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After a full day's journey, the carriage finally arrived in the capital as darkness settled in, enveloping the city in an eerie quietness. The journey had been unsettling for Fear, who had been on edge the entire ride, overwhelmed by his master's intimidating presence.

As they disembarked from the carriage, Fear couldn't help but feel a bit wobbly. This was his first time in a carriage, and standing upright after the journey left his legs feeling the full impact of the pressure. However, Arbious didn't seem the least bit affected by the physical discomfort.

This was also Fear's first-time setting foot in the capital, and he was awestruck by the sight. The streets were unlike anything he had seen before. Wide cobblestone roads stretched into the distance, adorned with decorative trees and hedges along the sides. Even at night, the streets were well-lit, and there was a faint hum of idle chatter in the air.

The buildings in the capital were a marvel. They rose two to three stories high, with some towering even higher at five to six stories. It was an engineering feat that left Fear in awe. The sight alone brought a smile to his face, and the fresh air was invigorating, as if he were experiencing it for the first time, making him feel truly alive.

Arbious and Dorros engaged in conversation, speaking a language that Fear didn't understand. Feeling uneasy standing in silence, Fear approached Arbious.

"Is something the matter?" Arbious inquired, noticing Fear's unease as he approached.

"No..." Fear squeaked, still somewhat intimidated by Arbious. He turned his attention to the marbled building Dorros was entering, a structure taller than the others, although it paled in comparison to the keep. Nevertheless, it was an impressive sight.

Arbious sensed Fear's discomfort and spoke, "That building is where we will stay for the night."

Fear had already figured as much, but he sought confirmation from Arbious. "Lord Arbious, why have we come to the capital?" He questioned.

The question had been on his mind throughout the entire journey, and now that they were here, he felt it was the right time to ask.

Arbious provided an explanation, shedding light on their purpose. "Tomorrow marks the official beginning of the royal selection. Due to my recent rise in the ranks, I am required to participate in this event." He continued, "In other words, we are heading to the Royal Palace..."

The Royal Palace was the residence of the king. Unlike typical castle-like structures, it followed a more Romanesque architectural style. The Southern Empire leaned toward a democratic system, despite having a king. The region had enjoyed relative peace and prosperity, with few invasions or wars, leading to the absence of fortifications like walls.

With Arbious's gesture, he indicated that they should proceed inside. Though the explanation had cleared up some of Fear's questions, it also left him with more. Nonetheless, he followed Arbious into the building.

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Fear marveled at his luxurious surroundings. His room in the capital far exceeded the one he had at the keep. The walls, windows, and craftsmanship were all of excellent quality and elegance. It was a sight unlike anything he had ever seen. His soft bed, placed to the side, gave him a sense of personal space. Portraits of Arbious adorned the walls, a detail that struck Fear as somewhat amusing. Hanging portraits of oneself seemed rather egotistical, but the one in front of him, with its red eyes seemingly following his movements, bordered on the creepy side. Nevertheless, it was easy to overlook.

The bathroom was another spectacle, a marvel to behold. He had never encountered anything like it, showcasing fine Dwarven craftsmanship. It had a sink and a toilet, which reminded him of his previous lord's desire to introduce such technologies to his estate. Turning a small knob beside the faucet released both cold and warm water, a luxurious touch that was the hallmark of true nobility.

Yet, one thing perplexed Fear throughout their stay: Arbious never seemed to eat, drink, or use the bathroom. It left Fear wondering what the point of all this luxury was if Arbious didn't partake in these basic activities. While it was a dream come true for Fear and his sister to live in such opulence, he knew those dreams would never come to fruition.

From an early age, Fear had been a realist, while his sister was an optimist, a bright individual who charmed everyone she met. Despite being siblings, they were polar opposites in many ways. Fear couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy because he could never earn the same level of respect from their lord that his sister effortlessly garnered. Perhaps this was one reason he was trying so hard to impress Arbious now, or so he thought.

