Path To Godhood Begins With Marrying Wife And Gaining SSS Rank Skill Chapter 460:The Assassination Tower 2

Duke Lancelot gradually turned his gaze toward the remote Frostvele fortress. The subtle shimmer of watchfires still flickered along the distant walls.

"One of their strictest rules," he stated deliberately, "is that they never target members of the Imperial family."

Then his eyes shifted back to Ethan.

"Nor do they eliminate those who enjoy the Emperor's open protection."

Ethan's eyes flickered briefly.

Duke Lancelot spoke with steady composure.

"My presence here this evening sends a clear signal."

He raised his hand faintly, pointing toward the battlefield.

"Observers of this scene will know you now fall under Imperial safeguard."

The deeper meaning of those words dawned on Ethan gradually.

"So the Assassin Tower won't dispatch more killers?"

"Not at present," Duke Lancelot answered with poise.

"They dare not act in the open as long as the Emperor's shield endures."

Silence enveloped the night once more.

Ethan stayed quiet, yet one word lingered sharply in his thoughts.

For now.

His eyes narrowed a touch.

"For now…?" he echoed softly.

Duke Lancelot met his gaze with understanding.

"Indeed."

His tone held steady calm.

"The Emperor's protection isn't everlasting."

"Should politics shift or the Emperor revoke his favor, the Assassin Tower will reactivate the contract."

He gave a light shrug.

"Power operates that way, plain and simple."

Ethan gazed at the snow-covered ground briefly, pondering deeply.

That clarified the predicament.

Currently, the Emperor shielded him.

Yet should that shield vanish someday, assassins would return relentlessly. One by one. Endlessly.

Ethan let out a slow breath.

"Well… that's reassuring," he said with dry sarcasm.

Duke Lancelot let out a soft chuckle.

"View it as a tribute, rather."

Ethan regarded him.

"A tribute?"

"Precisely."

The veteran duke inclined his head faintly.

"A force mighty enough to engage the Assassin Tower craves your demise."

He hesitated momentarily before continuing evenly.

"You've risen to become a danger they must erase."

Ethan shook his head deliberately. "I wish they expressed admiration differently."

Duke Lancelot emitted a gentle laugh.

"Regrettably, power seldom draws thanks."

...

Deep within a secluded fortified manor, far from Frostvele's icy plains, a modest lantern flickered steadily atop a sturdy wooden desk in a hushed chamber.

The spacious room lay utterly still. Massive stone walls enclosed it, while dense drapes sealed the high windows, trapping all light within. Just the lantern's soft amber light and the glowing coals of a cigar pierced the shadows.

A figure lingered by the table, clutching a letter with its seal already cracked.

The wax had been pried open.

His piercing gaze scanned the contents methodically, the paper whispering as he absorbed every detail.

For moments, utter quiet reigned, broken only by the subtle pop of smoldering tobacco.

Then he folded the missive with composure.

His face stayed mostly impassive, though a subtle clench in his jaw betrayed his annoyance.

"So it failed," he murmured low.

Opposite him, another man lounged in a broad leather armchair.

He reclined casually, drawing deeply on a stout cigar. Smoke billowed lazily from his lips, rising toward the shadowed ceiling.

Surprise evaded his features entirely.

The upright man shot him a glance and pressed on.

"The assassin met defeat."

He set the letter down with a gentle thud.

"Duke Lancelot stepped in himself."

The lounging man stirred at last.

He eased the cigar down and eyed the document on the table.

His stare held icy tranquility.

"Lancelot in person?" he inquired.

"Affirmative."

Frustration edged the standing man's words.

"He showed up himself."

The armchair occupant blew out a heavy plume of smoke.

He held his silence for beats.

Then he leaned in a fraction, propping an elbow on his knee.

"Fascinating," he whispered.

Abruptly, the standing man wheeled to face him squarely.

"I warned you."

His voice gained a sharper edge as vexation seeped in.

"I said this fellow would turn into a major headache."

He rapped the letter twice with his fingers.

"I urged striking him down sooner."

"Look at the mess now."

The seated man held back a reply.

Instead, he raised the cigar once more for a prolonged pull. Its ember flared vividly in the gloom as vapors swirled about his visage.

His gaze locked onto the letter.

Moments later, he broke the quiet.

"Calm yourself."

His timbre rang deep and unwavering.

"Mere first strike."

The man on his feet narrowed his gaze a fraction.

"You're still underestimating him."

Slowly, the seated figure rose to his feet.

Lantern light flickered, throwing a lengthy shadow from his imposing stature onto the stone wall behind.

"We should have pursued him right after he wrecked the trade deals," the standing man pressed on with a frosty voice.

"Just look at the mess now."

"That pathetic hick from the distant backlands has transformed into a prized asset."

A subtle arch lifted the seated man's brow.

"Pawn, is it?"

Stepping to the table, he snatched up the letter.

Smoke wafted idly near his face as the glowing cigar stayed gripped between his fingers.

Calm held his features steady, though his stare gleamed icy and shrewd.

"Duke Lancelot's personal involvement proves just one truth," he murmured deliberately.

Folding his arms, the standing man waited in anticipation.

"The boy matters enough now for the Empire to shield him."

His gaze lifted from the letter.

"Which renders him far more perilous."

The standing man offered no counter.

Silence reclaimed the chamber once more.

Seconds ticked by before the seated man ground the cigar into the metal tray with deliberate force.

A soft hiss snuffed out the ember.

His eyes sharpened fiercely.

"Yet… you're overlooking one key factor."

A light frown creased the standing man's forehead.

"What?"

Hand planted on the table, the seated man met his eyes with steady composure.

"The value itself."

"To royals, no matter how precious, all things can be cast aside."

His words flowed measured and chill.

"He serves as a prime pawn for their schemes today."

"But come tomorrow, he could simply be an irritant the Emperor longs to erase."

Silence held the standing man briefly as he mulled over the insight.

A thin smile crept across his features gradually.

"Yes," he murmured softly. "That could well happen."

His sight drifted back to the letter upon the table.

"And should it come to pass…"

Shadows deepened in his tone.

"We'll crush him without mercy."

A pause followed as his fists tightened gradually.

"He struck at our core."

"Thus, we'll strike back at his most vital spot."

In the gloomy room, the pair stood wordless.

Faces serene, yet the frosty malice in their stares thickened the air, rendering it dense and stifling.

Far off in Frostvele, snowflakes drifted softly over the quiet battlefield.