Path To Godhood Begins With Marrying Wife And Gaining SSS Rank Skill Chapter 462: Neutrality

A soft chuckle escaped Duke Lancelot's lips.

"No."

Ethan arched an eyebrow just a bit.

"No?"

"You're not truly neutral," Lancelot explained as he swirled his wine once more.

"You're just not entangled in it yet."

His gaze shifted to Ethan, and he went on steadily.

"That's precisely what makes you so precious."

Ethan stayed quiet.

Lancelot kept talking in that even voice.

"Coming from Ruthiana, you lack deep connections to the ancient noble houses. Your ascent came via warfare and achievements."

He sipped lightly from his cup.

"Plus, you've clashed with some folks already. Those frictions are building up gradually."

He halted, then whispered softly.

"Currently, the capital's major groups are all puzzling over your position."

Ethan released a soft sigh.

"Sadly for them, I haven't figured out my own stance either."

Lancelot burst into laughter at that reply.

"That's the very response I anticipated."

The duke eased back against the stone barrier next to Ethan, gazing across the stronghold.

"You're a threat to them," he stated evenly.

"Not due to your power."

His finger lightly tapped the glass edge.

"But because you're impossible to predict."

Ethan eyed him and scratched the nape of his neck.

"Great. Assassins on my trail and jittery nobles keeping tabs on me."

A faint smirk crossed Lancelot's face.

"That's the typical prize for gaining significance."

Ethan shook his head, letting out a light laugh. "I miss when my worst worry was just dealing with beasts around Blanks."

Lancelot chuckled. "Those times have passed."

Gentle breezes swept over the fortress battlements as embers from the fires floated up into the pitch-black sky.

Moments later, Ethan broke the silence again.

"Let me pose a straightforward question."

Lancelot turned to him.

"Fire away."

"If I married Amber," Ethan uttered deliberately, "would it benefit your political standing?"

Lancelot hesitated briefly.

Then came his candid reply.

"Yes."

He made no effort to conceal it.

"Though not as others might assume."

Ethan held his tongue, awaiting more.

"It would deliver a clear signal."

"What kind of signal?"

"That I've stepped back and have no intention of meddling in crown affairs."

The duke met Ethan's eyes squarely.

"In the capital, trust among the mighty outweighs any formal pacts on parchment."

Thoughtfulness etched Ethan's features.

Down below, the revelry swelled in volume. Soldiers stumbled into awkward dances by the bonfire, with comrades roaring their approval.

Lancelot drained the last of his wine.

"Ponder it over," he advised steadily.

"No need for a decision this evening."

He set the empty goblet on the stone ledge.

"Offers like this don't come from me frequently."

With those words, Duke Lancelot pivoted and strolled off leisurely, abandoning Ethan solitary on the ramparts.

Courtyard merriment echoed on, yet Ethan's thoughts drifted far from the festivities.

Things were growing intricate. The assassins posed a massive threat already.

Should the Emperor pull his safeguard, assaults would resume. That prospect alone throbbed like a migraine.

Yet another concern gnawed deeper.

Ethan gazed silently into the shadowy expanse past Frostvele.

"The Emperor's protection…"

He whispered to himself faintly.

"Why would the Emperor shield me?"

His forehead creased gradually.

"What is his aim?"

Ethan never trusted emperors to act from benevolence.

Rulers on thrones seldom moved without intent. Each step brimmed with strategy. Such notions stirred an odd chill in Ethan.

A subtle déjà vu haunted his thoughts, akin to an indistinct shadow felt but unseen, waiting in the path ahead.

His reflections circled back to recent events.

Assassins.

A price on his life.

The Emperor's abrupt shield.

Ethan drew a slow breath and massaged his temple atop Frostvele's wall.

"This is turning messy," he grumbled softly.

The Assassin Tower wasn't merely a band of murderers. It ranked among the globe's mightiest groups, sheltering countless lethal killers.

Bounties there seldom vanished once issued. Someone influential craved his demise.

But who precisely?

"Who could it be?" Ethan breathed out lowly.

He promptly dismissed the notion with a head shake.

"That doesn't add up."

Demons stood as obvious foes, yet the Assassin Tower upheld ironclad policies. Contracts from inhuman sources were seldom taken.

This suggested that the bounty originator was likely a human.

A noble.

Or a figure wielding vast influence.

Ethan exhaled once more.

"Is it the Adventurer Guild… or the handiwork of noble houses?"

The capital's nobles were now scrutinizing his every action. A bounty had already been issued for his life.

Then the Emperor had abruptly intervened to safeguard him.

Ethan raised his gaze and gazed silently toward the far-off peaks.

"The Emperor…"

He murmured the term softly.

"A simple title would have sufficed if he merely wished to honor my war efforts."

He'd been elevated to Marquise already.

That honor by itself was an enormous prize.

Yet safeguarding from the throne carried far graver weight. It showed the Emperor viewed Ethan as worthy enough to guard against killers.

This sparked yet another puzzle.

Worthwhile for what purpose?

Ethan's eyes narrowed a touch.

"A pawn?"

The earlier words of Duke Lancelot echoed in his thoughts.

Powerful figures in politics often became mere game pieces on the chessboard.

Certain pieces received shielding, others got discarded based on their value.

Some were thrust into perilous positions.

"Suppose those ancient families are behind it," Ethan whispered deliberately, "and the Emperor aims to deploy me as a pawn against them?"

The idea clung to his mind.

Ethan shook his head gradually and stepped back from the railing.

"No matter the circumstances…"

He muttered softly to himself. "I must not allow weakness."

Assassins would strike anew someday.

The Emperor's shield wouldn't endure eternally.

The capital nobles tracked his every step already.

Ethan's fist tightened faintly.

"Stronger…"

"Becoming stronger is my sole path forward."

Cold winds swept over the fortress battlements as Ethan lingered wordlessly beneath the starry night.

.....

Within a serene chamber of Frostvele Castle, a gentle lamp flickered next to a lofty window.

Amber lingered by the window, gazing outward.

Moonlight seeped through the panes, softly bathing her silhouette.

She'd donned a plain nightgown. The delicate material draped softly across her shoulders and trailed to her feet. Her lengthy tresses hung freely and a bit disheveled, cascading down her back while a subtle draft from the ajar window stirred them lightly.

Her face remained serene, though her gaze held deep contemplation.

She clutched a letter in her grasp. Amber glanced at the sheet once more.

Ethan had penned it.

"What's inside this?"

"Somehow, it's stirring unease in me."

....

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