The crowd's cheers continued for several minutes, making it seem as if the sect itself suddenly went from just a glorified mercenary company to the caste divined to rule heavens themselves, even though in a practical sense, not much had changed.
Putting the fact that their patriarch had yet to actually break through, a minor detail everyone seemed to ignore in the heat of the moment, even if he did… then nothing would actually change.
Sure, Narmidor would grow a lot more formidable than he was before, his personal strength would reach a whole new level and depth…
But for the sect itself?
None of its disciples would magically grow stronger just because their leader did!
That, however, was just the practical side of the moment. And humans often struggled to keep their societal side in line with the practical part of the world.
In reality, on a scale that would warrant the level of cheers Narmidor was receiving, nothing changed at all. In the grand scheme of things, the Slevian sect of the white eagle banner was still just a glorified mercenary company, a gathering of cultivators and soldiers who could only measure up to the imperial average at best.
But the societal change introduced by Narmidor's advancement was simply THAT massive.
'Just a bunch of sheep… No, a bunch of frogs in the well,' Theo squinted his eyes, watching how the celebration continued to flare up all around. With several minutes passing, it was nowhere near as enthusiastic as before when everyone in the crowd would be shouting their lungs out, but it still kept on going.
And there was a legitimate reason for that. After all, by reaching the soul tempering stage of cultivation, Narmidor reached the very end of the so-called peasant cultivation. Just one more advancement, and he would become a noble not only by birth, by name and by land, but also by the merit of his personal prowess.
In fact, with the gradual degradation of the average strength of cultivators in the empire, a sixth-rank cultivator was already considered a lesser noble by their prowess, just one step away from reaching the ranks of the legitimate core of the imperial court!
That change alone was enough for Narmidor's selection of options to change.
Other nobles would have to pay a lot more attention to how they treated him. Even the sponsors of his sect, while still leagues above Narmidor or his sect, could no longer move him as they desired, but had to contend with his wishes to a degree.
And to hell with the fact that it was all but an empty belief only upheld by those who didn't know better.
For the members of Narmidor's sect, today their leader became someone no other noble, regardless of their rank, could mess with!
"Stand down!"
Narmidor's shout finally cut the lingering cheers short, leading the crowd to calm down and giving the most energetic of the sect members some time and room to recover.
As for the man in question, he just stood in silence on the balcony, measuring the crowd of his subordinates with a warm smile on his lips and a steel-like glint in his eye.
"I know that you've all mostly given up on this place. And I cannot blame any of you for that."
Contrary to all the cheers, Narmidor started his speech on an extremely low note.
"I cannot blame you, because I was the first to do so!"
The marquis struck himself in the chest while lowering his head, as if admitting to a sin before the whole sect.
"But!"
A quick follow-up shout stopped the rise of the unease in the crowd following such a disastrous opening of Narmidor's speech.
"But on the morrow, this all changes!"
The warmth disappeared from the patriarch's smile as he now presented a perfectly determined face.
"We've suffered loss after loss, a disaster after a setback after a bad time. And I'm not going to stand before all of you and claim that the coming times are going to be easy. BUT!"
Narmidor's voice, initially subdued, massively grew in intensity towards the end of his declaration.
"But we are not going to give up! NEVER AGAIN!"
Narmidor's fist struck the railing of his balcony, crushing the delicate marble of it under the force of his fury-powered strike.
"Never again shall we lower the pristine eagle down in shame! And may heavens be my witness, I swear to you all…"
Narmidor cut his speech short, putting on a short pause… that stretched for longer and longer, soon reaching the territory of uncomfortable if not outright awkward length.
"From tomorrow on, the Slevian sect shall rise again!"
For but a moment, the crowd stood silent.
Everyone was tired after the long round of cheering from before. Their throats were in pain, strained from all the shouting. Their legs were tired, exhausted by all the stomping on the ground. And as Narmidor's voice echoed through the air…
"GLORY TO THE SLEVIAN SECT!"
It was just a single voice at first, a cry of a pained soul forced to restrain their frustration for too long.
A moment in which that one sect disciple released all the pain they hid deep down at the bottom of their soul.
"GLORY TO THE SLEVIAN SECT!"
Theo joined in on the cry before the pause following the initial shout could grow awkwardly long.
To have such a shout come from a royal throat… To say that the sight of Theo screaming his guts out stunned everyone - Narmidor included - would be a gross understatement.
But the moment was still hot. The people still bothered by the years of struggle they endured. And now? With the rising of a new hope? With an open endorsement of a member of a royal family?!
"GLORY TO THE SLEVIAN SECT!" This time, the shout came from several throats at once, discoordinated, screamed out in various tones that didn't merge together all that well. Then…
"GLORY TO THE SLEVIAN SECT!"
Then, the rest of the crowd joined in, once again shaking the whole area with the unified wave of their voices joining as one in the chant reinforced by the rhythm of their re-ignited stomping.
'How unbearingly simple they all are,' Theo thought, chanting and stomping with everyone else while remaining perfectly cool-headed on the inside. 'But well, if it works, it works.'
The second round of the cheers lasted for just a little bit longer than the first, a considerable achievement given the wear everyone already accumulated from the first round.
"On the morrow, our sect shall rise!" Narmidor screamed out from the bottom of his lungs the moment the cheering finally died down. "But today…"
Swoosh!
Theo raised his hand just in time to catch a heavy pouch Narmidor tossed his way in a perfect throw straight from where he stood on the balcony.
"Who's better to make arrangements for the feast to celebrate my breakthrough than Theo Valor, the son of our glorious king himself?" Narmidor shouted into the crowd, only to then put an over-exaggerated smile on his face, knowing full well only this kind of excessive mimicry could be seen by the slightly distant crowd. "I just cannot imagine any of those shrewd merchants back in Vistra trying to scam our hard-earned money from him!"