The night was still young, and silence enveloped the building. Fear looked out of his window, which overlooked the street from a lower elevation. His gaze was drawn to the lamp posts stretching across the street, illuminated by magical insects contained within glass. He opened the window, welcoming the cold breeze into his room. While he appreciated the serenity of the night, his mind wandered elsewhere.

How could he earn the respect of someone as influential as Arbious, a man capable of transforming the despised first prince into a legitimate candidate for the throne? Fear knew Arbious was evil; he had sensed it in his aura. Yet, that very evil had saved his life. He had been taught not to judge a book by its cover, and in respect to his previous lord, he deemed Arbious remarkable enough to overlook the negatives.

Despite the late hour, Fear couldn't bring himself to sleep. The capital and its wonders beckoned to him. He remembered the kitchen Arbious had shown him, with its "fridge," a dwarven creation that kept food cold for days. Everything about the capital was impressive and elegant, and he yearned to show it all to his sister.

A series of three knocks on the door interrupted his thoughts. Without waiting for a response, the door opened, revealing Arbious. The lord's gaze fell on Fear as he asked, "How are you taking all this in?"

"I'm fine, my lord," Fear replied. "A little overwhelmed, but I'll manage."

"That's good to hear at least. I was confident you would be able to take into your new surroundings, Dorros on the other hand..."

"What about him?" He asked, immediately his attention catching on.

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"Well, he likes the old-fashioned way of doing things. You know how old people are." This was a joke, rather a satire on himself. A hypocritical way of calling Dorros old, while he himself refused to change for so long as well.

"Yeah... I get that in a way."

With assertiveness, Arbious began to question putting behind their small talk. "Tell me, what was the previous lord you served like?"

Arbious scarcely remembered the name of the previous lord, he recalled that the prince disliked his uncle, but who was he?

"Lord Cedric?" Fear questioned hesitantly. "I suppose he was the kindest man I've ever met... But I don't suppose you're very interested in that, are you?"

He quickly realized that his words might have unintentionally insulted Arbious. A sinister grin etched on Arbious's face at his remark as he took a seat on the chair by the desk, he gestured for Fear to take his seat before him. Taking a seat on his bed before him, Fear looked back at Arbious in anticipation of what he might say. "It's not that I lack interest in such matters," Arbious replied. "I'm sure you already know a great deal about me. But to remain ignorant would be a sign of weakness. That's why I'm curious, Fear. I want to know everything about Lord Cedric. How you met, what kind of person he was, and what he did in his spare time."

Arbious had a clear plan in mind – learning from the respected Lord Cedric, a well-known figure in the empire. Understanding what made people admire him could help Arbious emulate those qualities.

Fear was nervous; his hand trembled as he thought back to his former master. Despite his trepidation, he spoke, "He was a kind man... but more than that, he was a saint even..."

"A saint?" Arbious inquired, leaning forward with genuine interest.

"He founded numerous orphanages in a place called Dorma Rhode," Fear explained. "He often spoke ill of that place, though I've never seen it myself. He helped countless children in need. It may sound cliché, but he truly embodied kindness in every way."

Arbious countered, "A kind man does not partake in politics."

Fear felt a sharp sting at Arbious's words as if they were venomous fangs. Of course, politics were for snakes and traitors, not for kind men, he knew as much, yet he couldn't overlook this blatant disrespect to someone he admired. "No, you're wrong!" Fear's voice quivered with emotion. "The reason my lord is no longer with us is precisely because he was a kind man!"

Arbious leaned back, his sinister smile unwavering. "You might just be right about that."

A profound shroud of silence enveloped them, casting an uneasy and tense atmosphere into the late night air. The room, once receptive to the gentle caress of the breeze, now seemed devoid of its comforting presence. Fear, in retrospect, regretted his hasty words, realizing he may not have sufficiently considered Arbious's perspective. A momentary sense of foolishness washed over him, but just as quickly, Arbious made his decisive move.

Rising from his seat, Arbious headed towards the door, his voice carrying a weight that felt more like a command than a suggestion. "Get some rest."

