The two weeks blurred into a relentless cascade of obligations that left Raze questioning whether dungeon diving might have been the less exhausting option. Each day brought new responsibilities, new faces, new decisions requiring judgment he wasn't entirely certain he possessed.

Sophie's enrollment at Castle Town Academy consumed the first morning. The institution occupied grounds that rivaled some minor estates, white stone buildings arranged around manicured gardens where noble children studied everything from basic cultivation techniques to diplomatic protocol. The headmaster, a distinguished woman whose gray hair spoke to decades of managing aristocratic youth, welcomed them with practiced grace.

"Count Dragonheart, Lady Sophie," she said, bowing precisely the depth protocol demanded. "We're honored to receive the Count's sister into our student body."

Sophie stood beside Raze wearing the academy's uniform, white blouse and navy skirt that made her look simultaneously younger and more mature than her ten years suggested. Mittens coiled around her shoulders, the hybrid creature's presence drawing curious stares from passing students despite the headmaster's apparent determination to pretend nothing unusual was occurring.

"You'll be kind to the other students?" Raze asked his sister quietly.

"Of course," Sophie replied, though her blue eyes carried mischief that suggested 'kind' might be interpreted creatively. "Mittens will behave too. Won't you?"

The creature's multiple tail whips waved in what might have been agreement or could have been preparation for chaos. Difficult to determine with prehistoric predators reduced to adorable proportions.

Raze departed after ensuring Sophie was settled, recognizing she needed independence rather than her brother hovering protectively. The academy had excellent security, and Mittens would eliminate any genuine threats before they could materialize.

The administrative tours began the following day, Logan having organized an itinerary that would consume four full days visiting fourteen major towns scattered across Raze's territory. The region was vast, encompassing agricultural communities, mining operations, and trade hubs that generated the substantial revenue supporting his new title.

The absurdity of it all hadn't escaped him. Weeks ago he'd been nobody, a transmigrator inhabiting the body of a nobody. Now he governed territory spanning hundreds of miles, commanded annual revenue that would have seemed impossible back then, and was betrothed to the kingdom's only princess.

The game knowledge rattling around in his head provided context but no real preparation for the responsibility. Knowing a region existed on a map was vastly different from standing in town squares addressing people whose lives depended on his decisions.

They traveled by carriage, Logan's efficiency ensuring each stop was precisely timed. Oziel accompanied them despite the Grandmaster's visible discomfort with bureaucratic proceedings, his presence providing security that made bandits reconsider ambitions wherever the Count's procession passed.

The first town, Millbrook, welcomed them with cautious optimism. The population had suffered under Lord Venn's corruption, officials extracting excessive taxes while infrastructure crumbled from neglect. The town square where they gathered showed visible disrepair, cobblestones cracked and buildings needing maintenance that should have been addressed years prior.

Raze addressed the assembled citizens from a hastily constructed platform, recognizing this speech would set expectations for his governance. Public speaking wasn't among his cultivated skills, but seventeen years pretending confidence in situations where he had none provided adequate foundation.

"I'm Count Dragonheart," he began, voice carrying across the square through cultivation techniques enhancing projection. "Some of you knew my predecessor, Lord Venn. His administration has ended. Mine begins with acknowledgment that substantial repairs are required."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, uncertainty mixing with hope in expressions that suggested they'd heard promises before.

"I've authorized infrastructure projects throughout my domain," Raze continued. "Roads will be repaired, tax collection will be audited to eliminate exploitation, and officials accepting bribes will be replaced. These aren't aspirations subject to later revision. They're commitments beginning immediately."

He gestured toward Logan, who stepped forward carrying documentation. "My steward will establish oversight ensuring funds reach their intended purposes rather than disappearing into corrupt pockets. Questions or concerns can be directed to him or the new administrative heads being appointed in each region."

The crowd's response was cautiously positive, people who'd been exploited too often to immediately trust but recognizing sincerity when they heard it. Several approached afterward with specific grievances that Logan cataloged methodically for later address.

The pattern repeated across subsequent towns. Raze spoke, Logan organized, Oziel intimidated anyone considering disruption through simple presence. By the fourth day, word had spread ahead of their arrival. Citizens gathered in larger numbers, their questions becoming more direct as confidence grew that this Count might actually listen.

In Thornhaven, a mining community where Venn's officials had been particularly corrupt, an elderly woman approached Raze directly after his speech. Her weathered face carried lines suggesting decades of hard labor, hands rough from work that cultivation could ease but never eliminate entirely.

"My grandson," she said quietly, voice carrying weight that transcended volume. "Died in the mines two years past. Collapse that shouldn't have happened if proper safety measures were maintained. Officials said it was an unfortunate accident, gave compensation barely sufficient for burial."

Raze met her gaze steadily, recognizing this moment mattered more than any prepared speech. "What should have been done?"

"Support beams," she replied immediately. "Regulations require reinforcement every fifty feet in deep shafts. They were spacing them at hundred foot intervals to save costs, pocketing the difference. My grandson and four others paid for that theft with their lives."

Logan was already making notes, his brown eyes tracking details with intensity suggesting this particular corruption would receive special attention. Raze placed one hand on the woman's shoulder briefly.

