Weakest Beast Tamer Gets All SSS Dragons - Chapter 623 - Taming the Fifth Year - Ceremony - 3
Chapter 623: Chapter 623 – Taming the Fifth Year – Ceremony – 3
While Seiya received his proclamation of rewards…
The Blackwoods and Strahlfangs on the other side of the hall exchanged significant glances. They had already begun coordinating, providing resources not only to Seiya but also to Jin Strahlfang and, more discreetly, to Klein.
Jin was below with his faction, watching the platform with a dark expression. He had transferred to another school after the Goldcrest revolt problem.
His family had lost their older brother, the heir, so now he stood at the front of the succession line. The weight of that responsibility showed in the tension of his shoulders, the way his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. His family had been severely fined for supporting the Goldcrests as well, but they remained prominent despite the monetary losses because they had many people, extensive networks built over generations.
Their Blackwood and Zhao allies were in similar situations, fined but not destroyed. Money could be rebuilt. Influence, carefully maintained, could weather storms.
But the Galeharts hadn’t suffered such losses. With so many opportunistic allies behind them, the united front was becoming powerful again. In the absence of the King and Sirius, the princes’ and Selphira’s powers were evenly matched against those of so many coordinated noble houses.
And it would be a political battle… because everyone knew this wasn’t the time for internal wars. The mutants kept lurking, attacking occasionally, seeming to search for an opening, measuring forces, preparing a possible second invasion.
But noble politics didn’t stop for external threats. They never did.
The “best match” was Seiya, with his newly consolidated status and extensive family connections. But there were options in Jin, whose Strahlfang family maintained significant power despite their losses. And with less hope invested in him, but still being considered as a political tool… Klein.
Klein, whose inheritance was lost and could only serve a purpose in ex-Goldcrest territory. The Strahlfangs, Zhaos, or Blackwoods could integrate him into their families to gain the legitimacy of having the Goldcrest “inheritance”. He was a low priority, but in the political game, even minor pieces had value.
The political maneuvering would be intense this year. Everyone knew it. Everyone was preparing, already calculating alliances and contingencies.
But now that Seiya had received his rewards and descended from the spotlight, there was a more important moment to witness.
Everyone knew the real storm was about to arrive…
“Ren Patinder,” Julius announced, and the name resonated through the hall like thunder.
The silence that followed was absolute. Not a whisper. Not a movement. Every eye turned toward the young man who walked toward the platform with steps that tried to appear more confident than they probably felt.
Ren’s parents clutched each other’s hands, tears already forming in his mother’s eyes.
Lin smiled, a small but genuine gesture that softened her usually stern features.
The three noble girls, Liora, Larissa, and Luna, watched him with expressions of pride, affection, and something deeper that made their own hearts race.
And then Julius began speaking, and the hall understood why this moment was different from any other in the ceremony’s history.
“Ren Patinder’s contributions,” Julius began, his voice loaded with weight that went beyond ceremonial formality, “they date from before the previous war against Yino, where as barely a ten-year-old child, he developed cultivation methods that improved countless lives.”
He paused, letting that settle over the audience.
“Those methods,” he continued, each word carefully enunciated, “have fundamentally transformed the kingdom’s social structure. Thousands of people who would have remained in miserable ranks, experiencing discrimination and perpetual poverty, now have means to improve their lives. The economic impact is incalculable. The social impact, immeasurable.”
Murmurs of agreement spread through the hall. But there wasn’t unanimous agreement.
“Too much,” an old noble muttered from the back rows, his voice carrying despite his attempt at discretion. “Too much power for someone of his… origin.”
“Furthermore,” Arturo took his turn speaking, stepping forward with commanding presence, “he directly facilitated access to critical artifacts with his never-before-seen beast. His innovations in crystal processing techniques have increased cultivation efficiency throughout the kingdom by approximately thirty-five percent.”
“A child of workers,” another noble added with barely disguised disdain. “Without appropriate pre-education. Without lineage.”
“Suposedly ’revolutionary methods’ don’t equal noble competence,” a middle-aged noblewoman said loudly enough for several to hear, her fans snapping shut with emphasis.
