"Of course, next we have the granddaughter of the old Duke of the Brel family and the heir of West Ridge Fort coming to visit, saying they’ve brought cheese and ho-crafted red wine," the attendant quietly reminded him.
"Keep the cheese for the banquet, let them take the red wine back themselves," Louis wearily pressed his temple, his tone not showing much fluctuation, "How many more groups are there?"
"There are six groups today... fourteen groups tomorrow."
"Fourteen?" He raised his eyebrows, "They’re nearly eating into poverty,"
The attendant tried hard to hold back a laugh, "Everyone thinks you’re the Northern Territory’s most promising Lord, wanting to catch up and pay their respects."
In fact, ever since the news from the reconstruction eting that the Count intended to pass the position to Louis, the mansion in Frost Halberd City beca suddenly lively.
Nobility with various surnas, like cats slling fish, all flocked over.
So brought aged parchnt maps, claiming they were strategic secrets they were willing to share with Red Tide.
So carried two jars of strong wine, grinning and saying they are there to honor the greatest hero of the Northern Territory.
There were even those who brought their blushing daughters to pay a visit.
Of course, they hadn’t forgotten to make their words impeccable.
"Co in admiration to see this young hero who saved the Northern Territory on the battlefield."
"Hope that in the future, our North Bay and Red Tide can strengthen grain trade cooperation."
"Heard Red Tide Territory is building roads? I have a few craftsn skilled in road construction..."
Even the titles beca particularly ticulous: "His Highness, the Lord of the Red Tide," "The future Northern Guardian," "The ideal heir to the Duke’s seat."
Of course, Louis knew that if anything unexpected happened, these "friends" would quickly change camps.
Even the old Baron who praised him as possessing the grandeur of a conqueror last night would sign a joint petition in a secret chamber, requesting to weaken Louis’s over-centralization of power.
Not to ntion when young Edmond with pure blood grows up, they wouldn’t even ntion "future Lord of the North Louis."
They would say: "Thank you for helping the Northern Territory during our difficulties, now return to your Red Tide Territory."
So he didn’t accept their friendship now, nor did he give them any promises.
Over ti, as the nobility saw him unmoved, fewer ca.
Yet heaven still sent him an unexpected guest.
"The Sixth Prince has arrived," Lambert reported as expressionless as ever.
Louis nodded lightly, draped his cloak, and as he walked into the living room, the figure was already standing by the fireplace for warmth.
Astha August, the Empire’s Sixth Prince. No battle accomplishnts, no real power, not even any remarkable features.
So privately referred to him as the royal surplus, acknowledged in the family genealogy, but no one truly expected him to inherit anything.
He turned around, his face imdiately adopting a standard smile: "Ah, Lord Louis."
"Your Highness Prince," Louis nodded in return, polite in posture, yet without much emotion.
This was their second eting.
The first was at the Northern Territory reconstruction eting two years ago, where Astha initiated a conversation with comndation, saying he was "remarkably accomplished for his age, truly admirable."
Yet unexpectedly, two years had passed, and their statuses sowhat reversed.
Louis Calvin, twenty-two years old, the Red Tide Lord of the Northern Territory, effectively governing the southeast of the Northern Territory, even the future North Lord.
While he remained the "extra" Prince standing in the sa place.
After they sat down, the atmosphere montarily plunged into a silence colder than Frost Halberd City.
Astha was the first to speak, "Speaking of which, although we both hail from the Knights Academy, we’ve never truly crossed paths."
"Indeed, I was about to graduate when you enrolled," Louis responded courteously.
"Back then, I often heard our ntors ntion your batch, saying it was very steady... understated," Astha lightly coughed, trying to change the subject, "I recall you didn’t seem much inclined to participate in tactical drills back then?"
"...Indeed," Louis smiled slightly, his tone gentle, "I spent most of my ti in the library."
Astha nodded, suddenly seeming to rember sothing: "In fact, last winter I originally planned to visit Red Tide Territory... heard you’re making so, um, institutional attempts over there."
"Welco to visit anyti," Louis’s tone was courteous.
"It’s a pity winter ca early," Astha chuckled, muttering lowly, "This Northern snow always catches one off guard."
"Indeed," Louis maintained that courteous smile, "If you decide to proceed next ti, please let know in advance; I’ll arrange a reception."
The atmosphere was quite awkward, and the two fell into a brief silence again.
Astha’s gaze fluctuated slightly, a few tis wanting to speak but stopping.
Clearly before coming, he intended to say sothing, perhaps ask Louis to support the transfer of a group of personnel, or to send so material aid...
But, as the words reached his mouth, looking at this man five years his junior, slowly gathering the authority of the Northern Territory on his shoulders, an odd sense of sha suddenly arose in his heart.
"Why say these things," he self-mockingly thought.
"By the way." Astha abruptly shifted the topic, "It’s been particularly cold in Frost Halberd City lately, is Madam doing well?"
"Thank you for your concern, Emily is three months pregnant and stable," Louis replied neither humbly nor arrogantly.
"Congratulations... this is a mont worth rembering," the Prince smiled and nodded but didn’t know how to continue the conversation.
Louis also didn’t say another word.
He didn’t dislike this Prince, but he was clear he couldn’t offer him support, form an alliance, or make any vague promises about "working together in the future."
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