"Ah~ ha~"
Lorien got up from his luxurious bed, yawning several times. He had barely managed to fall asleep last night despite his stomach's protests. Even after finally dozing off, his sleep quality was terrible, and his body's internal clock woke him up at seven.
Stretching lazily, Lorien realized that he might have to skip breakfast again.
Normally, around this time, his intern lawyer would arrive in the firm's carriage to pick him up. Once they reached the firm, Locke would then go out and buy him breakfast.
But yesterday, Lorien had given Locke a week off and returned home in a hired carriage. That meant no one was coming to pick him up today.
This was a neighborhood full of wealthy families who all had their own carriages. Public carriages never passed through here, and the nearest carriage hire station was two streets away on Unit 29 Sivellaus Street.
By 7:30, Lorien began changing out of his nightwear. Dressed in a knee-length black trench coat and a matching soft felt hat, he prepared to walk to Sivellaus Street.
Looks like I have to discuss the firm's future with Uncle Robert. Sooner or later, he won't be able to manage time for the firm.
…
Choosing a black cane with silver inlays, Lorien stepped out of his residence at 45 Grimm Garden Street in the West Borough.
The weather was pleasant today, the rare sunlight cutting through the usual cold dampness. Backlund's weather was notoriously bad, and with the heavy pollution, sunny days were a rarity.
"Mr. Ashford?"
A slightly hoarse, surprised female voice reached Lorien's ears.
Turning, he saw a woman in a light blue dress and a veiled hat adorned with a purple ribbon. It was Mrs. Curtis, his neighbor from 46 Grimm Garden Street.
Lorien removed his hat and bowed slightly.
"Good morning, madam. You look as lovely as ever."
"Good morning, Mr. Ashford."
Mrs. Curtis returned the greeting, then asked curiously, "No one's picking you up for work today?"
Lorien opened his mouth but then smiled bitterly.
"That's right, madam."
"I recall the young man who usually picks you up is named Locke Grant? He seemed very polite. Did something happen?"
"I gave Mr. Grant a few days off but forgot to inform the firm's carriage driver."
Mrs. Curtis chuckled behind her hand.
"Lorien, that's your own fault."
"Yes, madam," Lorien admitted readily.
"Are you heading to the firm now? I have a spare carriage at home; you're welcome to use it."
Lorien removed his hat again in gratitude.
"Thank you for your generosity, Mrs. Curtis, but I don't need to go to the firm today."
"Oh? Our ever-busy Mr. Ashford isn't going to work? That's even rarer than today's sunshine!"
The Curtis family had been neighbors with the Ashford family for nearly a decade, and Mrs. Curtis knew Lorien well. Ever since he took over the firm, he had gone there every day without fail, except for New Year's. Sometimes, he even stayed overnight at the office. If not for their occasional encounters, she would have thought he had moved away.
Lorien shrugged.
"After working so much, I deserve a break once in a while."
"How long is this well-earned break of yours? Do you have time to attend the art salon I'm hosting?"
Mrs. Curtis, though Loenian, had grown up in Trier, the capital of Intis. That city was a haven for artists, musicians, and writers, deeply influencing her tastes.
Since moving to Backlund, she regularly hosted art salons at her home, attracting many wealthy ladies from the West Borough. During Backlund's social season, even noblewomen from the Empress Borough occasionally attended.
Lorien smiled and declined.
"Thank you for the invitation, but I have other matters to handle during this break."
After chatting for a little longer, Lorien politely took his leave. If he lingered any longer, Mrs. Curtis might hear his stomach growling.
Reaching Unit 29 Sivellaus Street, he hired a carriage and instructed the driver to take him to the nearest restaurant. It was time to properly reward his long-suffering stomach.
After Lorien had finished a serving of grilled bacon, two fried eggs, and a piece of toasted bread, he finally felt his stomach settle. One of the hardest things for him to adjust to after transmigrating had been the food, especially breakfast.
As he lifted the white-glazed porcelain coffee cup and took a sip, the bitterness of the Felmo coffee from the Paz Valley instantly dispelled his post-meal drowsiness. Although it was intensely bitter, it was also extremely refreshing, which explained why his predecessor had relied on it for long nights spent reviewing case files.
