FL - Chapter 55: A Gathering of Misfits

Dim yellow light filled the banquet hall. Gold-trimmed banners hung from the walls, an attempt to create the solemn grandeur expected of the nobility.

Yet bare wooden beams crossed the ceiling, and the carpet had faded with age. The tables and chairs bore carved decorations, but their poor craftsmanship was impossible to hide.

The main course was a whole roasted Wildland Boar, accompanied by a few platters of simple vegetables and common game.

The host had clearly done his best to display noble luxury, but the resource-starved Northlands left him with little to work with.

Zachary Diaz sat at the head of the hall, swirling a glass of wine shipped from the south.

Six or seven colonization lords crowded around him, their faces covered in ingratiating smiles.

"Lord Diaz, this gathering is truly important!"

One noble raised his cup, his voice full of enthusiasm. "Those northern barbarians have pushed us too far. We southern nobles must stand together. Your willingness to take charge is a blessing to us all!"

"Exactly, Lord Diaz," another agreed, naked flattery in his eyes. "If we colonization nobles unite, even the northern brutes won't find it so easy to suppress us."

Zachary raised his glass and gave it a gentle swirl. "Unity is certainly a good thing. The northerners make the rules, after all. If we don't want them squeezing us dry, we'll have to fight for our share."

The noble beside him seized the chance to chime in. "Well said, my lord! Better to take matters into our own hands than wait for them to throw us scraps."

Zachary savored their praise.

More than half the colonization lords in southern Snowpeak County had gathered here.

That turnout alone proved his influence.

These men were isolated. They had no local roots and no one to support them, which made them easy targets for the northern houses. What they needed most was a powerful patron.

As a member of House Diaz, Zachary was the obvious choice.

If he made these nobles his followers, they would become a real political force, giving him genuine influence in the region.

As for anyone who refused to obey, he could make a few "suggestions" to Count Firth and have them placed in the vanguard.

Every battlefield needed its sacrifices.

One noble ventured a question. "Lord Diaz, should we coordinate our forces during the campaign against the Snowsworn?"

Zachary narrowed his eyes. "Of course. We need an orderly arrangement to decide who advances first and who remains behind."

The hall fell quiet.

The nobles exchanged knowing glances, but no one said aloud what they all understood.

None of them wanted to charge first. If someone else could be sent to die in their place, they would gladly stand back and watch.

Louis Calvin was the man most likely to be forced into the vanguard.

The absence of another scion of the Empire's Eight Great Houses from such a gathering said everything.

Zachary was deeply wary of Louis's identity as Duke Calvin's son.

He had little regard for Louis himself. In Zachary's eyes, Louis was a useless nobleman with an illustrious birth and no ability.

Otherwise, why had Zachary been the first to contact Count Firth and rally so many colonization lords?

Perhaps the uninvited fool had already died in some barren corner of the wilderness.

At that moment, a commotion sounded outside the hall.

Bang!

The doors swung open, and a blast of freezing wind swept inside.

Louis strode through the entrance with Jon behind him.

The nobles froze. Zachary was the most startled of all, but he recovered quickly and arranged his face into an elegant smile.

Louis looked around the room and felt relieved.

*So it really is just a gathering of misfits.*

The corner of his mouth curled upward. "What is it? Aren't I welcome?"

Zachary rose and greeted him with feigned warmth. "Lord Calvin! Welcome."

Louis strolled toward the banquet table. "Jon told me about the banquet, so I thought I'd stop by after supper."

His gaze landed on the roasted Wildland Boar. "This is the main course?"

Jon made no attempt to be polite. He picked up a piece of meat and bit into it, then frowned. "Mediocre. A little worse than what we feed our slaves."

The room went silent.

Some nobles' expressions turned awkward. Others lowered their heads and pretended to drink.

Zachary's brow twitched, but he recovered with a smile and raised his glass. "Your presence brings honor to this banquet, Lord Calvin."

"Honor might be overstating it." Louis pulled out a chair and sat down. "I was simply curious why I never received an invitation to a gathering like this."

Zachary's face remained calm. "My servants must have been careless."

Louis chuckled. "No matter. My skin is thick enough to invite myself."

Zachary had no desire to linger on the subject. "Since you're here, Lord Calvin, why don't you travel with us to Snowhawk City?

"We colonization nobles from the south must stand together. Otherwise, the old northern houses will devour us, bones and all."

Louis tilted his head, a faint smile on his lips. "It sounds like you intend to lead this alliance."

Zachary's smile stiffened for a moment before he laughed. "Of course not. I only believe we must combine our strength if we want to avoid being suppressed by the old houses."

Louis looked over the assembled nobles, studying them one by one before returning his attention to Zachary. "You're right. We do need to combine our strength. The question is who leads the charge, who protects the rear, and who gives the orders."

He pointed at the roasted boar. "Even with this pig, there are rules about who makes the first cut and who gets to eat first."

Several nobles exchanged glances, their expressions shifting.

Zachary's smile faded. "What exactly are you implying, Lord Calvin?"

"Implying?" Louis set down his cup, his tone casual. "Nothing complicated. I'm saying you don't get to decide."

The hall went silent again.

Some nobles looked uncertain. Others frowned as they began to reconsider their assumptions.

Zachary's gaze darkened. "Exterminating the Snowsworn will be dangerous. Banding together benefits all of us and prevents our enemies from picking us off one by one."

"Of course." Louis's mouth curved into a smile. "But as members of the Empire's Eight Great Houses, men of our noble status should lead from the front, shouldn't we?"

He paused, feigning regret. "Or do you want everyone else to fight while you wait until the battle ends and claim your share of the spoils?"

The air in the hall turned heavy.

The nobles' expressions changed, and their gazes slid toward Zachary.

Zachary tightened his grip on the wineglass. His eyes cooled, though his smile remained. "You misunderstand me, Lord Calvin. We colonization nobles should unite against our common enemies, not fight among ourselves."

"You're right. We shouldn't fight among ourselves." Louis shook his head with a soft laugh. "But your methods make people uneasy."

He stood and straightened the hem of his cloak. "The wine is decent. The food is mediocre. As for the company..."

He paused in apparent thought, then smiled faintly. "Also mediocre."

Louis turned and walked toward the doors without hurry.

Barely ten minutes had passed between his arrival and departure. He truly had come for nothing more than an after-dinner stroll.

Jon shrugged, grabbed one last piece of meat, and mumbled around it, "Wasting food is wrong." Then he followed Louis outside.

The doors opened, admitting another gust of cold wind, then closed behind them.

Silence settled over the banquet hall.

Zachary's face had turned livid, and the wineglass in his hand seemed ready to shatter.

The remaining nobles watched him in silence, doubt complicating their gazes.

Perhaps Diaz wasn't as reliable as they had believed.