Lord: Starting from a Goblin Nest

”Not very tall… you mean that Dwarf?”

Ron’s brow furrowed. No matter how prestigious this Dean whatever-his-name-was might be, it didn’t change the fact that Ron had no fondness for the Dwarf with the fading sickness.

”What is he here for?”

”That I don’t know,” Aive said with a shrug. ”By the way, his merchant student didn’t come with him this time. He just sent a letter, hoping we could provide some assistance to his teacher and two junior students.”

”Are we that close?” Ron shook his head and started walking out. ”If that’s all, then there’s no need for me to see them. As long as they don’t cause any trouble, we can give them a standard reception, but they won’t get a single bit of special treatment.”

”Er, about that… I suggest you reconsider,” Aive said, following him with a look of exasperation. ”He produced a document stating that you are a student of Elden Academy, and as such, you ought to provide them with some conveniences.”

”And by the way, it’s the same document he tore up in front of you. They taped it back together.”

Ron stopped in his tracks, speechless. Even though the ”Administrative Consultant’s” office was just a few steps from the training grounds, he was a thousand percent unwilling to meet those people. ”…Aive, are you serious? You want me to see him just for that?”

”Don’t be so hasty,” the Half-Elf said, holding up her hands. ”That’s just the pretext. Since they’ve decided you’re a student of the Academy, and in light of what you—what *we’ve*—been up to lately, Dean Elden has awarded you a ’scholarship’.”

”It’s not that much, really. Just twenty-odd Scrolls, plus an ox-cart full of Arcane Literature—oh, and five thousand Gold Coins. They claim it’s some kind of stipend.”

It wasn’t that Ron was greedy. A mere five thousand Gold Coins, which would have seemed like a fortune less than half a year ago, was nothing to him now. But as a Caster, he simply couldn’t bear to let all that Arcane Literature and all those Scrolls slip through his fingers.

At this thought, Ron the Mage couldn’t help but let out a long sigh. ”If that’s the case, then arrange for dinner tonight. Make it suitable for Dean Elden’s status, but it doesn’t need to be too extravagant.”

”Understood.” Aive smiled, nodded, and turned to leave, off to arrange the preparations. Ron, meanwhile, returned to his room—the training clothes he was wearing were by no means suitable for receiving guests.

Later, at dinnertime, the lights in the trading post’s main hall were lit. Dean Elden, the Dwarf who suffered so from the fading sickness, sat in the seat of honor, flanked by a young man and woman dressed in standard-issue dark blue Magic Robes. His stern, old-fashioned gaze swept over every detail of the banquet.

”It seems you finally have some civilized people here,” the Dwarf said pointedly, his gaze lingering for a moment on Constance. ”Shuke insisted I come find you. It seems that was indeed a wise suggestion.”

”But Dean…” The female student to Elden’s right raised a handkerchief, speaking to him from behind its cover. ”They haven’t provided silver cutlery, or wine befitting your status…”

The female student had deliberately lowered her voice, but it wasn’t as if anyone at the table was deaf. How could her muttering possibly escape their ears? Ron himself didn’t react, but Silvia, sitting beside him, immediately set down her utensils and shot a dark look at the insolent girl.

”Shiva, that’s enough…” The male student to Elden’s left was a sharp one. Seeing the mood at the table sour, he quickly tried to stop his classmate’s offensive behavior. But Elden, sitting on a specially raised chair, simply lifted a hand to silence him.

”This is precisely why I brought you out of the Academy for practical experience,” the ashen Dwarf said, glancing at Ron. ”Within the Academy, everything is prepared according to protocol. Every arrangement is the best it can be. But outside the Academy, it’s difficult to find such perfect planning. It is the norm for intentions to outstrip capabilities.”

”Take this place, for example. Most of its people are, in essence, nothing more than refugees and former slaves. This settlement has existed for less than half a year. With limited resources, manpower, and time, preparing a banquet on par with the Academy’s standards is completely impossible. Given these circumstances, it is unreasonable to be overly critical of them. Do you understand?”

”On the contrary,” Elden began, pointing out to his students the details arranged by the staff from Rose City. ”Do you see the placement of these candelabras? The color of the flowers, the variety and number of dishes—all of these were clearly thought out. This is more than enough to demonstrate the sincerity with which the Lord here is treating us.”

”You seem to have gotten quite a bit of your color back, Dean,” Ron chuckled, twirling the noodles on his plate with a fork. ”I’m certain you wouldn’t have said the same thing the last time we met.”

”After our last encounter, I did some traveling with Shuke’s merchant caravan. It was indeed somewhat effective…”

Dean Elden stopped mid-sentence. He had just noticed what Ron was doing, and his face immediately scrunched up in distaste. ”But if I had to see a dignified Lord use his utensils like *that*, I would rather give up ten years of my life!”

”Didn’t you just say it yourself? I’m basically a refugee,” Ron replied with an air of ’I’m a barbarian, so what?’. ”If you’re looking for comfort, Dean, you’d be better off staying within the walls of your Academy.”

Elden sighed. ”When you have time, you should come and visit our Academy. At least when it comes to dining and Arcane Magic, Elden Academy possesses a fully developed system.”

”After all, you are now considered one of our students. It’s not too much to ask that you learn a little about our traditions.”

”Elden Academy hosts the most luxurious banquets in the entire City-State Alliance,” Carlos explained, noticing Ron and the others seemed curious as to why Elden would mention dining in the same breath as Arcane Magic.

”We have cultivated many elites—merchants, scholars... The Academy’s banquet expenses are supported by a special fund, which relies on their patronage,” Elden said with a nod. ”However, I’m afraid that fund may soon be discontinued.”

”Discontinued? Why?” Ron noticed the Dwarf’s gaze was scanning the table, as if looking for someone.

”Because of your activities a while back, my Lord,” the female student, Shiva, said with a pout. ”During the assault your Goblin Legion launched against the Carolina City-States, one of our alumni unfortunately perished. He happened to be the primary benefactor of that fund in recent years.”

”His main business was the slave trade, wasn’t it,” Silvia couldn’t help but roll her eyes.