Aaron arrived for lunch exactly three minutes before the appointed time. Lana, beside him, had finally realized she had still been wearing her Priestess' robe and changed into commoners' attire: brown pants, grey shirt, and leather boots. They came from Aaron's ring and were too large for her, but as with his own Rogue outfit, it was on purpose.

According to Aly's crashing course on local etiquette, the way someone dressed for a meeting showed, at the very least, how comfortable they felt with the other party. More often, it was a matter of how highly they regarded whoever they were meeting with. Sometimes, not dressing for the occasion could be an outright offense.

That's what Aaron wanted: to offend the Red Duke. Their garments showed they hadn't cared enough to change for the meeting, as if they were visiting someone far below their station. Yet he expected the Red Duke to take it as Aaron being unable to even dress properly, which was perfect for his plan.

He had a lesson to teach, and the more the Red Duke looked down on him, the greater its effect would be.

The duke's estate had a mansion with a vast yard. A tall metal fence surrounded it, and dozens of Two Star Qi Manipulators stood in spaced intervals all around it. Aaron presented his invitation letter to the ones guarding the gate and was given entry after they checked its authenticity using a magical device that looked like a thermometer. A butler was waiting at the doors to the mansion and politely led the way for them.

The mansion's décor was mostly elegant, but it stepped into the realm of needless ostentation here and there. For instance, the paintings' frames were made of simple gold, yet it would have been better to use that gold to buy a painting-preserving frame instead. Another example was the classical, expensive-looking bust sculptures that just didn't fit the overall theme of hardwood, dark colors, and old money.

A house's decoration either reflected the owner's tastes or was used to send a message to visitors, or both. What Aaron saw painted the Red Duke in a poor light. Both the décor and the letter's offense had Aaron expecting a lot of arrogance and poor decision-making skills. The hidden things below the estate that he could feel with his active perception confirmed his expectations.

When they entered the dining room, the table was set and the duke's wife and three offspring, who ranged from twenty to thirty years old, were already sitting. The family's clothing was more elegant than ostentatious, showing their money in discrete ways.

Everything but their attire was an insult that required one to know the etiquette landscape to understand. The Red Duke had sent his butler to receive a noble of the same station, a quite disrespectful behavior. Then Aaron had been led straight to the dining hall, like some random famished, miserable person from the streets — Alys' words — instead of having a conversation somewhere more comfortable first. The duke's family were already sitting at the table, a way to say they would've eaten already if they hadn't been forced to wait for an unwanted visitor. And to finish the shit-show, the Red Duke's continued absence was a metaphorical slap to Aaron's face.

But since the duke thought Aaron wouldn't notice it, he only smiled and said, "Sitting already! Those chairs do look comfortable though. But where is the food? I bet the duke is out there playing with the serving maid, isn't he?" he laughed and walked to sit at the head of the table.

The family hadn't even stood up to receive him. Upon hearing his words, they looked at each other, then the duke's wife forced herself to stand up and extend a gloved hand to Aaron. He was supposed to barely touch it; instead, he shook it strong enough to be uncomfortable for her.

"A pleasure to meet you. Much pleasure indeed. I like your style! The duke is a lucky man!" He winked at her. "Good, very good!"

Her face twisted as if she had just tasted shit. The duke's face — Aaron felt the man in the room next to this — became even worse. Aaron's smile widened, but before he could further antagonize the people there, the woman pointed at another chair. "We reserved that chair for you."

"Oh! Why didn't you say sooner?!" he laughed and moved to it.

Lana, who was as red as a tomato, sat silently beside him. He had told her to say nothing, but to observe. He wanted to teach her the same thing he would teach the duke.

Aaron took Tatou and put him on the table to caress him. The duke's wife nearly gagged, but she just sat and started with some small talk.

And he had to admit, those people were good with small talk.

"... and we were all curious to meet the famous Herald of Light!" the duchess, Eliz Banth, said ten minutes later. The Duke's tardiness was yet another offense.

