"If nobility wasn't hereditary, who the hell would be a noble?"
Although that lynx tiger man didn't look quite kempt, he was a hereditary Earl. Although his family had weakened and controlled only this town now, the inheritance money was substantial. The local scenery was well-maintained, tourism wasn't generating a low income, there was a stipend from the Royal Court, and under the Emperor's grandeur, the tax dividends were modest, but still a cut of the profits. In short, money wasn't an issue.
He wasn't cut out for politics—the Royal Court was a veritable labyrinth of mortal peril. You'd never even know what got you.
Though he ran short on funds every month, the bulk of his wealth was the family legacy. Without getting into some outrageously ruinous scandal, it was hard to deplete it so quickly.
Nashano led Liszt down the underground stairs step by step, claiming he was taking him to his collection.
"No way, man, did you really off Doringger?"
