It was another family function, the kind that usually bored the young man to tears. He tried his best to get out of it, but his mother wouldn’t hear anything of it. His great aunts had been married to the church for seventy years, and that was something for their entire family to celebrate. His family was too busy to be actively religious, but whenever his great aunts had a worthwhile celebration with their times as nuns, they made the effort, and the young boy had no choice. Yet when he was at the big cathedral, his mother made the unfortunate mistake of allowing him to run off and play with his cousins before the ceremony. Every single child was dressed in their Sunday best, so the decision to permit the children to run off the play on their own was clearly an instance of poor judgement. The children were playing tag on the side of the cathedral, but they stopped their childish games when they discovered something that looked way cooler. There was a steep hill going from the cathedral down to the cemetery below, and the wet grass was cleaner than what one would see in any major baseball park. To any child looking at the steep hill, temptation was too great to resist.

Even though this decision was just as negligent than the one to leave them unattended the children began to roll down the lush green hills, hooting and hollering all the way down. The kids managed to scale back up the lush green hill and tumble down a few more times before an adult finally realized what was going on and raised the parental alarm. Angry mothers came screaming out of the massive church, scolding their offspring as if they were caught over a body with a smoking gun in their hand. Their anger was quite justified as each kid that took the tumble has ruined their clothing, as their Sunday best was no longer white or gray but was greener than a Green Bay defensive line. Yet it was Wyatt Harris that was scolded the hardest as his suit by far the greenest, as he could have been mistaken for a giant pickle or a salesman for frozen vegetables. The young man never remembered his mother being quite so angry or furious than she was that day. She was so upset, she refused to let him sit with everyone during Great Aunt Mary’s celebration, so she told him to go upstairs to the balcony and sit in time out. There was an upper gallery, and his mother could keep her eye on him whenever she wanted to. Rather than protest and use the whole everyone else was doing it defense, Wyatt took his punishment and walked up the stairs to the upper gallery of the cathedral. Yet when he got up there, he wasn’t alone. There was an older man sitting up there, and he looked just as old as his great Aunt Mary.

“Good morning,” the old man said to him, letting out a small chuckle. “I heard some angry voices. Seeing the grass stains in your suit, I have my answer to what all the commotion was about.”

“I’m sorry,” Wyatt said again, apologizing for what felt like the millionth time.

“For what?” the old man asked, “For being a kid? For having fun?”

“If we’re being honest here,” Wyatt added, “Everyone was left unsupervised in their Sunday best.”

“That is quite true,” the old man concurred with a grin. “Very true indeed.”

It was at this point when a young man about in his mid-twenties came up the stairs to address the old man. He also seemed to take a respectful bow before speaking.

“My Lord,” the young man started, “The ceremony is about to begin. Shall I help you to the front before it begins?”

“Why?” the old man countered, “Do you not see that I am already sitting?”

“But the ceremony…” the young man started.

“Sister Mary,” the old man interrupted, “Who is actually my biological sister, is quite aware of how uncomfortable I am with large crowds. She knows I’m up here and is alright with it. You should be too.”

“My apologies, Lord Crawford,” the young man replied, “I will be downstairs if you need anything.”

“Thank you, my young chap.” Lord Crawford replied, “That will be all.”

The young man awkwardly bowed again and left the gallery. Wyatt turned back to look at the old man and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What was that?” Wyatt asked.

“What are you talking about?” The old man replied, trying to play dumb.

“The whole Lord thing,” Wyatt inquired, “He was bowing too.”

“Oh that,” Lord Crawford said with a laugh, amused by what the young boy thought about the exchange. “The young man was just being respectful of my title.”

“Your title?” Wyatt repeated.

“Indeed,” Lord Crawford confirmed, “I inherited the title of Lord from my father, who inherited it from someone else. I am Lord Robert Crawford of Loonsburg. And who might you be, my young fellow?”

“I’m Wyatt Harris,” the boy answered, “Sister Mary is my Great Aunt.”

“I see,” Lord Crawford said, musing over it. “That makes you Julia’s little man. Well, I am Sister Mary’s older brother… so that makes me your Great Uncle. Your grandmother is our little sister, the youngest of us all.”

“Wow,” Wyatt said, impressed by the revelation. “I didn’t know we had a Lord in our family.”

“I’ve kept a low profile,” Lord Crawford explained, “Lords, Dukes and other royal titles are not as gushed over as they used to be. People are more hostile towards nobility as opposed to centuries past. It’s looked down by some even.”

“That’s too bad,” Wyatt replied, “I think it’s cool. Could I be a Lord one day?”

The old man laughed at the young man’s ambition. He had a warm smile that seemed quite genuine that didn’t make Wyatt feel uncomfortable.

“It’s entirely possible,” he confessed, “but the title of Lordship is more than just a name, it’s pretty much like a job, and it doesn’t pay that much I’m afraid.”

“What kind of job?” Wyatt asked, showing a strong curiosity.

“Loonsburg is a place,” the old man began to explain, “The Lord of the land oversees things like fishing, hunting and even mining rights to the territory inherited. We’re even like judges, as we can be called in to settle disputes out of court, like an arbitrator. I can even conduct weddings and declare holidays.”

“That is pretty neat,” Wyatt said, thinking more about it.

“Well young Wyatt,” Lord Crawford said, leaning in a bit closer, “If you want to be a Lord, you have to prove yourself worthy of such a title.”

“How can I do that?” Wyatt asked, again curious.

“You must be respectful,” Lord Crawford answered, “Not only of others but of yourself as well. Do well in school, venture out into the world and be kind to those you wish kindness from. Nobility is only given to those who already have it in their heart. If you conduct yourself better in life, you could be a Lord one day.”

“How do I respect myself?” Wyatt asked.

“Respecting your own property would be a good start,” Lord Crawford suggested, as he gestured to the young man’s green suit. “I’m not saying you can’t have fun, but the respectful thing would be to wait until after the ceremony before taking a fun tumble down that hill. Far more respectful not only to your mother and Sister Mary, but yourself as well.”

“I think I understand,” Wyatt honestly replied.

“If you do not,” the old man said, “You will one day. Ideas are like seeds, sometimes they need water and time to take root.”

“Alright,” Wyatt said, working hard to comprehend.

“One moment,” he said to the young boy, “The ceremony is beginning. Let’s pay attention and show Sister Mary the respect she has clearly earned.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Wyatt replied.

Lord Crawford looked back at the boy and smiled before patting him in the back.

“Good man,” he softly said, and they both remained quiet for the remainder of the ceremony.

It was a lovely display, that celebrated Sister Mary’s long commitment to her church and the service of others and community. Something, Lord Crawford has said, was noble in itself. That one will never feel more noble when help others and doing what is clearly right. It was a statement that stuck with Wyatt for his entire life. He never saw Lord Crawford again after that ceremony, as at the time Wyatt was unaware how far the old man had traveled to see his sister. Loonsburg was far from where they were that day, on the other side of the ocean. An interesting detail that Wyatt Harris would not become aware of until fifteen years later.