Night. The south satellite city of Bast's capital. A tavern where a decent nobleman would never grace with his magnanimous presence. Yet Viscount Calhoun lowered himself to be there. He had a bright future. In exchange for safe passage through his lands, The King of Alkemheizer was going to raise him to a Marquis and pay off his debts after the annexation. He had everything running on that bet, even loaning more funds. And now, all was ruined.

Because of a stupid commoner. A peasant!

Calhoun found his contact and approached his table. "I'm looking for Graham, lizard," He told the beast-folk men-at-arms drinking their worries away.

They didn't answer him out of some commoner spite. Even though he was dressed in drabs, he was still as dignified as a nobleman could be. He could feel his tail twitching behind him, attempting to betray his anger. He narrowed his focus and felt his claws threaten to pop out of his paws. An almost uncontrollable urge to hiss at those beasts was climbing up from his core.

"And who are you, old cat?" The burly lizardman asked him, tongue flicking in the air. His eyes and mouth curled into a bestial grin.

"Take me to Graham, now. Or face the consequences, peasant," The throaty hiss escaped the Viscount's mouth. Fangs bared. He should order them executed.

With a chuckle, the impudent lizard stood up, "Of course, milord. This way."

Viscount Calhoun was led down into the basement where a veritable maze of corridors and doors sprawled endlessly. Like rats, these lowlifes prowled beneath the earth where they belong. The stench was unbearable. He entered a room where the mercenary captain and assassin waited.

"Your grace, welcome!" The black-furred jackal-folk beamed. Ebunuwawa they call themselves.

"Graham. You need to discipline your servants!" Calhoun hissed.

"Yes, yes. A rowdy bunch. Here, have some wine," Graham poured wine in two glass cups. One in front of the Viscount, another in front of the mercenary captain.

It was a test of trust. One of the cups could be poisoned. the Viscount could choose one and Graham would drink from the other at the same time. He picked the mercenary's, drunk, and returned the cup to the table, getting past that stupid ritual.

"I need you to kill a person. This peasant made me lose a lot of money and now I want what's his. He's at the capital. Take him away into an empty field. Once you kill him, I need his bandolier and Arbitrium as proof. Do not look in his pouches and bring it to me."

The cheap wine made Calhoun's throat itch.

"Treasure, eh. Why won't I keep everything to me?" The mercenary jested.

"I'll get you hanged if you do, cur."

Graham laughed and waved away. "Fine. Who's the person?"

"Nero. An upstart peasant... A second," Viscount Calhoun gagged and retched. What a time to spit a furball. It didn't come up and the urge settled down. "Now the heir to Honeywitch."

"What's his level?"

"Zero. It will be an easy job."

"Ten million," Graham said. "He's nobility. Is there anything else I should know? Any connections?"

"The Royal Family owes him a card. I bought it from a collector before they could get it. If he dies, the debt vanishes. It won't be a problem. Here's your Essence." The bag came out of the Viscount's dimensional pouch and jiggled as he dropped it on the table. The jackal didn't check. His black eyes fixed on the Viscount. "So, will you take the job or did I waste my time?"

He knew that the King's secret service would reward him for clearing that debt. Also, there was a buyer that wanted the kid's bandolier and Arbitrium, undamaged. The Viscount could repay his debts and rebuild his House with how much they were offering.

"Yes, I can confirm. I do have a job regarding this Nero Zero, son of Count Honeywitch," Graham said. "My word."

Graham was no liar. His twisted sense of honor didn't let him lie. If he said he had a job, he had a job.

"Good. I expect news soon!" He stood and was about to leave when his hips locked in place. He felt something warm come up his throat and he saw foam coming out of his muzzle. The cat-folk nobleman soon got kissed on the cheek by the floor. His vision blurred and he felt his heart clench and fail.

"Another idiot," Graham said and spat on the Viscount's head.

A sharp female voice spoke. Calhoun couldn't see who was it. "That's the third so far. Idiots, indeed."

"Well, easiest ten million I've ever made," The jackal mercenary guffawed as he jiggled the Essence crystals.

"No, that's mine," The female chirped. "You still owe me for saving your and your merry ruffian's lives."

"You're no fun, fairy," Graham whined, dejected.

"Yeah, no. I'm plenty funny. But when assholes try to hurt my boy, I can't crack a joke. Is he dead already?"

"No. They don't call it 'Regret Lotus' for nothing. He'll be lucky if he choked on his own vomit. Otherwise, it's undescribable pain all the way to hell. After a few moments, he'll be unable to move his chest to breathe and suffocate slowly because some air will still seep through his nostrils. This bastard cat will curse raising his Endurance and Vigor and beg for a quick death. He has the two most painful hours of his life ahead of him."

"𝅘𝅥𝅮 Serves 𝅘𝅥𝅮 him 𝅘𝅥𝅮 right! 𝅘𝅥𝅮" The female voice chirped. " And to think, all that time it was your cup that was poisoned."

