Chapter 401: The Betrayer
The Great Cathedral of Doyle.
Gregor entered with Camilla and two knights.
Just as they stepped inside, they heard Jeremiah say, “I’m sorry, but they must die.”
Gregor was stunned for a moment, then deliberately put on an indifferent expression and said, “If you think they deserve to die, then naturally, they must die.”
Jeremiah glanced at the two knights, who bowed understandingly and turned to stand at the cathedral entrance.
Seeing their actions, Camilla also prepared to leave, but was stopped by Jeremiah.
Jeremiah’s complexion was rather rosy, looking full of energy, and his voice was firm.
He said, “Originally, today should have been your wedding. But as you know, some matters have arisen, so the wedding must be postponed. On one hand, this is to use the identities of you both to establish a precedent; on the other, it is to incorporate these into what we call civilization—or rather, culture.”
Jeremiah spoke bluntly, and Camilla nodded silently.
After it was confirmed she would marry Gregor, Shalier had tacitly allowed her to gather information about Greenwood, and naturally, she learned many of its baffling customs.
For instance, whether commoner or noble, people must drink boiled water, avoid raw meat unless necessary, give thanks to the Lord before meals, invite priests for rituals before sowing seeds, plan fallow periods after harvest, and hold weddings in churches, among others.
To the people of the Woodlands, these customs were wholly unnecessary. Even informants reported that many in Greenwood themselves couldn’t understand them.
But as they were mandates from the Senate, enforced by church priests, the people of Greenwood had to comply, even if they didn’t understand.
According to the scholars in the Monastery, these were called civilization. Only by doing these things could one be considered civilized, unlike the Northern People, labeled as barbarians.
As for culture, Jeremiah explained that there had long been debates between scholars about the distinction between civilization and culture—debates that at times even turned physical.
In the end, it was only through church intervention that the disputes ceased.
But as for the intricate differences between civilization and culture, Camilla, merely listening to second-hand information, couldn’t fully grasp them.
However…
Those two words reminded her of Gregor’s “cultural exchange” in the Woodlands.
She couldn’t help but glance at Gregor—this Marquis, who was once so bold and hearty in the Woodlands, now stood with his head lowered meekly, shrinking into his collar.
That rough, bearded face wearing such an expression made her almost laugh, but she held it in.
After all, he was a marquis, and she—currently not even his future-future marchioness—couldn’t afford to show him disrespect, even if she truly became the marchioness someday.
Jeremiah silently nodded at the look in Camilla’s eyes. It seemed this fool Gregor hadn’t been completely useless during his time in the Woodlands.
He continued, “Following this, your engagement with Gregor will take place in a month at the new cathedral. Then, two years after that—when the time comes—you shall be wed formally. During this period, you must remain pure. If not, the wedding shall be annulled.”
Camilla nodded. “Your will.”
But after a moment of hesitation, she said, “The engagement must wait a month. But as you mentioned before, my father should attend. However, as a marquis, if he leaves his territory for too long, it may cause issues.”
Jeremiah replied, “That needn’t worry you. Councilor Julian will negotiate with him.”
Camilla continued, “I’ve recited the Holy Scriptures many times, and I admire the… civilization of Greenwood. So I hope to stay in Greenwood to study and experience its culture before marriage. I believe the Marquis would be pleased by this as well.”
She then gave Gregor a look, hoping he’d speak up.
Yet Gregor only stood there, head still lowered, as if he hadn’t heard a thing.
Jeremiah said, “Greenwood welcomes anyone who wishes to learn. Naturally, you may stay. But during your time here, you may not reside in Gregor’s castle. You must remain pure.”
He added, “The new castle is under construction.”
Nervously, Camilla asked, “Then… may I request to learn directly under you in the cathedral? Marquis Gregor said… you are the wisest man in Greenwood.”
Jeremiah glanced at Gregor, who was smiling flatteringly, and said, “I am not Greenwood’s wisest man. That would be the Pope.”
But after a pause, he added, “Bishop Marl and Bishop Jeven are also very wise.”
