Chapter 55: Chapter 55: Gathering of the Rabble

The lights in the banquet hall were dim, with several flags bordered in gold hanging on the walls, attempting to create a sense of aristocratic solemnity.

However, the wooden beams on the ceiling were exposed, the carpet on the floor had visibly faded, and though the tables and chairs bore carved decorations, they couldn’t hide the rough craftsmanship.

The main course was a whole roasted wild boar from the wasteland, with a few plates of simple vegetables and common game as garnish placed beside it.

Evidently, the owner of this banquet hall had done their best to convey a sense of aristocratic luxury, but in the resource-strapped Northern Territory, it was still somewhat lacking.

Zachary Diaz was seated at the main seat in the center of the banquet hall, swirling a glass of wine imported from the South in his hand.

Six or seven Pioneer Nobles surrounded him, their faces full of flattering smiles.

“Lord Diaz, this gathering is truly meaningful!”

A noble raised his glass, his tone enthusiastic: “These Northern Barbarians are too oppressive. We nobles who came from the South must stick together. It’s our great fortune that you can stand up and lead us!”

“Absolutely, Lord Diaz. As long as we Pioneer Nobles unite, the Northern Barbarians might not necessarily be able to suppress us.”

Another nodded in agreement, with a hint of flattery in his eyes.

Zachary raised his glass and gently swirled it: “Unity is indeed a good thing. After all, they make the rules. If we don’t want to be exploited, we must fight for ourselves.”

The noble beside him kept nodding, seizing the chance to agree: “You’re right! Rather than waiting for their leftovers, it’s better for us to take the initiative.”

Zachary held the wine glass, enjoying the flattery immensely.

Most of the Pioneer Lords from the South of Snow Peak County had already come.

This turnout was enough to prove his influence.

These people fought their own battles, with no foundation or background, and were easily bullied by the native Northern Nobility. Therefore, they urgently needed a backing.

And the identity of the Diaz Clan was their best choice.

If he could make these nobles depend on him, he would be able to form a genuine force and have some sway in this area.

As for those unwilling to submit, he would use strategy to provide “suggestions” to Count Fos, sending these people to the front lines.

After all, the battlefield always required some sacrifices.

At this moment, a noble cautiously asked, “Lord Diaz, do you think we should join forces for this operation against the Snow Swearers?”

Zachary squinted: “Of course we must join forces, so there is an order of who goes first and who follows.”

The banquet hall fell silent for a moment.

The nobles present exchanged glances, and a knowing look flashed in their eyes, but no one broke the silence.

No one wanted to be the first to rush in, but if someone else went to die, they were happy to see it happen.

And the person most likely to be pushed to the forefront was Louis Calvin.

Being from one of the Eight Great Clans of the Empire, Louis’s absence from such a banquet spoke volumes.

Zachary was quite apprehensive about Louis, the son of Duke Calvin, due to his status.

But as for Louis himself, he didn’t care much; to him, Louis was just someone with high birth but lacking skill.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been the one to first approach Count Fos and gather so many Pioneer Nobles.

He even thought that this uninvited fellow might already have died somewhere in the wastelands.

Just then, there was a commotion outside the banquet hall.

“Bang—”

The door was pushed open, letting in a gust of cold wind.

Louis stepped in, followed by Yorn.

The nobles present were stunned, especially Zachary, but he quickly regained his composure and put on an elegant smile.

Louis scanned the room and felt a little relieved.

Ha, a gathering of nobodies.

He smirked, “What, not welcoming me?”

Zachary stood up and feigned a warm welcome: “Lord Calvin, welcome, welcome.”

Louis sauntered over to the banquet table: “I heard from Yorn there was a banquet here, so I thought I’d drop by after dinner.”

His gaze fell on the roasted wild boar on the table, and he spoke calmly, “Is this the main course?”

Yorn was less polite, grabbing a piece of meat and taking a bite, then furrowing his brow, “Hmm… the taste is average, worse than what we feed the slaves.”

The air was still for a few seconds.

Some people’s expressions turned awkward, while others lowered their heads, pretending to drink.

Zachary frowned imperceptibly, then smiled as he raised his glass: “Your presence, Lord Calvin, truly adds luster to this banquet.”

“Add luster? Hardly.” Louis casually pulled out a chair and sat down. “I’m just curious why I didn’t receive an invitation for such an event.”

Zachary remained outwardly calm: “Must have been my servant’s oversight.”

Louis chuckled softly, “No matter, I came on my own since I thickened my skin.”

Zachary was unwilling to pursue the topic deeper, so he immediately changed the subject: “Lord Calvin, since you’re here, why not come along to Snow Eagle City?

We Pioneer Nobles from the South must unite; otherwise, those old Northern Nobles will devour us completely sooner or later.”

Louis smiled like he had inside information, “Oh? It sounds like you want to be the leader of this alliance?”

Zachary’s smile froze for a moment before he laughed, “Of course not. I just think we need to work together to resist being suppressed by those old nobles.”

Louis raised his eyes to look at the nobles present, his gaze passing over each face before finally settling back on Zachary: “Yes, we do need to work together. But who says who goes first and who stays behind?”

He pointed to the roasted wild boar on the banquet table: “For example, with this pig, there’s an order to who cuts first and who eats last—there are rules.”

The expressions of several nobles grew subtle after exchanging glances.

Zachary’s smile faded a little: “Lord Calvin, what do you mean?”

“Meaning?” Louis gently set down his wine glass, his tone casual, “Nothing much. Just that, what you say doesn’t count.”

The banquet hall fell silent for a moment.

Some nobles looked uncertain, and others frowned as if they had realized something.

Zachary’s eyes darkened slightly: “Defeating the Snow Swearers is dangerous; uniting is still a good thing, so we won’t be completely devoured.”

“Of course.” Louis’s lips curled slightly, “But since we’re from the Eight Great Clans of the Empire, with such a noble status, we should naturally lead on the battlefield.”

He paused for a moment, his voice tinged with a hint of regret: “Or are you just waiting for others to fight and die before you swoop in for the rewards?”

The atmosphere grew even more tense.

The expressions of several nobles gradually changed as they quietly looked toward Zachary.

Zachary tightened his grip on his wine glass, his gaze growing colder, but he maintained his smile: “You’ve misunderstood, Lord Calvin. We Pioneer Nobles should unite against external threats, not engage in infighting.”

“Indeed, we shouldn’t fight amongst ourselves.” Louis chuckled softly and shook his head, “But your methods leave people uneasy.”

He stood up, casually straightening his clothes: “The wine’s good, the food’s mediocre, and the people…”

He paused as if seriously contemplating, then smiled faintly, “Eh, just so-so.”

With that, he turned and strolled out of the banquet hall.

It had been just over ten minutes since he arrived, as if he really had just come for a post-dinner stroll.

Yorn shrugged and grabbed the last piece of meat, mumbling, “Waste not, want not.” Then he followed Louis out.

The door was pushed open, letting another gust of cold wind in before it shut again.

Silence reigned in the banquet hall.

Zachary’s face turned ashen, and the wine glass in his hand nearly shattered from his grip.

The nobles in the banquet hall quietly glanced at him, their expressions complicated.

Perhaps the Diaz Clan was not as reliable as they had imagined.

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