CHAPTER 451: CHAPTER 293: DAILY LIFE_2

"But all Nobility need Maids. It’s my duty to ensure Your Lordship’s daily life is well arranged," Susan disagreed. "All nobles have many followers and Maids."

Susan also reminded Lance of a more direct reason.

"Your Lordship needs to re-establish the dignity of the Nobility, and they want you to have an Heir so they can feel secure."

Upon hearing this, Lance seemed to understand something. He didn’t object further and fell into deep thought.

Susan’s words were easy to understand. The generosity Lance had shown them was so immense it made them anxious. Could all this be taken away if someone else became the Lord? They feared losing everything.

They only recognized Lance. If external enemies appeared, they would dare to confront them. The problem, however, was that Lance currently had no Heir, and any accident would cause unease among the people.

An Heir was always extremely important, as it represented the continuation of political stability.

They urgently needed Lance to produce an Heir to reassure the populace.

So, ultimately, this wasn’t simply a matter of whether Lance wanted women or not; it was a political issue.

No wonder Lance became so contemplative upon hearing this.

But would he compromise?

"First, you must understand that an Heir of Nobility isn’t produced simply by finding any woman to give birth. The selection of a legitimate wife involves complex issues, as do the inheritance rights of legitimate versus illegitimate children. These matters cannot be resolved quickly.

Second, I am still very young. They needn’t be so eager for my demise; they’ll die long before I do.

Third..."

Lance added quietly, effectively killing the topic.

"So, they instigated you to plant someone by my side, hmm?"

If he were to compromise, he wouldn’t be Lance. But how was Susan supposed to respond to that?

"My Lord... I... This..."

"Enough." Lance had no intention of making things difficult for her. "I know you mean well. Tell them that if they want to stand by my side, they need to prove their worth. Don’t fucking dream of skyrocketing to the top. I don’t need a decorative vase."

"Yes!" Susan dared not say more and withdrew.

Lance’s thoughts turned grim, and he murmured to himself, "If I fail, the entire world will cease to exist. What use then is an Heir? It would just be bringing another child into this hopeless world..."

Lance did not linger but stood up and went to Boudica’s room.

She hadn’t moved out. Even when Lance offered to assign her a separate house, she refused it.

The reason wasn’t anything outrageous; the girl was simply lazy to the bone.

Living here meant someone would naturally clean for her, and she could also scrounge meals.

"Come out." Lance raised his hand and knocked on the door. Strangely, there was no response, and the door was unlocked.

Frowning, Lance pushed the door open and went in.

Sure enough, he found her sprawled on the bed, the lower half of her body mostly dangling off the edge, sleeping like a log.

She must have just come back, given the door a push, and flopped onto the bed to fall fast asleep.

"HUH." Lance was speechless. Her being too drunk to bathe is somewhat understandable, but climbing into bed without taking off her shoes? That I cannot comprehend, nor accept.

Heresy! Absolute heresy!

"You’re a grown woman! Why try to drink when you can’t even handle it..."

Lance directly grabbed her foot, removed her shoe, and turned her over.

She was dead heavy. Only he could manage this; an ordinary person couldn’t possibly drag this pig.

"Don’t... don’t drive me away..."

Lance’s actions seemed to have disturbed her. She wasn’t fully awake, but murmurs escaped her lips.

Her body instinctively curled up as if lacking security. A look of panic and unease surfaced on her sleeping face, as if she were dreaming of some unpleasant experience.

Her hands seemed to be searching for something. Upon touching Lance’s hand, she latched onto it as if it were a lifeline, pulling his arm towards her and clinging to it tightly like an octopus.

Lance felt uncomfortable and instinctively tried to pull his hand away, but this movement caused the drunkenly dreaming Boudica to become frantic.

"Don’t drive me away... Boss... I’ll be good..."

The strength from her tensed muscles could easily snap an ordinary person’s arm. Even Lance had to stop moving and let her cling to him. Only then did she calm down, the panic on her face subsiding, even replaced by a faint, contented smile.

She had little conscious awareness. Soon, her grip on his arm gradually loosened. Lance seized the opportunity to pull his hand free, replacing it with a pillow.

"PHEW. She’s really a handful." Lance looked at the red welt on his arm from her grip. She’s all muscle. It’s a good thing it was me; an average person really couldn’t have withstood that.

He had intended to scold her a bit, but seeing her dead to the world like this, he decided against it.

「...」

"The United Kingdoms is an alliance formed by many small countries to resist threats from powerful neighboring nations. These countries are interconnected through trade, boasting a highly developed economy and commerce.

The headquarters of the Witcher, Kelmohan, is located there. It’s a massive ancient fortress nestled within the Blue Mountain Range, a place ordinary people can hardly reach. Legend says that in ancient times, this area was an ocean, hence its other name: the Ancient Sea Fortress.

And behind the United Kingdoms, the Council of Sorcerers is actually pulling the strings..."

In front of them lay a hand-drawn, rudimentary world map, on which Tamara was explaining the marked Extraordinary forces.

Naturally, Lance was the student. Information in this world was very scarce. Although Lance had been a university student and knew a little about the more famous countries on the continent, his knowledge of Extraordinary forces was still pitifully lacking—practically nonexistent, one might say.

So, this was a good opportunity to learn systematically through Tamara. Broadening one’s horizons is essential, so his perspective wouldn’t be confined to just Hamlet’s little patch of land.

Tamara was, of course, very willing to do this. She had little else to do, and besides, she was constantly seeking ways to repair her relationship with Lance.

"Alright, that’s enough for today." Lance finished the last bite of bread in his left hand, and the pen in his right finally stilled.

It wasn’t that he actually needed to take notes; he was preparing to compile textbooks for the future. To establish himself in this world, he would sooner or later need to cultivate his own faction of Transcendents.

Although he didn’t know when that would begin, he had always been preparing for it.

Tamara inwardly sighed in relief upon hearing this.

It couldn’t be helped; Lance’s learning ability was simply too formidable. His capacity to absorb information was so great it even made her feel pressured.

While sipping milk and reviewing the day’s notes, Lance suddenly looked up. Seeing Tamara still lingering, he asked, "Is there something else? If you’re still hungry, there’s more in the kitchen."

"..." Tamara was at a loss for words, her eyes carrying a hint of resentment.

I came over so early and talked for so long... for what? Surely not just for breakfast?

Wasn’t it because I wanted to interact more with you? And what do I get? You put down your pen and pretend I don’t exist!

Hamlet was just beginning to show improvement, but its entire system was merely a framework. Administration, education, law, and so on—all these areas required his effort to perfect.

Even if Lance could simply copy existing models, it would take time and energy to adapt them to local conditions.

He was already incredibly busy. The only spare moment he had was during breakfast to listen to her lecture; he had no mental energy for other, less important matters.

He likely understood her current predicament. It was normal to lack a sense of security before things were fully settled.

Since he had decided to be amicable, he wasn’t as harsh as before. He showed understanding, explained his situation to her, and then drew her into the topic that concerned her most.

"I don’t know why she hasn’t come to me yet. Based on your understanding of her, what are the possibilities?"

At this, Tamara put aside her other thoughts and began to ponder the question seriously.

"It might be because you imprisoned her and she failed to obtain the Sacred Object. Consequently, her superiors likely deemed her mission a failure. If so, according to the internal rules of the Seeker of Omens, she must await further instructions before taking any action. However, it’s highly probable they’ll replace her and assign someone else to the task."

"Didn’t you say she was your only rival? If even she couldn’t succeed, how could anyone else possibly get it from you?"

Tamara looked somewhat embarrassed.