Skelvis felt a bit perplexed.
A servant speaking to him without much courtesy was nothing to fuss over, but not knowing why the viscount was asking for him might be something that was not nothing at all.
It was entirely possible that, while eating lunch, the viscount had seen a passing merchant’s wagon and suddenly felt like buying something.
But in such cases, one usually sent a servant, told him what to buy, and had him fetch it.
They did not summon the same vendor back and forth.
Nobles rarely haggled face to face with mere merchants.
He was not a fallen, impoverished noble with nothing but a title and no servants, so there was no reason to do so for the sake of his dignity.
In truth, even ordering the merchant around would not have bothered Skelvis, but if he went without knowing what to buy, he would have to hear what the viscount wanted and then come back again to fetch it.
That would be worse than knowing from the start.
Still, there was nothing he could do about it now, so Skelvis handed the reins to Rimas and followed the servant.
Once he had gone some distance, Rimas started complaining to Medipl.
“He doesn’t even look that old, but he’s really rude to my father.
We’re not peddlers.
Peddlers never own mules or wagons.”
“He’s just young enough to think that because his lord is a viscount, he himself is a viscount.”
“And he’s disrespectful to you too.”
“Even so, that servant is someone with Imperial citizenship, while I’m just an Imperial subject, so legally speaking he outranks me.
And that goes for you as well, Rimas.
I taught you that, remember?”
“Yes, teacher.
An Imperial Citizen and an Imperial Civilian are different.
You did explain it that way, but maybe because I’m still young, they don’t feel much different to me.”
“Back then your father had to leave in a hurry, so I only had time for that brief explanation instead of going into detail.
And in a way, that might also be because you were born and raised as an Imperial Citizen, Rimas.
Imperial Citizens who commit crimes and become slaves are demoted to mere Imperial Civilians.
Then they come to understand the difference.”
“Isn’t that just because slaves have it bad?”
“That is part of it.
But the fundamental reason is that slaves have no rights.”
“But you move around freely, don’t you?
You don’t have someone who orders you…”
“My position is a kind of freedman, you could say.
To put it simply, it works like this.
The servant back there is a good example.
He is a servant, but no one dares lay a hand on him, because he is the viscount’s servant.
By a similar principle, slaves are lowborn, yet people are less likely to touch them than commoner citizens.
There are cruel nobles who will beat a commoner half to death, but they do not do that to someone else’s slave.
A slave is property, and if you damage someone else’s property, you must compensate them, so people leave slaves alone.
Most slaves belong to some noble or rich person, and only such people can afford to use slaves in the first place.
I am not a complete slave, but as a teacher who passed the Imperial Teacher Examination, I am fulfilling duties assigned by the Empire, so you could call me a servant of the Empire.”
“So you’re not a slave, but because you’re a servant of the Empire, people don’t dare beat you or harm you.
They just quietly discriminate against you.”
“That’s right.
You’re perceptive, as always.
But legally speaking, I am a slave.
It’s just that my owner is the Imperial government, and I’ve been permanently assigned to regional authorities.
So even among Imperial civilians, there are distinctions in status.
And if you don’t mind, call me an Imperial public servant rather than a slave.”
“But teacher, you didn’t commit any crime, so why are you something like a slave?”
“If my wife and I returned right now to the elven society in the forest where we were born, we would cease to be slaves.
Imperial law guarantees that.
However, for us to become Imperial Citizens, we must first, in serve as slaves owned by the Empire while holding public office for a fixed term.”
“That sounds complicated.”
“The affairs of the world, and especially the law, are like that.
Even simple matters get twisted due to strange pretexts.”
Meanwhile, Skelvis was escorted to the viscount and greeted him respectfully.
Looking at the surroundings, he could understand why the viscount had called him instead of simply giving him a short errand to buy.
It appeared that one of the servants had been severely beaten by the viscount.
Since he was beating the servant, he must have been so focused on that that he angrily shouted an order to another servant nearby to bring the passing merchant, only to strike the servant again.
In this situation, as Skelvis approached with the servant’s guidance and bowed in greeting, the viscount spoke as follows.
As Skelvis approached under the servant’s guidance and bowed, the twenty eight years old viscount’s first words, flung out in a brusque tone, were these.
“What are you?”
“I am the merchant from the wagon you ordered stopped a moment ago, my lord,” Skelvis replied.
The viscount, who had momentarily forgotten the command he had shouted in anger, said, “I did?” as the explanation jogged his memory.
He turned his back on Skelvis and walked over to sit on a camp stool, saying as he went, “You got glue?”
“Yes, I do,” Skelvis answered at once.
In the time it took him to answer, the seated viscount’s eye level dropped so that even with Skelvis bent at the waist, his head remained higher.
Worried that this might cause trouble, Skelvis bent even lower and shifted into a kneeling posture with his knees on the ground.
Perhaps because of that, the viscount did not make an issue of it and merely said, “Bring it here and let me see.”
It did not seem wise to ask how much he needed or what he wanted it for, so as soon as Skelvis heard the order, he withdrew quickly.
