The nobleman’s demeanor and methods seemed quite effective. He stabilized the household with a family banquet, then arranged a funeral to settle the matter peacefully.

He must have said something else to the family, but that was beyond Lanche’s knowledge. After all, he was just a three-year-old child.

After the funeral, Lanche was carried by a maid into the lavish family hall. He didn’t know what was happening, only seeing many people—the nobleman and his mother, Mrs. Machina.

Machina still looked frail, needing support to stand, but she was dressed beautifully. Bathed in sunlight by the window, she had a delicate beauty.

Lanche felt strange. Overall, it seemed like something good was happening, requiring everyone to dress up. But Machina’s mood was still poor; she silently lowered her eyelids.

The maid set him down, and he stood beside Machina.

The nobleman didn’t even glance their way. He faced a tall, sturdy brown-haired man who looked honest and simple, and said sternly, “Clay Kent.”

“Yes!” The brown-haired man knelt on one knee, maintaining a solemn knightly posture.

The nobleman drew his long sword, almost making Lanche think he was about to chop off someone’s head. Instead, he placed the blade on Clay’s shoulder and said solemnly, “Clay Kent, my bravest knight, I bestow Machina Belnos upon you, in reward for your loyalty and valor.”

“Yes! Thank you for the Earl’s gracious gift. I am deeply honored. My sword, Clay Kent’s sword, will always swing for the Earl!” Clay replied with his head bowed, his voice resolute.

Lanche watched dumbfounded from the side. Was his own father personally finding him a stepfather?

He quickly looked up at his mother. She silently lowered her head with no reaction—she must have known about this arrangement long ago.

A useless wife and a useless son—were they being thrown out of the family?

“Machina.” Gorde Kerman, Earl Belnos, turned his head toward them, his face stern and cold.

“Here,” Machina replied softly.

“Clay is my most loyal knight. I order you to remarry him. Do you have any objections?”

“As you command…” Machina slightly bowed, almost falling, but was supported by a maid.

Gorde nodded, showing no concern for her condition. He sheathed his sword and nodded to Clay.

Thus, he bestowed a dignified and beautiful wife—who, though unable to bear good children—upon his knight. This surely made the other knights extremely envious, spurring them to work harder.

Fortunately, I wasn’t mentioned. Lanche secretly sighed in relief.

Although this noble household was dangerous, at least he had maids who cared for him tenderly. If he went to his stepfather’s home, he felt it would definitely be worse.

At this moment, Machina looked at him with a complex gaze. She then stroked his head—that was her farewell.

Lanche didn’t cry or fuss; he just silently watched her.

Though Clay wasn’t handsome, his square face looked kind and honest. Since he was personally chosen by the Earl, he should treat her well—at least better than here.

After seeing off Clay and Machina, Gorde turned to Lanche, as stern and cold as ever. This made the nearby maids nervous, lowering their heads.

But Lanche wasn’t afraid; he stared straight at him.

Gorde strode over, his thick-soled leather boots making muffled footsteps on the carpet.

He looked at his son with no tenderness or pity on his face. Coldly, he looked down at the small figure at his feet.

Lanche felt like he was gazing up at a giant. Worried he might be kicked to death, he hugged the maid’s leg to hide, but his eyes remained fixed on Gorde.

Gorde looked at him and said in a deep voice, “You’re three now. It’s time you started understanding things.”

“As my son, you have the worst talent—far worse than I expected. I thought my children wouldn’t be too bad no matter what. But that woman gave birth to you, a piece of trash.”

He finally voiced the arrogance in his heart and the growing disgust for Lanche.

Lanche could see that he truly didn’t want to acknowledge this son.

“From the moment each person is born, their talent is set by the gods—impossible to change. A genius is a genius; trash can only be trash,” Gorde said coldly.

Lanche hid between the maid’s legs, continuing to look at him with sapphire-blue eyes.

Everyone says his talent is poor. So what? What can you do about it!

Gorde stopped looking at him and ordered the maid, “Start teaching him to read tomorrow.”

After saying that, he turned and left, not wanting to waste any energy on Lanche.

The maid respectfully agreed, picked up Lanche at her feet, her face filled with worry.

Lanche didn’t care. Anyway, he wasn’t someone who liked effort. He’d take things as they come and muddle through.

Cherishing the present is the right path. He turned and buried his face in the maid’s chest, rubbing it to relieve his mood.

From then on, except for the maids caring for him, the family never paid him any attention.

He deliberately avoided the senior and junior wives and his difficult older siblings, so he got by relatively smoothly.

As he grew older, his understanding of the world deepened. He discovered a shocking fact—this was a world where gods truly existed!

This obvious fact was right there in history books, woven into biographies and legends, part of everyone’s common knowledge.

“Of course gods exist,” the maid said with a smile, as if he had asked a childish, naive question.

“Where are the gods?” She froze for a moment, then pleaded, “Young Master Lanche, please spare me. Don’t ask such questions, okay?”

Lanche stared wide-eyed at her reaction, then asked, “Then can I ask about the Church?”

The maid nodded. Gods couldn’t be asked about, but the Church could.

Lanche thought carefully and asked, “Is faith in the gods spread by the Church?”

“Faith?” The maid froze again, as if she had heard a rare term, unable to understand it for a moment.

“Sorry, Young Master Lanche, I don’t know much about the Church. You should ask a priest about that,” she said apologetically, seizing the chance to turn and flee.

Although she knew every child asks why—it’s how they understand the world—Lanche’s questions really made her break out in a cold sweat.

Lanche was also a bit confused. He felt like they were talking past each other, completely on different wavelengths.

Next, he caught another maid and asked about the Church.

“The Church serves the gods. Priests gain sacred power; they can heal wounds, and it’s said they can even resurrect those who died in battle.”

Lanche asked a few more questions that seemed very strange to them, finally correcting his own misconceptions.

In this world, faith didn’t exist. Because the world was created by gods, and the gods were right there—you had to revere, pray to, and serve them devoutly. The one thing not required was your faith.

The Church was just an institution where humans offered loyalty to the gods—nothing more.

Understanding this, Lanche finally understood why everyone believed talent decided everything.

Because the gods had decreed it—their word was absolute. As the saying went, “God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.”