Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

Nick didn't exactly spend the next few hours avoiding everyone, but he did lock himself in his room, saying he needed to do some reading and shouldn't be disturbed.

I might have shown off a bit too much. But how could I have known that the smallest ball was the hardest one?

The answer was that if he had paid more attention to Tim's lessons instead of dismissing them as child's play, he wouldn't have made that mistake.

Still, he hadn't really done anything wrong. And maybe now, since his family had been elevated in status, he could let more of his true power show.

It's not like it's even a secret. Everyone in Floria knows I'm not exactly normal, and if I want to ace the Tower's tests, I'll need to do more than just levitate a heavy ball.

It was just that he had gotten so used to always trying his best to stay anonymous that even this much made him uncomfortable.

"Ah, what's done is done," he sighed, staring out the window. Morning had just rolled around, and he hoped to leave Oakenhallow before the day was over.

The issue with Chandra also needed to be resolved. Not that he would do anything himself unless absolutely necessary, but he wanted a clear picture before he left.

Zoran's account had done a lot for that. He doubted anyone else would have felt safe enough to speak with him. But before meeting Sir Poules himself, he couldn't exactly draw any definitive conclusions.

Everything depended on whether the man was fully in control of his faculties. If he was aware of his wife's actions and tolerated them, then it was a matter of personal distaste, even if internal. Eugene would have the final say, of course, but Nick doubted it would be grounds for the attainment of the house.

More likely, they'd be watched carefully and never fully trusted.

If the knight was a thrall, on the other hand… Well, things might get messy.

Casting his gaze out, Nick felt his way through the town, automatically noting anything of interest.

Homer was tending to the horses and didn't seem to have drunk too much the previous day, given how easily he moved. Zoran was pulling some loaves out of his oven. People wandered around the market while the manor bustled with activity, as clerks, servants, and the household got ready for their Lord's return.

Despite being lower nobility with little to their name, the Poules appeared to take their roles much more seriously than the Crowleys.

I wonder if that will change now. Bah, of course it will. A Baron can't live on the outskirts of town and have his wife cook for every meal.

Would they move away from the farmhouse? He figured they could just take over the Town Hall. There were plenty of unused rooms, and with a little rearranging, they could reserve an entire floor for themselves.

But Floria would soon become the hub of commerce for the entire grassland. It would collect taxes from all over and grow as more people tried to get in on that initial explosive surge. Especially with the crystal forest, an incredibly valuable resource, so close at hand, it might even develop into a nationally significant center.

Shaking his head, Nick decided that whatever would be, would be. Whether his father chose to renovate their ancestral home or ended up building something new, it didn't really matter. He'd need to change the wards, of course, and link Talbot to the new place, but that wouldn't take more than an afternoon.

And that's the Captain coming in, he thought as he felt a large number of people pass through the eastern gate.

Two dozen soldiers, all dressed for battle, marched through, carrying several slain monsters, ranging from larger thunderhooves to smaller avian ones.

At the front of the procession was a man riding a warhorse, dressed in full plate armor engraved with an oak tree, who could only be the lord.

Nick would need to get a better look up close, but even from this distance, he could tell that he didn't seem to be clouded. If anything, Sir Poules appeared sharp, like a spear ready to strike. And he seemed a bit annoyed, but that was overshadowed by a good deal of lust.

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Apparently, Lady Chandra didn't have to use magical manipulation to win her husband. Good old-fashioned seduction worked just fine.

He tracked their path through the town, observing how the locals welcomed their arrival, cheering when they saw the great beasts being paraded around.

Those aren't alphas, but they're reasonably sized specimens. Still nothing impressive.

Eventually, the men reached the manor, where a crowd had gathered at the entrance. As soon as the soldiers set down their spoils, people swarmed them, grabbing the carcasses and dragging them toward a field in the back, where he imagined they would be butchered.

Sir Poules dismounted from his steed gracefully, handed off its reins to a young boy, and quickly walked through the courtyard, where he was greeted by his wife.

The two embraced and kissed passionately, and the way no one blinked told him it was a very common sight.

Sighing, Nick decided it was time to face the music. Things didn't seem as bad as they could have been, but he still needed to get the oath from the Captain and then send him off toward Floria.

Then, he could finally leave. And to think this was supposed to be the easy one.

By the time he arrived in the courtyard, he would have expected the married couple to have separated, but they were still locked in an embrace, and the noises that escaped them were starting to verge on the obscene.

"Yeah, they're always like that," Tim muttered as he walked closer. The teenager appeared to have recovered from yesterday's shock and looked with resigned indifference at the frankly ridiculous scene unfolding before him, as the servants moved around them with complete detachment.

"Ah, I guess it's good that they get along," Nick said, though he was starting to worry they might not come up for air anytime soon.

Finally, after another minute of awkwardness, there was a loud sucking noise, and the couple of lampreys let go of each other.