Seeing this, Ledgetak, who had been sitting a few meters away, called out to him.
“It will be for repairing bows.
I imagine he will need about half a liter.
And if you sell canopies, bring one as well.
If you have any cloth or leather suitable for patching a canopy, that would also do.
He will need to boil the glue, so if you sell kettles or pots, bring one of those too.”
The viscount nodded when he heard this, his expression saying, “Ah yes, I needed those too.”
Ledgetak had not spoken particularly kindly, but it was obvious he had done so deliberately in deference to the viscount.
And thanks to that, it was clear he had spared Skelvis from having to go back and forth, and from being subjected to some absurd scolding like, “You should have known what I needed.
If I’m buying glue, you should know what else I’ll need, isn’t that just common sense?”
When Skelvis returned and began gathering the items Ledgetak had mentioned, Medipl listened to what had happened and said,
“Sir Ledgetak is trying to help you.
However many bows they plan to repair, there is no way they actually need half a liter of glue.
I handle bows, so I know.
But since the viscount is quicktempered and needs the glue brought to him, it would be awkward to start breaking up the hardened glue cakes on the spot to sell in smaller portions, so it is better to just sell him an entire lump.
Before His Lordship can object that he does not need that much, Ledgetak is steering things so that he buys it all.
They never imagined they would be repairing bows out here, so of course they do not have a pot or kettle for melting glue.
It may well be that someone was whipped for failing to prepare the supplies for bow repair.
They may even have brought several kettles and pots, but if the number the servants prepared fell short, that would be one more excuse to beat them.
The viscount is not the sort of man who would allow them to melt glue in a kettle or pot and then later use it again to cook the food he will eat.”
“Then why do they need the canopy?” Rimas asked.
On that point even Medipl only shook his head and said he did not know.
When Skelvis returned with the goods, the viscount had already called Ledgetak over and was berating him in an angry tone.
“That wretched oaf neglected my bow and ruined my hunt.
The thing misfired and tore a hole in my precious canopy.
What am I supposed to do if it starts raining?”
Ledgetak replied calmly,
“Why not use a different bow for today’s hunt?”
“No.
It has to be that one.
Have it repaired—whatever it takes.”
“As you wish.
Since the merchant has brought the materials, we’ll see to the repairs at once and have the canopy patched for now.”
He beckoned a servant, ordered glue to be heated in the old metal flagon Skelvis had brought, and instructed him to patch the hole in the canopy.
Then he turned to Skelvis.
“How much?”
“The glue is twenty coins, the canopy one hundred sixty, and the flagon twenty-five.
Two hundred and five in total, my lord.”
The baron grumbled,
“Do you take me for a man who’d use such cheap canopy cloth?
I’m only cutting it up for a temporary patch you understand that, don’t you?
And why is that worn-out flagon so expensive?
You cadger..”
Before the word cheat could leave his lips, Ledgetak cut in smoothly.
“A touch dear, perhaps but in consideration of my lord’s generosity, I’ll make it two hundred and ten.
Keep the extra five.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Skelvis said, quickly taking the hint and bowing low not to Ledgetak, but to the viscount.
Viscount Gardin cleared his throat and told another servant, “Make sure Sir Ledgetak is reimbursed in his next pay.”
With that, he turned his attention away and did not spare Skelvis so much as a glance.
Skelvis backed away carefully, bowed to Ledgetak as well, and took his leave.
When Skelvis returned and stowed away the money, Medipl said, “It is fortunate Ledgetak is here.
There are few who can restrain viscount Poire Gardin.”
“You heard all that?” Skelvis asked, sounding a little surprised.
“Even for an elf it is too far to catch every word exactly, but if I focus all my attention on listening and watch how people move their lips, I can make out a fair bit.
And there is not much other noise out here,” Medipl replied.
“Lord Gardin doesn’t seem like a very nice person,” Rimas said.
“It would be hard to deny that.
It’s a relief that Ledgetak is here by his side” Medipl said.
“He looks like he is only in his twenties, so he’s not that old, but you can tell he looks down on people even without talking to him,” Rimas added.
“I cannot really say you are wrong, but be careful about saying such things elsewhere.
As I said, there are not many who can stop the viscount once he is angry.
And that is how nobles generally treat commoners.”
“Yes, I understand.
But is Ledgetak really the only one?”
“His mother, the marchioness, is also there.”
“And there are no other family members?”
“He has a younger brother, but I understand they do not get along.
The viscount seems to think it is his brother’s fault that he became viscount in the first place.”
Rimas did not follow that at first.
“What do you mean?”
“There is this concept called primogeniture.
According to the Imperial law…” Medipl began, then broke off and started again.
“Explaining it that way would be too difficult, even for you.
To put it simply, if there had been no younger brother, the viscount would have inherited his father’s heritage all by himself, but because he had to share it with his brother, things turned out badly at least in his own mind.”
“Even for money, that’s going too far.
If you have siblings, you should share your father’s estate properly,” Rimas said.
