He scoffed at the mention of his title. "My lady, please, you wound me. I work for a living, the noble title is because that was the only way to get others to listen. Still, despite the unexpected baggage, I like to think we have set up a nice little slice of civilization in this particular patch of wilderness. Of course, when I got ennobled, I was considerably smaller, so I suspect the neighbors are going to be surprised when we next meet and I show up."<br/><br/>Devaguea let out a light chuckle, before stretching his wings for a moment. "Still, I suspect Drellin will join up as seems to be the fashion these days. But as for not being a normal noble, I would hope not. I have met only a few worth their titles, too many think that they deserve some fancy title because their great-great-great-whatever-grandfather ordered some charge a thousand years ago, or supported the right person five hundred years ago, or whatever. I prefer asking what have they done to deserve the right to keep the title. They always get offended when I ask that for some reason though."<br/><br/>He snorted, before glancing over at the dwarf, and hummed for a moment, letting her direct the conversation for a bit.<br/><br/>It took a couple days to get back to Fort Drellin, but by then Devaguea was ready to relax for a month or two. Still, they had plans to make, teams to dispatch to clear and claim the new lands, a tourney to set up so he could have someone represent his kingdom at the next Rushlight tournament who wasn't violating the rules by being better than the other competitors. He fully expected there to be a rule outright forbidding tauric races from competing. Once in the town, the eight breastplates were donated to the town armory to assist the local town guard.