"Ah, you must be young Nicholas!" Poules exclaimed in recognition, while his wife giggled and pressed a handkerchief to his face to wipe away the signs of their passion.

"Indeed," Nick answered awkwardly. It wasn't that he was shocked by the display, but that he didn't know how to handle it being so public. Maybe his sensibilities were just too different, but then again, he'd never seen anyone do that kind of thing in Floria.

"Good, good. When we got the official notice of House Crowley's elevation, I almost couldn't believe it, but then again, your family has more than one Prestige warrior in the lineage. I shouldn't be too surprised." The knight roared with laughter. He was a big man, standing about a foot taller than his wife, who wasn't exactly small either. His armor only made him more imposing, and while he wasn't anywhere near Eugene in power, Nick could tell he wasn't someone to be underestimated.

Deciding he'd gone through enough pleasantries, Nick pulled the scroll his father had given him from his inner pocket and offered it to the man. "Here, this is the first decree, asking for your oath of allegiance, and to get to Floria as quickly as possible."

The man's laughter cut off, and for a moment, he looked at the scroll with mixed emotions. To Nick, it was obvious he didn't know how to feel about his peer's sudden rise in fortunes. Eugene had said it himself that the two other noble houses had been considered equals to House Crowley.

Still, unless he wanted to bring his house against a newly ranked-up Prestige, he didn't really have a choice. Poules grabbed the scroll and opened it, breaking the red wax seal and releasing a thin cloud of mana.

His eyes scanned the official declaration, and when he finished, he looked back at Nick.

Having to swear loyalty to a kid younger than his own son probably wasn't the most glamorous thing, but since Eugene couldn't come to him, he'd have to make do.

After a moment, the Captain dropped to one knee, quickly followed by the entire household. Even Tim, who had been standing next to Nick, kneeled, and suddenly he was the focus of everyone's attention.

"I, Sir Armand Poules, Captain Commander of Oakenhallow, and Head of House Poules, pledge my allegiance to House Crowley, as the rightful rulers of the western grassland! My sword is your sword, my hearth is your hearth!" He bellowed.

Having been coached on what to say, Nick inclined his head in acknowledgment, "I, Nicholas Crowley, son of Baron Eugene Crowley, accept your oath of fealty! Rise as a vassal of House Crowley, and know that your enemies are our enemies, and that our walls will protect your descendants."

The ether swirled as the oath settled. It wasn't exactly a spell, nor was it even considered official magic, but such declarations, especially when made by people with enough mana, had a way of rippling through reality.

It wouldn't be impossible for House Poules to betray them, but they would face many challenges along the way, and Nick suspected they might even harm their paths should they try.

That, of course, applied to House Crowley as well. He was one of their members, and therefore, he would be bound by the oath just like the others.

Fortunately, he suspected that while he wouldn't escape unscathed, he'd be able to avoid the worst of the backlash thanks to [Blasphemy].

But that was neither here nor there. Poules straightened to his full height and grinned happily, "A feast! Prepare the monsters we hunted for a feast in honor of our new liege lord!"

Ah, damn. I hoped to get out of here.

It didn't take long for the servants to set up the great hall for the celebration. Admittedly, it wasn't exactly a full-scale event. House Poules didn't have House Crowley's banners on hand, and while he was sure a seamstress could sew one up, it would still take some time.

Still, Chandra proved herself very efficient at whipping up a good one. The tables soon groaned under the weight of all kinds of foods, from piles of roasted sparrohawks to the large platters carrying quarters of thunderhooves.

Nick would have thought some more time was necessary for those to be fully edible. Based on his understanding, the great beasts needed to be bled dry and left to age to prevent the meat from becoming stringy and metallic. However, the steaks he was served were tender and buttery.

I guess someone with a Cook class might be able to prepare them much faster. I will have to tell Dad to hire one if this is the kind of thing we can expect.

"I heard you are a talented mage!" The elder Poules said from his chair next to his, his eyes flicking to his son, whose shoulders tensed.

Apparently, there was some tension there. But then again, it was pretty common for fathers to have high expectations.

"I had the good fortune of having good teachers," Nick answered. It was even the truth. Without his grandfather's help, he sincerely doubted he'd be even a quarter as powerful.

"Hmm, I see. Well, I shouldn't be too surprised. Your father always had a good head; he wouldn't let such a talent go to waste. Will you take part in the Tower's exams, then?"

Nick really wanted to wrap up this conversation. Unfortunately, just as Sir Poules had been forced to kneel to a teenager, he was forced to grin and bear it. "I'm still considering it. It might be a bit too soon, with everything that needs to be done back home."

"Ah, yes. The danger from the north," the knight rumbled, his eyes going distant.

Nick nodded, eager to avoid talking about his future. At the same time, he directed a funnel of wind toward Homer, who was busy devouring an entire sparrow-hawk by himself. "Get ready to leave; we'll go as soon as the feast is over."