Rare Family Dinner
It had been ages since the whole family gathered for a meal. The official reason was to celebrate my promotion from page to squire now that I was fourteen. In the dining hall of the manor—a space usually left empty—a long table had been set up, covered with a white linen tablecloth embroidered along the edges. Various dishes filled the table, but since the dinner had been going for a while, two courses had already come and gone.
The family sat around the table. I'd experienced this a few times before, but it still felt awkward seeing everyone so busy with their lives, somehow managing to be here together. At the head sat Father, the family head, with Mother beside him. To the right from his perspective were my eldest brother and his wife; to the left, my second brother and his wife. I was plopped alone next to my eldest brother's wife.
Since this was a family dinner without political motives, only Father's close kin were present. With so few people, it felt rather modest.
"May I have some of that cheese over there?"
"Go ahead."
With permission granted, a waiting servant scooped a bit from the cheese near Father and brought it to my plate. For food within arm's reach, you could just take a portion to your own plate. But for anything farther, etiquette demanded asking the person at the head table for approval, then having a servant fetch it.
I'd heard that in poorer noble houses, there weren't even servants to serve during meals, so everyone passed dishes around the table themselves. High nobles, on the other hand, had so many servants they could turn the entire manor or inner castle into a banquet hall. Even among nobles, the wealth gap was staggering depending on rank.
I topped some leftover bread on my plate with cheese, sliced a bit of the seasoned roast bird nearby, layered it on, and took a bite. Nom nom. Compared to foods from my memories, it lacked something, but I'd grown used to it and could enjoy it now.
The others had already eaten their fill and were chatting idly rather than fiddling with their utensils. My 26-year-old eldest brother and 24-year-old second brother, both deep into their careers, had plenty to discuss with Father, our family head. Eldest Brother had become a full knight and taken over the pioneering village Father originally held as his fief. Second Brother worked as an administrator in the count's castle.
After the initial pleasantries, their talk mostly revolved around managing their territories. Listening made ideas bubble up in my mind, but I wasn't in a position to butt in—and even if my advice was taken, it wouldn't benefit me at all—so I just kept eating quietly.
Even at a rare family gathering, it was all business talk. What a dry household.
Father and Eldest Brother had been away on subjugation and pioneering expeditions, rarely coming home. Mother had lived with Second Brother in a small manor in the count's castle until he came of age, and she'd liked it so much she stayed there even now. That was why I'd basically been left to my own devices growing up here.
If I'd caused trouble or gone astray, things might've been different. But I followed instructions diligently, lived responsibly, and didn't need much oversight. The result? Even as family, we barely met once a month.
From my perspective, the lack of interference was a plus, so pros and cons all around.
As I chewed through the meal for a good while, their conversation topics seemed to wrap up, and the spotlight turned to me.
"Gallein, now that you're a squire, it would be good for you to join subjugations."
Thankfully, it was the topic I'd expected. I quickly swallowed and replied.
"Understood. Am I joining the pioneering front?"
"No, I plan to entrust this village's security to you in the future. Sir Roland will soon need his own fief, so I'd like you to fill the vacancy."
I'd heard recently that the pioneering village for Sir Frey's fief was settling in. As I recalled, Sir Roland had patrolled and protected this place regularly for at least five years. Now it was time for him to pioneer his own.
Years of steady subjugations around here had slashed the influx of magic beasts and monsters near the village. Most were just goblins or wolf packs now—nothing serious. The village was only a two-night, three-day ride from the count's castle, so no worries that way. Threats from the untamed borderlands had been managed enough that one squire and a handful of soldiers could maintain order.
Frankly, going to the frontier would've halted my village projects, which worried me. This was actually great news, so I accepted gladly.
"Train under Sir Roland for the time being. I'll inform the butler about your gear—pick it up from him."
"Yes, sir."
Father delivered exactly what I needed to hear, then moved on to the next item with Eldest Brother. Sharp as a blade, that man.
I refocused on my food. Lately, I felt hungrier than usual. Weird.
Midway, my sister-in-law beside me commented on how well I was eating. I responded politely enough, chatting lightly about the dishes.
The dinner wrapped up soon after.
That evening, before bed, in my room. I lay on the bed pondering what lay ahead.
Sorry, Father, but with Sir Roland leaving the village too, the only one left to watch me would be the butler.
Lately, I'd been excused to practice riding outside the village and had scouted land nearby for steel production facilities.
In this world, even the lowliest knight—a noble—personally trading or crafting was near-taboo. Using agents for trade or directing artisans was fine as estate management. But hands-on work damaged dignity, blurred noble-commoner lines, and was strictly controlled unless the house was destitute.
If caught, I'd face massive penalties—who knew what kind. No need to test it.
I'd considered just telling Father I hated being a knight and preparing openly. But...
No point stirring up trouble.
In a stratified society, a disowned third son from a knightly house and a wandering hedge knight were worlds apart. Nobles and commoners followed different laws, even if knights were low-tier. Securing a title was smart for my future.
If I skipped knighting and got kicked out, later scraping a title elsewhere meant slaving under some obscure noble, risking my life on knightly duties I loathed.
Better to obey Father obediently, train hard, live straight, earn a recommendation at adulthood the conventional way—from the count's house, no less—get knighted, then leave on knightly errantry as pretext. Far smoother and efficient.
So, even if squire duties blocked my side projects, I'd grit my teeth till knighting.
Someone might wonder: if others learned my plans, how to hide the gear differences?
Simple. Recruit village artisans.
If they refused, grab someone interested in smithing, pay them to do it. Unskilled labor was cheap—maybe even better. I was a newbie anyway; no issue training one.
The problem was me personally making gear. Using others might spark rumors of wasteful spending, but not enough to derail knighting.
Wait, thinking about it... this might be better?
Hiring out avoided risks of hands-on work. More efficient time-wise too—work continues without me. Sure, they might steal knowledge and bolt, but...
Oh, right—contract magic.
Scrolls sold in the count's castle, pricey but affordable after a few months as squire. Early stages meant sorting soil and building brick kilns first anyway—time to buy via traders.
Perfect. Plan set. Time to hustle.