In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities

Luckily for Michael, he had struck early and fast, so no one truly knew the extent of his haul. His relatively small stack of sacks didn't attract much attention, keeping him out of the spotlight.

But Michael knew better. His share was undoubtedly the largest, thanks to his "lucky charm," Miaomiao. Every house the cat led him to turned out to be a treasure trove.

Even if none could match the marvels of the mage's house, each stop had been lucrative in its own way.

Rejoining the supply convoy, the raiding party eventually arrived at the camp, well past the hour of midnight. Other divisions had long since finished their meals and settled in for the night.

After notifying Count Charles of their return, Michael and the other noble representatives hastily scarfed down some rations before gathering in Kensington Baron's tent.

There was still much to do—chief among them was the exchange of spoils.

The nobles displayed their treasures, trading items they didn't need for those they did. What one found useless might be another's prize, and Michael approached the task with keen eyes.

A few chose to leave their rewards behind for those who had remained with the supply unit. Kensington, as usual, set an example by generously allowing those left behind to pick freely from his share. The baron's selflessness earned him a wave of admiration from the crowd.

Michael quietly observed the goods on display. He paid particular attention to works of art. Most northern nobles lacked the refinement to appreciate such pieces, which could lead to spectacular opportunities for those who could.

Thanks to the education passed down by Lincoln, Michael recognized the value of artistry and rare artifacts.

Among the offerings, he noticed several promising paintings and approached the owner of one.

"How much are you asking for this painting?"

The seller, a grizzled old knight, glanced dismissively at the piece.

"This? Ten gold should do. Some fool grabbed it, saying it was pretty, but it's just taking up space. Wooden frame, nothing special. Better to get some coin for it."

Michael turned his attention to the young man behind the knight, likely the "fool" who had chosen the painting. The wiry youth didn't seem to fit the typical mold of a northern noble—he looked more suited to wielding a pen than a sword.

"A fine eye your son has," Michael began with a small smile. "You might not realize, but this painting is a masterpiece. It's a 300-year-old portrait of a Caprice Kingdom princess, painted by none other than Bellastes, the royal court artist.

"This piece was thought lost during the kingdom's fall 170 years ago. If you took it to an auction in the capital, it would fetch no less than 1,000 gold."

The knight's stern face softened as he turned to his son, a proud smile forming.

"Well, I'll be damned. My boy really does have an eye for these things!"

He turned back to Michael, gratitude plain on his face.

"Bless you, young man! You could've kept quiet and bought this off me for ten gold, made a killing at my expense. How can I repay you for your honesty?"

Michael leaned in slightly and whispered a suggestion.

The old knight listened intently, his face breaking into an expression of awe.

"Smart, resourceful, and honest—a rare combination! Consider it done. Oh, and, young man, would you consider taking my son under your wing? He's still a squire, but he's got potential.

"If he were born to a wealthier house, he might already be a knight. Poor lad's stuck with a rusty old codger like me for a father. Take him, and I'll send 50 gold each year as a training stipend."

Michael smiled inwardly at the knight's calculated move. This was precisely why he had chosen to approach a noble with influence and a good reputation.

Turning to the nervous young squire, Michael asked, "What's your name?"

The youth, unable to meet Michael's gaze, stammered, "I-I'm Julian, sir. I look forward to serving you."

The old knight clapped his son's back so hard that the younger man wobbled under the impact.

"Take good care of him, will you? I'm no seer, but I know talent when I see it. He'll make a fine knight someday—and bring honor to our house."

Pushing Julian toward Michael, the old knight's eyes shone with unshed tears. His pride and love for his son were evident.

"I'll leave my boy in your capable hands. Meanwhile, I'll go spread the word about your expertise in appraising art!"

With a cheerful wave, the knight strode off, loudly boasting about Michael's skills to his peers.

Soon, other nobles approached Michael, asking for his help in assessing their treasures.

As he accepted offers of appraisal fees, Michael struggled to suppress a grin.

"Jackpot."

The morning dawned clear.

Michael, who had fallen asleep only at dawn after staying up late to process a torrent of emotions, forced his tired eyes open. Nearby, his newly recruited squire, Julian, was meticulously adjusting his armor. Unlike the younger Alex and Anthony, Julian had a habit of seeking out tasks to do without being told, which made him seem quite capable.

Noticing Michael rising, Julian approached and stood politely before him.

"My lord, Count Charles has sent a message. He requests your presence in his tent as soon as you awaken."

Michael frowned slightly. Something felt off. He briefly reviewed his recent actions, wondering if he had made any missteps. As long as there wasn't a spy among the serf soldiers sent by Count Charles to the Small Nobles' Alliance, there should be nothing to criticize. Even if there were spies, it would have been impossible for them to see the 100 knights leaving for their raid from the position of the serf soldiers.@@novelbin@@

Still...

As he began to ponder further, Michael shook his head. He would find out soon enough.

When Michael arrived at Count Charles's tent, the Count was in the middle of having breakfast.