When he stepped out of the restaurant, he spotted the carriage that he had hired waiting across the street. The coachman, after noticing his emergence, immediately spurred his brown horse forward, bringing the carriage closer.
After skillfully bringing the horse to a stop, the coachman hopped down and asked, "Sir, where to now?"
"Take me to 9 Canylowell Street in the Cherwood Borough first," Lorien replied.
"Understood, sir."
Once Lorien had climbed inside, the coachman, who was a man named Fitch and dressed in a neatly tailored three-piece suit, flicked the reins with practiced ease, setting the carriage eastward.
As Lorien removed his felt hat and placed it on his lap, he thought about his first destination for the day. He was heading to 9 Canylowell Street, where the City Family Servant Assistance Association was located, since he needed to hire a butler to help manage his garden villa.
Last night, when he had been unable to sleep due to hunger, he had finally decided to hire a butler along with some servants. His predecessor, having been consumed by work, had practically lived at the firm. While not hiring servants might have raised some eyebrows, it had still been somewhat plausible.
When Lorien had first transmigrated, he had prioritized caution above all else, sticking to his predecessor's habits and avoiding unnecessary risks. The thought of hiring servants had not even crossed his mind. Later, paranoia had set in, making him wonder whether the Law of Beyonder Characteristics Convergence applied to him in the same way that it had to Klein. If that were the case, then his home might eventually become a gathering place for traitors. It had seemed much safer to follow his predecessor's example, live at the firm, and eat all of his meals there.
But now, after careful consideration, he had decided that it was time for a change.
First, unlike his predecessor, he could not keep handling cases every day and living at the firm. At least for the foreseeable future, staying away from legal work was essential for his survival.
Since he was already planning to step back from the firm, there was no longer any excuse for him not to hire servants. He would have to do it sooner or later, so he saw no reason to delay. At the very least, he could start living a little more comfortably; he was done going to bed hungry.
Secondly, he had to think about his future path. Whether he chose Justiciar or Black Emperor, both pathways revolved around setting rules and enforcing order. High-sequence powerhouses in these paths were not just rulers; they were emperors, figures of immense authority. To play such a role properly, he needed to surround himself with the right people.
If he wanted to mingle with the nobility, then he would inevitably have to attend banquets, balls, and salons. And when he eventually had to host such events at his own home, he would require proper service, drinks, food, and staff. A competent team of servants was essential.
Most importantly, he needed a butler. The position itself had evolved from the role of a wine steward, and among nobles and the wealthy, the wine cellar was typically managed directly by the butler or a trusted assistant.
---
At 9 Canylowell Street, inside the City Family Servant Assistance Association, a blonde-haired woman in a ruffled dress, Delia, was chatting softly with her newly arrived colleague, Baylin.
When she spotted Lorien entering, she quickly ended the conversation and stood up, greeting him with a smile.
"Sir, may I have your name? How can I assist you?"
Beside her, Baylin, who was also dressed in a ruffled gown and had her hair neatly pulled back, quickly stood as well, lowering her head while listening to their exchange.
"Lorien. Lorien Ashford." His tone was warm as he addressed the two women. "No need to be nervous. I'm simply here to hire a butler. I trust you can help me with that, right?"
"We'll certainly introduce you to the most suitable butler, Mr. Ashford. Please wait in the reception area for a moment," Delia replied, choosing her words carefully. She knew better than to promise the best butler outright, as she understood that for a client like Lorien, suitability mattered more than anything else.
After nudging Baylin slightly as a signal for her to guide Lorien to the seating area, she watched as the startled young woman hurriedly said, "Mr. Ashford, please follow me."
After leading him to the reception area, she gestured toward a fabric-covered sofa.
Throughout the exchange, Lorien maintained a faint, amiable smile, making himself appear approachable without seeming overly familiar. This expression was the result of a month of practice, as even a lawyer's charm required constant refinement.
Once he was seated, Baylin asked with a smile, "Mr. Ashford, would you like some coffee or tea?"
Since he had just finished a bitter cup of Felmo coffee, Lorien did not hesitate before replying, "A cup of Queen's Tea, with a slice of lemon."
