Chapter 162 : Legend
Chapter 162: Legend
That early morning, the people of York Territory sensed that something felt different in the air.
A portion of the villagers had vanished.
Most of them were those from the Gentry Families, some individuals who ran small businesses in the village with a bit of reputation, and the guards.
These people were no longer in the village, as if they had disappeared overnight.
This eerie atmosphere caused even petty thieves to stop their activities, shrinking back into their hideouts, hearts filled with unease.
It was too strange—strange enough to make them afraid.
...
Those who had vanished were now gathered outside York Town.
This was the East Gate of York Town, where one could see the Church of the Sanctuary’s Monastery and Church from afar.
A dense crowd gathered here, numbering close to a thousand.
They were all the Local Gentry of York Territory, some individuals qualified for the Enlightenment Ritual, and those with a certain status who conducted trade.
At this moment, some of them wore repressed expressions, yet were forced to squeeze out smiles.
How could they not smile?
All the village guards from the south, north, and west of York Territory, along with the town's guards—over two hundred people—had been mobilized to maintain order here.
And not far away, nearly three hundred Elite Warriors stood in full formation.
Piero had already informed them that they were to welcome the warriors returning from the Expedition.
At first, they didn’t know who was being referred to. Only later did they realize—it was those village guards whom Piero had half-coerced into action.
They needed some 'Commoners' to cheer and needed the Local Gentry to chant praise.
So, every Local Gentry Family, excluding their slaves and servants, had all their core members brought here.
After all, those illiterate or not clever enough would only cause trouble here.
Of course, these Gentry were unwilling to bow and chant for the guards they used to command at will.
But when twelve Knights arrived with nearly two hundred Elite Warriors to extend the invitation, they had no choice but to put on smiling faces and come willingly.
Among these Knights were some familiar to them, even carrying blood relations, but no one dared show a hint of complaint.
Becoming a Knight meant holding oneself to the standards of Knighthood—even if it meant turning one’s blade against their own family.
This was how they were always taught.
They must be loyal to their lord.
After all, if a Gentry Family perished, so be it. As long as there were Knights, the bloodline could quickly continue.
But if a Knight died, grooming a new one would be nearly impossible.
No Lord would ever allow a family that had produced a rebellious Knight to rise again with another.
Even if those Knights were merely Honorary Knights.
Yet, after being gathered, despite their inner grievance, they couldn’t help but yearn for this display.
The Flower Path began from the Lord’s Fortress, paving all the way to the East Gate of the town, stretching dozens of li outward.
The pure girls Piero had gathered were scrubbed clean, giving off a fragrant scent.
They were dressed in Plain White Clothing, with wreaths made of flowers and laurel branches adorning their heads, and garlands hanging from their necks.
There were seven in total.
These girls were to present flowers to the warriors.
Looking at them, Piero had a proud expression.
When Piero had visited the Morgan Family and mentioned needing pure girls for the flower offering, a wine-serving girl named Sarah had suddenly claimed she was still pure. He was overjoyed.
Moreover, Sarah had informed him that many of the Gentry Families secretly kept illegitimate daughters, maintaining their purity for future marriage alliances.
This allowed Piero, while relieved at finding pure girls, to marvel at how capable these Gentry Families outside the town were.
Families within the town were too entangled; they lacked the conditions to isolate their daughters from the outside world.
Especially since, more often than not, it was the legitimate sons who couldn’t keep their hands off.
So, Piero didn’t probe further and directly thanked Clement for the help, promising to remember it.
Then he took Sarah away.
After that, he went with Sarah and the Knights to visit households one by one, finally gathering seven pure girls.
Although fewer than the original plan, it was enough to deliver.
And these were girls of Gentry Family bloodline—just a step below Noble Daughters, far nobler than slave girls.
As for the Gentry’s opinions—who cared?
Piero could now give orders to Barons. Would he, Administrator Piero, bother with toothless Gentry?
Look at those Barons, currently on horseback, waiting outside the East Gate. Even with sweat dripping under the Morning Star’s heat, they dared not leave.
This was what the Gentry envied.
To be praised by True Nobles for their bravery—this was the highest Honor.
Think back to how they used to reward brave men: money, Honey Wine, women.