Eliz was a blonde in her late forties with honey-colored eyes and a bright smile. She was a One Star Qi Manipulator and a Two Star Earth Elementalist. She wore a necklace that hid her stronger cultivation from those without enough energy sensibility. She kept being polite regardless of what Aaron did.

The oldest son, who hadn't even introduced himself, was an introvert through and through. He reacted to some of Aaron's rude comments with silence, even though this was his house. He barely talked at all.

The middle daughter — who was disguised as a male for some reason — had tried to introduce herself, but had been interrupted by her mother. Eliz clearly didn't want the girl to have any contact with Aaron at all.

The daughter was the one who mostly openly showed her disgust at everything Aaron represented. Once, he had showered her in saliva while laughing "uncontrollably," and she asked a maid for a mini-umbrella that she kept between them from then on.

And the youngest son, Mycir Banth, was the one who liked Aaron the most. Every vulgar word that left Aaron's mouth made the youth smile. Every rude thing Aaron did, the boy copied. However, from time to time, he would open his mouth to say something about "culture", and Eliz would talk over him. He looked more annoyed each time, and Aaron guessed it was only a matter of time until he spoke about such culture anyway.

All the while, Lana sat quietly. Most of the time, she was looking down and embarrassed. Aaron hadn't intended her to suffer that much, but it was also good for her to get used to this kind of behavior. Powerful cultivators came in all flavors. So long as they didn't outright offend Aaron and his people, his maid — or potential partner — had to know how to interact with them.

Thirty minutes after the appointed time, when Aaron commented on his preferred position on the bed, the Red Duke couldn't take it anymore and entered the room, much to Lana's relief. Eliz had introduced him as Thar Banth.

He came from a door behind Aaron's sight, but Aaron felt the mocking glare and triumphant smile he sent his wife. He didn't acknowledge Aaron until after he sat on the table and placed his napkin over his legs, another insult.

"Let's eat," he declared, and servants stormed the room to serve the food. One of them awkwardly had to ask Aaron to take the beast off the table, to which he complied. Then the Red Duke finally turned to Aaron. "You must be the new Duke of Lyr," he said without a hint of politeness.

Aaron nodded. The servants were efficient, and the table was already getting overwhelmed by all kinds of food. He took what looked like chicken legs with his bare hands — a scandal in Illyria's polite society — and took a bite. He made sure to be especially messy with it, leaving some sauce around his lips. Then, with his mouth full, he replied. "In the flesh!"

That action, the rudest one could do in the entire empire, was the last straw for everyone. No one, not even Lana, could hide the disgust from their faces. Thar only showed his own for a few instants, but his family had a much harder time controlling themselves.

Interestingly, that was also the last straw for Mycir. He laughed, slapped the table hard, and said before his mother could intervene, "Ah, duke, I like your style!" He took a chicken leg in his own hands. He also bit and spoke with his mouth full, "It's much better to eat like this!" His parents sent him a deadly gaze, but Mycir ignored it. "I knew you were a man of culture! After we are done here, let me show you my harem! I don't share, but we can talk in a better ambiance at least!"

Aaron smiled. So Mycir was the owner of the harem he had detected with his active perception. That simple fact bared open a lot of the Red Duke's secret for him.

"Hahaha!" laughed Aaron loudly, even spitting some half-bitten chicken on the table. The duke's daughter mini-umbrella intercepted half of it. "A man of culture indeed! You father should at the very least have made the female servants wear nothing!"

"Yes! I told him to do so many times!" Mycir laughed back.

Aaron then turned to Thar. "Speaking of which, how was the serving maid? Did you give it to her good?"

Thar looked murderously at Aaron. Eliz stood up at once. "Husband, I don't feel well. If you would excuse me." She didn't wait for a reply and refused to acknowledge Aaron as she left.

"Mycir, go check on your mother," Thar ordered.

"She's fine, father! She's touchy on some subjects!"

"It wasn't a suggestion. Go. Now." His voice was cold as ice.

Mycir rolled his eyes and made up as if he would stand up, but Aaron slapped his hand on the table. "An insult! Are you insulting me, Red Duke? You want to take away the only man in this room to whom I can talk like a brother!"

