"Just call me Lokenth."
"Ah, c-certainly, Sir," stammered the balding, pink-faced steward. "Lokenth it is. Would you care to take a tour of the property, Si- Lokenth?"
The new-made knight held back a smile. How stuffy were these land-owning knights, that this pampered servitor didn't know how to talk to one like an ordinary human? When he was a commoner, he spoke politely to his superiors, to be sure. But the habit wasn't so ingrained in him that he would be unable to do otherwise. He was grateful he never developed it. Living in the wild and mostly keeping to himself probably helped, he reflected. This man had probably not strayed from this manor in ten years.
"Not right now, Fricio. I've got business to attend to in Remton."
"Of course, sire. Then you will be wanting a summarized report. Since the harvest, the mill has been considerably improved. Three wives amongst your people have given birth, though one of the babes did not last. Monsters were sighted two moons ago in the northern wood, but a patrol of guards dispatched found no traces of them. But one of your farmers found one of his chickens slaughtered, the coop broken up..."
Lokenth nodded slowly. This was all normal sounding enough. Guards never found monsters. Farmers always complained when animals tore up their livelihood. Women gave birth all the time. He wondered what he was supposed to do about it all, but luckily his steward didn't seem to expect him to do anything at all. Figures.
He left as soon as he could. His manor was vast, and well supplied with fine clothes and furniture and wines, even a library filled with books. He could get lost there, he knew, and looked forward to doing just that - some other time.
In Remton, he definitely noticed the people treating him differently. It wasn't mere gold now. He rode his horse, swaddled in warm, costly clothing, battle-hardened and armed with sword. Townsfolk and travelers would hop to get out of his way, and some bowed their heads slightly, avoiding his gaze. Guardsmen looked up at him, and not with the usual scowls of immediate mistrust or wary threat. And nobles met his eyes. It was an odd feeling.
He knew where the barracks were, and there he headed now to hire some men to follow him, and a banner to carry the colors of his house.