“Thirty-five percent,” Victor repeated, as if the number needed additional emphasis. His voice carried challenge, dare anyone diminish such an achievement. “Giving huge utility to the ’weakest beasts’.”
“During the recent crisis,” Julius raised his voice, commanding attention back to the official proclamation, “Ren Patinder participated in the defense of the southern sector, where his actions contributed significantly to repelling corrupted forces.”
The details were deliberately vague, but Julius’s tone communicated there was much more that wasn’t being said.
The hall had become completely silent again. The kind of silence that came not from boredom but from genuine astonishment.
“Therefore,” Julius concluded, his voice ringing with finality, “Ren Patinder will receive one quarter of the vault he helped open, be elevated to official nobility, with the territory of the former Goldcrest leaders assigned and all the rights and responsibilities that entails.”
The nobles knew the achievements were enormous. Even the most envious nobles couldn’t deny that… But precisely because of that, any smallness was an excuse to remove those rewards.
The rewards were insane, enormous.
A poor youth receiving them was unacceptable to the old guard.
The nobles’ murmurs intensified, now more obvious in their calculation, concern, naked envy.
Yet the common people who had managed to enter the hall began applauding. Not the polite applause of nobles, but genuine and loud ovations from people who had been directly benefited by Ren’s methods. Their voices rose in waves, building upon each other.
“Patinder! Patinder!” some began chanting, the sound growing like a tide.
The nobles tried to make themselves heard above the plebeian noise.
“He doesn’t have appropriate education!” one shouted, his face reddening with frustration.
“The ceremonial protocols!” another insisted, desperation creeping into his voice. “He must demonstrate competence in protocols!”
But the applause that followed was deafening. Not the polite applause of courtesy, but genuine ovations that shook the hall, rattling windows and making the chandeliers sway.
Julius, Arturo, and Victor exchanged glances. They knew the real political battle was only beginning. The nobles had more influence in the end on what would happen, regardless of how strong popular support was.
But it felt good…
Ren’s parents were crying openly now. His mother made no attempt to hide the tears running freely down her face, her shoulders shaking. His father had his arm around her, his own expression showing overwhelming pride and disbelief that this was really their son being honored this way.
Ren stood on the platform, trying to process everything while the sound of applause enveloped him. It was surreal. It was overwhelming. His ears rang with the volume, his vision seemed to narrow and expand simultaneously.
It was the moment where everything officially changed.
When the applause finally began fading, Ren made a formal bow toward the three princes, then toward the audience. The gesture was technically correct thanks to Larissa’s lessons, though there was still something awkward in how he executed it… his back not quite straight enough, his timing slightly off.
And the nobles noticed. Oh, how they noticed.
“Did you see that?” one murmured, leaning toward his companion. “He can’t even make an appropriate bow.”
“No matter how many methods he’s ’developed’, he doesn’t have the refinement for nobility!” another hissed.
“True nobility will be his downfall,” another said with satisfaction, already savoring future failures. “This year’s protocol tests will expose him.”
But the common people’s cheers only grew louder, drowning noble objections in a sea of popular support that was impossible to ignore.
The common people kept applauding, oblivious or indifferent to noble machinations. For them, Ren was a hero. A savior. Someone who had lifted thousands from their miserable lives.
But for the old and elitist nobles, he was a threat. An intruder who had forced his way into their exclusive world.
They decided that for now they could only remain in calculating silence, their minds already working on how to use Ren’s “deficiencies” in protocol and formal education to limit his power.
And they had an entire year to find ways to limit him, control him, or destroy him politically.
While Ren continued being surrounded by the continuous sound of applause mixed with calculating murmurs, the leaders in that hall understood they were witnessing not just the beginning of something historic.
They were witnessing the beginning of a war. A war that would be fought not with strength but with protocols, not with magic but with etiquette, not on battlefields but in halls and ceremonies.
And the battlefield had just been established.
But today that wasn’t important. In this moment, seeing this young man who had achieved so much in so little time, ceremonial perfection seemed completely irrelevant.
What mattered was that the kingdom was finally recognizing what many already knew.
Ren Patinder wasn’t just another noble. He was something completely different. Something the kingdom hadn’t seen.