"I apologize, Duke of Lyr, but my wife's health is of extreme importance—"

"Bullshit! I'm a Two Star Arcanist; I can feel all her vitals and she is fine!" Arcane Energy couldn't be used to heal or strengthen people, but analyzing anything, including living beings, was still within its capabilities. "More than fine! I never felt someone so full of Earthly desires before." Aaron felt quite proud of himself for the wordplay with the hidden element she cultivated.

Thar had finally had enough. He stood up. "Duke of Lyr! I find your behavior extremely inappropriate! Your education is poor, as expected from some unknown commoner who rose to prominence by receiving power from others. You should leave."

Aaron sighed. To think his cleverness would be the end of the charade! He wanted to keep it going a while longer, but leaving was fine too. "And here I was about to take advantage of the health subject to tell you how to save your son."

The duke didn't know how to react for a moment, then he frowned. "Are you threatening my family?"

Aaron rolled his eyes. "No, dumbass, I'm saying your eldest has serious health issues." He turned to the man. "Let me guess, crippling headaches at night, white spots on your feet, temporary blindness up to a few hours after waking up. You'll be dead in a week, boy. Thankfully, you just need to stop fornicating with goblins and you'll survive, you filthy degenerate!" he laughed hard and turned to Mycir. "Right?! Right?!"

Sepulchral silence descended upon the room, Aaron's laughter the only thing rudely cutting through it. A servant froze while serving some food, shocked at what Aaron had dared to say. Calling someone a beast-fornicator was bad enough, but a goblin-fornicator was the lowest of insults in the kingdom, according to Alys' crash course.

That was stupid. Contrary to common knowledge, female goblins were absurdly sexy if you could see past their green skin. Their beauty rivaled that of elves, except it was packed in a smaller body. Goblins only forced themselves on other species' females because their own females were rare, stronger than their male counterparts, and feared intercourse.

The fear didn't come from pain or the violent tendencies of goblins — the females enjoyed anything in bed, almost as much as succubuses. The issue was that intercourse was eventually lethal to them. When impregnated, they birthed hundreds of the little beasts in a labor that lasted for as long as they were fed and kept alive. That could take years. Then, when it ended, they died from exhaustion. Though also not painful, they would be facing their incoming death all the while, a great psychological shock both to them and to their daughters who would bear witness to it.

Well, at least it was like that in Aaron's home universe. He expected things to be at least similar in here. The man's symptoms matched at least, and Aaron could feel a small slave room a few tens of meters under the mansion. The female goblin was the most beautiful of the many beasts in there.

After Aaron stopped laughed, he resumed chewing on chicken loudly. The Red Duke turned to his eldest. "You're still keeping those beasts? I told you to get rid of them."

The introvert guy looked ready to defend himself for once. He opened his mouth to reply, but Aaron beat him to him. "You can't just tell him to stop banging a goblin! When female goblins are having fun, they produce an addictive substance that will keep both her and her chosen partner incapable of stopping until she gets impregnated. When that happens, the substance will stop being produced and the male goblin will die from abstinence. Luckily, the substance is not completely compatible with humans, so he only got sick. Unluckily, unless you get an alchemist or physician to help, your son will fall into a coma for a couple of weeks the moment he stops. Being a filthy degenerate isn't easy!"

He pointed at Mycir next. "At least your youngest keeps to half-humans if the large room under his harem is any indicator. Someone already suffered the issues of beast intercourse for him, and now he can reap the benefits. I bet your eldest only got himself some beasts because your youngest showed off his half-humans to him. Maybe he even offered some benefits if the eldest sold his offspring. You don't think your youngest is as stupid as he makes it look, right?"

The Red Duke looked furious. He pointed at Aaron. "You! Out! Now!"

Aaron's smile died, and he stood up. "Very well. But I have something to tell you before I leave, Red Duke."

The man opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted when Aaron's death aura slammed on him. He instantly paled and fell on his chair, his legs too weak to support him. Aaron pumped its potency up and he started trembling.

