The baron looked around without hiding his obviously disgusted face. The people, dirty and tattered stepped back in fear.
They knew who Octavius was. It was a matter of pride that a noble that ruled a territory must be known within that territory.
There were several reasons for this. First, was respect. If the baron came here, and no one knew who he was, they might disrespect him.
If his fellow aristocrat knew he was disrespected by commoners, it would bring great shame to his name.
Other than that, it was very satisfying to see the way the peasants looked at him. Something about their gaze made him feel superior. He felt like a god that could decide their fate with nothing but a single word.
However, his pleasure soon became annoyance. He stomped his luxurious scepter on the ground and demanded. "What is this? Is this how you treat your lord? Where is my chair? Where is my drinks and entertainment?"