Graham laughed. "They were both poisoned. I spent the last few years building up an immunity to Regret Lotus. I regret too many things already, Amarylis."

The black mercenary didn't lie when he said he had a job. It wasn't to assassinate the boy, though. Those were his last thoughts before the wracking pain and lack of air clouded his mind. The last thing he saw was a golden feline digitigrade leg clad in fancy plate armor step from a side passage. Now Viscount Calhoun understood everything. Too late.

"You think they'd have learned the lesson by now," Prince Aslanbek stated with a note of sadness in his voice. "At least the traitors are being dealt with. Here's your payment."

The same day, still in the afternoon. Nero and Altia left the palace and went to Honeywitch estate.

The mansion was huge and wasn't at the same time. Compared to what, that's the point. The two-room cozy house they bought for fifty-thousand for their village married life? Huge. The other mansions around? Nope. Still, it was a size that wouldn't shame the Count. A size that still had Nero and Altia holding their jaws. The style was classical with carefully groomed vines growing on the stone walls and going around the windows in a fancy crisscross pattern. The tall roof would stop snow from piling up during winter and the gardens were blooming with lots of colorful flowers.

"Reminds me of Rafflesia," Altia sighed.

A platoon of maids lined up. One of them, a dwarven maiden that could very well be a shieldmaiden for her physical build, saluted them in front of the others.

"Young Master, Mistress. Welcome to your residence," She said. "My name is Ofrydit Runefall, the governess of this mansion by orders of His Majesty. Please, let me give you a tour of the premises. Should you be satisfied with our work, we will stay in your employ."

They went on a tour of the mansion. Fifteen bedroom apartments, three kitchens, sitting rooms, parlors, solars, game room, a great hall for parties, library, offices, a small conservatory with a grand piano, an inner garden. Contrary to Nero's expectations there was no gold plating on the walls. The mansion's interior looked austere, elegant, and refined without being extravagant or ostentatious.

"By orders of His Majesty, some of the most valuable trophies of the traitor Count were sold to pay for the upkeep," Ofrydit reported once they finished.

Nero noticed they did not go into the servants' quarters but ignored it for the moment. "Madam Ofrydit," He asked and earned a grin. He paused.

"Master Nero, if I may speak freely?" She took a step closer and said in a low voice. With a nod from the young man, she continued. "You are now a lord of the court. An heir to a Count title. It won't do to act too respectful toward mere servants. I appreciate the sentiment and I can tell you are a decent person with a big heart. But in the court, appearances are everything. Address me by my name or position. Ofrydit or 'governess' will do."

Altia asked what they wanted to know while Nero chewed on the advice he received. He was a lord of the court. One that was on the first-name basis with the princes.

"Ofrydit, how much is the monthly upkeep of the mansion?" She asked the governess.

"Two hundred and thirty-seven thousand Essence, milord," She deadpanned. "That includes the servants' wages, food, and supplies."

The mansion ate per month five modest hovels on the outskirts of Hom. Nero sighed, then shrugged. For someone that burned almost forty million in the morning, it wasn't too much.

"There are funds and investments left by the former Count, right?" Altia asked, hopeful. "His Highness prince Ahadi said as much."

"Yes, there might be," the dwarven woman answered. "I'll call the administrator tomorrow. We have less than two hours to the sunset, it is too late to call him today."

"Tomorrow is a good day," Nero said. "We need to go to the Guild now. We'll be back in the morning. We'll spend the night at the Lyceum and bring our luggage tomorrow. But before we go, I need to claim an office for myself. One with a good lock."

She led them to a secondary office, not the master. That was for the Count and Countess to use. Nero found a wall and spent a dozen minutes setting a new portal to the map room. Then they said their goodbyes and rode the horseless carriage to the Guild headquarters.

Alma, the buxom kitsune receptionist, and probably poster girl of the guild were there to greet them. "Nero, Altia. Welcome. Please, this way. We are almost late." They went to the backyard of the Guild building containing a training yard and the recently-built walled area for the portal to the new Dungeon.

Prince Aslanbek and Amaryllis were there, along with some nobles and other Guild and city officials.

"Lord Nero, Lady Altia. Welcome," The leonal [Mage] said. "Everything is ready, you just need to open the Dungeon. We even have a squire team ready to do the inaugural delve."

He pointed at a group of armored youngsters, probably recent recruits for the knights. The war machine needed new gears, after all.

"As you command, Your Highness," Nero said and they walked into the walled area.

It was a murder zone. A pit forty feet deep and thirty feet across with a spiral staircase running around the edge sat inside a reinforced dome. Arrow slits dotted the roof and a corridor accessible only from the outside allowed ranged attackers to rain down death on anyone in the pit. Nero understood the setup immediately. The big cats would need to climb the stairs to get out of the pit in the case of an overflow. That would make them easy pickings for the garrison.

