It should surprise no one that the best in the realm goes to the Crown.
The vertical flow of power is rather the cornerstone of society, is it not?
"What say you about the disposition of Brenton's arable fields, professor?" you say aloud to Brute as you walk together. The beast looks up at you with an erudite expression before reaching over, removing your shoe, biting it twice, and throwing it at a nearby jackass.
"Cogently put," you say, apologizing to the mule-driver and retrieving your footwear. How in blazes did the beast manage to remove it whilst you were walking? It's apparently full of talents you haven't begun to cultivate.
Onward