Two days later, Roland Wimbledon's fleet arrived at the Redwater City docks.

Having received the news, Earl Delta appeared to attach great importance to it. He not only had the docks cleaned inside and out but also hung silks and colorful flags in prominent places. On the day of arrival, he personally led the crowd out of the city gate to greet them in the suburbs, his attitude being much more enthusiastic than when the First Army had visited.

As major nobles in the area, George Narry and Guy Uriane were naturally also in the welcoming line.

It must be said that the new king's pomp and circumstance were indeed eye-catching. George had seen the iron ship named after the Fourth Prince before, but seeing it again after more than half a year, it still gave him a sense of shock. The neatly arranged stone ships behind it were also much more numerous this time, their snow-white chimneys blending with the thick smoke, like a row of towering pillars. When the warriors in uniforms of the same color marched down the docks one after another, a feeling of envy surged in his heart—if the Panstone family also had such an army to serve him, let alone Redwater City, even the throne in the royal capital's palace would not be beyond expectation.

"That idiot, I really don't know how he got enlightened," George spat. "When I was in the royal capital five or six years ago, he was obviously the most useless one. Not to mention comparing him to his elder brothers, even his immature little sister seemed more like a person."

"Doesn't this just show that the Fourth Prince was the one who hid the deepest?" Earl Three Rivers shrugged. "To be able to stand out from the frontier and develop to the point where he is today, it is definitely not something an idiot can do. Remember to put on a smiling face later and show as much enthusiasm as possible."

"Of course I know," George replied dismissively. "When dealing with members of the royal family, even if he really is an idiot, I will go all out. You don't need to worry about that."

"Very well."

At this moment, a loud horn sounded from the direction of the docks, and a commotion arose in the crowd—without looking, one could tell that Roland Wimbledon, the ruler of the Western Territory, or rather, the new king of Graycastle, had appeared.

"How's your side coming along?" George asked without showing any expression.

"Fifty-one people have already entered," Guy pretended to be eagerly looking forward to His Majesty's arrival, without turning his head. "In another two days, we can arrange for the rest to enter as well."

"My side is about the same," he slightly raised the corners of his mouth. "It seems that there is still plenty of time. This time, we have a better chance."

Regarding Roland's actions after entering Redwater City, he and Guy had discussed it many times. The most likely scenario was that he would first reach an agreement with the lord, Earl Delta, and then announce the recovery of the right of investiture—after all, Redwater was a large city, and there were many nobles with territories nearby, so it was impossible to resolve the issue as quickly as in Willow Town.

Considering Earl Delta's indecisive nature, this decision would probably take him two or three days to make, plus the time to wait for the news to spread and for the emotions of other nobles to ferment, which would be enough for them to quietly fill the new secret passages with sufficient manpower.

Afterward, as long as they charged into the castle together at the stroke of midnight, they could render the snow powder weapons useless—in the face of absolute numerical superiority and favorable terrain, Roland Wimbledon would inevitably be unable to escape.

"He's here," Guy reminded him.

George immediately put on a smiling face and moved forward—the first row of the team consisted of the lord's family members, and the second row was their turn as major nobles.

Earl Delta was accompanying the new king, introducing the welcomers with a flattering expression. Seeing his round face, which was smiling so much that his eyes could hardly be seen, and his constantly shaking double chin, George felt a wave of nausea in his heart.

If he remembered correctly, the lord had been just as obsequious to the Second Prince when Tifeeko led his troops through Redwater City.

"Your Majesty, this is the master of Panstone Ridge, Earl George Narry." Delta finally walked up to him.

"I pay my respects to you, Your Majesty," George placed his right hand on his chest, bowed deeply, and said in the most enthusiastic tone, "Panstone Ridge produces the most mellow tea and fruit wine. If you are willing to grace us with your presence, it would be my honor."

"Is that so?" Roland's response was a bit unexpected. "Where is your territory?"

Shouldn't he, as a person of high position, express that his good intentions have been received and that he will visit when he has time? However, he quickly replied, "It's on the east side of Redwater City—if you go east from here for two miles, the first mountain ridge you see is where the Narry family's territory is located."

"Sounds like the scenery should be nice. I hope you can cherish it," the new king patted him on the shoulder and said with a smile.

Cherish? What does this mean?

George frowned secretly, still maintaining his original expression on the surface. "Yes, Your Majesty."

The welcoming process did not have any accidents. After everyone had met Roland, Earl Delta announced that a grand banquet would be held at Lakeside Manor tonight, and then ordered the knights to clear the way in front and escort the king into the city.

Everything went as he had planned, even better—the new king's army did not swarm into Redwater City but instead set up camp in the suburban dock area. Roland was only accompanied by a guard of less than a hundred people. After entering the castle, the number of people who could stay by his side in the bedroom at all times was probably only about twenty.

The outcome could be said to be set.

But for some reason, he felt vaguely uneasy. Roland's smile did not seem to be directed at him... However, he couldn't say exactly what it meant. He just felt a strange chill lingering in his heart.

George shook his head, suppressing all the distracting thoughts in his mind. Perhaps he had just seen it wrong, he thought to himself. Even if the other party had any ideas, they would dissipate the moment he entered the castle—once the new king fell into his hands, he might as well chat with him about today's events.

By then, he wouldn't have to fawn over him anymore, and the other party probably wouldn't be in the mood to show such a strange smile.

Night arrived as scheduled.

All the city residents knew that the last prince of the Wimbledon royal family was now in Redwater City, and that he was very likely the monarch who ruled all of Graycastle. Therefore, the city was like a festival. The huge inner city was brightly lit, and Lakeside Manor was even more so—this place had always been used to entertain distinguished guests. The banquet hall was built on the great lake connected to the Redwater River, supported by dozens of hundred-year-old larch trunks, and connected to the shore by a pier-like corridor. One could even see the flowing water in the hall.

In order to please the new king, Earl Delta spared no effort to bring all the seasonal delicacies from the surrounding areas to the table. Some ingredients George had never even seen before.

However, his mind was not on the food.

In addition to paying attention to Roland Wimbledon's actions, the nobles who were close to the lord of Redwater City were also the focus of his vigilance.

When the new king appeared in the banquet hall, he couldn't help but frown.

All those who followed Roland were women.