Everyone but Nero took the path to the corridor and a thick metal gate rose to let Nero go down to the bottom of the pit. There he paid the hundred mana to put the portal in the designated spot. He also placed another keyed portal underneath the spiral staircase, just in case. Now he could visit the Leonal Prince's Shame Dungeon anytime he wanted. His own teleport was out of cooldown but he would save it for a last-ditch escape, just like last time. He switched to [Gadgeteer] and looked at the portal. Somehow the Dungeon rose to blue-grade during these five months.

It would rise in power even faster now that it had a proper portal set up. Putting it in the capital was a smart move, as the sheer density of Dungeons around the city was both the reason the city was built here in the first place and a deterrent to the Dungeons' growth as all of them competed for the ambient Essence. The thing that could jeopardize everything was deaths inside the Dungeon. But he had no control over it.

One less burden for him. He would come and visit it whenever he could to farm Essence and Accolades with doubled Attributes, but the management now fell under the joint purvey of the Guild and Kingdom.

He returned to the surface and Aslanbek made a speech. The prince droned on for half an hour on the subject of his brother's shame and how Tyre almost brought ruin for the Kingdom. They were committed to their part of the bargain. Tyre would forever be a black spot on the Royal family's reputation, but at least it appeased the neighbors.

Shortly after the speech ended, both the prince and the Guild master excused themselves, departing for personal reasons and going on separate ways. Nero felt something amiss but shelved it under "too tired to care". He and Altia also excused themselves and left through a portal and back to Honeywitch. Nero had to connect the real-world kitchen to its shelter simulacrum.

Oblivious to what transpired in the underground of the metropolis to the east, Nero opened his community kitchen for business. He did set up a series of passcode-keyed portals to allow his workers to do that by themselves. It would be a backdoor to the shelter and intruders could be let in, but he used his [Truth-Telling] build to assert the loyalty of the workers before giving them an outlet. Turns out getting trapped in the shelter was a concern for them. Back home with his family, the couple retold their adventures at the capital.

After that, Nero was waylaid by Crystal. "Brother, I need your help."

Her plea sounded sincere. "How may I help you?"

"You got [Improved Math] and [Mind Library], right?" She said with a charming smile.

"Yes, with my [Gadgeteer] build," He answered.

Just as the words escaped his mouth and his sister's grin turned feral, Nero's instincts told him to run. He didn't. Instead, the nereid [Enchantress] took him by the hand and led him to her office. A pile of tax reports sat on the desk.

"Here's what we will do. You say 'GO' when you activate [Mind Library], then I'll show you all the tax reports in a fast sequence. Keep your eyes focused on the blank paper in the middle of the desk. I'll swap them as fast as I can. Record everything. Once we are done with them, please revisit the memories and do all the tax calculations. I'll show you the method once we went through all the forms."

He did as instructed. Just like the books that he just had to skim as fast as he could then read from memory later, the forms blurred in front of his eyes. Once it was done, she showed him a scheme to calculate the tax owed by each district and tally the tax collected.

He paid the point of mana to review the memories and time dilated a hundredfold. The almost six minutes of recorded memories could be browsed in less than four seconds which to him seemed to be almost ten hours [1].

He had to use another three slots to store the results or he'd be lost. To Crystal's perspective, Nero gave the answer two minutes after she finished sifting the pile of reports. But Nero felt the headache of doing tallies and accounting entries for more than a month of work nonstop. All for the cheap price of less than fifty mana.

Maybe he could use [Overcharge] to stretch the recorded time. Get more bang from his memory slots. A point for further investigation.

Groaning and rubbing his temples, Nero replayed the memories with the results and frantically wrote them down. Half an hour later, the fief of Honeywitch had its revenue report done.

"Here you go," He pushed the papers away. "I'm not doing this again."

She checked the papers as she walked around the desk. Crystal giggled and kissed his temple. "You saved us, brother. Now we can go after those that evaded taxes. Don't worry, we will be gentle. However, if we don't do this, they'll try to steal from the King again this year."

He held her hand. "How are you doing? Back to being an aristocrat?"

Crystal smiled and shook her head. "I was never an aristocrat. I was royalty. Staying here was the right choice. Bast is a known danger. Our choice was exile and the whims of whichever place we ended in. You have no idea how grim and dangerous the world of Viscounts, Marquises, and Princes is."

He left her to compile the reports and write some letters and went to spend some time talking with Altia. When the clock rang eleven, he went to Rafflesia's Meadow, alone. Nero wanted to do some gadgeteering before meeting the professors tomorrow.

[1] N.A.: Each of the 22 slots can record 5min 55s of memories (unclear if [Overcharge] extends this), replays only take 3.55 seconds, but the subjective time he has to review the memory is 9 hours 51 minutes 40 seconds. My thanks to WolframAlpha and LibreOffice.