The bustling day finally came to an end after the last Plunder License was successfully auctioned. This day might draw a dividing line in Pramisburg’s civic history, to be known as the Spring of Pramisburg.

  By the time Arno returned to the city lord’s mansion, the lights were already on, and the scent of dinner filled the halls. After a simple meal, he drank a cup of black tea in a most un-noble manner, finally letting out a sigh as he tugged at his tight collar to feel more comfortable. The head maid beside him frowned deeply, eventually wearing a helpless expression.

  Celeste quickly refilled Arno’s tea and chattered on about how she had spent the day while he was away.

  The scholar Arno had hired was highly competent. After all, employing an old man for two gold coins a month was considered a very high salary throughout the empire. To keep this well-paying and respectable job, the scholar taught Celeste with great patience, never getting angry even when the little girl zoned out from time to time. In the morning, she studied Orlando language, Orlando history, and knowledge about local customs and traditions. In the afternoon, she had two hours of dance and posture lessons, with the remaining time dedicated to martial arts training.

  The martial arts teacher had a head of fiery red hair, a typical feature of non-Desians, as Desians always had black, linen, or golden hair. This Frost Sword, named Jasmine—a very ordinary name—had a passion as fiery as her hair and was a very cheerful person. She was only in her early thirties, but her firm skin made her look far younger, perhaps around twenty-four or twenty-five, judging by her figure and complexion.

  "Celeste is an excellent student, and I am happy to pass on my martial arts to her," said Jasmine. "What you need most now is to acquire a battle aura manual for her and a sword that suits her. A swordsman’s foundation is crucial for their entire life, and a suitable battle technique can give her a higher ceiling for growth."

  Arno stroked Celeste’s chubby little hand, feeling the tiny calluses that slightly pricked his palm. The girl’s face turned as red as a ripe peach, and she kept trying to pull her hand back, but Arno never let her.

  "You make a good point. Do you have any suggestions?"

  Jasmine casually brushed back her long hair and tossed it, exuding a valiant air. She nodded and said, "Celeste’s physique is on the delicate side, so overly fierce battle techniques are meaningless for her. I think the Moonlight Sword Technique is most suitable for her, though this technique is very hard to obtain."

  "Moonlight?" Arno mused. "Are you referring to Joan’s battle technique?"

  "So you know it too. Yes, it’s the battle technique of Grand Duke Joan. It’s known as the most suitable battle technique for women—gorgeous in style, highly lethal, and without imposing too heavy a burden on the body after cultivation," explained Jasmine, who was very talkative and not the least bit timid due to Arno’s status. "My Frost Sword technique isn’t suitable for Celeste. She’s young and not very strong; although there might be no immediate issues, her body will become weak after she turns twenty if she practices it."

  Arno believed Jasmine wouldn’t deceive him on this matter. Women naturally had a colder constitution, and cultivating a technique like Frost Sword would definitely impose a heavy physical burden. Celeste wasn’t the daughter of a common family who needed to fight for survival; she didn’t need to endure too much hardship for an average battle technique. Arno hoped that Celeste could protect herself when necessary, not that she had to fight on the battlefield.

  "In that case, I will write to Grand Duke Joan. I believe we will get a positive response."

  Arno knew Grand Duke Joan, though not intimately. Every year, lords from all over would go to the imperial capital for the annual Celebration Day to celebrate the Emperor’s birthday. It was said that the royal family had a strange secret—one that was no longer a secret—that every Emperor of Orlando was born on March 1st. Or rather, among the Emperor’s sons and daughters, only those born on March 1st had the legitimate right to inherit the throne.

  It sounded absurd. In another world with advanced science and medicine, one still couldn’t guarantee a fetus would be born on a specific day, but in this world, it was just that magical. The Emperor didn’t even need to deliberate on which child to choose as his successor; any child born on March 1st, regardless of gender, would become the next Emperor.