For a brief moment, Baylin hesitated. While the coffee and tea served at the association were of average quality, mid to lower tier at best, adding lemon was still manageable. However, Queen's Tea was entirely out of the question.
Realizing his mistake, Lorien adjusted his request. "Just any tea will do. I already had a cup of Felmo."
As Baylin heard this, she found herself pleasantly surprised. A considerate gentleman, she thought, impressed by his awareness.
She smiled before asking, "Mr. Ashford, how about some Marquis Black Tea?"
Since it was her own personal stash, which she had brought from home for her own enjoyment, she normally would not have offered it. Coming from a well-off family, she had taken this job merely as a way to pass the time.
Lorien immediately understood that it was her private reserve, so he expressed his gratitude before replying, "Your offer is too good to refuse."
After hearing his response, Baylin nodded before saying, "Please wait a moment."
With light steps, she returned to the counter, retrieved her silver-lined tin, and began expertly preparing the tea.
Just as she was finishing, Delia approached Lorien gracefully. Since she had overheard snippets of their conversation, she felt somewhat concerned that the newcomer might have unintentionally offended a client.
"Mr. Ashford, sorry for the wait. Baylin didn't trouble you, did she?" she asked, her gaze flickering briefly toward her colleague.
Lorien, after noticing Baylin biting her lip slightly at the reception counter, smiled before replying, "Not at all. Miss Baylin's service has been excellent."
As soon as she heard this, Baylin's smile returned.
"So, Mr. Ashford," Delia continued, returning her attention to him, "What kind of butler do you need?"
Lorien had already thought it through last night and answered without hesitation.
"An experienced butler, preferably one who has served nobility before, and politically leans toward the Conservative Party."
For Lorien, the most important of these three requirements was political inclination. Only a butler who leaned conservative would be beneficial for his future plans.
The Kingdom of Loen had two major parties. One was the Conservative Party, supported mostly by hereditary nobles, each of whom was a member of the House of Lords, making them the most powerful aristocratic faction in the kingdom. The current Prime Minister, Lord Aguesid Negan, was a member of the Conservative Party, while his brother, the current Duke Negan, Pallas Negan, was one of its main supporters.
The other party was the New Party, whose members were mostly large industrialists, bankers, and top lawyers with significant influence in the House of Commons.
Of course, this division wasn't absolute. Some hereditary nobles leaned toward the New Party, such as Earl Hall, the father of Miss Audrey. Conversely, some powerful bankers and factory owners, eager for noble titles, sided with the Conservatives.
At present, the Conservatives held much more power than the New Party, especially with the introduction of the Grain Act. Most Conservatives were large landowners, and this law had significantly strengthened their position.
But in the long run, their power was being chipped away. The Grain Act was on the verge of being repealed, which would significantly shrink noble incomes and, in turn, reduce the financial backing of the Conservative Party.
The assassination of Duke Negan dealt an even heavier blow to the Conservatives. The new Duke Negan lacked the influence to unite the party. Many hereditary nobles, shaken by the assassination, chose to retreat into their estates, refusing to accept reality.
The repeal of the Grain Act was like causing muscle atrophy in a giant; painful but not immediately fatal. But the Duke's death was like breaking the Conservative Party's spine. Without its backbone, the ribs naturally scattered, and the party's core was left at the mercy of the New Party.
It could be said that even if Prime Minister Aguesid Negan had been assassinated instead, the damage wouldn't have been as severe. That was why the "Evening Hermit Gathering" had specifically targeted Duke Negan, placing bounties on him using two Blasphemy Cards.
Lorien's reasoning for siding with the Conservatives was simple: offering help in times of crisis was far more valuable than joining when things were already going well. Besides, when George III attempted and failed to ascend as the "Black Emperor," the power of the royal family would decline. Naturally, they would have to ally with the Conservatives to resist the New Party.
And all of this would unfold very soon. In just three years, if things went as Lorien planned, he would have a place in the Conservative Party, allowing him to play a role in restructuring the Kingdom of Loen.
As for whether he'd struggle to find a butler based on political alignment, he wasn't worried at all.
Since their inception, butlers had always been tied to politics. They served the powerful and naturally had to align with their employers' political views. Moreover, butlers were historically exclusive to noble households, meaning most already leaned Conservative.