Though delivered with authority, Fear welcomed the directive. As Arbious exited the room, a faint sigh of relief escaped Fear's lips as he prepared himself for the night. Shedding his regular attire, he donned a light blue pajama set crafted from pure cotton cultivated in their own fields. The delicate stitching, executed by his sister, infused the garment with a comforting sense of home. Despite the unresolved tension in his exchange with Arbious, Fear nursed a desire to apologize for his earlier outburst; after all, Arbious had saved his life.

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Within his private chambers, Dorros awaited Arbious. As Arbious entered, he closed the heavy wooden door behind him, taking a moment to survey the meticulously organized surroundings of his room. Dorros had not only ensured tidiness but also taken the initiative to arrange the scattered paperwork into neat stacks.

"My lord," Dorros began, his voice steady and respectful, "in reference to Prince Franz, with whom we are to align ourselves tomorrow, I've counted a mere two coats of arms in support of his claim."

Arbious contemplated the significance of these coats of arms. They were, in essence, emblems representing the noble houses lending their support to each candidate—a semblance of the democratic system that Alpos had implemented in Hell.

"Who bears the second coat of arms?" Arbious inquired, his curiosity piqued.

"That would be House Ulnar, my lord."

"House Ulnar?" Arbious mused, a hint of uncertainty in his tone. "I confess I am unfamiliar with them."

Dorros responded with a respectful nod. "Your assessment is correct, my lord. House Ulnar neither possesses great wealth nor wields substantial power."

"So, in essence, we are the sole bastions of support," Arbious concluded with a touch of resolve.

"Yes, my lord," Dorros affirmed, a sense of loyalty underlying his words.

I really can't believe I'm actually entertaining this nonsense. In the past I wouldn't bother with any of this, but it is intriguing on watching humans go about their dealings. Each house is prominent in this continent, however, our house might be the weakest in terms of manpower. We only have like what? Two soldiers. I may be strong on my own, but without my minions I really don't have much... I could always hire mercenaries to boast my ranks, but that should be a last resort.

I could also... Animate some undead soldiers... It's late so the graveyard should have no one watching over it. If I go there in secrecy and raise them, I could have them armored up fully so that they will look like ordinary knights... Actually, that sounds like a great plan now that I think of it.

Arbious, his resolve firm, addressed Dorros with determination. "Dorros, I'll be stepping out for a while."

Dorros, ever the loyal steward, raised concerns. "But, my lord, there are many pressing matters that require your attention. The documents have been meticulously organized on your study desk."

Arbious, however, saw the larger picture. "The urgency of those matters pales in comparison to what we must achieve tomorrow at the royal ceremony. Our house's appearance of power is paramount. The other concerns can wait."

Though perplexed by Arbious's intentions regarding their numerical support, Dorros wisely refrained from questioning his lord. "Yes, my lord."

As Arbious entered his walk-in closet, Dorros waited just outside. He undressed, carefully removing his ceremonial robes. Instantly, his aura wavered momentarily due to the change, but he swiftly regained control. The robes, which he had worn for an extended period, required washing before the important day. For now, he opted for his more casual attire. He had an affinity for silky black clothing, finding that it accentuated his physique. Lately, he had even started wearing shorts in private moments.

Adorned in his new attire, Arbious emerged from the closet. He neatly folded his robes and handed them to Dorros as he exited the room.

He had the capability to magically clean his robes, but Arbious believed in the value of manual labor for enhancing the quality of an item, even if it made little difference in the end. It was a precaution, given his limited ability to discern subtleties.

"Have these robes cleaned for me, I want them ready for tomorrow." he instructed Dorros.

"Yes, my lord," Dorros responded dutifully, accepting the robes.

Leaving the opulent confines of his mansion, Arbious stepped out into the cool night air. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the cobbled paved road. The night was quiet, save for the distant chirping of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves. With every step he took away from the mansion, Arbious could feel the weight of his responsibilities pressing upon him. The fate of his house and pride rested heavily on his shoulders, and he was determined to ensure their prominence at the royal ceremony, no matter the cost.