Chapter 492: Dinner Together

"Don't just throw around your 'lifelong requests' for help!" Ryan said, his face darkened with frustration.

"But I feel like I'm getting nowhere with her," Alfred continued, still in agony. "An annual income of 800 gold crowns, a villa or castle of at least 150 square meters, and a Kingdom Knight title—I might not achieve that even if I strive for another twenty years."

"Mr. Alfred, with those criteria, how many nobles in the entire Old World could meet her requirements?" Fedmond tried to console him. "If I brought a woman working as a waitress in a guesthouse back to Bordeleaux and told my father I wanted to marry her, he'd probably throw me off Mannan's Dry Dock to feed the sharks!"

"Of course, it's also possible that Miss Claudia simply doesn't like you and set such unattainable conditions to make you back off," Ryan mused, frowning. "An annual income of 800 gold crowns? Even Balthasar Gelt, the Empire's Supreme Patriarch, only makes about 800 gold marks a year. In the Empire, the highest officials, like the Grand Judge of Nuln, Theodore Bruckner, have an annual salary of 2000 gold marks."

Alfred shook his head in despair.

The Templar Knights, part of the Church of Justice, primarily deal with the undead and chaos. Their income depends on the donations they receive, their local parish's wealth, and the stipend from the Church. Alfred's annual income fluctuates between 100-150 gold crowns (or marks), which is moderate for a Templar Knight. However, it still falls significantly short of Miss Claudia's expectations.

Ryan decided to offer some advice to his childhood friend. "Alfred, calm down. If you really like women who look like that waitress, there are plenty of them in Estalia who would be willing to leave with you. As I've said, the waitresses here at the guesthouse meet all kinds of Old World nobility, big merchants, and famed mercenaries daily. Some even entertain high elves and dwarfs."

With some time left before their dinner engagement, Ryan, Fedmond, and Alfred continued discussing the matter.

Although the chances of a waitress marrying into high nobility are slim, it's not unheard of. Both Empire and Bretonnia have historical examples of such lucky women who caught the eye of a noble and rose to become noble ladies. Naturally, their stories are turned into ballads by bards and widely celebrated. This gives these women the illusion that their chances are high, and not only can they marry into wealth, but they can also choose a partner to their liking.

"In circles like this, the problem isn't high standards; it's comparison," Ryan said to Alfred. "I can guarantee that if just one waitress here successfully marries a man who meets their high standards within the next five years, the other waitresses will significantly raise their own expectations, making it hard for them to find husbands. Of course, it's also possible she simply doesn't like you."

"Mr. Alfred, you're a Templar Knight, just over thirty years old. With your legendary prowess, you'll likely live at least another hundred years. There's no need to rush," Fedmond smiled encouragingly. "I'm in my fifties and still considering whether or not to rush into marriage. You should date around and find someone suitable."

"Ryan, you know me. Since my childhood confession to the neighbor's maid failed, I haven't felt this strongly about any woman." Alfred remained stubborn but had started to come out of his blind fervor. "I don't want to give up so easily."

"But Miss Claudia has set her price," Ryan said pointedly. "Whether or not she's worth it, she's already put herself up for auction, and you don't even have the minimum bid. It's that simple."

"The situation is clear," Fedmond agreed. "To win Miss Claudia's favor, you'd have to work hard to meet her demands, which could take ten or twenty years. Meanwhile, Claudia might change over time, perhaps lowering her standards within two years or sticking to them for twenty. It's beyond our control, Mr. Alfred. There's no need to be so persistent."

"Ryan, you're always good with women. Can you give me some advice?" Alfred made a last-ditch plea. "In such an auction setting, how do you win over so many women?"

"Because I never buy anything at auctions," Ryan replied calmly, with a hint of disdain. "Auction items are always overpriced, especially waitresses. Their job inherently commands a high markup and low return."

After a moment's thought, Ryan spoke with a deeper meaning. "Alfred, I hope you understand, the truly valuable things never enter the market."

"Like you?" Alfred mused, half-jokingly. "My friend, you were never on the market. François and the Lady of the Lake reserved you for Sulia early on."

"There are exceptions." Ryan nodded. "Finding a boyfriend is like entering a bar. Claudia's entrance fee is 100 gold crowns. Once inside, men are divided into private rooms, booths, and the bar. The men in private rooms are, of course, the best. They can freely choose any drink, send it back if they're unsatisfied, and never lack female attention. Women might not even know if he brought his own drinks."

"Like you now," Alfred agreed, nodding.

"Men in the booths are not as elite but still enjoy dedicated service. They can't entertain too many women at once, but two or three at a time is manageable."

"Like me," Fedmond chimed in with a smile.

"Then there's me, standing at the bar or without even a seat," Alfred said with self-mockery. "So, I'm just wandering around with a cheap beer, looking for my target?"

"You're missing one point, Alfred. You've already got your entry ticket." Ryan smirked. "You've met the entrance requirements. You're staying at the guesthouse and had the chance to talk to Claudia. Men outside the bar, no matter how many coins they have, whether it's 99 or just one, are undeniably kept outside the door. They have no chance at all."

"So, my advice is to search within the bar for what you want, find something suitable, and strive to get into a booth," Ryan concluded. "Being excellent yourself is the most important."