Compared to the Church-arranged praise under command, those methods were pathetic.
Look at their own young men—faces flushed red before even seeing the warriors.
At that moment, a flock of White Doves flew up from the Church.
They spiraled in the air and flew toward the end of the Flower Path.
There, a procession was slowly approaching.
...
Marl felt a bit lost.
He walked at the forefront of the procession, and ahead to both sides were fourteen Knights.
They rode on horseback, as if guiding them forward.
He recognized two of them—leading the flanks of the Knights’ formation.
George and Knight Wolf.
He wanted to ask George what was going on.
But George only smiled and told him to just keep walking and enjoy the Honor.
Marl felt strange.
His legs were somewhat weak, but he looked back.
Behind him were Temple Warriors carrying the Lord’s Throne, followed by over a hundred slightly diminished warriors, and behind them were nearly three hundred Commoners hoping to follow them to York Territory.
Except for the Temple Warriors, the others were noisy and excited.
These fourteen were Knights—great figures in their eyes.
Turning back, he looked at the frontmost rider—George, in his exquisite Armor, gleaming under the Morning Star.
Marl took a deep breath and moved forward.
In the distance above the Church, White Doves flew toward them, circling over the Lord’s Throne like guides.
Underfoot, he stepped onto the Flower Path, and he recognized the flowers—Saffron.
He remembered George telling him that during his own Baptism, Saffron had also been laid underfoot.
The Flower Path stretched endlessly, and at the far end of what Marl could see, there was a dense crowd.
Following the Knights, as they drew nearer, cheers became audible, and the scorching gazes of the crowd felt like they were burning him.
Getting closer, they were surrounded on both sides, and someone, face flushed red, began to chant loudly.
He recognized those chanting—they were the heads of the very Gentry Families he once opposed.
The chants narrated Marl’s journey—though many details, such as rescuing a Noble Daughter and winning her heart, were things he had never heard of.
But who cared at this moment?
Marl felt like he was walking on air. Slightly turning his head, he glanced behind—except for the calm Temple Warriors, all the warriors were blushing, and someone even stumbled, quickly getting up and using his spear to steady himself.
When they reached the center of the human corridor, seven girls in white long dresses ran barefoot through the Knights, their eyes focused solely on the warriors.
They ran ahead and gently removed their garlands, placing them around their necks.
The one who crowned Marl was a girl he somewhat recognized, though her name escaped him.
But now, he could clearly remember the water-like gaze in her eyes.
Marl smelled the fragrance. He didn’t know if it was from the flowers or just his imagination.
He didn’t turn around, but he could hear the uncontrollable cheers and howls behind him.
Even Marl himself felt as though something in his chest was swelling, about to burst.
He couldn’t even feel his own facial expression anymore—was he smiling? Crying?
At the end of the path stood three riders in ornate clothing bearing family crests.
Each of them spoke a line of praise, repeating their name and title with every compliment.
These three were, unexpectedly, True Nobles.
Marl felt tingles all over his body.
He felt that he would never forget this feeling for the rest of his life—and might even crave it again someday.
Only after three rounds of praise did the nobles turn their horses, leading them into the town like guides.
These warriors, garlanded with flowers, finally entered the town.
And as the Local Gentry recalled this, even the Knights leading the path couldn’t hide the envy in their eyes.
Then, they looked at the fiery eyes of the youths in their families.
They felt—they were growing old.
Beyond those still immersed in the excitement of the welcoming, the Apprentices of the Monastery who had mixed into the crowd had already slipped away, racing toward various villages to recount the day’s grand scene.
...
After entering the town, Knight Wolf left the procession and climbed the wall, watching the group being led into the town by the three Barons.
Then he looked beyond the town, at the fired-up young members of the Gentry Families stirred by the scene.
He opened his mouth and said, “After today, they will yearn to be the ones walking on the Flower Path next time.”
In the Church of the Sanctuary, within the Great Church, Bishop Corleon, eyes closed and face smiling, opened his mouth as if responding to Knight Wolf.
“What they have experienced will become stories upon which people pin their hopes. And as these stories are passed on by all, they will eventually become legends that people will pursue.”
“And those legends shall be recorded, and sung forever.”