George silently counted – there were ten people in total, which was not more extravagant than what was normal for royalty. Six of them were clearly guards, wearing short robes and leather trousers for easy movement. After entering the hall, they scattered and occupied several corners.

It wasn't strange for a lord to have female guards. He kept two in his mansion, not expecting them to be particularly powerful, but to enhance his enjoyment, especially when hunting in the wild. The moment he stripped off their leather armor that was more alluring than protective and pinned them in the mud, it always aroused his interest.

But bringing them to such a formal occasion was strange.

The gap between women and men in terms of strength was insurmountable, determined from birth. Therefore, most outstanding guards and knights were men. No one would bring these vase-like attendants except for fun.

Moreover, the appearance of these women was simply...hard to look at.

It wasn't that George was picky, but even the slightly upscale brothels in Clearwater City wouldn't take women like these.

Ugly features aside, even their skin was unusually rough. They looked to be in their thirties or forties, with wrinkles and dark spots left by wind and sun stretching from their foreheads to their chins. Although their figures were relatively well-proportioned after long-term training, just seeing their faces would kill all interest.

Did Roland Wimbledon have a liking for this type?

However, when he shifted his gaze to the woman holding the new king's arm, he immediately rejected his guess.

She was a young woman who was impeccable from any angle. Her lake-blue eyes were like clear gems, and her gaze was captivating. He had no doubt that they were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.

Her appearance brought a brief silence to the hall. Even Edith Kant, the pearl of the Northlands, had never created such an effect. If she weren't so close to the new king, most nobles would have swarmed over.

And the last two wore veils, seemingly not wanting others to know their appearance.

Such attire was not impolite, but it was rare at banquets. If they didn't want to be seen, they could simply choose not to attend. This kind of dress only attracted more attention.

"Want a drink?" At that moment, Guy came over with two glasses of wine.

"Thank you," he took the glass and followed him to a corner of the hall. "Any new discoveries?"

"That woman next to Roland...is a little strange," the Earl of Three Rivers whispered. "Don't you think she's a little too outstanding?"

"You noticed it too?" George touched the God's Punishment Stone on his chest, without showing any emotion. "I guess...she's probably a witch."

"I think so too. If she were a woman from a major family, we would have heard something about it."

Roland's extensive recruitment of witches was not a secret. From the royal capital to Clearwater, similar news had spread. At first, it was just rats spreading the word, but after the royal capital changed hands and the church was uprooted, the news intensified, and it was no different from direct propaganda. The persecution of witches gradually subsided. No one wanted to anger the rising new king because of this matter, but few nobles took the word "recruitment" seriously.

In their view, the role of witches was the same as that of female guards, usually placed beside them for viewing, and could be enjoyed at will when needed. After all, the appearance of witches was obvious to all. Even when the church and Tiffelke were strictly searching, some people couldn't help but take risks.

But bringing a witch to a banquet was incomprehensible.

Was it that the new king had become fearless due to his victories and indulged his personal desires in private life, or did he really regard that woman as...?

The second thought had just surfaced when George dismissed it.

Witches were infertile, and this alone made it impossible for her to become his legal wife. Bringing a witch to a banquet must have been just a whim.

But this was also good. When Roland fell into his hands, this would undoubtedly be another excellent "evidence of guilt."

At best, it was disregarding etiquette and treating aristocratic traditions as nothing. At worst, it was insulting the female relatives brought by other nobles. Of course, this accusation had little impact on members of the royal family, but for that witch, it was an unforgivable crime. As for how to deal with it, it was up to him.

The Earl of Three Rivers obviously saw his thoughts and grinned, "You can't enjoy it alone."

"I won't forget you, old friend," George raised his glass. "I will definitely let you enjoy it first."

The two looked at each other for a moment and couldn't help but laugh.

The banquet went smoothly. After toasting with the new king, it was time for free activities. The nobles gathered in groups according to their titles and genders. Men talked about recent hunts, harvests, and affairs, while women exchanged information on which silk was the smoothest and which place had the most precious jewelry.

Many nobles also gathered around George Nare, at least his momentum seemed no weaker than that of the Clearwater City lord. Some fence-sitters from the past also leaned towards him, obviously having heard rumors that the new king was preparing to take action against the fiefdom. This increased his confidence a lot, and even diluted the previous inexplicable unease.

That's right, time was on his side.

Roland Wimbledon was ultimately an outsider. To make any changes, he would have to pay twice the effort. The Panstone family had been here for more than a hundred years, and its natural advantages were even stronger. The opponent's underestimation and arrogance exacerbated this. He even felt that now, with just the attendants brought by him and the Earl of Three Rivers, plus the Gariwitan, he could directly take down the new king.

However, after thinking for a moment, George gave up this idea. After all, Lakeside Manor was transparent on all sides, which was not conducive to defense. If there were any accidents during the transfer, it would be easy to abandon all previous efforts. It was more appropriate to wait for the opponent to enter the castle before making a move.

In just two more days, this young king would be a bird in a cage.

"Everyone, please be quiet for a moment," at this time, Earl Delta suddenly clapped his hands, gathering everyone's attention to the center of the hall. "His Majesty Roland Wimbledon has something to say to everyone."

Was he planning to give a closing speech? George indifferently put a piece of tender rib into his mouth. It seemed that the banquet was finally coming to an end.

"First of all, I must thank the Earl for arranging this lavish banquet, and I am also very happy to see so many people able to attend by invitation," Roland looked around the hall for a week, smiling, "If I remember correctly, the large and small nobles around Clearwater City are almost all here, right?"

Seeing the other party's smile, George's heart suddenly froze. It was coming again... that smile without a smile, with his mouth raised, but without any emotion... What was he thinking?

"Except for two who are unwell, all the other invitees have arrived, Your Majesty," Delta nodded.

"Very good, taking advantage of this opportunity, let me be frank with you all," Roland said slowly, with his hands behind his back, "From today onwards, Clearwater City... and all the surrounding territories will belong to the King of Graycastle—which is all mine, and will not be enfeoffed again in the future. In other words..." he paused, "All of you here are no longer hereditary nobles."