Skelvis laughed and reached over with the hand not holding the reins to ruffle his son’s hair.
“It’s not that simple.
You learned about the law of step-down peerage too, didn’t you?”
“I’m surprised you can say all that, Dad.”
“Hey now, am I not an Imperial Citizen?
Every citizen gets a basic education.
I learned all this at your age.
Watch that tone with your father,” Skelvis said jokingly.
Medipl smiled at their banter and said, “Your father is right.
Under the Empire’s law of step-down peerage:, every generation the rank goes down one step: dukes become marquises, marquises become counts, and eventually they wind up commoners.”
“I remember the rest for sure.
I never forget what I learn.
If a noble passes on the title to all his children, it drops two steps in a single generation.
So for example, a duke can invest all of his children as counts, two ranks lower, no matter how many he has, but if he wants to make even one of them a marquis, just one rank lower, he must pass the title to only that one child.”
“Yes, you know it well.
As you can tell from the fact that his mother is a marchioness, lord Gardin’s father held the rank of marquis.
If he had inherited alone, he would now be a count.”
“But then his younger brother wouldn’t be a noble at all.
That would be sad,” Rimas said
“So at first, the viscount seems to have swallowed his discontent.
Then later they found out his younger brother had a gift for the cleric.
Rimas, let me give you a quick question about the nobility.
After the law of step-down peerage, what is the next most important rule in Imperial law concerning nobles?”
“MOW are nobles, but not nobles.
Did I get it?”
“Even I could answer that one,” Skelvis said.
“Don’t be too proud.”
“Yes, that’s right.
The three classes blessed with extraordinary gifts — warriors, mages, and clerics — are found only among humans.
Each requires a rare talent of the body, mind, or soul to pursue.
Even warriors, the most common of the three, appear at a rate of only about one in a hundred.
Because such gifts are so rare, the Empire codified in law that warriors, mages, and clerics are to be treated as nobles, even without a formal title.
There are a few exceptional cases where they are not granted the privileges of nobility, but in most circumstances they are regarded as nobles.
Even so, they are not truly titled aristocrats, and certain clauses deny them full noble rights.
That is why people say, ‘MOW are nobles, yet not nobles.'”
“So what you’re saying is, had the viscount known his younger sibling possessed the spiritual aptitude to become a cleric, there would have been no need to pass on the title, since they would be treated as a noble anyway — and in the end, it was the viscount who lost out for nothing.”
“Exactly.
The fact that he is already viscount and head of his house while still in his twenties shows he inherited far too early.
If his father had lived long enough for his younger brother to be tested for all three Classes before passing away, His lordship could have become a count.
In that case, their mother, the marchioness, would have had no reason to insist on granting a title to the second son as well.”
“I see.
So that’s what happened.”
“That is why the viscount dislikes his younger brother, though he cannot openly show it, and so his resentment only builds up inside.
No one knows how far the brother will rise as a cleric, but eventually he will outrank the viscount.
For clerics, as long as nothing extraordinary happens, it is not that hard to advance in rank as they grow older.”
“But teacher,” Rimas said, “didn’t you tell me last time that other races also have clerics?
In that case, even if warriors or mages are different, shouldn’t other races have clerics too?”
“In terms of the word ‘cleric’, yes.
And the same goes for the word ‘warrior’.
You can certainly talk about an elven warrior, for instance.
But there is no need even to mention the godless races, and even among the theothnic races(the god‑touched races) those like dragons or the deoegle who have gods of their own — their warriors and clerics are just ordinary folk by human standards.
In other words, in those races a cleric is merely someone whose profession is cleric.
A dragon cleric or a deoegle cleric does not have any special abilities the way human clerics do.
They too have people who manifest god‑given gifts, but that has nothing to do with being a cleric or not.
So being a cleric does not grant them any powers that others of their race lack.
Human clerics, by contrast, wield divine power rivaling that of mages and can work miracles that ordinary people cannot, and that makes them something entirely different.
The same goes for human warriors.
As for mages, they do not exist at all among other races, except for angels and demons.”
Rimas’s father, Skelvis, had been listening and now cut in.
“But teacher Medipl, are there really one in a hundred people born with the physical gifts to become warriors?”
“I do not know the exact figure either.
Actually the real ratio is definitely much lower.
But the book I studied for the Imperial Teacher Examination said so.
Since any other ratio is marked wrong on the test, I assume there is some basis for the number.
Yet it is also true that it differs greatly from reality.
In our own demesne alone we have close to seven thousand inhabitants, but there are only a few MOW.
If one in a hundred were born with the talent, there ought to be around seventy, but in reality there are only four and even among those, one is not a warrior at all but the viscount’s cleric brother I just mentioned.”
“So you do not know why the numbers are so far off?
And the book isn’t wrong?” Rimas asked.
“I suspect the answer lies in courses taught only at the Imperial University and above, but when I was preparing for the exam, they told me simply to memorize that as the correct answer,” Medipl replied.
After that, they continued in light conversation and small talk, and a little after two in the afternoon, they finally reached their destination: White Stone.