In Mushoku Tensei with an A.I. Chip

While Luke wasted his time on greeting and welcoming the vacuous and imbecilic nobles high from the smell of their own farts with how far up their head was in their asses, Amarant - the real power behind House Notos - took private meetings and audiences with select lords. 

There, Amarant had to fend off marriage proposals for Luke from certain far-too-ambitious nobles who forgot their place and tried futilely to further their houses' interests. 

The ambitious minor nobles would formally present daughters or nieces of age, offering dowry, land grants or trade concessions in exchange for a betrothal with Luke. While others with daughters a few years younger expressed "preliminary interests", offering Luke a tour of their holdings or to host a coming-of-age tourney in the future. 

Though the Notos patriarch, bearing the gravitas of a powerful and influential upper-class noble, had the leeway Luke did not have to shut them down without needing to be diplomatic, he was uncharacteristically generous and forgiving today. 

Direct vassals also took the opportunity to reaffirm their oaths personally, taking the opportunity to reiterate or otherwise demonstrate their loyalty to House Notos, Amarant and his descendents in perpetuity, as though any of them would even think twice about stabbing their family in the back if it meant they could take their place. 

These private audiences were also a platform for arbitration between rivalling vassals; for vassals to make requests of their liege lord in land disputes; to seek justice for slights perceived or real; or even shamelessly asking for loans to tide them over a poor harvest. 

Nobles from other regions offered proposals to open new caravan paths between their territory or request lower tolls for their family in exchange for favourable trade agreements. 

While this celebration had been held to commemorate Luke's second birthday, in truth it was also a platform for exchanges, negotiations, pitches, proposals, and interaction with the upper-class aristocratic house of Notos Greyrat in hopes of receiving beneficial outcomes during the goodwill of the festivities.

While each private audience lasted no longer than 5 minutes, Amarant sat through each of them and adjudicated with more generosity than usual. It was expected, of course, for such a powerful and influential noble to be bound by both custom and tradition on the day of his grandson's birthday to receive requests with measured grace and uncharacteristic generosity, even from petitioners who might normally be dismissed out of hand. 

It was a benevolent mask of power. Amarant acted out his part as the magnanimous patriarch because the rules of noble etiquette demanded he listen to the lesser nobles and vassals who sought an audience with him on this day of celebration. While Amarant may reject certain proposals, ideas and requests, he does so with grace and leniency, or with promise of future consideration. 

Amarant Notos Greyrat, for all his stern bearing and strategic mind, must play the part of the generous patriarch, but only fools believed it genuine. He was keenly aware his guests were playing their own part - flattering and sycophantic - just as he played his. Every boon granted today becomes a debt to be called in the future; every mercy, a silent entry into his mental ledger of strings and leverage. 

"Let it never be said," the Amarant murmured with a wry smile, "that I refused a reasonable request… on the day of my grandson's nameday."

________________________________________

"Welcome," Amarant stood on the balcony of Notos Keep with a drink in one hand and the other on the shoulder of his grandson beside him, "Lords and ladies, esteemed guests, friends, bannermen, kin and crown."

His booming voice silenced the courtyard garden, usually empty now with hundreds of tables and chairs assembled in orderly rows. Hundreds of eyes turned to the grand marble balcony that loomed over the assembly, where Amarant stood with a sincere smile. 

"On behalf of House Notos," He continued, "I bid you welcome. And more than that, I offer you my gratitude. Your presence here in my home, to celebrate the birthday of my beloved grandson, honours my house and myself."

A murmur of approval stirred among the tables. Amarant's gaze swept the guests with the practiced weight of a seasoned noble lord recognizing every face, and behind them the ties of allegiance. 

"Your highness, Princess Ariel, especially. I express my utmost welcome and gratitude to host you in my humble home."

A golden blonde porcelain doll of a girl smiled in acknowledgement, sat at the table of honour with her minders and bodyguards at the front of the courtyard with the exemplary poise and grace as befitting the princess of a kingdom. 

Amarant had personally invited the Asuran Royals without expecting actual attendance from any of them. It was only polite and respectful to extend an invitation to the rulers of the kingdom he resided in. These invites were usually ignored or politely declined. 

'Lass is making a move.' He had concluded upon realizing the princess had arrived just an hour ago without prior notice. 

"My grandson Luke, the Notos Greyrats' most precious treasure, is turning ten years of age on this day." He announced, "I remember it like it was yesterday, when he was just a mere pup hugging my leg crying and calling me Grandpa." 

A ripple of quiet laughter rose and Luke shook his head in helpless amusement like it was a choreographed bit, while several guests cast not-so-subtle glances at Pilemon, Amarant's actual heir, who stood behind his father and son with a pleasant smile affixed, showing no other outward reaction to his father's words. 

"Look at him now!" Amarant gazed at his grandson with unabashed pride and affection. Luke's height now reached Amarant's shoulders, taller than most 10 year olds his age and with a proportionately lithe body lined with lean muscle. Incredible what just half a year of puberty did to his still ongoing growth spurt. 

