117: Chapter 117 Taking Over Goldenflame Castle! Earl of Goldenflame! Rowan Flynn!

Gino City, early morning.

Today, the wide main road leading to the highest point of the city was unusually cleared of pedestrians and carriages.

Then, the sound of hooves and armor approached from afar, like thunder rolling over frozen earth, breaking the silence.

The first thing to come into view was two neat rows of the Temple Knight Order, like walls.

They were few in number, about forty riders, yet they exuded an aura of slaughter as if they were an entire army.

Every knight wore polished, mirror-like silver full-plate armor, and their moon-white cloaks fluttered in the morning breeze.

Under the escort of these two rows of Temple Knights, a group of people slowly approached.

At the very front were three special envoys from the Imperial Court and The Senate, wearing deep purple ceremonial robes embroidered with the Imperial Eagle emblem, their expressions solemn.

They held the final judgment and the territory transfer documents, bound with gold thread.

Following closely behind was the absolute protagonist of the day—Rowan Flynn.

He wore a gorgeous and intricate count's ceremonial dress, covered by a lord's cloak trimmed with silver fox fur.

Rowan looked toward the towering castle ahead, a slight smile on his handsome face.

Following closely behind him was the head maid, Elise.

She wore a brand-new hunting outfit, her blonde hair pinned up meticulously, riding a gentle mare.

Beside her was a gorgeous carriage.

The curtain was lifted a corner, revealing several small faces squeezed together—the eldest daughter Mia, the second son Aidan, the third son Finn...

They poked their heads out, eyes wide with curiosity, looking around.

This was their first time coming to such a big city.

On the other side of the carriage was the old butler of White Cliff Castle, Butler Henry, riding a horse, trying hard to straighten his back but unable to hide his stiffness.

He had ordered a decent suit for the occasion, his graying hair neatly combed, but fine beads of sweat seeped from his forehead, and his eyes were a bit unfocused.

Further behind were Rowan's personal guards, led by the young blacksmith Nolan, consisting of fifty elite militiamen.

This was already the most presentable organized armed force in the territory.

However, these children of serfs from White Cliff Territory had never been in such a solemn and majestic occasion before.

Their faces were pale, their eyes darting around, and due to their unstable state of mind, the formation was walking crookedly.

Compared to the two rows of Temple Knight Order that looked like they were cast from iron, it was like the difference between clouds and mud.

Along the street, some bold free citizens gathered.

They huddled on the side of the road, staring wide-eyed at the new count's procession.

When their gazes fell on Rowan, they were filled with curiosity, scrutiny, and fear...

But when they saw the shabby personal guard behind Rowan, they couldn't help but start whispering.

"That's the new Count? So young! So handsome!"

"Those behind... are the Count's guards? Heavens, they're not even as good as the City Guard reserves..."

"I heard the Count came from a very distant rural territory..."

"Shh! Keep your voice down! Didn't you see those church knights in front? The Count has the church backing him!"

"That may be so, but this is too... shabby, right? Can he even hold the fort?"

Although these discussions were low, they easily reached the ears of all the transcendents present.

The head maid, Elise, heard these words and became a bit annoyed.

She immediately glared over, wanting to see who was spouting nonsense!

Rowan, however, remained expressionless, as if he hadn't heard, though a faint glimmer flashed deep in his eyes.

Shabby? Unbearable?

Indeed.

The foundation of White Cliff Territory, compared to this county seat and this count position, was too far behind.

He himself didn't think much of them either.

Normally, apart from distributing potions, he hadn't trained them much personally.

While the young blacksmith Nolan was loyal and brave, the so-called elites selected from the small population base of White Cliff Territory...

Talent, training, equipment—compared to the civilian knights in the City Guard who had fought their way up from the bottom, they were not worth mentioning at all.

Population base determines the upper limit of talent.

Resource gaps create chasms in strength.

Rowan assessed calmly in his heart.

He needed a personal guard force that matched his status as a count and could be commanded as easily as moving his own arm.

Therefore, he was also pondering in his heart:

After officially taking office as the City Lord and completely controlling the City Guard, the first thing to do would be to reorganize the personal guard.

He would select those with real potential from the civilian knights of the City Guard, then tilt resources toward them to cultivate his own core team.

Loyalty and strength were both indispensable.

As for Nolan and these old men who followed from White Cliff...

He was not a heartless person.

He would give the young blacksmith a chance.

A chance with resources to push for becoming an Official Knight.

If he succeeded, he could be retained.

If he failed...

Rowan's gaze was without ripples.

He would arrange some idle position like a manor steward, and let him fend for himself. If one cannot keep up with the pace, one can only be eliminated.

While lost in thought, the procession had reached the huge, heavy, iron-clad oak gate of Golden Flame Castle.

The castle was built according to the terrain, with high walls and thick ramparts.

He looked up at the highest main keep, which was the highest point of the entire city, overlooking all of Gino City.

The Temple Knights separated left and right, retreating to the sides like a tide, standing solemnly.

The three imperial officials dismounted and walked to the high platform in front of the castle gate.

The leader among them unfolded the dossier in his hand, channeled his battle aura, and began to read aloud in a booming voice:

"In the name of His Majesty the King, The Senate, and the Holy Church of Dawn, it is hereby declared..."

The long and solemn reading of the document echoed in front of the empty castle gate.