"You see, moments ago, you asked me if I was threatening you, duke. I wasn't, but well, what if I was? What would you do about it? Who would?" Aaron spat the half-eaten chicken on the man's face. "What are you going to do about being spat on? If I were to kill you and your entire family, who would dare stop me, you arrogant imbecile?

"You think you can offend me with none the wise. You were wrong, but even if you were right, then what? You would've gotten away with some amusement. One day, I would have learned the truth. Do you think I would have laughed at it, you swine? Do you think I would have invited you to talk about it over a cup of tea?

"Your pathetic plays are just that: pathetic, and a child's play. They do not matter. I made myself the clown you expected me to be, and so what? The moment you didn't want to put up with it, I forced you to anyway. In front of the overwhelming power of a clown, you can do nothing.

"You are nothing, Red Duke. Social rules can not contain true power.

"You offended me today and I declare you my enemy. As your offense wasn't physical, I shall allow you to pay me tribute. You have three days to deliver me the captive beasts and half-beasts in this estate, to tell the count who wants my factory to back off, and to send me Private Lamus Tarlor, a guard from Red City, together with anyone he wants to bring." That was the guard who had been bold enough to do his job while still being respectful. "Merely failing to deliver means a swift death, but doing anything to the females or to Tarlor means I'll make you'll suffer a fate worse than death."

Aaron wasn't a savior — he wasn't even against most forms of slavery — but he wouldn't ignore sex slaves like the beasts and half-beasts had been made. After they were delivered, he would either set them free, give them jobs, or allow them to return if they wanted — who knows if they actually enjoyed it? That was the trouble with being a hero, you had to take responsibility for those you saved, or you might screw things more than if you did nothing.

He looked at the wall next. "And you, miss spy," he told Eliz, who was using a skill to listen in. "Whoever you are spying for, let your boss and everyone else know that I will not abide by your pathetic rules. Do not play games with me, or my revenge will be swift and brutal."

After delivering his message, he left the house with Lana in tow — Tatou on her hands.

"I think they even gave us rotten food on purpose," he said with a relaxed voice when they were outside, using some Qi and Vital Energy to heal himself. He looked at Lana with a smile. "What did you learn from it?"

She thought for a while, then replied, "That power is the one social rule no one should ever forget."

He smiled. Usually, he would've dealt with the arrogant duke more subtly, but that required time, and he didn't want to wait for it. Also, the tale of what had happened there would spread throughout Illyria soon enough. No one else would dare disrespect him like that then.

Power was a convenient social rule indeed.

"Now, how would you like to go clothing shopping?" he asked.

The smile she gave him was so luminous it eclipsed the sun.

The Garrison Commander did as he told his brother he would; he asked Regional Command for instructions. He hoped only to give the Timelords a lead to decrease his chances of actually finding them and dying on their hands. Regional Command's reply, however, went beyond his wildest imaginations.

They showed him the Seal of the Emperor and ordered him to locate the Timelords. He was to ask them what they intended, report their intentions to Regional Command, then infiltrate Illyria's capital with his Hounds to kill the recently appointed Herald of Light.

That would be the greatest of all sins against the Light. He didn't particularly care about it; the academy for imperial officers had a way of beating religion out of you. However, such a sin would have an army of Templar Knights hunting him down in a matter of hours.

In other words, the emperor wanted him to commit suicide.

He had no choice but to obey. Doing otherwise would only make his garrison be ordered to dispose of him much before the templars could. By going against the herald, he could at least try to think of a way out for longer.

He even had an idea already. Some well-timed teleport would have him outside the Thenor Empire in a few days with none the wise. He only had to distract his Hounds first, which wasn't too difficult. The bloodthirsty bastards only thought of carnage when they were purging a town. He would kill the herald, set the Hounds loose on Illyria, then leave.

Some days of tracking the Timelords followed. They ended up in the site of an abandoned, destroyed Clans Arena. The trail went into a cave complex, and he and his Hounds followed.

That place proved to be annoying at first. It had too many traps, some of them ridiculously cunning. His Rogue took hours to defuse some of them.

