“Good morning, Marcus.” The manservant Tom, carrying empty water buckets and preparing to fetch water from the town well, greeted him respectfully.

Marcus replied indifferently, “Good morning.”

He couldn’t remember Tom’s first name, but he did recall his surname—something like “Pigpen,” a very typical commoner’s surname. As for himself, he didn’t have an elegant noble surname either; his surname was “Wheel,” because his grandfather had been a coachman, rolling wheels every day.

That’s how it was for commoners—they took whatever surname they could get.

He envied the surnames of nobles, envied the surname of the count—Tulip, what a noble name! How much more effort would he need to change his own surname to something similar? All noble surnames were off-limits to commoners—flowers, gems, metals… nobles would never allow commoners to cheapen them!

Before long, four tall men in leather armor arrived behind Marcus.

“Teacher Marcus.” The four greeted him one after another.

“Carl, Rome, Greg, Alden, you’re here.” Marcus responded to each in turn. These four were Edward Thompson’s squire knights.

Squire knights were not true knights, but rather squires—essentially a type of servant responsible for attending to knights on the battlefield: carrying lances, leading horses, washing clothes, cooking meals.

In essence, Marcus was also a kind of squire knight, except he was a free man, while the squire knights were indentured servants.

A moment later, the still-groggy Edward Thompson walked out from the castle’s somewhat drafty main door. In the morning, Edward Thompson had changed into a simple training outfit—plain white, paired with his enviable face, tall figure, and outstanding bearing, making for an absolutely first-rate appearance.

“Good morning, Teacher Marcus, Carl Ironhammer, Rome Barrel, Greg Scythe, Alden Insole, and gentlemen, ladies.”

“Gentlemen” referred to the male servants, “ladies” to the maids—regardless of marital status, nobles could address their servants this way.

Just as a male butler, married or not, was always called “sir,” and a female housekeeper, married or not, was always called “madam.” After sixteen years, Edward Thompson’s body was already accustomed to the rigid customs of the nobility, and he greeted them instinctively.

“My lord baron, shall we begin the knight’s training lesson?”

“All right.”

On the hill in front of the castle, Edward Thompson began his knightly training. His four squire knights hadn’t learned battle aura; they were simply exercising their bodies on the side.

Battle aura depended on bloodline inheritance—very few commoners could master it.

In fact, Edward Thompson believed that battle aura was related to nutrition. If commoners couldn’t even get enough to eat, how could they refine the strength in their bodies into battle aura?

Among nobles, as long as one was a bit diligent, there was no such thing as failing to develop battle aura.

This was also why nobles firmly held onto their ruling status: with money, they could eat their fill, cultivate battle aura, gain power, oppress commoners, and thus become even wealthier, eat even better, grow stronger in battle aura, gain more power, and further exploit the commoners.

Morning milk and bread provided Edward Thompson with a steady stream of nourishment.

Under Marcus’s guidance, he kept practicing “Basic Battle Aura.” He had been cultivating this manual since he was six. Unfortunately, the results were minimal. Battle aura did make him stronger than commoners, but compared to an earth knight, a trainee knight was still very weak—Marcus could defeat him with one hand.

“Mysterious energy, an experience I’ve never had before, cultivation… I wonder what the battle aura sublimation reward will be after I complete the task. Could it be that I’ll become an earth knight?”

Feeling the battle aura within, Edward Thompson practiced diligently.

A full hour passed before the morning lesson ended.

“Teacher Marcus, have some water and rest for ten minutes, then we’ll set out.” Edward Thompson wiped the sweat from his forehead; the morning lesson was still quite exhausting.

The old butler Carter had already brought the servants, serving milk tea to replenish their nutrition.

Each of the four squire knights received a cup of milk tea with minced meat, milk, and egg, savoring it in small, contented sips, forgetting all the hardship of the past hour.

Marcus and Edward Thompson also received a dessert—cheese biscuits.

After they finished eating and changed clothes, the personal manservant Thomas had already brought over Edward Thompson’s horse—a chestnut-colored adult horse with almost no blemishes. It had been a gift from the Count of Coral Island when he was twelve. Back then, it was just a foal; now, it had grown into a magnificent steed.

Snort.

The chestnut horse snorted, then affectionately nuzzled Edward Thompson’s arm.

“Fire Dragon, my old friend, you must be bored staying in the castle.” Comforting his mount, Edward Thompson swung himself up in one smooth motion.

Behind him, Marcus and the four squire knights each mounted their own horses. Marcus’s was a yellow-gray horse, also quite magnificent, and his personal steed. The squire knights’ horses were all ordinary yellow-maned horses, property of Edward Thompson, simply assigned to the squires for care.

“Master, may you have a safe journey,” Carter offered his blessing.

“Thank you for your kind words.” Edward Thompson flicked his riding crop, and Fire Dragon neighed loudly and set off at a run. “Let’s go!”

At the very front, Edward Thompson wore a suit of magical beast leather armor that only nobles could afford—light, breathable, and offering better protection than ordinary armor.