"Butlers like that are quite rare. You know how noble families rarely replace their butlers unless they can no longer perform their duties. Even if they retire, they often take up other positions within noble households."
Delia paused before continuing,
"Additionally, wealthy merchants are in high demand for such butlers and are willing to pay premium salaries. Mr. Ashford, we do have the kind of candidate you're looking for, but the minimum annual salary is at least 100 pounds."
"That's not an issue, as long as they meet my requirements."
For Lorien, money wasn't quite just a number yet, but it was close enough. Unless he needed to spend large sums on Beyonder items or potion formulas, his liquid assets were enough to qualify him as a wealthy man.
Klein only had a few thousand pounds yet still managed to pose as a rich gentleman, convincing others of his generosity. Naturally, Lorien could do the same. Besides, he already knew plenty of potion formulas; at this stage, he was selling them, not buying.
"Alright, I'll prepare the necessary documents. In the meantime, Baylin can keep you company."
At that moment, Baylin finished brewing the marquis's black tea she had brought from home. She placed a white porcelain teacup with gold trim in front of Lorien, smiling faintly.
"It needs a moment to cool."
Lorien looked down at the marquis's black tea, where three or four lemon slices floated in the deep red liquid. The sight, combined with the elegant porcelain cup, made for a pleasant scene. He knew Baylin had deliberately added the lemon slices to balance out the bitterness of Felmo coffee. Smiling, he said,
"Just enough time for me to express my gratitude."
"No, no, this is what I should do. It was the association's lack of preparation that left you with only this to drink."
Baylin waved her hands apologetically, completely unaware that she had just thrown the association under the bus.
"Miss Baylin, are you new to this job?"
"Yes, I'm sorry. I don't have much work experience."
Baylin looked both apologetic and a little aggrieved, thinking Lorien was dissatisfied with her service. After all, she had even shared her treasured black tea! As a gentleman, Lorien should at least appreciate that.
As a lawyer, Lorien was keenly aware of her shifting emotions. With a chuckle, he said,
"No need to apologize. I doubt any amount of work experience could compare to this cup of marquis's black tea with lemon slices."
He pointed at the white porcelain teacup, still steaming. "I haven't tasted it yet, but I'm sure it will satisfy me."
"Thank you for your compliment."
The subtle praise in Mr. Ashford's words instantly lifted Baylin's mood, bringing a smile back to her face.
Lorien noticed that she still hadn't realized she had inadvertently sold out the association. He sighed inwardly and reminded himself that this wasn't a courtroom; he had to be more tactful.
The Kingdom of Loen was conservative in all things, at least on the surface. Mastering the art of subtlety in conversation was essential. Speaking too bluntly would only make interactions awkward for both parties.
So, he changed the topic and started discussing the rare sunshine that had appeared today.
Weather had been a popular topic in Backlund for over a century. As pollution worsened, conversations about the weather had become increasingly tied to criticism of Aguesid Negan's cabinet for its utter failure to address air pollution. These days, any talk about the weather almost inevitably led to denouncing the government.
"Mr. Ashford, are you also a follower of the Evernight Goddess?"
Baylin's eyes lit up. She had assumed Lorien was a follower of the Lord of Storms. After all, he was a successful young man; a highly aggressive barrister, no less; so it would have been completely normal for him to adhere to the male-dominated Church of the Lord of Storms.
"I am a devout follower of the Goddess."
Lorien remained calm as he skillfully tapped his chest four times in a clockwise motion, tracing the crimson moon.
In this world, belief in the true gods was the norm. His predecessor and Mason Ashford had both followed the Evernight Goddess. To maintain his cover and, more importantly, to ensure his own safety, Lorien naturally had to wave the Evernight Goddess's banner. There was no downside to siding with the Goddess.
Of course, bringing up his faith was intentional. He had no interest in awkwardly continuing his conversation with Miss Baylin. From their brief exchange, he had already figured out that her family was quite well-off.
Baylin's father was a small-time liquor merchant. Every year, he transported wine from Intis to Loen for resale. Though the work was exhausting, the profits were considerable; after all, the liquor trade was always a lucrative business.
