Chapter 408: Clash Between Officials and Nobles
While they waited for the engagement ceremony to begin, as more nobles gathered, an unease began to spread among them.
They recalled that night in Doyle City. It had seemed similar—nobles gathering, only for them all to be eliminated in one swift move.
If not for the fact that they were staying in the newly established city of Saron by Lake Saron, with the Church’s bishop residing just nearby in the Great Cathedral, they might have already fled.
On the eve of the engagement ceremony, two additional groups of guests arrived.
One was a group of Woodland nobles—rosy-faced but bitter-looking.
They were from the bride’s side, said to have only returned from York City two days prior.
Of course, they now belonged to Greenwood's nobility as well.
The other group wore seemingly standardized attire. They were thin but flushed with color and carried a spirited gleam in their eyes.
This group appeared to be officials dispatched by the Senate to the region of Doyle.
This time, the nobles felt another wave of dread.
Some hesitated, but a number of them still raised their goblets and went to converse with the Woodland nobles at that evening’s banquet.
The more they spoke, the more their expressions became strained—some nearly lost their composure at this banquet hosted by knights under the Marquis.
These officials were responsible for territorial governance. But not in the way the nobles had imagined—not merely laws about taxation or rules for commoners. These officials wielded control over population allocation, urban planning, military logistics, and more.
These had once been considered the lord’s exclusive powers.
Very quickly, the nobles began to accept the nobles they had mocked just the day before as “monkeys from the trees”.
That term, like “Northern barbarians”, was how Greenwood derogatorily referred to nobles from other regions.
They then approached the three nobles who had publicly declared a desire to strengthen ties with the Senate and had proactively invited Senate officials to govern their territories.
Though these three nobles were somewhat evasive and concealed certain details, they were forthcoming about what the Senate officials intended to do.
Simply put: a lord could only collect taxes and maintain a fixed number of private soldiers. Everything else—internal administration, city guards, and regional armies—would fall under the officials’ control.
The information from those Woodland “monkeys” hadn’t been this clear. But now, with such precision, it pierced straight to their hearts, exploding their composure.
Immediately, many of them wanted to return to their own territories.
However, upon stepping outside and seeing the neatly lined up Red Dragon Knight Order, they suddenly forced smiles, turned back, and rejoined the banquet.
“Why are these butchers back? Weren’t they in the Woodlands? Is this a trap against us? Are they going to slaughter us too?”
“Even if they don’t kill us, are they planning to strip away our territories and our powers?” These questions flitted through the minds of nobles now hiding behind smiling masks.
Nearly every noble of Greenwood had gathered here—save the Marquis, the Earls, and the Senators. The mere thought of it sent shudders down their spines.
Regardless, the next day, they all had to sit in the Great Cathedral to witness Gregor’s engagement ceremony.
Truth be told, they were quite curious about a Church-led engagement ceremony. In the past, such things were simple: the two noble families reached an agreement and sealed it with a stamp—none of this fuss.
But their curiosity vanished the moment they saw those officials.
The nobles had dressed extravagantly, showcasing their aristocratic flair.
Yet sitting inside the cathedral, compared to those officials in their sharp black or gray formal suits, complete with tall round top hats, they looked like ridiculous bards trying too hard to perform.
Some even noticed that the younger officials showed the same disdainful expressions they themselves once wore when looking at Northern barbarians or Woodland monkeys.
That silent contempt, that scorn—it nearly made them lose their temper.
Gregor was a Marquis, after all. Only high-ranking officials were allowed entry, and there were just over twenty of them.
But there were nearly a hundred nobles present.
Even if every one of them was at least a Tier Three Warrior, just by sheer numbers—if each spat once—it would drown the entire official contingent.
Yet under the calm gaze of Bishop Jeremiah, no one dared act out. They obediently remained in their seats.
Still, they occasionally felt the officials’ sharp glances—full of either contempt for nobles or hunger to consume them.
Their anticipation for the ceremony vanished entirely.
Thus, when white doves flew into the cathedral, petals were laid across the red carpet, the bride appeared in a luxurious white gown holding a bouquet, and the groom wore knight’s armor with a red cloak trimmed in white—the nobles looked on in a daze as the bishop recited blessings and they stamped their family crests onto the marriage document.
It was the officials who clapped enthusiastically, even stepping forward like bards to sing praises of the wedding, calling it a symbol of civilization, a marriage tradition belonging to Greenwood.
