Path To Godhood Begins With Marrying Wife And Gaining SSS Rank Skill Chapter 469:These Old Foggies..

"Haha… of course not."

"Not at all, not at all, Lord Ethan."

"No one in their right mind would stir up trouble for you on a day like this."

"Lord Ethan's display of power just now truly amazed us all."

Fresh from beholding Ethan's horrifying might, the crowd was eager to show him the deference he deserved. Countless nobles rushed ahead, flashing warm smiles as they voiced their admiration aloud.

Several lifted their goblets high, proclaiming their words for all to catch.

"Marquise Ethan's power is simply astounding."

"Those foolish youths were begging for it."

"Challenging a frontier hero like that was pure stupidity."

Soon the mood brightened once more. Talks flowed freely, attendants refilled drinks, and troops roared with mirth as they retold the recent spectacle.

In the meantime, those three troublesome young nobles had faded into irrelevance.

Nobody spared them a glance now.

Gone was their prior haughtiness. They lingered at the courtyard's edge, faces ashen and heads bowed, under the strict watch of multiple guards.

Guests mostly overlooked them entirely.

Had Ethan not instructed his men to remove them discreetly, many thought the furious soldiers might have hauled them off on the spot.

Once the disruptors were gone, the rite proceeded without a hitch.

The priest advanced anew, flipping open the sacred tome after a throat-clearing cough.

His voice rang out crisp and clear for every ear.

"Do you, Ethan, take Amber as your wife and pledge to remain at her side in wealth and woe?"

Ethan gazed steadily at Amber.

Without pause, he replied.

"I do."

The priest gave a nod and faced Amber next.

"Do you, Amber, take Ethan as your husband and promise to journey with him through challenges and triumphs to come?"

Amber glanced at Ethan once more, just for an instant.

A gentle warmth touched her eyes.

With a soft nod, she affirmed.

"I do."

Raising his staff a touch, the priest declared in a resolute tone.

"By the temple's grace and the Empire's decree, you are now bound as husband and wife."

Silence held the courtyard for a heartbeat.

Then the soldiers exploded in thunderous roars.

"LONG LIVE MARQUISE ETHAN!"

"LONG LIVE LADY AMBER!"

Tankards shot skyward.

Joyous shouts and revelry echoed everywhere as bards struck up energetic tunes.

Amber flushed a bit at the uproar, while Ethan chuckled softly at her side.

Nearby, Duke Lancelot observed the moment and breathed a silent sigh of relief.

'Thank the heavens…'

'At last, that headache of a girl is off my hands.'

'Heh heh… no more fixing her blunders.'

Amid the gaze of numerous imperial aristocrats, Ethan and Amber were formally wed.

The feast stretched across the whole day.

Endless platters and drinks flowed, as warriors and lords mixed freely. Battlefield tales were swapped, keeping the grounds buzzing till deep night.

At length, the final visitors departed.

Coaches trundled off the grounds while staff tidied the yard.

As the merriment wound down and peace returned to the manor, Ethan approached Amber's quarters with eager anticipation.

He eased the door ajar and entered.

Soft candle flames danced in the chamber, while serenity blanketed the night beyond.

Moments later, tender and passionate noises arose in the hushed space, marking the newlyweds' inaugural night.

.....

Elsewhere, distant from the manor, the trio of bested nobles rode homeward on the path, faces etched with gloom.

Dust and crusted blood still marred their attire.

A heavy quiet persisted for ages.

At last, Hamel shattered it.

"What do we do next?" he muttered sourly.

Pentos heaved a weary breath, massaging his brow.

"How can we show our faces back home?"

Garet balled his hands tight, glaring out the coach window.

"They've turned us into laughingstocks."

Words failed them thereafter.

That day's shame weighed thickly as the coach pressed on through the shadowed lane.

Beyond the Duke's domain, stillness had settled on the way.

From afar, the manor's festivities glowed faintly. Lanterns winked along the barriers, and faint chuckles drifted from the lingering troops still toasting away.

Yet remote from the festivity, a shadowy coach crept along the chill path.

Within, the air was starkly somber.

Garet, Hamel, and Pentos brooded wordlessly.

The arrogance that had once marked their faces was utterly gone. Dust from the recent fight still dirtied their garments, and subtle marks of crusted blood lingered on their sleeves.

Not one of them met the others' gazes.

That earlier humiliation still pressed down hard on their thoughts.

At last, Hamel lightly pounded his fist on the carriage's side.

"Damn it…" he muttered.

Garet gazed out the window, his face etched with chill.

"We underestimated him," he said quietly.

Bitterness infused his voice.

Pentos lounged silently against the seat, eyes half-shut in profound thought.

Minutes passed before the carriage arrived at a fork beyond the province.

Pentos broke the quiet abruptly.

"I have something to take care of."

Garet cast a quick glance his way but held back any questions.

Hamel just snorted.

"Do whatever you want."

Pentos descended from the carriage and ventured a short way off the path. Chilly night winds rustled softly through the trees as moonlight bathed the deserted trail.

He entered a small clearing and halted. Then he drew a crystal from within his coat.

A faint glow emanated from the crystal as he triggered it.

Light ripples flowed over its surface.

Soon after, a shadowy form emerged within the crystal's projection.

The figure's face stayed veiled in shadow.

A steady voice emerged from the crystal.

[So how is it?]

Pentos showed a touch of irritation.

"He is strong," he said coldly.

"And he seems quite arrogant."

He paused for a moment.

"We were beaten up as expected."

The figure across from him stayed silent briefly.

Then the voice returned, calm as ever.

[I expected that much.]

Pentos' face soured right away at those words.

"What do you mean you expected that much?" he demanded, annoyance plain.

His grasp on the crystal tightened a fraction. The shadowy figure kept its composure.

[It seems our preliminary analysis of him still fell short.]

The figure hesitated shortly before going on.

[Duke Lancelot might be the one who saved him from the assassination.]

Pentos furrowed his brow faintly.

"Hmmm."

He nodded deliberately.

"Duke Lancelot's support has formed a huge barrier that will protect that bastard."

The shadowy figure paused in silence.

Then the voice resumed.

[It will.]

[But not for long.]

Pentos snapped his head up.

"Not for long?"

"What do you mean?"

Curiosity mixed with faint unease colored his tone.

The shadowy figure held back an answer for an instant.

Then it leaned forward just a bit.

Even via the crystal projection, Pentos felt the icy amusement lurking in the words.

The shadowy figure's lips twisted into a sinister grin.

[Only time will tell.]

The crystal flashed once.

Then the projection vanished entirely. Pentos lowered the crystal gradually.

Cold winds swept through the clearing once more.

Seriousness etched his features as he peered into the enveloping darkness.

"These old foggies and their way of making things mysterious is really a pain in the ass."