Rise of the Northern Warlord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

The banquet hall had dim lighting, with several gold-trimmed banners hanging on the walls, attempting to create a sense of noble solemnity.

But the ceiling beams were exposed, the carpets on the floor were obviously faded, and the tables and chairs, though decorated with carvings, still couldn’t hide their rough craftsmanship.

The main course was a whole roasted wasteland boar, with a few plates of simple vegetables and ordinary game as garnish.

It was clear the banquet hall’s host had tried his best to display noble extravagance, but in the resource-scarce Northern Province, he was somewhat powerless.

Zachary Diaz sat in the central place of honor in the banquet hall, swirling a glass of wine transported from the south.

Six or seven pioneering nobles surrounded him with flattering smiles covering their faces.

"Lord Diaz, this gathering is truly meaningful!"

A noble raised his wine cup with fervent tone: "These northern barbarians are too bullying! We southern nobles must stick together. Your willingness to step forward and take charge is truly fortunate for all of us!"

"Exactly, Lord Diaz, as long as we pioneering nobles unite, the northern barbarians may not be able to suppress us."

Another nodded in agreement, his eyes showing some ingratiation.

Zachary raised his wine cup and gently swirled it: "Unity is naturally good. After all, they make the rules. If we don’t want to be exploited, we must fight for ourselves."

The nobles nearby nodded repeatedly, taking the opportunity to agree: "Your lordship speaks truly! Rather than waiting for them to bestow scraps, we should take the initiative ourselves."

Zachary held his wine cup, quite enjoying this flattery. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

Most of the pioneering lords from southern Snow Peak Prefecture had come.

This result was enough to prove his influence.

These people fought individually, had no foundation or backing, and were easily bullied by northern native nobles, so they urgently needed a patron.

His Diaz family identity was their best choice.

If he could make these nobles dependent on him, then he could form real power and have considerable influence in this area.

As for those unwilling to submit, he would use schemes to provide "suggestions" to Earl Foss, making these people charge into battle.

On battlefields, sacrificial pieces were always needed.

At this moment, a noble asked tentatively: "Lord Diaz, regarding this Snow Swearers elimination, should we coordinate our actions?"

Zachary narrowed his eyes: "Of course we should coordinate—this way there’s order to who goes first and who follows."

The banquet hall became somewhat quiet.

The nobles present exchanged glances, understanding flashing in their eyes, but no one exposed this on the spot.

No one wanted to charge first, but if someone went to die, they’d be happy to see it.

The person most likely to be pushed forward was Vaerik Tudor.

As one of the empire’s eight great families, Vaerik’s absence from such a banquet was telling.

Zachary was quite wary of Vaerik’s identity as Duke Tudor’s son.

But he didn’t pay much attention to Vaerik himself—in his view, he was just a waste with noble birth but no real ability.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to make first contact with Earl Foss and gather so many pioneering nobles first.

He even thought that this uninvited fellow might have already died in some wasteland?

Just then, commotion suddenly came from outside the banquet hall.

"Bang—"

The door was pushed open, cold wind rushing in.

Vaerik stepped inside, followed by John.

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

Vaerik scanned the room and felt much relieved.

Heh, a trash fish conference.

His lips curved: "What, not welcoming me?"

Zachary stood up, pretending to welcome warmly: "Lord Tudor, welcome, welcome."

Vaerik slowly walked toward the banquet table: "John told me there was a banquet here, so I came to stroll around after dinner."

His gaze fell on the roasted wasteland boar on the table, tone flat: "This is the main course?"

John wasn’t polite at all, casually grabbing a piece of meat and taking a bite, frowning: "Hmm... tastes mediocre, slightly worse than what we feed our slaves."

The air was quiet for several seconds.

Some faces became subtle, others lowered their heads pretending to drink.

Zachary imperceptibly frowned, then smiled while raising his wine cup: "Lord Tudor’s presence truly graces the banquet."

"Gracing is unnecessary." Vaerik casually pulled out a chair and sat down. "I’m just curious why there was no invitation for me at such an occasion?"

Zachary appeared unperturbed on the surface: "My servant must have been negligent."

Vaerik chuckled: "No matter, I came here thick-skinned anyway."

Zachary didn’t want to discuss further, immediately changing topics: "Lord Tudor, since you’re here, why not travel to Snow Eagle City together?

We pioneering nobles from the south must unite, otherwise those old Northern Province nobles will eventually devour us completely."

Vaerik smiled meaningfully: "Oh? Sounds like you want to be this alliance’s leader?"

Zachary’s smile stiffened momentarily, then he smiled: "Of course not. I just feel that if everyone works together, we won’t be suppressed by those old nobles."

Vaerik looked up, surveying the nobles present, his gaze passing over each face before finally returning to Zachary: "Yes, we should indeed work together. It’s just a matter of who charges ahead, who covers the rear, and who calls the shots."

He pointed at the roasted boar on the banquet table: "Like this pig—who cuts first, who eats later—there are rules."

Several nobles exchanged glances, their expressions becoming subtle.

Zachary’s smile diminished somewhat: "Lord Tudor, what do you mean by this?"

"Mean?" Vaerik gently set down his wine cup, tone casual. "Nothing else. I just feel your words don’t count."

The banquet hall fell silent for a moment.

Some nobles looked hesitant, others frowned as if thinking of something.

Zachary’s eyes darkened slightly: "Eliminating the Snow Swearers is dangerous business. Us sticking together is naturally good, so we won’t be devoured completely."

"Naturally." Vaerik’s lips curved slightly. "However, we’re from the empire’s eight great families, of noble status. By rights, we should lead the charge on battlefields."

He paused, his voice carrying a trace of regret: "Or are you just wanting others to charge into battle while you come to divide the spoils after fighting ends?"

The air became even more stagnant.

Several nobles’ expressions gradually changed, all quietly looking toward Zachary.

Zachary gripped his wine cup tightly, his gaze cooling somewhat, but the smile on his face remained: "Lord Tudor misunderstands. We pioneering nobles should unite against outsiders, not fight among ourselves."

"Indeed we shouldn’t fight among ourselves." Vaerik chuckled and shook his head. "It’s just that your methods are somewhat unsettling."

He stood up, casually straightening his clothes: "The wine is good, the food is mediocre, and the people..."

He paused as if seriously considering, then smiled faintly: "Just so-so."

Having said this, he turned and leisurely walked toward the banquet hall exit.

From arrival to departure, just over ten minutes, as if he really had come for a post-dinner stroll as he said.

John shrugged, grabbed the last piece of meat, saying unclearly: "Waste is shameful," then followed out.

The door opened, cold wind rushed in, then was closed again.

The banquet hall fell silent.

Zachary’s face was livid, the wine cup in his hand nearly crushed.

The nobles in the banquet hall now all quietly looked at him with complex gazes.

Perhaps Diaz wasn’t as reliable as they had imagined.