David

With the help of the panel, the squires' bodies visibly expanded in size, a result of their rapidly increasing strength and physical fitness. Fortunately, the meals provided were substantial, even if the taste left much to be desired. Derek didn't care much about flavor, but he ensured that the portions were generous. The meager tribute paid by the squires could never cover the extensive resources consumed during their training.

The strong positive feedback fueled everyone's enthusiasm, especially fanatics like Virut, who wished they could train twenty-four hours a day. However, Derek's training regimen wasn't just about mindless grinding. After a week, each squire was given a warhorse and began wild rides in the open fields.

Riding was a mandatory skill for every noble scion from the North, and the squires were quite adept. But that wasn't enough. Being skilled was just the baseline; on the battlefield, superior horsemanship could mean outrunning others and increasing your chances of survival during a retreat. Derek, once again, transformed into a dragon with a fearsome roar, relentlessly driving them forward.

"Move it! Did you not eat enough?"

"My hound can ride faster than you!"

"Virut, what's so funny? Show me some fancy tricks!"

Virut, who had been quite confident in his riding skills, nearly fell off his horse at Derek's sudden shout.

"But, Viscount, didn't you say fancy tricks were for Southern sissies?"

"Nonsense! You're a sissy if you don't try. Now get on with it!"

"Hahaha!"

After horsemanship training came weighted cross-country runs. Then night exercises. In between, there were basic military tactics classes, leaving no time for rest. After a month of this, everyone felt reborn.

Following tradition, Derek granted them a week of leave. Those living nearby could visit home; those who didn't wish to could roam freely. The most outstanding squires were even allowed to temporarily join the Viscount's guard and experience what it was like to stand watch. Of course, this was a joke—joining the guard meant learning how to protect and defend against assassins.

Since the assassination attempt on Derek, he had taken these lessons seriously. The squires, too, hoped never to face such a situation again; if another attempt were made, it wouldn't be so simple. Meanwhile, the Viscount was comfortably lounging in his manor, enjoying the service of his servants.

All this hard work was for moments like these—to enjoy life. Derek wouldn't push himself to the extreme all the time, only to be remembered as a miser. He relaxed on a special chair, wrapped in soft bear fur, with a long wool rug underfoot and a warm fire crackling in the fireplace. With a cup of hot milk, the contrast between this and life in the barracks couldn't have been starker.

His knights and officials were present, including his uncle, Andrew. They gathered to discuss the recent happenings and for Derek to get a better understanding of his domain. On a regular basis, these officials served as his eyes and ears. But even so, relying solely on them could be limiting, so he preferred to see things for himself and discover new sources of information.

"Miss Tiona has arrived in St. Milian Province. When would you like to meet her?"

"The weather's been quite cold lately. Pick a good day, and I'll visit the Earl."

"The Southern Legion is reportedly close, and they seem to have caught wind of something."

"No surprise there. The South has developed well these past few years; they must have networks everywhere. Trouble is likely on the way."

Derek could make quick decisions on some issues; others required further confirmation. The squires stood nearby, able to overhear these not-so-secretive discussions. This was the real perk: Derek didn't mind, and even welcomed, them spreading some of this information.

During the first month, Derek had personally overseen their training almost every day. In the coming days, he planned to reduce his frequency of attendance. As the Southern Legion drew near, tension in St. Milian Province began to rise. But just before the New Year, they were blessed with a spell of good weather.

Derek prepared to set out; it was time to visit his fiancée. Even though they had met before, at the Pereira Knights, Derek had been just another unremarkable squire. She probably didn't remember him. Derek, on the other hand, knew very little about this noblewoman.

Of course, a marriage to someone of Derek's standing was no small matter. Her reputation and character were likely above reproach. Any mishap could become fodder for the theater, and the relationship between the two families would be ruined. Thus, Derek wasn't worried.

Just as he was about to depart, a guest arrived.

"Brother-in-law!"

The young man bearing the Palmer name was not from the Pereira Earl's family. It took Derek a moment to remember who he was.

David Palmer, the eldest son of Baron Palmer. This newly-minted baronial family had risen from merchant roots to become a true landed noble. Although new nobility often faced discrimination and might not integrate into the core aristocratic circles for a generation or two, they had undeniably climbed the social ladder. The barbarian invasions had drastically altered the Palmer family's fortunes.

After being granted their lands, Baron Palmer often sent gifts to Derek. But this was the first time his eldest son, David, had come in person, and his greeting, "Brother-in-law," left Derek puzzled. After David introduced himself, he leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "Brother-in-law, Father feared you'd grow impatient, so he sent my second and third sisters ahead. My eldest sister is still on her way."

Derek nearly choked in surprise at such a bold move. When Baron Palmer had excitedly mentioned this possibility, Derek had taken it as a joke. But it seemed that the Baron understood men all too well.

Clearly, Derek was more important to him than his daughters. Given Derek's recent achievements, the Baron had decided to place a significant bet on him. If his daughters couldn't become the Viscountess, they could at least become his mistresses.

In this era, it wasn't uncommon for nobles to have mistresses. But in the two years since Derek had arrived in this world, he hadn't indulged in such pleasures. The pressure to survive had always been too great. Yet, rejecting this offer wasn't something he could easily do.

This wasn't exactly a noble matter, but it wasn't something to be ashamed of either. David, with his merchant background, wasn't concerned about propriety. Unlike traditional nobility, he didn't need to maintain a façade. The lack of face today would pave the way for his son's generation to have some tomorrow.