Louis leisurely walked out of the banquet hall, the cold wind hitting his face, dispelling the sll of alcohol and the greasiness of roasted at from inside.
He gently exhaled, the corners of his mouth slightly raised.
This banquet was even more uninteresting than he expected.
Zachary Diaz was indeed nothing special.
He thought he could control these Pioneer Nobles, relying on so sweet talk and little favors to make people willingly fight for him.
But in reality? Those nobles’ eyes had already begun to change.
At first, they indeed surrounded and praised Zachary, like a pack of obedient lapdogs.
But with just my words, the seeds of doubt have been planted.
Is what Zachary said truly for everyone’s good? Or only for himself?
Such questions, once in their minds, are hard to ignore.
"Hahaha, boss, you were so aweso just now!"
Yorn quickly caught up, his face full of excitent. "You should’ve seen Zachary’s face, it turned so green it was glowing! I bet he’s cursing you in his mind right now!"
"Oh?" Louis raised an eyebrow. "Too bad though, he doesn’t have the guts."
"Of course!" Yorn nodded repeatedly, laughing gleefully, "After all, you’re a young master of one of the Eight Great Clans of the Empire. Even if he’s one too, it doesn’t amount to much."
He imitated Zachary holding a wine glass, pretentiously raising his chin: "Oh, Lord Calvin, unity is crucial!"
Then imdiately switched to a look of disgust, waving his hand: "Bleh, what a pretender, it’s so nauseating!"
Louis couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
This guy truly knows how to exaggerate things.
Thinking of Zachary’s iron-gray complexion earlier, Louis felt a bit more cheerful.
However, he couldn’t be too complacent.
This was just the beginning.
If Zachary is smart, he’ll try to repair his image.
Might even use this banquet scandal against to further strengthen his standing.
But if he’s foolish, he’ll rush to retaliate against .
"Hey, boss, do you think he’ll send people to bother you?" Yorn leaned close, asking quietly, "The more I think about it, the more I fear he might be cooking up sothing big."
Louis mounted his horse and chuckled softly: "That would be best."
"Huh?" Yorn looked puzzled.
Louis didn’t rush to answer, instead he looked around outside the banquet hall at the knights and soldiers of various nobles stationed there.
The knights’ armor wasn’t grand but decently maintained, their cloaks embroidered with family crests, showing so sense of honor.
But their mounts were lacking, with many warhorses seeming poorly fed.
As for the regular soldiers, they were in even worse condition, with dilapidated armor and rusted weapons.
Not to ntion their spirit, so soldiers huddled in corners for warmth, others leaning listlessly against walls, their gaze vacant.
The guards stood unsteadily, the patrollers moved lethargically, appearing ready to be blown over by a gust of wind at any mont.
Could such an army fight against the Snow Swearer?
Louis shook his head, couldn’t resist smiling: "Yorn, do you think this kind of army has any combat capability?"
Yorn followed Louis’ gaze and imdiately mocked them: "Haha, boss, now that you say it, it’s true!"
Though his own knights and soldiers were in similarly poor states.
But he had seen Louis’ forces just a day ago.
The Red Tide Territory knights’ armor was bright and clean, weapons sharp as new, each warhorse robust and strong.
Even the regular soldiers swiftly followed orders and could quickly change formations.
Truly a world apart from these soldiers and knights.
Listening to Yorn’s praises, Louis gave a light smile.
He knew well, Zachary Diaz managed to win over these Southern Nobles not through strength.
But through their shared predicant, abandoned by their families.
These Pioneer Lords are largely marginalized figures within their clans.
They were dispatched to the Northern Territory not to make achievents.
But as a asure from certain clans to comply with the Emperor’s Northern Territory Expansion Order, and thus abandoned there.
Louis knew this so well because he was also one of them.
Of course, he was now different from them.
Others were sent to the Northern Territory and truly beca pawns.
While he, through hard work and knowledge from his past life, and the Daily Intelligence System, was on a path to greatness.
His father, Duke Calvin, also increased investnts in the Red Tide Territory seeing his achievents.
His lands used to be as barren as these, his soldiers as disorganized.
Yet after nearly half a year of training, reorganization, and planning, the Red Tide Territory army had taken shape.
The Red Tide Territory forces are no ordinary pioneering army, but one capable of battle in the Northern Territory.
After laughing, Yorn leaned closer again, lowering his voice: "Boss, I didn’t an he’d send soldiers to fight you, but rather, he might report you to Count Fos, the Prefect."
Louis snorted: "Report ? Let him, I’m prepared to deal with it."
He tugged at the reins, his tone relaxed: "Let’s go, gather your knights, and I’ll lead you to earn military rits."
"Military rits?" Yorn was stunned, quickly catching on, "Wait... wait! What are you planning?"
Louis didn’t respond, rely clamped his horse’s belly, urging it forward.
"Hey, hey, hey, boss, tell clearly! Hey! Wait for !"
Yorn hurriedly tightened the reins, chasing after him.
And so, the two headed straight for their camp with the knights.
......
Hiro sat at the long table in the tent, his fingers unconsciously tapping the table’s edge.
His gaze fell on the intelligence in front of him, where it clearly stated: "Duke Edmund gathers Northern Territory lords, preparing to march to annihilate the Snow Swearers."
Hiro repeatedly scrutinized these words, a near-hysterical glimr appearing in his eyes.
"Finally..."
His voice was hoarse, as if squeezed out from the depths of his throat.
He then slowly extended his hand, watching his slightly trembling fingertips.
These hands had personally buried his mother.
Countless painful mories flooded his mind, yet he laughed.
Laughed deeply, laughed louder and louder, until nearly hysterical.
"It’s ti, it’s ti for blood debts to be paid!"
However, the sudden cold wind lifted the corner of the tent, the chill biting through.
Hiro’s laughter abruptly stopped, his body slightly stiffening.
A soft male voice sounded near his ear, soothingly: "Don’t rush, Hiro."
He turned sharply.
Inside the tent, the flickering candlelight revealed a slender and beautiful hand gently resting on his shoulder.
The fingertips were icy cold, seemingly without any warmth.
A strange male voice slowly sounded again: "The ritual to awaken the Ancient God of Cold Abyss is still not enough."
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