Dawn broke the next morning, and Marcus arrived at the castle while the sky was still tinged with gray.
He didn't go inside, but stood alone outside the walls, his gaze fixed on the low, dilapidated building.
A cold weight settled in his chest—perhaps in his eyes, his own future was as crumbling and worn as this castle.
Perched on a hillside at the southwest edge of the town, the structure was less a "castle" and more a slightly larger two-story stone house.
There were no tall surrounding walls, no towering watchtowers, no crenellations for soldiers to stand on, no wide moats, and no heavy gates.
The stone walls were crisscrossed with thin cracks, and several roof tiles had come loose and fallen off—no one could say for sure if it would leak when it rained.
Legend had it this shabby residence was over a hundred years old.
Long before Pearl Island became the Earl's fiefdom, a noble family had lived here, but the place had gradually fallen into disrepair.
After the Earl was granted the island, he'd only given it a hasty renovation, turning it into a temporary lodge for when he inspected Ironthorn Town—though he'd never actually stayed there.
It wasn't until Baron Frank arrived that the old building finally got a new owner.
As for Marcus himself, he'd once been a promising Earth Knight in the Pearl Island Knight Order, full of ambition to earn military honors and titles on the battlefield.
Now, however, he was doomed to be a regular at this run-down castle, trapped with Baron Frank in Ironthorn Town—a place so poor it didn't even have a proper gravel road.
The thought filled him with even deeper frustration.
"Good morning, Mr. Marcus."
Tom, a male servant carrying empty buckets on his shoulder on his way to the town well, bowed respectfully as he passed by.
Marcus nodded faintly.
"Good morning."
He couldn't remember Tom's full name, only that the servant's surname was "Pigsty"—a typical commoner's name, chosen arbitrarily based on their livelihood.
Even Marcus himself didn't have an elegant surname like the nobles; his last name, "Wheel," came from his grandfather, who had been a carriage driver and spent his days rolling wheels.
From the bottom of his heart, he envied the nobles' surnames—especially the Earl's "Violet," a name that seemed to exude inherent elegance and nobility.
How much blood and sweat would it take to earn himself a decent surname like that? In this world, refined words like flowers, gems, and metals were exclusive to noble families.
Commoners who dared to use them would be guilty of blasphemy.
Before long, four tall, strong men in leather armor arrived one after another, standing silently behind Marcus.
"Master Marcus," they greeted in unison.
"Karl, Rom, Gray, Odin—you're all here."
Marcus called each of them by name. These four were Frank's squires.
Though called "knights," they were actually just servants to knights, responsible for carrying lances, holding horses, washing clothes, and cooking meals on the battlefield. In essence, they were no different from ordinary servants.
In terms of background, Marcus had also started as a squire.
But he was a freeman, while these four were bonded servants—their fates were fundamentally different.
After a moment, Frank emerged from the castle's drafty main gate, still looking a little drowsy from sleep.
He had changed into a simple white training outfit, which made his already handsome face even more striking.
With his tall figure and distinguished demeanor, he exuded nobility the moment he stood there.
"Good morning, Master Marcus, Karl Hammer, Rom Barrel, Gray Sickle, Odin Shoe, and all gentlemen and ladies present."
The "gentlemen" he referred to were the male servants, and the "ladies" were the maids.
In noble etiquette, servants were addressed this way regardless of marital status—just as male butlers were called "Mister" and female housekeepers "Madam" no matter if they were married or not.
This rigid rule had been ingrained in his body for sixteen years; it flowed out naturally without any deliberate thought.
"My lord, shall we begin the knight training session?"
"Yes."
A small hill in front of the castle served as their makeshift training ground.
Frank practiced the Basic Combat Qi Manual under Marcus's guidance, while the four squires trained nearby to strengthen their bodies—they had never awakened their combat qi and could only do basic physical exercises.
The world claimed combat qi was passed down through bloodlines, and few commoners could master it.
But Frank suspected it had more to do with nutrition.
How could commoners who could barely fill their stomachs have the extra energy to refine their body's potential into combat qi?
For nobles, however, as long as they were moderately diligent, almost none failed to cultivate combat qi.
After all, they controlled resources—they could nourish their bodies with fine food, master power through combat qi, and exploit commoners to accumulate more wealth, creating an endless cycle.
The morning milk and white bread provided a steady supply of nutrients for Frank's training.
He had been practicing the Basic Combat Qi Manual since he was six, but with little success.
Though stronger than ordinary commoners, he was still just a weak Apprentice Knight compared to Marcus the Earth Knight—Marcus could defeat him with one hand.
"What will this mysterious mist mission bring?"
Frank felt the faint but steady flow of combat qi in his body and wondered silently.
"The reward is 'Sublimation of Combat Qi'—could it let me break through to Earth Knight directly?"
This anticipation spurred him on, making his practice even more focused.
After an hour of intense training, the morning session finally ended.
Frank wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and said to Marcus, "Master, let's have some water and rest for ten minutes before we set off."
Old Butler Carter had already arrived with servants, carrying not just water but also nutrient-rich milk tea to replenish their strength.
Each of the four squires received a cup of milk tea mixed with minced meat, milk, and eggs.
They held the warm cups and sipped slowly, the rich aroma dissolving the fatigue of their training.
Frank and Marcus's portions were more elaborate, with an extra plate of cheese crackers.
After eating and changing into their traveling clothes, Frank's personal valet Thomas led the horses to the gate. Frank's mount was a chestnut stallion with almost no blemishes.
It had been a gift from the Earl of Pearl Island when Frank was twelve, a small foal back then—now it had grown into a magnificent steed.
"Snort—"
The chestnut horse snorted and nuzzled Frank's arm affectionately.
"Fire Dragon, my old friend, been cooped up in the castle too long?"
Frank patted the horse's neck and swung nimbly onto its back.
Marcus and the four squires mounted their own horses.
Marcus's mount was a tawny mare, his personal property and just as impressive.
The squires rode ordinary bay horses—owned by Frank but cared for by the squires in their daily duties.
"My lord, may your journey be safe." Carter stood at the gate, bowing to offer his blessing.
"Thank you for your kind words."
Frank flicked his whip lightly. Fire Dragon neighed and broke into a gallop.
"Let's go!"
At the head of the group, Frank cut a striking figure.
He wore a suit of monster hide armor—exclusive to nobles—that was lightweight, breathable, and far more defensive than ordinary armor.
At his waist, he wore a one-handed sword slung diagonally; on his head sat a monster hide helmet adorned with a pheasant's feather.
He looked every inch the majestic noble knight.
In addition to their own one-handed swords and shields, the four squires also carried a large knight's lance for Frank, along with spare weapons like longswords, maces, and flails.
Their packs held everyone's lunch and water, making their load far heavier than their lord's.
Marcus's gear was even more specialized: in addition to his usual short spear, he carried a longbow slung over his shoulder. He was not just an Earth Knight, but also a master archer.
This dual expertise had been his trump card back when he stood out in the talent-rich Pearl Island Knight Order, giving him the confidence to aspire to the title of Lord Knight.
"Clip-clop, clip-clop—"
The sound of hooves striking the solid ground echoed clearly. Before long, the group reached Ironthorn Town.
Frank's inspection of his domain was about to begin—starting with the land he was bound to protect.