From what Lorien knew, last year, Loen's alcohol import tax accounted for 57% of total tariffs. This was largely due to the Grain Act, which had driven up the cost of domestic brewing, forcing the country to rely heavily on imported spirits.
Given Baylin's comfortable background and young age, yet still choosing to work, Lorien was certain she was a follower of the Evernight Goddess.
Among the seven major churches, Church of the Lord of Storm and the Church of the God of Combat were the most male-centric, with the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun not far behind. The Church of the God of Knowledge and Wisdom was a different beast altogether, practically an intelligence-based hierarchy.
The Church of the Evernight Goddess, however, had always encouraged its female followers to enter the workforce. Many noblewomen had taken up professions as literary critics, musicians, pianists, and painters because of this doctrine.
This trend had also influenced many middle-class families, though due to financial constraints, their daughters often took on jobs with less "artistic value."
The Church of the Earth Mother, like the Church of the Evernight Goddess, advocated for gender equality. However, they placed a greater emphasis on reproduction and childbirth, seeing them as sacred duties.
As for the Church of Steam and Machinery, it remained neutral. In fact, due to the growing need for industrial labor, it often worked alongside the Church of the Evernight Goddess to promote female employment.
Baylin blinked, her face filled with anticipation.
"Then, will you be attending tonight's Moon Mass, Mr. Ashford?"
What's she implying? Does she want to go with me? Is she trying to bait a rich man here?
But I just claimed to be a devout follower of the Goddess. If I don't go, it'll look bad! How else am I supposed to curry favor with the Goddess?
Lorien regretted bringing up the topic. Keeping his expression unchanged, he replied, "Of course. Would I have the honor of accompanying the lovely Miss Baylin?"
"Ah?"
Baylin suddenly realized her wording had caused a misunderstanding. She quickly waved her hands.
"No, that's not what I meant! I was originally planning to go with Delia today."
"Go where?"
At that moment, Delia returned, holding a list of butlers that met Lorien's criteria.
"To the Moon Mass tonight," Baylin answered.
She stood up and walked over to Delia.
"Mr. Ashford will also be attending the Moon Mass."
A flicker of surprise crossed Delia's eyes. She turned to look at Lorien, who was sitting on the fabric sofa.
"Mr. Ashford, are you also a follower of the Goddess?"
"I am."
Lorien stood up and casually tapped his chest four times in a clockwise fashion.
"Please, have a seat."
Seeing Lorien rise, Delia was convinced of his devotion to the Evernight Goddess. He was nothing like those rough brutes who worshipped the Lord of Storms. She quickly gestured for him to sit back down.
Once Lorien was seated, Delia and Baylin took their places on the long fabric sofa opposite him.
"Baylin's whole family follows the Goddess, but her parents have an important banquet to attend tonight."
Delia paused for a moment.
"So, she pulled me along to accompany her to St. Samuel's Cathedral for the full moon mass. The service ends quite late, after all."
The full moon mass wouldn't begin until the moon was visible. But today was April 12, and the sun wouldn't set until 7 p.m., meaning the mass wouldn't start until after that.
Realizing that he had misunderstood Baylin earlier, Lorien felt a bit embarrassed. Not knowing what to say, he simply nodded.
"After screening the candidates, I've found two suitable butlers. I'll briefly introduce them."
Noticing that Lorien had no interest in further small talk, Delia glanced at Baylin in confusion before proceeding with the introductions.
"The first candidate is Mr. August, 52 years old. He previously served Viscount Barton. After the viscount passed away, his title was not inherited due to the lack of an heir, so Mr. August came to our association."
Damn, that's unlucky! Dying without an heir? Didn't he have any relatives? Though, in Loen, illegitimate children had no inheritance rights.
Seeing the doubt in Lorien's eyes, Delia continued.
"This Viscount Barton was granted nobility for his military achievements in the Southern Continent. However, he sustained injuries in battle and had no children. His hot temper also strained his relationships with other nobles. It was only after Mr. August became his butler that he slowly started mending ties with the aristocracy."
Ah, so he was given the title as compensation. After all, what future did he have otherwise?