"The officials responsible will be identified and prosecuted," he said. "Mining safety regulations will be enforced properly going forward. Your grandson's death won't be dismissed as mere accident when it resulted from criminal negligence."

Tears welled in her eyes, though she blinked them back with dignity. "Thank you, my lord. That's all his family wanted. Someone to acknowledge what was taken from us."

Similar conversations occurred in every town, individual stories of corruption's human cost that statistics couldn't capture. By the time they returned to Castle Town, Raze understood his domain represented more than just revenue generation. These were people depending on governance that addressed their needs rather than exploiting their vulnerability.

The weight of it pressed against his chest some nights. In his previous life, he'd never held responsibility for anyone beyond himself. Now thousands of people looked to him for leadership he was making up as he went along.

The knight order discussion emerged during their return journey, Logan raising the topic with characteristic directness. "A Count of your status requires military force beyond personal companions. Traditionally, this takes the form of a knight order bearing your house crest."

Oziel's scarred face showed interest despite his usual stoicism. "You're suggesting I establish one?"

"You're Grandmaster rank with extensive combat experience," Logan replied. "Additionally, your loyalty to Count Dragonheart is absolute. Who better to command an order sworn to defend his interests?"

The proposal made strategic sense. Raze's territory required security beyond what town guards provided, and a dedicated knight order would enhance his political standing while providing employment for capable warriors.

"Begin recruitment," Raze said, making the decision. "Start with twenty knights, expandable to fifty as funding permits. Prioritize skill over rank initially. I'd rather have twenty Expert cultivators who are competent than fifty Masters who are mediocre."

Oziel nodded understanding. "I'll establish standards and conduct evaluations personally. The Dragonheart Knights will represent your house with distinction."

The name emerged naturally, simple designation that would carry weight as the order proved itself worthy of the title.

Manor construction became the next priority. Logan had identified a central location within Raze's territory where major roads converged, perfect site for establishing administrative headquarters. The town, Clearwater, was prosperous enough to support the construction while remote enough that Castle Town's distractions wouldn't interfere with governance.

They reviewed architectural plans in Raze's estate study, Logan spreading detailed drawings across the table with precision that suggested he'd consulted extensively with master builders.

"Three stories," Logan explained, finger tracing the layout. "Ground floor for administrative offices and public reception areas. Second floor for your personal quarters when visiting, plus guest accommodations. Third floor for staff housing and storage."

The design was impressive without being ostentatious, balanced approach that would demonstrate authority while avoiding the excessive grandeur that characterized truly ancient noble houses.

"Construction timeline?" Raze asked.

"Six months if we begin immediately," Logan replied. "I've identified contractors with excellent reputations, pending your approval of the budget."

Raze authorized the expenditure after brief review, recognizing this represented investment in proper governance rather than frivolous luxury. The manor would serve practical purposes, centralizing administration that currently operated through scattered temporary offices.

The invitation list consumed an entire afternoon, Queen Eleanor presiding over the process with enthusiasm that made Raze suspect she enjoyed ceremony planning more than actual governance. The engagement announcement would be formal affair requiring careful attention to diplomatic protocol.

"Every major noble house within the kingdom," Eleanor said, marking names on parchment with practiced efficiency. "The Duke families absolutely must attend, along with Counts and Barons of significance."

"Neighboring kingdoms?" Raze asked, curious how far the invitation would extend.

"Of course," Eleanor confirmed. "The Valorian Empire to the north, the Merchant Confederacy to the east, and the Kingdom of Astoria to the west. All will send representatives, though whether their royalty attends personally depends on various political considerations."

Fedora sat beside her mother, reviewing names with expression suggesting she found the process tedious despite recognizing its necessity. Her blue eyes occasionally tracked toward Raze with warmth that made the entire ordeal worthwhile.

"The ceremony itself will occur in the Grand Hall," Eleanor continued. "Followed by reception in the palace gardens. Dancing, refreshments, the traditional presentation of the engagement gift."

That last detail took Raze's mind to his Inventory where the Bephemoth Heartstring remained secured. The crystallized necklace would serve its purpose publicly while the protective enchantments would serve a far more important private function.

Two days before the ceremony, Raze stood in his estate's training grounds watching Oziel conduct preliminary knight evaluations. A dozen candidates had already been rejected, their skills insufficient despite adequate cultivation ranks. The Grandmaster's standards were uncompromising.

"Again," Oziel commanded, the current applicant, an Expert Mid cultivator, attempting to demonstrate combat proficiency.

The warrior executed a series of strikes that would have impressed most observers. Oziel simply shook his head.

"Inadequate footwork. Your balance shifts incorrectly during the third transition, leaving you vulnerable to counters. Rejected."

The applicant departed with visible disappointment, though he offered a respectful bow acknowledging the assessment's fairness.

Bephe sat at Raze's feet throughout the evaluations, the small apex predator watching each demonstration with disturbing intensity. The creature's visible heart pulsed steadily, amber eyes tracking movement with precision that suggested it was cataloging combat capabilities despite being reduced to adorable proportions.

"Enjoying the show?" Raze asked quietly.

Bephe's response was to lean against his leg slightly, the gesture somehow conveying satisfaction with the morning's entertainment.

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