As previously mentioned, every noble was directly supervised by someone of higher rank—except for the Duke.
So, it wasn't unusual for a Viscount overseeing Westmere to visit the town for an inspection. But under normal circumstances, noble etiquette demanded a letter be sent at least three days in advance.
Yet today, Viscount Roman Ashenford had arrived without warning.
The carriage rolled to a stop before the town's largest farm—the heart of its economy. The moment it halted, Aston stepped out, moving briskly toward his superior.
"Mother... why does the farm look like that?" Arthur's brows drew together as his gaze swept over the land. The soil was dark, reddish-black, moist yet barren, without a single sprout of green. An unsettling sight.
"For the past six months, every crop the farmers planted has failed," Virelle murmured, her voice distant. She spoke as if reciting facts rather than explaining them to a child.
Arthur turned to her, only to find her eyes fixed on the blond man standing ahead.
Viscount Roman Ashenford—her older brother.
Virelle was the daughter of the former Viscount, but she had long been estranged from her family. Their father had never forgiven her for choosing a mere knight. Even after Aston earned his title, the old man still refused to acknowledge him as her husband. Because of that, Virelle hadn't set foot in her childhood home in twelve years.
"Mother…" Kevin, who understood their family's history, grasped her hand in silent support.
Virelle blinked and took a deep breath before offering them a small smile. "Don't worry, sweeties. Your mother is strong."
But Arthur could see it—how her fingers trembled slightly, how her red-rimmed eyes betrayed the emotions she was trying so hard to hold back.
The mother who always smiled warmly, who always stood tall, was breaking.
A weight settled in his chest.
Then, his gaze shifted to the group gathered near the farm. A bald man stood before Aston, his voice loud and sharp—disrespectful. Arthur's frown deepened.
'What is he saying…?'
Suppressing the frustration bubbling inside, Arthur focused, enhancing his senses with what little mana he had left. The voices became clearer.
"What are you even thinking, Baron?!" the bald man spat. "You're risking hundreds of lives by failing to provide the bare minimum!"
"The farmland is barren, and you still have no solution. How can you even call yourself a ruler?"
Aston clenched his fists, his expression stiff. "Despite the circumstances, I have ensured that the townspeople get at least two meals a day."
Arthur's jaw tightened. 'By giving away almost everything he earns…'
Aston didn't just use the allowance from the Viscount. His personal wages, his side income from hunting—everything he could spare—went toward keeping the town afloat. That was why, despite his title, he lived no differently from a common man.
In contrast, Viscount Ashenford's presence was a blatant display of wealth. His deep red, three-piece suit was perfectly tailored, his handcrafted shoes polished to a shine. Even the bald subordinate beside him was dressed better than Aston.
"You're not helping them out of kindness!" the bald man sneered. "You're just afraid of being sentenced to prison for failing your people! And look at this town! It's worse than when you first came here! No traders come, no nobles spare it a glance. The only reason anyone still checks on this place is because of my benevolent Lord!"
His voice carried, ensuring that both groups—Aston's men and the Viscount's soldiers—heard every word. While Aston's subordinates lowered their heads in shame, the Viscount's men smirked, some even laughing outright.
Arthur's fingers curled into fists.
In the past, such disrespect would have been enough to warrant an immediate execution.
'Seems like these ducklings need a reminder of their place.'
Without hesitation, Arthur pushed the carriage door open.
Virelle turned to him, concern flashing across her face. "Where are you going, Art?"
Arthur met her gaze, and for the first time since arriving, he smiled. A calm, almost gentle smile.
"To greet my uncle."
But beneath that smile, his eyes gleamed coldly.
Arthur landed smoothly, his steps deliberate as he advanced toward the group.
"Arthur…" Conrad called out, but Arthur didn't spare him a glance. His focus remained locked on the three men ahead.
"Art?" Aston's voice carried a note of surprise as his son appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
Viscount Ashenford narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the young man who stood before him—calm, composed, yet exuding an air colder than steel.
'What's with this kid…?' he wondered.
Arthur held the noble's gaze only for a moment before turning to the bald man. His voice was cool, precise, and sharp enough to cut through the tension.
"Considering you serve a noble, you should be well aware of Directory Third, Rule Three Hundred One—that raising your voice against someone of higher social standing is, in fact, a crime. This rule applies to all humans, so I'm left wondering… Did you simply forget, or do you not consider yourself a man?"
A deep, furious red spread across the bald man's face—whether from anger or humiliation, it was hard to tell. Behind him, the soldiers barely held back their laughter.
Arthur's gaze flicked toward them as he added, "The First Code of Conduct—never react to anything but a direct threat to your primary. I must say… I'm impressed by your behavior."
The soldiers stiffened. As undisciplined as they appeared, they had undergone formal training. They knew the conduct.
"You little—! What are you, a walking rule book?!" The bald man—Minister Abel—snapped, his temper flaring. He stormed toward Arthur, fist clenched, his entire body radiating hostility.
But before he could get close—
Aston stepped forward, placing himself between his son and the raging man.
The atmosphere shifted instantly. The easygoing, patient Baron was gone.
His gaze held a quiet, simmering menace, and for the first time that day, a faint trace of bloodlust seeped into the air.
"Minister Abel," Aston said, his voice dangerously low, "I suggest you remember your place. Because if you lay a hand on my son, I will forget mine."
Abel gritted his teeth but didn't dare to say anything. He was well aware of his status as a non-awakened and what monster he was facing.
"He won't say anything but that won't change the fact that you have ruined the town's primary source of income." For the first time, Roman Ashenford spoke; his voice full of contempt.
Arthur was already aware that just like his father, Roman also didn't like Aston. That's why he wasn't surprised to see the loathing in his eyes toward him.
Aston didn't have any response to that, since it was true that he couldn't do anything to save the farm.
The silence was weighing on Aston, and just when Viscount was about to announce his verdict, Arthur asked,
"Can I ask something here? When crops were failing continuously, did the Viscount send someone for inspection?"
Abel snickered, "Of course, he did. My benevolent Lord always extends a helping hand toward weak and pathetic creatures."
Arthur rolled his eyes—this guy has a limited vocabulary.
(A/N: Don't insult me *sniff*)
He turned towards the field before he coated his body with mana.
He has already sensed the cause of the disaster.
"What the...what is your son doing?" Abel asked in disgust as he saw Arthur kneeling on the ground and slowly digging the soil.
"Arthur?" Aston asked, only to hear him say,
"Trust me, father. It's no miracle that no crops grow here. There is a definite reason."
Ashenford frowned hearing those words as he watched silently, the boy digging the soil.
Once Arthur dug out enough to insert his hand under the ground, he did.
"That is dangerous, Arthur!" Suddenly a voice that made Roman's face dark, echoed as Virelle advanced toward the field.
Neither of them turned to look at each other.
For the time being, Arthur ignored his mother and continued to channel mana to his index finger.
Finally—
"Caught you." He smirked before pulling out his little arm which was dirty. His hand was clenched, and in that hand wriggled a small and thick worm which pulsated with reddish-black energy.
A few from the church gasped, while Aston and Roman's eyes widened when they saw the creature.
For those who failed to recognize it, Arthur explained, "It's a demonic bug that can eat the energy from the plants to survive. They don't appear above the soil unless someone digs them out and are very hard to track."
Advancing toward the Viscount, Arthur smilingly said, "Now, either these bugs appeared just today, or your men failed to do a simple job." Saying so, he dropped the worm right before Ashenford's shoe.
*******
A/N:- Thanks for reading. Leave a comment.