Chapter 156: One Chicken a Week (4)
Even though I had informed them in advance about my arrival, the reception felt over the top. Why did the estate steward himself come to greet me as soon as I arrived at the Count’s manor?
"Greetings, my lord. I am Baronet Garte, the steward managing the Count of Piedmont's estate. It is an honor to have you travel all the way from Florence to visit us," he said, bowing respectfully.
"I appreciate the warm welcome. I’m merely here for a preliminary inspection before starting a new business, but your efforts are appreciated," I replied.
"The Count personally instructed me to ensure everything was prepared to accommodate you."
Technically, I outrank the steward, but barons like me are hardly uncommon in Florence—practically stepping stones on the city streets. For a steward of the Count's estate to come outside the manor gates to greet me was an act of ceremonial excess.
‘Well, this is the Count’s initiative, not mine, so I won’t complain.’
"I’ll be sure to send my thanks to the Count when I return to Florence," I said.
"Please, come inside. Though modest, we’ve prepared a banquet in your honor."
A "modest banquet"? It reminded me of military dining when a division commander visited—extravagant meals served under the guise of "everyday fare." Still, etiquette dictates that one should never criticize a free meal.
‘Refusing would be tantamount to declaring a feud.’
"My thanks. I was just getting hungry."
The "modest" banquet consisted of over twenty courses served in sequence. Nobles love their exaggerations.