  Arno had only met Grand Duke Joan once at the Celebration Day. In her fifties, unlike other noblewomen, she always wore military armor and carried a longsword. The Emperor allowed her to bring her sword into the palace as a reward for her meritorious service during the civil war. Joan’s slogan, "Shed the last drop of blood for His Majesty," had always made Arno think that this Grand Duke was not only extremely combat-effective but also had outstanding acting skills.

  As for whether she would send the battle technique after he wrote to her, Arno didn’t care too much. If she did, they would be friends and allies; if not, they would be enemies. If she remained safe and sound, that would be one thing, but if she ever faced any misfortune, he would not hesitate to worsen her plight and kick her while she was down.

  Yes, that was the way nobles were.

  "Jasmine…" Arno started, but Jasmine corrected him immediately. "Alright, Jasmine. Would you be willing to serve as Celeste’s escort officer?" Arno looked at Celeste, who coincidentally glanced at him secretly, her big eyes filled with delight. Arno stroked her head and smiled at Jasmine. "You know I’m often away from the city lord’s mansion, and I’ve always been worried about her safety. Besides, she doesn’t have many friends. I hope you can protect her, become her friend, and take care of her for me."

  Jasmine looked at Celeste, her gaze softening, but when she turned back to Arno, her eyes sharpened again. "I can’t ‘take care of her’ in your place. If she needs you, even ten of me can’t replace you to make her feel at ease," she said, her words as sharp as her sword. "So I can promise to protect her safety, but everything else is up to you to handle."

  "Does that mean you agree?" Arno was not bothered by Jasmine’s aggressive tone, just as the people of Pramisburg knew Arno’s attitude toward the city—many things didn’t need to be overly sentimental. "From today onward, you will receive the same treatment as Blair. I will give you ten gold coins every month, and I will do my best to fulfill any of your needs."

  Jasmine smiled and patted her chest, causing a noticeable bounce. "Don’t worry, City Lord."

  …

  As the sky grew darker, Arno sat in his study handling the day’s accumulated official business, while Celeste lay beside him watching him work. The fire in the hearth burned fiercely, occasionally emitting sparks, making the room pleasantly warm.

  "Aren’t you bored?" Arno massaged his wrist and set aside a stack of signed documents. Since the city renovations began, a large number of accounts and personnel deployment applications had landed on his desk every day. The city’s daily affairs had returned to normal, no longer handled by underground forces but by him as the city lord. The city lord’s mansion still had very few advisors, and the only one, Richard, had been sent out by Arno. The plan to expand the advisor team was now urgent. He didn’t want to be overwhelmed by the heavy workload—now that he had finally become a Golden Noble, he should enjoy life a little, shouldn’t he?

  Celeste shook her head, her eyes growing increasingly drowsy. The room’s temperature was so comfortable that it made one want to fall asleep. At her age, she was at the stage where she needed a lot of sleep, which was enviable.

  "Come on, let’s go to bed. The rest can wait until tomorrow," said Arno, inserting his pen into the inkwell, picking up a silk handkerchief to wipe the ink from his hand, and picking Celeste up in his arms despite her shy struggles.

  She buried her face in Arno’s chest and struggled softly. "Put me down; I can walk by myself."

  Arno puckered his lips. "I can only carry you while you’re still small. When you grow into a young lady, I’m afraid I won’t be able to carry you anymore."

  Celeste immediately laughed, her voice clear and sweet, like jade beads falling on a plate. "You’re the one who will get fat!"

  "Alright, alright, I’ll get fat tomorrow, but it’s time for bed now."

  Perhaps she was truly tired, for Celeste stopped struggling after a short while and fell sound asleep in Arno’s arms. Arno carefully placed her on the bed, covered her with a quilt, kissed her forehead, and left humming a tune, quietly closing the door behind him.

  Things had gone very smoothly these past few days—so smoothly that Arno himself felt like the heavens might be his real parent. However, he did not let down his guard. Countless examples from others had warned him that when things were going too smoothly, one should be extra cautious.

  Because fate, as always, was a bastard.