CHAPTER 47: CHAPTER 47: THE UNEXPECTED BARON HATTON

"Meritorious Nobility" had traditionally referred to the nobility of the five ranks—dukes, marquises, earls, viscounts, and barons—who had rendered outstanding service during the founding and expansion of the Empire.

In other words, whether one was a grand duke or a baron, they could be called meritorious nobles if their titles had been earned through military or political merit. Their descendants were born with elevated status.

Nobles were often themselves practitioners of supernatural paths—or at the very least, held control over most of them—which led to a deeply entrenched class hierarchy that had never truly changed.

The "Lordship System" the Empire now proposed introduced a new title: Lord, which would sit below baron, but above knight and commoner.

Though a Lord was not technically part of the five noble ranks, they were still recognized as nobility—albeit at the very lowest tier.

Lords would not own territory, not have subjects, and even owe taxes to the Empire.

That was the biggest distinction between a Lord and a landed noble. Even the poorest barony still belonged entirely to its baron.

So why introduce a title like this?

The official reason from the Empire was noble-sounding:

"In the name of the Lord of Dawn, may all nobles of the continent show the same courage and pioneering spirit as their forebears."

It was a morally elevated justification—reasonably constructed and publicly admirable.

But in Ryan’s eyes, it was complete nonsense.

If this were only being implemented within the Empire, he could understand. But the Lordship System was being rolled out across the entire continent—to all noble houses.

Given that context, Ryan could detect the stench of political maneuvering buried beneath those self-righteous words.

In truth, this all traced back to the gods’ interplanar war.

The human race now clung to the southern third of the continent of Noris.

The divine war may have ended, but the aftermath lingered.

Anyone with sense knew that in times of catastrophe, the ones with the best chances of survival were those with power—and status.

Even a catastrophe like the Long Winter couldn’t freeze those who stood atop the hierarchy.

As a result, the Empire, southern kingdoms, duchies, and independent noble territories all migrated south, gathering in what was left of habitable land.

The disasters may have wiped out a third of Noris’s nobles, but the remaining two-thirds were now crammed into just one-third of the land.

Over time, this already-crowded territory had become oversaturated with nobility.

Everyone understood that noble titles couldn’t increase indefinitely. And without war to cull their numbers, the noble class had only grown.

But therein lay the fatal issue:

Noble titles require land.

A baron needed at least a village-sized domain. No matter the size, a fief had to exist.

But with only a third of the continent left to humanity—there simply wasn’t enough land to go around.

In fact, due to ongoing orc threats, some fiefs were lost every year.

Why had Grand Duke Meyers led an expedition north into the Northwind Province?

Why were so many old noble houses now abandoning their ancestral lands?

There was only one answer:

Land disputes in the South had become too fierce.

Shrinking territories meant shrinking wealth.

The creation of the Northwind Province provided a critical pressure release valve, easing the violent competition that had been brewing among southern nobles.

Take Ryan, for example:

If his barony had been granted in the South, it would have come from someone else’s territory—causing immediate enmity.

And if that person bore a grudge, Ryan would’ve gained a lifelong enemy.

This problem wasn’t new.

The Empire had strictly prohibited intra-noble killings—because such conflicts had once led to widespread noble deaths.

And nobles, by nature, were interconnected by blood and marriage. One dead baron could spark a war between entire states.

Had Ryan died in the Frozen Territory, would the Rimehart family simply ignore it?

That would’ve led to a cascade of conflict—not merely the death of a single baron.

The core truth was this:

There simply wasn’t enough land to accommodate all the new nobles.

Yet high nobles—especially the great houses—had a constant need for noble titles.

After all, each noble house could only pass down one hereditary title.

If they couldn’t create new positions, internal strife was inevitable.

No noble wanted to see their children fighting one another over inheritance.

So what was the solution?

Create titles without land.

But not just any titles—certainly not baron or higher.

Instead, they invented an entirely new one:

Lord.

When Ryan posed the question, Hatton actually sat up straight. He solemnly raised his hand—and only then did Ryan notice the jade ring on his finger, set with a ruby carved into the image of a rearing warhorse.

"Baron Ryan, from now on, please address me as Baron of Shénmǎ.

My territory shall henceforth be known as Shénmǎ Barony."

Hatton lifted his chin and looked at Ryan, then suddenly laughed.

"Ryan, truth be told—you should have your own baronial crest by now."

"You know, once the Lordship System is in place, every noble will gain the right to bestow Lord titles. Even we barons will step up a rank in status."

"The most important thing? It’ll become hundreds of times harder for others to become barons like us."

"Our status will be unshakable."

"And the best part? Remember Knight Watt? His son has shown up. But now, thanks to the Lordship System, that kid will likely never reach the same baronial rank as us."

"In future balls at Lingdu City, we barons will be the elite of the elite!"

Hatton burst into hearty laughter as he spoke.

Ryan, however, was taken aback by this version of Baron Hatton.

Although Hatton seemed incompetent in most matters, this keen political awareness left Ryan surprised. He had assumed Hatton would be angry over the increase in noble ranks and fail to see the system’s underlying truth.

Hatton, noticing Ryan’s expression, thought the young man still hadn’t fully grasped it. He explained further:

"Ryan, you must understand—this new system is a boon for nobles like us who already hold title and land.

Going forward, there will be fewer barons, not more."

"The fewer of us there are, the more value, power, and wealth each of us holds."

"Lords only exist because we five-tier nobles allow it.

And once we fall, their titles vanish too.

Tell me—won’t those dependent Lords go to any length to protect our families?"

"And the most crucial thing, Ryan—remember this:

This system is being implemented by the Imperial Court, the great noble families, and the southern kings."

"Our interests align with theirs.

Do you think they’d write rules that would harm themselves?"

"If it’s good for them, then it’s good for us."