Path To Godhood Begins With Marrying Wife And Gaining SSS Rank Skill Chapter 464:We Need To Show Him Right?

"The announcement was made by Duke Lancelot himself."

A heavy silence descended upon the chamber.

Suddenly, one noble burst into a piercing laugh.

"Amber plans to wed him?"

"Wed that savage from the frontiers?"

"Cough... He hails from Ruthiana," someone interjected.

"Fuck off," he scoffed.

Another man gritted his teeth hard.

"That lowly Marquise from the sticks?"

Disdain dripped from his tone.

A third noble gripped his wine glass tighter as he reread the letter, causing it to crack under the force.

Amber had long been the envy of countless young nobles, celebrated for her stunning looks, formidable power, and prestigious bloodline as Duke Lancelot's daughter.

Many men present had once dreamed of winning her heart. Yet now, she picked a man from Ruthiana.

A man they scarcely viewed as true nobility.

A younger noble muttered a curse quietly.

"Damn that bastard..."

With frustration, another noble flung the letter onto the table.

"What does he possess beyond mere fortune in war?"

The initial noble eased back into his seat gradually.

Fury blazed in his gaze.

"Amber... you selected this fellow, didn't you?"

His fingers drummed rhythmically on the table as he glared at the letter once more.

"I shall prove to you the grave error of that decision."

The rest turned their attention to him.

"What's your scheme?" one inquired with interest.

The young noble rose to his feet deliberately.

Though his actions stayed composed, menace gleamed in his eyes.

"That hero from Ruthiana rose too swiftly."

He snatched the letter and crumpled it in his fist.

"Types like him lose sight of their station."

Leaning back with a sly grin, another noble chimed in.

"Planning to duel him?"

"Along those lines," the young noble answered.

"Though not right away."

He strode to the grand window, gazing out at the shadowy avenues of the elite quarter. Lanterns flickered dimly as coaches rolled by in the darkness.

"Should Amber truly pick him, the whole noble society will witness the caliber of her choice."

A subtle smirk crept across his features, icy haughtiness flickering there.

"As it's an invite," he continued evenly, "we shall attend."

Another let out a soft chuckle.

"And after?"

The young noble's eyes sharpened.

"Then, we shame him utterly."

Muted chuckles began to fill the space.

Nobles lifted their goblets once more, sharing derisive grins.

"To the freshly titled Arcadia Marquise," one toasted, raising his glass high.

"We'll observe his endurance amidst genuine aristocrats."

Glasses chimed as their mocking mirth reverberated through the opulent hall.

Unbeknownst to them, their intended target had endured far graver trials than haughty nobles or scheming intrigues.

....

In a flash, two months elapsed while preparations consumed both parties for the nuptials.

Wedding day dawned softly at the Duke's manor.

Far from the lavish capital spectacles, this union stayed modest yet dignified. Banners of Arcadia and the Blanks emblem adorned the meticulously swept and festooned grand courtyard.

Blooms freshly gathered from adjacent vales encircled the stone columns. Extended timber tables lined the plaza, with servants bustling silently to ready the feast post-rite.

Troops lined the courtyard edges in orderly formation.

Numerous had battled alongside Ethan lately, their expressions beaming with honor and thrill. Whispers passed among some, careful not to shatter the reverent mood.

Gentle winter rays bathed the masonry as rites commenced.

A modest altar, set by the temple cleric, occupied the courtyard's heart. Wispy incense curled upward in the chill, accompanied by hushed incantations.

Clad in formal garb instead of battle gear for the occasion, Ethan stood poised. His ebony dress coat bore the Marquise emblem, his stance unwavering and serene. Despite myriad combats, subtle strain lingered on his face.

From across the yard, Amber emerged at last, pacing beside brother Rake.

Her bridal gown, though plain, exuded grace. Ivory cloth billowed softly with her steps, her tresses bound elegantly with gleaming silver accents catching the sun.

Silence gripped the courtyard briefly.

Soldiers gawked in awe.

Ethan even flickered his eyelids upon her nearing.

Amber halted by his side as Duke Lancelot advanced.

The aged duke scrutinized Ethan intently.

Calmly, he declared, "You will take responsibility for her now."

Ethan nodded with respect.

"I will."

Lancelot examined him briefly before flashing a faint smile and stepping to the side.

At the same time, Rake circled around Ethan and clapped his shoulder.

"Can't believe we are going to be brothers in law," he said grinning widely.

Next, he bent in close and whispered, his voice carrying so others could hear.

"I really pity you for marrying such a lass."

Amber yelled out in irritation at once.

"Father, see what brother is doing!"

Duke Lancelot's brow furrowed lightly.

"Rake, don't cause nuisance today," he warned in an icy tone.

Rake threw up both hands in surrender.

"Alright, alright."

He pivoted to depart but halted suddenly, turning back to Ethan.

"Still, Ethan… you should be prepared," he murmured softly.

"I am sure there is no way this wedding will go peacefully."

A slight frown creased Ethan's face as he looked up at him, catching the underlying warning in those words.

Not far off, a bunch of veteran soldiers who had served Duke Lancelot for decades gathered by the courtyard's edge.

Their eyes were already bloodshot from the booze.

One suddenly scrubbed his face with his sleeve.

"Ugh… our little lady has grown up," he sniffled noisily.

Another old soldier bobbed his head, gripping his wine cup.

"She is finally becoming a woman."

"Our princess is leaving us."

"Uuuuuuwuuuuu…"

Several broke into loud sobs, clutching each other tightly.

One dramatically thrust his wine bottle into the air.

"Our princess!"

"We watched her grow up!"

Duke Lancelot glared at them in evident frustration.

"Damn it… cut the drama," he barked sharply.

The old soldiers snapped to attention quickly but kept dabbing their eyes, feigning dry faces.