Then the place proved itself lethal. One of them fell on a five-layered trap. Their tank, who thought himself capable of withstanding the damage. He didn't want to wait for their Rogue to disable what he saw as a simple trap.

He died screaming in pain.

As they went through more and more traps and met with dead ends, every one of them suffered an injury or another. Blood, both theirs and their enemy's, stained their armor. Now, they found themselves camping in a long corridor, eating in somber silence.

"There you are," a shrill voice said from one corner of the corridor.

The commander turned his head with fright. He had felt no one approach! There he saw their target for the first time: a Champion Timelord.

Like all Timelords, it had a thin white body with no hair or facial features, and a horrible mouth with sharp teeth materialized on its face when it spoke. It wore a hooded white robe with golden trimming, its hood covering half its head. The hood had the drawing of a single large golden eye that ended up where human eyes would be.

Many would mistake it for a Mouth-Man, their relatives from the far north in the continent. However, Timelords were to Mouth-Men what crimson-armored Imperial Protectors were to common guards. They organized themselves in a nation and had developed their Entropomancy skills throughout the centuries. A Champion Timelord was an elite among them. The commander had no hoping of surviving if they fought.

Yet, despite his fear, he stood up — alone, only now noticing everybody else had been frozen in time — and said, "In the emperor's name, I ask you what are your plans in the Thenor Empire."

The Timelord laughed creepily. "The little boy is curious, is he? Very well, come and listen to us, we were already planning on talking to you. That's the reason you're alive."

The commander complied. He was led to an enormous cave chamber, where two other Timelords stood beside two corpses. One was human, and the other was, to the commander's surprise, a Mouth-Man.

"One of ours was enslaved and killed in the empire," another Timelord said. "Let me show you."

Not a Mouth-Man, then. Someone had enslaved a Timelord and stripped them of their attire. That took a lot of courage.

With a wave of the Timelord's hand, time was reversed in the whole cave chamber. A few instants later, the Garrison Commander witnessed what had happened in that room as if it were happening right then. The images felt solid and even produced sound!

The fight between the Herald of Light and the Mouth-Man was awe-inspiring. Even the Four-Star Shaper's decision-making in the fight was on par with his. And seeing the Sapphire Daughter here was shocking, to say the least.

After the fight with the Mouth-Man and the assassination of the Soul Machinist, the Herald of Light and his people battled some useless people in good equipment. And then, that fight was interrupted by a High Lord of the Shalar Order!

This was way above his paygrade. He shouldn't even be seeing this.

As if that wasn't enough, after the Herald of Light left, the High Lord came back into the cave chamber and looked at nowhere in particular.

"It was foretold that this is the location of an HPCP. To the Timelords, I say this: the Shalar Order doesn't want a war between you and Thenor Empire. We have already convinced the emperor to let you reap the life of the offending king, so do that and let matters rest. The Herald of Light is another matter altogether. If you kill him, the Temple of Light will certainly declare a Holy Crusade against you, which would lead to undesired complications."

The commander had been taught about Highly Probable Critical Points, or HPCPs, by his Entropomancer Hounds. Those points were futures that would happen in most timelines that diviners could foretell. They were like big nodes that most futures flowed through before spreading into myriad possibilities again.

"Don't worry, we are not asking you to just forgive the herald," the High Lord continued. "This is the location of a double HPCP. Someone from the Thenor Empire should have been sent to kill the herald. We aren't sure who sent them, or who they are, because the herald's actions will anger way too many people. But if someone arrives here, we ask of you to let them kill him in your stead. Internal strife within the empire is much more easily dealt with than international war. We also ask you to let them kill him before you deal with the king, as to prevent the man from running away."

The sound and image disappeared after that. The Garrison Commander was absolutely shocked, barely capable of processing the fact that the Shalar Order wanted the Herald of Light to be killed.

"You have exactly one day to kill the herald," said a Timelord. "After that, we'll deal with the king. If you fail, we'll also kill the Herald of Light, no matter what any human god thinks of it. One way or another, we will have our revenge."