The nobles sneered, looking at them with contempt. Truly peasants, they thought, shameless and low-born.
The three standing at the main seat silently watched their reactions.
Camilla’s lips trembled as she whispered in a voice only the three could hear, “These nobles are all idiots. Do I really have to work with such fools?”
Gregor quietly agreed, “Indeed. Compared to them, my wisdom shines like the sun.”
Jeremiah’s lips stayed sealed, his face smiling—but his voice rang directly in their minds.
“Idiot. Just saying that proves you’re even dumber than them.” That one was directed at Gregor.
Regardless, the engagement ceremony came to an end. Thanks to the officials’ embellishments, it was portrayed as a divine event—something straight out of the Heavenly Kingdom on Earth.
As for those nobles who had dampened the mood, the officials didn’t dare mock them outright—they simply ignored them.
Once it ended, the nobles didn’t even bother with another banquet. They left the city immediately, headed to their stationed armies, and prepared to return to their fiefs.
But before they could dismantle their camps, the Red Dragon Knight Order was already waiting for them.
That night, the knights escorted them to the Woodlands.
A hundred knights escorting over four thousand elite troops, all at least Tier Three.
Camilla, still in her white dress, watched the army march toward the Woodlands.
“So, how long will this war last?”
“Three months? Maybe less? Say, seven days?” Gregor stood at her side and said, “I once rode across the Woodlands in seven days.”
“This isn’t just a regional conflict. It’s a war between nations. How could it be that simple?” Camilla sighed deeply. “Besides, the war itself isn’t what matters.”
“No, no, no, war is very important,” Gregor quickly countered. “War means merit, slaves, land—it means everything.”
Camilla turned her head away, unwilling to look at Gregor anymore.
She was not Jeremiah. Calling her own fiancé—a Marquis—a fool still strained her tolerance.
“Fool, the engagement’s over. Aren’t you going to get lost already?” Jeremiah, who had come after arranging for the cathedral’s cleanup, scolded Gregor on Camilla’s behalf.
Gregor shrank his neck and said with a fawning smile, “I was waiting to go back to Doyle City with you, wasn’t I?”
“The tiles at Doyle’s Great Cathedral have already been replaced for you,” said Jeremiah. “There won’t be a Doyle Great Cathedral anymore. It’ll be Glon Cathedral. I’ve already applied to the Pope to change the Doyle Diocese to Glon Diocese.”
“Doyle Diocese is too narrow. It needs a new name.”
Gregor grumbled, “Didn’t I complete the task well? Why are you still mad?”
“And without you around, I might just kill that new governor.”
“Go ahead and kill him,” said Jeremiah.
Gregor’s eyes lit up.
“I’ll notify the Senate and have you locked up for two or three years. Once Camilla comes of age and you’ve had a child, you can kill him then,” Jeremiah added.
Gregor’s light vanished.
“Can you get lost now?” said Jeremiah.
Gregor looked aggrieved but turned to leave.
Camilla suddenly said, “Today is our engagement day. Are you planning to spend the night with your mistress?”
Gregor froze—how did she know what he was thinking?
Then two piercing gazes made the hair beneath his armor stand on end.
“You’ll be returning to the castle tonight, right?” Jeremiah said blandly.
“Of course, of course I will. You can always trust me!” Gregor quickly replied.
Jeremiah nodded. “Today is your engagement day. Don’t fool around. And before you and Camilla have a direct bloodline, try not to get anyone killed.”
“Don’t worry. Even if someone dies, I’ll make them disappear,” Gregor said.
Jeremiah took a deep breath, tightly gripping the iron marriage contract in his hand, resisting the urge to throw it. “If someone really does die, send the child to the cathedral. Don’t let them into the castle.”
Gregor nodded repeatedly, then added, “If you let me go to the battlefield, you wouldn’t have to worry. I’m only seeing my mistress because I’m bored.”
Jeremiah painfully closed his eyes.
Then he hurled the iron marriage contract at Gregor’s head. It even glowed with white holy light.
Gregor took the blow squarely, his head bleeding from the impact.
“You idiot!” Jeremiah shouted. “This war will last at least three years! No nobles will be allowed back until it ends. You want to be monitored for three years?”
“And if any of them makes a mistake, that’s a military offense—and military law demands execution. Can you control yourself and follow orders?”
“Idiot! Fool! Get lost!”
Clutching his head, Gregor fled in disgrace.