Path To Godhood Begins With Marrying Wife And Gaining SSS Rank Skill Chapter 463:The Backwater Marquise

The note proved plain and direct, mirroring its author perfectly.

Ethan had candidly detailed his talk with her father and the marriage offer. No elaborate flourishes graced the script, nor did he mask his feelings in tangled expressions. Straightforward and honest, the words reflected the man who penned them.

Beside the window, Amber leisurely reread the lines.

Her grip tightened faintly on the paper's edge as her gaze swept the final words.

"The mountain does not love the sky any less for the valleys that came before. My heart has many peaks, but I am asking you to be the summit where I finally rest. Will you walk this path as my wife?"

Silence held her for a prolonged instant.

Only the soft whisper of wind against the castle's outer walls filled the still chamber.

A gentle sigh escaped her lips.

"That idiot…"

Unnoticed by her, a blush crept across her cheeks.

Leaning against the window sill, Amber gazed out at the shadowed castle yard.

The revelry that had echoed through Frostvele before had now died down. Exhausted from all-night drinking, most soldiers slumbered.

Just a handful of torches flickered softly along the battlements. Amber let the letter drift down and turned her eyes to the moon over Frostvele.

Tangled emotions churned within her mind.

Her father had thrust the marriage notion upon her abruptly. Yet Ethan applied no pressure.

He merely laid out the facts, placing the choice wholly in her grasp.

Amber glanced at the letter once more.

A subtle, intricate smile tugged at her lips.

"Hmmm…"

A serene warmth bloomed in her heart as she moved deliberately to the little wooden desk by the window.

Ink bottle and new quill awaited, set there beforehand by a servant.

Gently, Amber took the quill.

She dipped it into the ink, hesitated briefly in thought, then started inscribing on the reverse of Ethan's letter.

Elegant and fluid, her script flowed onto the page.

"An ancient forest does not fear the rings of years already passed. It only grows deeper in the earth. If there is room for my roots beside the ones you already tend, then I want them to grow near yours.

A forest is not less for its many trees, and a river does not fear the stones it has already passed. If your heart has room for one more horizon, then yes, I am willing to marry you."

Finishing the last word, Amber set the quill back in its rest.

She eyed the letter anew.

A soft smile graced her features.

Moonlight bathed her tender look as she folded the note quietly and resealed it.

.....

Come morning in Frostvele Castle, Ethan waited in a command chamber.

Rays of sun poured through tall windows, amid papers strewn over the desk.

Moments ago, a courier had brought the response.

Ethan unfolded the letter and scanned its contents.

His face stayed composed at first.

Yet upon the closing lines, his brows arched upward.

"Damn… this lady…" he whispered to himself.

Julia, sorting reports nearby, glanced over sharply.

"What happened?" she inquired with interest.

Ethan offered no immediate reply.

He just held out the letter to her.

Julia approached and accepted the sheet.

Her gaze traced the graceful penmanship. As she reached the end, a sly smile curved her mouth.

"I didn't know she had such poetic talent," Julia remarked, returning it.

Ethan propped against the table, arms folded.

"She is well learned," he answered steadily.

Julia eyed him with intrigue.

"So now?" she pressed.

Ethan blinked.

"Now what?"

Julia arched a brow.

"You know exactly what I mean."

Ethan regarded the letter once more.

A broad grin spread across his face.

"Of course it's marriage time," Ethan declared with a quick chuckle.

Julia shook her head faintly, though her smile lingered.

Beyond the window, Frostvele bustled into another hectic day, oblivious to the pivotal shift just sealed in Ethan's fate.

...…

A month later…

Word of the union spread swiftly beyond secrecy.

At dawn the following day, riders departed the stronghold with formal missives bearing Marquise Ethan's emblem. In days, tidings rippled through adjacent lands and into the Arcadia Empire's elite society.

Amber, Duke Lancelot's daughter, would wed Ethan of Ruthiana.

Shockwaves rippled through numerous aristocratic families.

Within an opulent mansion in Arcadia City's western sector, a bunch of young aristocrats had assembled for their regular nightly rendezvous.

Gleaming crystal goblets brimming with crimson wine sat upon a lustrous marble surface, while faint tunes drifted softly from an adjoining space. Attendants hovered quietly against the walls, ready for any summons.

The easygoing mood shifted abruptly.

One youth among them smashed a creased note down on the table.

"What the hell is this?" he barked sharply.

His explosive reaction drew baffled stares from the others toward him.

A different aristocrat leaned in and grabbed the letter.

His gaze rapidly swept over the scripted words.

Then his face went stiff.

"…This has to be a joke."

"It's not," the original guy responded, frustration obvious in his tone.

That declaration originated straight from Duke Lancelot himself."

A thick hush descended over the room.

Suddenly, one noble unleashed a harsh guffaw.

"Amber is going to marry him?"

"Marry that frontier war dog?"

"Cough... He is from Ruthiana," someone corrected.

"Fuck off," he scoffed.

Another fellow ground his teeth fiercely.

"That backwater Marquise?"