Peter felt like a puppet on a string, numbly changing from one formal outfit to the next.
He'd never imagined that changing clothes could be this exhausting.
It was mostly because he owned very few clothes to begin with, and the ones he did have were all similar in style. In his nearly twenty years of life, he'd never had to think about what to wear—he just grabbed whatever was clean.
But not anymore.
As one of the primary inventors of Magic Firearms—the most efficient weapons in history—Peter had naturally earned great distinction for his service to the new regime. As a result, he was to be ennobled as a Viscount on National Day.
Of course, he would be a new noble without special privileges or a fief—the title was purely honorary.
The only benefits, aside from the prestige of the title itself, were an honorary stipend he would receive for the rest of his life.
Not that any of it really mattered to him.
