. It is unfortunate timing, but my duty to my people compels me to remain here and address this dreadful matter with the temple."

Nick stared back languidly, not saying a word. He had already expected the man would take any chance to delay, and if he had acted differently, he would have given him the benefit of the doubt. But given how he had handled the situation so far, Nick seriously doubted he felt any responsibility toward the fires.

Quack stared back, patiently waiting for him to crack.

He wasn't trying to be intimidating, that much Nick could see in his emotions, but it was clear he expected to get away with it.

If Nick told him he had to hurry to Floria and abandon his duties, it would be a very poor start for their relationship, and news of it would likely spread through Honeyton before sundown.

If, instead, he agreed, it would grant Quack too much freedom. He would essentially be excused from presenting himself for an unspecified amount of time, and their relationship would shift from a feudal one to more of an independent region that was still technically under House Crowley's authority.

Neither option was acceptable.

"It is very unfortunate, yes. My father was eager to discuss his next steps with all his vassals, covering everything from taxes to military actions. Your experience with the kingdom's high nobility would have been crucial for establishing the new doctrine, but we will have to proceed without you," he eventually replied.

Quack paused for a moment before smiling with his teeth bared. "Ah, I'm sure good old Sir Poules will be able to counsel him just fine. The thunderhoof mating season is upon us, that is true, but it shouldn't be too hard for a Prestige warrior to handle it."

Does he not know? Oh, this is just too good. It makes sense since word has only recently reached Floria about the chaos in the north, but for him to be completely unaware of it…

Just as Quack was basking in the glow of his success, Nick cleared his throat with a slightly apologetic look. "Ah, I'm afraid that is not the issue at hand. You see, the Shearing Mountains are suffering from a campaign at the hands of the dark dwarves, and my father was honored by His Majesty with command over the forces of the south. He will be meeting with military leaders and knights from the Royal Army to coordinate their efforts."

With any other petty noble, this wouldn't have worked. Rather, it risked making them even more confident, knowing their liege lord couldn't easily punish their insubordination.

But Quack was not just a petty noble. He was a tourney knight who had spent his whole life seeking the approval of the aristocracy and the martial orders.

Missing out on such a moment would mean he could only watch from the sidelines as others received roles that would bring them glory.

His eyes widened, and Nick was sure the man resisted gaping at him only because doing so would have been terribly uncouth.

Eventually, their meeting ended with Quack promising to do his best to resolve the temple issue, with the aim of being present in Floria when decisions on such important matters were made.

Now, Nick didn't even know for sure if his father would be assigning responsibilities like that, but he figured there was no other choice. Eugene would draw on Floria's internal pool of officers for some tasks, but there weren't enough high-level personnel to take care of everything, and he couldn't count on the kingdom's forces to do it all.

He had been made a Baron specifically to prevent that.

There was also the matter of the oath of fealty he still needed to receive, but Quack had suggested waiting until the ball, and Nick hadn't seen the need to push back. Whether it was today or tomorrow didn't matter as long as he got it.

So it was with barely concealed smugness that Nick ate a quick dinner in the rooms he had been given after he took a much-needed bath and went to sleep.

The next morning, he took his time stretching his senses to check for any juicy gossip and then headed toward the training fields.

He'd initially wanted to explore the town, because while the burning of the temple seemed unlikely to be solved anytime soon, he was still curious about what the people thought.

But he had a gala to attend tonight, and as much as he might want to avoid it, doing so would have looked bad for House Crowley.

Which meant he needed to prepare.

Servants are great sources of gossip, and I'm already recording everything they say for later review, but there is one group of people that is even more likely to share information: soldiers.

Indeed, in his experience, soldiers felt very little remorse when discussing their own and their master's deeds. Sordid details would be omitted, of course, but Nick was completely unaware of what would await him at the ball, so any information would be appreciated.

And if he could prove himself as someone worthy of respect by taking down a few overconfident young men, well, that was just a bonus.

The inner courtyard was where practice spars took place. Most of those there were soldiers from the local militia, Quack's men, but from the different insignias he observed around, Nick guessed others also took part in the training.

A couple of men across the courtyard shined brightly to his eyes, indicating they were people he'd need to be careful around. But almost everyone else was manageable.

Still, this is a better showing than I expected. Floria might have more soldiers, what with the constant monster attacks, but this is much better than Oakenhallow.

Indeed, although the overall skill level didn't seem to be particularly high, everyone moved with discipline and appeared to take good care of their weapons. Whether that was a quirk of the place or a result of Sir Quack's past as a tourney knight, he'd find out soon.

"Lord Crowley, what an honor," a balding man with a substantial belly and arms as thick as Nick's torso called as soon as he stepped onto the field.

Heads turned as they took in his appearance. Nick had put away his cloak and travel clothes for the occasion and dusted off his training ones.

That, along with the dagger at his side and the challenging smirk he sported, made it clear he wasn't here to observe.