Alfred was silent for twenty seconds before nodding. He suddenly turned to Ryan. "My friend, you were like me once. When you had no place to sit in the bar, Veronica noticed you? And when you got into the booth, Teresa, Emilia, and Olica saw you? By the time you were in the private room, you were already reserved by Lady Sulia?"

"No, I met Veronica outside the bar," Ryan's eyes flickered with memory. "She didn't care how many coins I had or my background. At the time, I had nothing, and she was beautiful. Do you understand? She was willing to bet on me because she believed in my future."

"Miss Veronica is quite courageous," Fedmond remarked, nodding in approval. He found this very chivalrous.

Alfred muttered something about how Claudia couldn't be like that and how Ryan had incredible luck.

"Alright, it's almost time," Ryan checked a fine dwarven pocket watch. "We need to get ready for the dinner at the Oriental Palace."

"Is Miss Veronica still sleeping?" Alfred, feeling better after Ryan's talk, asked.

"I'll go wake her," Ryan said, standing up.

Opening the bedroom door, he found the Garland Witch awake and wriggling in the bed. She jumped slightly when she saw Ryan. "Ryan! Why don't you knock before coming in?"

"What are you doing, dear?" Ryan noticed Veronica blushing as she applied ointment to herself under the covers.

"Maintenance cream!" Veronica quickly set aside the milky ointment and adjusted her dress.

"Maintenance cream?" Ryan picked up the jar, recognizing it as a typical high elf jade container. The cream inside radiated strong divine power.

"It's from the Lake Lady's gift during the turkey feast. Everyone got some," Veronica blushed. "This ointment helps maintain our bodies and keeps the skin soft. It has some side effects though; after applying, the body goes through changes..."

"What changes?" Ryan asked, curious.

"Just... you know... anyway, I only use it when I'm with you," Veronica deflected the question, shyly trying to change the subject. "Is it time to go?"

"Yes, it's time. Get ready. Tonight is your stage," Ryan kissed her rosy lips with a smile.

"Okay."

That evening in Estalia, at the Oriental Palace in Magritte.

The Oriental Palace is Magritte's oldest and most exquisite palace. Its exterior bears strong Bretonnian decorative elements, grand and majestic, while the interior reflects a distinct Tilean style. Historically, the palace was converted into a royal residence by King Jaffar during the Araby invasion, resulting in many areas showcasing Araby influences. The palace features prominent corners and an inner square courtyard, characteristic of traditional Estalian architecture.

The Oriental Palace serves as both a royal residence and an art treasury, housing numerous paintings, tapestries, and antique furniture. The walls are lined with red velvet, and under the vibrant illumination of large magical lamps, the entire hall glistens. The most striking room is the Porcelain Hall, where the walls and ceiling are adorned with artistic tiles, creating a dazzling spectacle.

Although once the palace of the Dukes of Magritte, under the current Duke, Rubio Sunseeker, it has been designated as the "Celebration

 Palace," rented out for Estalian Merchant League and Goddess of War Church events, and used for business activities. The Duke's family does not reside here, except for hosting foreign dignitaries, weddings, or celebrations.

In the banquet hall, with its red carpet and an immense oval table set with shimmering dinnerware, Amancio Pérez, leader of the Estalian Merchant League, stood waiting.

"Welcome, Lord Ryan Marcado. Your reputation precedes you. Your exploits are known from Kislev to Estalia," Amancio Pérez, a man who looked to be in his sixties, wore a simple silk robe. His hair was graying, his eyes large and expressive, and his features square and sturdy. Despite his well-maintained appearance, the years had left his muscles slightly slack, and a small bald patch was visible on the back of his head. Accompanied by two Solar Knights, Amancio extended a warm, welcoming hand to Ryan.

"Hello, Mr. Amancio," Ryan greeted with a sincere smile, shaking hands with the renowned merchant magnate.

Amancio's life story is legendary. Born into a merchant family in Magritte, he earned a bachelor's degree in commerce from the War Goddess Academy at twenty-three. By thirty-two, he was a prominent merchant controlling several trade routes. At thirty-nine, he became the mayor of Magritte, reaching the peak of his personal fame and wealth.

After stepping down as mayor at forty-six, Amancio merged three merchant guilds to form the Estalian Merchant League, becoming its president and supreme leader. By fifty-five, he was the honorary dean of the War Goddess Academy in Magritte, wielding more influence than even Duke Rubio Sunseeker.

"Welcome, Baron Fedmond de Bordeleaux. I'm particularly fond of Bordeleaux's Obion red wine." Amancio then turned to Fedmond. "I'm delighted to have you here at the Oriental Palace."

"Hello, Chairman Amancio," Fedmond managed a smile.

"And of course, Elder Veronica Bernadotte of the Garland Witch. You look stunning today," Amancio greeted Veronica and Alfred in turn. "And Templar Knight Alfred, your contributions to spreading the teachings of the God of Justice are well recognized."

"Dinner is ready. Please take your seats, and we can discuss matters over the meal."

"Please, follow me."

Ryan, Fedmond, Veronica, and Alfred followed Amancio into the banquet hall.

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