This was quite different from the noble lords he remembered, always surrounded by attendants and riding tall horses.
But his slight confusion was quickly dispelled by the increasingly clear sight before him.
At the end of the road, a fortress-like manor appeared in their view, not large in scale, but with stone walls, watchtowers, and defensive battlements.
This formed a stark contrast to the low, dilapidated thatched huts in the village.
Dales involuntarily stopped, his eyes wide, his face filled with shock and awe.
This was where the nobility lived—
Just then, the guards patrolling behind the battlements on the wall also spotted the two figures approaching.
One guard stepped forward, looking down from above, and shouted, "Stop! Who are you? This is Baron Raymond's manor."
With this shout, two other guards immediately appeared behind the battlements.
The crossbows they held glinted coldly in the sunlight, aimed vigilantly at Karl El and Dales below.
Dales shivered at the sight, instinctively wanting to retreat.
But seeing Karl El's unperturbed expression, he forced himself to calm down.
However, Karl El remained standing calmly, those potentially fatal crossbow bolts were merely children's toys to him.
He looked up, his gaze sweeping over the guards on the wall, and clearly and steadily stated his name.
"Karl El."
Four simple words, yet they were like a giant stone dropped into a calm lake.
On the wall, there was an immediate outburst of barely suppressed exclamations and excited chatter.
"It's the Young Master! Young Master Karl El is back!"
"Really? Are you sure it's the Young Master? He didn't even ride a horse."
"Is that slowpoke down there not eating? Philip, hurry up!"
At the same time, a head eagerly poked out from the battlement.
He strained to look down, trying to confirm if the face of the person below was indeed the Young Master they remembered.
Under the careful scrutiny of several gazes, shouts of confirmation rang out again, and the calls to open the gate became more urgent and loud.
The iron-clad wooden gate, with a creaking sound of the hinges, was pushed open inward by two guards, revealing Karl El's familiar yet strange home behind it.
And Dales stood behind Karl El, looking at the wide-open gate, a symbol of another social class, his whole body trembling slightly with excitement.
The manor gate slowly closed behind them, emitting a dull thud.
Karl El stepped inside the manor, his gaze immediately sweeping over the battlements on the wall.
The three guards responsible for vigilance were familiar faces, old-timers who had been there since his first visit to the manor, and Philip waved at him.
What surprised him slightly was not seeing Dalton.
By all accounts, as his attendant, especially during his absence, he should have been responsible for the manor's defense.
Perhaps he was training, or assigned other tasks?
Moreover, the number of guards did not seem to have increased; it was still these three.
It seemed Raymond had not expanded his guard force despite his slightly solidified status and the oren he had instructed to be sent back.
He suppressed the slight doubts in his heart and nodded to Philip and the other two on the wall, who, excited by his return, were respectfully saluting.
Then, he led Dales further into the manor.
After entering these high walls, Dales appeared even more reserved than he had outside, even showing a hint of fear.
He hunched his back, not daring to look around, yet he couldn't help but steal glances from the corner of his eye at this place, which was like another world to him.
Underfoot was a roughly paved stone path, completely different from the muddy dirt road outside.
The strong smell of animal dung was also absent from the air, replaced by a fresh scent of vegetation and earth.
After walking a distance, Karl El noticed that the interior of the manor was tidier and busier than when he had left.
Many unfamiliar people who looked like craftsmen were using tools to repair and reinforce parts of the slightly mottled walls and some auxiliary buildings.
Others were meticulously pruning the shrubs and vines that had become overgrown due to lack of care.
These craftsmen merely cast curious glances at Karl El and Dales's appearance, then continued to focus on their work.
They were hired by Baron Raymond and did not know everyone in the manor, assuming Karl El and Dales were just some people within the manor.
As they gradually approached the main house, the core living area, Karl El finally saw familiar figures.
The maids busy in the courtyard and corridors, and Marta, the head maid, who was directing them.
At first, due to the distance, the maids did not immediately recognize Karl El, only seeing two figures approaching.
But as the distance closed, and Karl El's face clearly came into view.
They all stopped what they were doing, their faces breaking into expressions of pleasant surprise.
They quickly and orderly lined both sides of the path, bowed slightly, and with voices filled with uncontrollable excitement, they greeted in unison: "Welcome back, Young Master!"
Karl El showed a gentle smile and nodded at them.
His gaze then fell upon Marta, and he asked directly, "Marta, how is Raymond doing? Where is he now?"
Hearing Karl El's question, the maids' excited expressions stiffened slightly.
They exchanged glances, their eyes revealing a hint of unease and hesitation, none daring to be the first to answer the question.
Seeing this, Marta's face showed complex emotions; she took a deep breath, stepped forward, and bowed slightly to Karl El.
Her tone carried a hint of heaviness: "Young Master, Lord Raymond's health—is not good recently. Compared to when you left, the Lord could occasionally walk for a while on his own when the weather was good then."
"But now the Lord—is almost so weak that he can barely move a few steps, relying entirely on others to support him."
"At this moment, he, along with Hans the butler and Mr. Jack, are sunbathing in the back garden."
Upon hearing this, the smile on Karl El's face instantly vanished, his heart sank abruptly, and his brows furrowed tightly.
How could the disease worsen so quickly?! How long had he been gone?
Then, he suddenly remembered something: the medical conditions and nursing standards of this era simply could not compare to the world of modern medicine in his subconscious.
In his memories of his previous life, leukemia might be supported for several years with modern medical support.
But in this world, lacking effective treatment, with worrying sanitation, and possibly insufficient nutrition.
To survive for a year or a year and a half after contracting the disease would probably be considered long—
"Fortunately—fortunately I remembered in time to ask my teacher about leukemia," a feeling of lingering fear surged into Karl El's heart.
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