Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke

Chapter 114 114 Gamble in the Capital

114 Gamble in the Capital

For any noble who frequently interacted with high-ranking figures, having a steward was not a luxury—it was a necessity.

"Me? A steward?"

Hans blinked rapidly, staring at William as if he had misheard.

The sheer absurdity of the suggestion left him momentarily speechless.

"You're not joking, are you?"

"Why would I joke about this? I personally requested your training."

"But—but stewards are always nobles! I'm just a commoner!"

"I know. That's why I'll elevate you to nobility later."

Hans' eyes widened to an almost comical degree.

Nobility? Without even earning battlefield merit?

"W-Wait, is that even possible?"

"If you have the title, yes. A count or higher can elevate a commoner to the rank of baronet. Of course, there are limits on how often they can do this per generation, so they can't hand out promotions recklessly."

In other words, as long as a noble had the authority, they could grant noble status to a subordinate at will.

The reason it was typically reserved for battlefield promotions was twofold.

First, it ensured that only those who had proven themselves worthy were elevated.

Second, if the newly titled noble wasn't recognized by their peers, they would be treated no differently than a lucky commoner—making the promotion meaningless.

"If you were aiming for knighthood, recognition from others would be crucial. But a steward is different. As long as you retain the trust of the head of the family, nothing else matters."

Knights required external validation. A steward did not.

Their role was confined to managing the household and its affairs, making outside recognition irrelevant.

In fact, the more well-known a steward became, the more suspicion they would attract within the family.

For a steward, trust from the head of the household was worth more than any fame or reputation.

"So, learn well. You'll be sleeping less, but if you want to continue assisting me, you need to be trained properly."

"Y-Young Master..."

Hans' throat tightened.

"The best room you have. A double, not a single—I'll be sharing it with my escort."

"Understood, my lord! When would you like your meal served?"

"After my bath. Prepare the water."

"Right away, sir! I'll have warm water ready at once!"

The innkeeper, well-practiced in dealing with nobles, responded with practiced deference.

Inside their room, Raymond suddenly spoke, as if he had just remembered something.

"I heard you're looking for someone in the capital. Who is it?"

"...An alchemist."

Raymond frowned.

"An alchemist? You mean those guys who've been completely drained by the Imperial Family, left as nothing but empty husks? I doubt you'll find anything worthwhile."

William smirked at Raymond's blunt assessment.

At this point in time, the status of the Alchemist's Guild truly was pathetic.

"I'll give you some advice," he said. "Never say that in front of an alchemist. Their reputation is all they have left—insulting it will send them into a rage."

Raymond snorted.

"What are they going to do about it? Even the so-called black mages cast them aside as useless."

The term 'black mages' here did not refer to actual practitioners of dark magic.

Rather, it was a derogatory term for the rogue mages who had rebelled against the Empire three centuries ago.

The Alchemist's Guild had sided with the Imperial Family during that rebellion, ensuring their continued recognition as an official discipline.

The Guild often recounted this history with pride.

But most people only sneered at their so-called loyalty.

"They claim they were being loyal, but that's nonsense. The truth is, the other mages never saw them as equals. The only reason they sided with the Empire was because they had no choice."

Even in modern times, proper mages regarded alchemists as mere imitators—charlatans who lacked the talent to wield real magic and instead relied on potions to mimic it.

And during the rebellion, the renegade mages had completely ignored the alchemists, not even bothering to recruit them.

That alone spoke volumes about their status.

"If they at least produced something useful, maybe people would respect them. But all they've done for centuries is leech off Imperial funding while contributing nothing of worth."

Raymond's voice was filled with open disdain.