"A Fire Saint at eight years old, and from what I hear from his master Anthony, well on his way to becoming a Fire King!" 

Eyes turned towards the famous Fire King Anthony who was once the Royal Court Wizard of the Asuran Kingdom in recognition. The aged magician himself merely grinned and raised a glass of wine of his own in acquiescence of the callout. 

It had been known, of course, that the previous Royal Court Wizard that served the King of Asura had since retired from his position only to end up as a magic tutor for Amarant's grandson. Amarant himself had been the one to spread this news while bragging in the courts of the Silver Palace. 

They had whispered behind closed doors of what must have been a titanic price the Notos Greyrats must have paid to employ the Fire King who had shunned each and every offer from the other noble families. To see him here today on Luke's birthday only cemented their misguided beliefs. 

And the fact that Anthony himself did not refute the claims of the boy being a Fire Saint was chilling. Could it really be true? That boy that stood next to his grandfather with regal dignity, a picture perfect example of indifferent noblesse bearing, was a Saint-ranked magician? At an age where most children his age might still be playing with mudballs and wooden swords, he had reached the realm of Saints?

Amarant saw the skepticism in the eyes of his guests and so dearly wanted to ask Luke to demonstrate some of his chantless casting. That would shut them up. But that would have to wait. It would not be courteous for his grandson to be throwing fireballs in the middle of his debut. 

"But enough of an old man wax poetic about his grandson. I shall let the boy speak for himself." He instead said, giving Luke a firm pat on the shoulder as well as a nudge forward in encouragement.

The hundreds of eyes that had been fixed on Amarant now turned to Luke. Another child his age would have felt the sting of every gaze like arrows loosed from a thousand bows. Crippling anxiety might have washed over them, freezing their tongue while their legs shook unceasingly. 

Luke instead let the stares wash over him like a wave over ancient, immovable rock. There was no panic in his breath, no tremble in his hands. He did not shrink, he did not blink. His eyes did not search for approval, they commanded it. With a smile and seeming practiced ease forged over decades or even centuries, Luke spoke his first words in front of a crowd of hundreds of the rich and powerful. 

"My name is Luke Notos Greyrat, and it has been an honour to have had the opportunity today to greet you today." He reintroduced himself. Redundant, but it was apparently customary. 

"I was told I only needed to smile, nod, and look convincingly flattered for a few hours today. I'm sure I have already failed spectacularly, as I am sure you too must tire of my grandfather's shameless boasting of his grandson." His opening words were lighthearted with a touch of humour, catching the audience off guard while a few chuckled at the unexpected curveball. 

Slightly behind him, Amarant's jaw dropped slightly at the sudden and unexpected jab, which completed the picturesque scene of the tender and affectionate relationship between the two. 

Even the royal lips of Princess Ariel curled slightly at the juxtaposition. 

Luke continued, voice steady as polished steel.

"But I didn't want this day to pass without offering a few words of my own." He looked out over the gathered nobility as he stepped forward a little more, resting a hand lightly on the marble railing. His tone was casual, but behind it burned the self-possession of someone who knew what he was and didn't need to explain it.

"Each of you took time from your duties, your families, and your lives to be here. Some travelled far. Some came with old alliances, or new hopes. Some came only to celebrate—and that alone is a gift."

"So I thank you. Truly. Not just for the treasures and toasts, but for your presence. It honours my House… and it humbles me."

He let the silence breathe for a moment—respectful, composed.

"I am young still. I know this. But I have been raised to listen, to learn, and to remember. And I will remember today. Thank you for being part of it."

He bowed—not too low, but with intention and a heavier nod and gaze of appreciation at the seated princess—then stepped back beside his grandfather. 

The applause that followed was loud but not thunderous. A trace of uncertainty and some degree of awe rippled through the crowd. Was that really how a 10 year old should speak in front of hundreds for the first time? The second-in-line for the seat of House Notos seemed a tad too dangerous, so unlike his own father, Pilemon.

Most of the guests here who had been in attendance for Pilemon's own second birthday celebration remembered Luke's father at the age of 10 still being an uncertain, anxious boy with an expecting wife five years his elder. The contrast between the two was… stunning. 

It was instead hard to see Luke as a mere boy with the way he carried himself. Confident, but tempered with self-assured modesty. Respectful, but not overly deferential and still carrying the quiet calmness of a young man aware of his place, but not yet full of himself. 

Luke himself seemed unaffected by the piercing stares from his guests, of both the curious and challenging variety. 

Amarant stepped forward then and grinned while raising his glass, "Hear hear! A toast to my ungrateful grandson who dared mock his grandfather in his speech!" 

The gathered nobility laughed appropriately at the clear jest from the Notos lord and raised their own glasses in revelry. 

"A toast!" They echoed and the band off to the side was signaled to start playing as the first course of the meal was served in rehearsed order by the army of servants ready and waiting.