Everyone dismounted and stood silently to listen.

After the document was read.

An official stepped forward and presented the pure gold seal, symbolizing ownership of the territory and authority of the City Lord, to Rowan, saying:

"Count of Golden Flame, Lord Rowan Flynn, please accept your authority and territory."

Rowan stepped forward, step by step, and took the seal.

It was cold and heavy.

The handover ceremony was over.

Commander Calvin of the Temple Knight Order suddenly stepped forward.

This tower-like strong man came to Rowan, first performed a standard knight's salute, and then took out a simple hardcover roster from his bosom and handed it over.

"Lord Count," Commander Calvin's voice was deep and powerful, and his gaze toward Rowan carried a hint of strange curiosity:

"This is the detailed list of assets within Golden Flame Castle that were not confiscated after the Church's inventory. Please check."

Rowan took the roster and quickly flipped through a few pages.

It listed in detail:

A conference table made of rosewood with ivory reliefs.

Crystal chandeliers from the Elven Dynasty.

Hundreds of volumes of various precious classics.

Dozens of famous oil paintings and sculptures.

Rowan flipped through some, his eyes flashing slightly.

According to imperial law and church custom, for nobles who committed such grave sins of blasphemy, all their assets, except for real estate—such as gold, silver, jewelry, magic items, books, antiques, luxury furniture, art treasures, and even grain in the warehouse—should be confiscated.

Most would go into the church treasury to cover the costs of the crusade, compensate for casualties, and support various church undertakings, especially the cultivation of the Temple Knight Order.

This was also the unspoken rule for all parties to divide the benefits.

However, now some daily-use precious assets were not confiscated but preserved and included in the transfer list, to be placed at the disposal of the new lord...

He pondered slightly and understood whose handiwork this was.

This meant that what Rowan was taking over was not a gutted castle that required him to pay out of his own pocket to redecorate.

It was a fully furnished count's mansion that basically maintained its original luxurious furnishings, ready for immediate move-in.

Just a rough estimate, the value of these items far exceeded one hundred thousand gold coins!

This was enough to keep him, a new count who had risen from being a rural baron, from falling into financial distress in the early stages of his count career.

Rowan looked for a moment and then closed the roster, nodding slightly to Commander Calvin: "Thank you, Commander Calvin."

"Hmm," Commander Calvin nodded, said no more, and stepped back.

At this moment, the imperial official shouted: "Lord Count of Golden Flame, please enter your castle!"

As the words fell, the heavy castle gate was slowly pushed open by several Temple Knights amidst the sound of hinges.

Rowan closed the roster and simply said:

"Enter."

Then he took the lead and stepped through the gate that symbolized the position of the count.

Elise took a light breath and followed calmly.

For her, this was not a big scene.

The old butler, Henry, was a bit trembling; he called the servants and maids to move the master's personal belongings.

Nolan and the other militiamen had flushed faces, puffing out their chests, trying to show the most majestic posture as they followed.

But under the watchful eyes of all, their messy steps and flickering eyes still exposed their lack of confidence.

Crossing the wide front courtyard.

When everyone actually walked into the main hall of the castle.

Their breathing almost stopped.

"Hiss..."

"Heavens..."

"Th-this is..."

The servants couldn't suppress their exclamations.

A huge crystal chandelier hung overhead, its light refracted through the cut surfaces, illuminating every corner of the hall.

The mirror-like black marble floor reflected figures and the magnificent dome mural.

Huge tapestries depicting war and hunting hung on the surrounding walls, with corners embroidered with gold thread.

Exquisite relief stone columns supported the arcades, with bases carved into lifelike statues of various well-known magical beasts.

A thick carpet stretched from the door to the main seat on the high platform at the very back.

Compared to this top-tier count's castle, which had been built over hundreds of years, the belongings of White Cliff Castle were not worth mentioning.

The children widened their eyes, even the liveliest Finn and Karen forgot to speak for a moment.

Only Elise appeared relatively calm; she had seen more luxurious and majestic scenes with the young lady.

Not to mention anything else, this was still quite a bit worse than the Duke's mansion.

And the old butler, Henry, was so excited that his beard trembled, almost shedding tears; he had served the Flynn Family his whole life, never having imagined that the Flynn Family could one day take over such a castle?

Rowan took in everyone's reactions, his heart without much ripples.

He stepped forward, walking toward the count's throne on the steps at the end of the hall.

He imagined that the successive Counts of Farrell must have sat on this throne to summon vassals and issue orders.

He walked up the steps, one step, then another.

Finally, he turned and sat down slowly.

The cold and hard touch of the throne came through.

He raised his head, his gaze sweeping calmly toward the bottom—

The hall fell into a kind of stagnant silence.

Elise stood quietly at the very front of the crowd, lifting her eyes to meet his gaze.

She curtsied gently, performing an impeccable curtsy, her movements as fluid as if she had practiced them a thousand times.

Behind her, everyone involuntarily raised their right hands, pressing them tightly against their left chests, and bowed in salute.

The entire hall became so quiet that a pin drop could be heard.

Only the faint crackle of the torches on the walls, and the sigh of the wind sweeping through the stone corridors in the distance.

In this silence.

Rowan's gaze slowly finished sweeping.

He knew—

From this moment on.

He was the sole master here.

Count of Golden Flame.

Rowan Flynn.