But this Mr. August seems capable. Restoring Viscount Barton's social connections is no small feat. Of course, it wasn't something he could have done alone; the viscount had to cooperate. That was the tricky part.
"Mr. August is a follower of the Evernight Goddess and politically leans toward the Conservative Party. His expected annual salary is 120 pounds."
Lorien nodded, signaling Delia to continue. He just needed to confirm whether August had been aware of the viscount's childless fate beforehand. That would reveal if he was shortsighted.
In Loen, serving as a noble's servant or butler wasn't seen as disgraceful. On the contrary, it was highly desirable among commoners. Not only would it grant them the protection of the aristocracy, but it might also bring future benefits to their descendants. After all, noble titles were hereditary, and having a family history of servitude to the gentry made it easier to secure similar positions for their children.
That meant August might be shortsighted. Lorien didn't want a butler who only focused on immediate gains while neglecting the bigger picture. Such a person might be useful in the short term but could potentially ruin his long-term plans.
He wasn't confident he could reach Half-Great Old One status within three years like Klein.
Lorien listened quietly, nodding occasionally in agreement without interrupting Delia's explanation.
Delia continued her introduction:
"Mr. Norman, 55 years old, formerly served the Pringle family as the Earl Pringle's butler. Due to a conflict with the Earl's eldest son Viscount Murray, he chose to leave on his own. He is a casual believer in the Lord of Storms, has no personality issues, and his political stance aligns with the Conservative Party. He asks for a salary of 110 pounds."
A conflict with his future master; probably a management dispute. It seemed that Viscount Murray no longer wanted Mr. Norman as his butler. This was common when noble titles were inherited, but it always ended with the butler "choosing" to leave. No matter how favored a butler was, their relationship could never surpass blood ties.
Though Delia referred to Murray as a viscount, he didn't actually hold the title yet. His father was both an earl and a viscount, but he had already passed the viscountcy down to his eldest son, Murray Pringle.
In the Kingdom of Loen, a person could hold multiple noble titles simultaneously. An earl, marquis, or duke might also be a baron or a viscount. Some dukes even held the title of earl at the same time, and they would often "gift" their lower-ranking titles to their eldest sons and heirs as a formality.
If the eldest son wasn't granted a title, it meant his position as heir was unstable, and he would be referred to as a "lord" just like his other brothers; though this only applied to dukes and marquises.
After all, the sons of dukes and marquises could still use their family connections to rise to high positions, like Prime Minister Aguesid.
Sometimes, even an earl's son could do the same. Take Admiral Amyrius Rieveldt, the highest-ranking naval commander of the Kingdom of Loen in the central Sonia Sea, and his younger brother, Governor Aston Rieveldt of Oravi. Their father was an earl, but the title was inherited by their eldest brother, Austin Rieveldt, a member of the House of Lords.
Finishing her explanation, Delia handed over the stack of documents.
"Mr. Ashford, which one do you want to choose?"
Lorien pondered for a few seconds before smiling and saying,
"Let's do this. Have them both come to my place tomorrow at 3 p.m. I'll meet with them, talk things over, and then make a final decision."
He knew that associations like this didn't provide accommodations; they were just pure intermediary agencies. Even if he chose someone now, he wouldn't be able to see his butler until the afternoon or the next day. More importantly, he needed to learn more about them personally and select the one that best suited his needs. Paper profiles were one thing, but a face-to-face meeting was always better.
"No problem," Delia said with a gentle smile. "Your address?"
Finally, Lorien could drink his marquess red tea with a slice of lemon. He lifted the white porcelain teacup with gold trim and took a sip, finally washing away the bitterness of Falmo.
"Grimm Garden Street, West Borough."
Delia took note of it, then stood up and said,
"You also need to pay a two-pound deposit."
Lorien pulled out his wallet from his trench coat pocket and took out two one-pound banknotes featuring the portrait of William Augustus VI.
Delia accepted the money and walked to the front desk to register the transaction.
Lorien took a few more sips of tea and exchanged a few words with Baylin, who was still sitting on the long sofa. After arranging to meet at Saint Samuel Cathedral that evening, he put on his hat and bid farewell.
Delia and Baylin escorted him to the door, watching as he got into his carriage.