Seeing Jeremiah didn’t seem offended, Camilla pressed further. “But I will eventually be Marchioness of Doyle. If I could study at your side, I believe I would gain a deeper understanding of Doyle.”
Jeremiah stared at her, making her feel uneasy, before finally nodding. “Very well. I will consider you a monk of the cathedral.”
He then shook his head. “No—wrong term. I should say, a nun.”
Camilla bowed deeply. “Thank you for your gracious permission.”
Jeremiah waved his hand and turned to Gregor. That look made Gregor’s body tense up.
Jeremiah said, “This matter is over. Those nobles and knights still clinging to the Old Testament Era have been purged. Now, Doyle still needs you, Marquis.”
“The other day, we already had bards spread the word. Given their speed after being organized by the Guild, in a few days, all of Greenwood will know the tragic tale.”
“Knight Valerus, once loyal to Marquis Gregor, opposed the Senate’s guild reforms. While Gregor was away negotiating his marriage in the Woodlands, Valerus impersonated Gregor’s knight and launched the Doyle Rebellion. The Senate saw through it and sent troops to quash the uprising. In his final madness, Valerus slaughtered all of Gregor’s blood relatives. He was a madman. A betrayer.”
By the end of the tale, Gregor’s eyes were bloodshot, rage surging. He shouted, “Knight Valerus would never betray me! Never! I won’t let those filthy flies slander him!”
According to the traditions of the House of Doyle, when a direct heir could wield an iron sword at age eight, they would be assigned a sixteen-year-old guard. This guard would forever stand behind them as their sword and shield.
If that heir survived to adulthood and inherited a title or was granted land, the guard—if still alive—would become their knight.
Valerus was Gregor’s guard.
Jeremiah frowned.
Gregor collapsed to his knees with a reflexive thud so heavy it cracked two stone tiles beneath him—he was still clad in full knight’s armor for the ride back.
Camilla’s pupils trembled at the sight—wasn’t this a marquis?
She considered leaving.
But with Jeremiah silent, she dared not move.
Even kneeling, Gregor kept his head high with unyielding pride. “I knew it! Those bard flies should have their mouths ripped off...”
Jeremiah said, “I was the one who had them spread the story.”
Gregor froze. “But Valerus… revered you.”
“I know,” said Jeremiah. “When he came to me, offering his aid, I initially refused. But he knelt before the Lord’s Throne, begging. I had no choice but to agree.”
“He said, his lord had sinned, and he wished to atone on his behalf. That with a sinful master, no matter how loyal, he could no longer serve by your side.”
“He said… perhaps his heart still followed his lord lost in the Eastern Crusade.”
Gregor insisted, “Then all the more reason he should not die branded a traitor! He was a knight! If he dies with that title, what of his wife and child?”
Jeremiah said, “So, before making his decision… he killed his wife and child.”
Gregor’s face went blank.
Jeremiah continued, “It fits the tale of a madman, doesn’t it?”
Then he closed his eyes and reopened them slowly. “So, if you don’t want his sacrifice to be in vain, honor his will. Carry your lord’s sins. If you can’t bear it—write it down, remember it. Perhaps a century later, once all is done, someone will clear his name.”
Gregor muttered, “I can’t write stories. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have butchered the Doyle Knight Order’s oath.”
He even grumbled, “You wouldn’t help me fix the oath back then either. If you had, maybe the Order wouldn’t be like this.”
“I spent over five years building it… and after this, I doubt anyone will want to join the Doyle Knight Order again.”
Jeremiah closed his eyes again, chest heaving, breath heavy.
He didn’t want to keep speaking.
But thinking that soon he’d be going to the new cathedral, finally free, he went on.
“You can let Camilla write Knight Valerus’ story. I’ll share details when the time is right. I believe she’ll be glad to help.”
Jeremiah spoke as if forcing the words out through clenched teeth.
Camilla shrank her neck like Gregor earlier, nodding repeatedly. “Of course, I’d be happy to help the Marquis.”
Like she’d be killed if she answered even a second late.