CHAPTER 328: CHAPTER 236: SECRET MEETING

Because bloodlines no longer symbolize privilege, military power, fiefs, and resources all require auditing and registration;

Because the Red Tide’s inspection system, Knight system, and intelligence network are even more calm and stringent than they had expected.

They have tried to make changes:

Someone attempted to quietly recall their family’s old guard to rebuild the personal guard camp, but the Inspectorate came knocking at night, and they were exiled to build a city without even taking their saddles;

Others secretly tried to bribe the officials managing supplies with gold leaves, hoping for a few extra sacks of salted meat, only to have their rations halved for three days, and their name posted as "attempted bribery" on the Red Tide bulletin board.

Some nobles even took advantage of Louis’s absence to spread word in taverns about holding a Snow Peak Council to rewrite the rules, only to find their gates sealed shut the next moment.

Viscount Brooke was unwilling to accept this.

He was the most organized among them, having stirred discontent among refugees three times, using the pretexts of "unfair food distribution" and "noble supplies withheld."

He secretly orchestrated a few small-scale mutinies, which, although quickly suppressed, still caused chaos and panic within certain circles.

He wasn’t planning to rebel immediately; he was testing the limits of the Red Tide Territory’s tolerance.

Louis was not in the Red Tide Territory; everything was handled by his two wives and that old steward.

And their methods were relatively gentle, giving Brooke a bit of courage. Overthrowing the Red Tide was unthinkable, but he wanted to gain some military power and distribution rights.

All the nobility wanted to act, but no one dared to move first.

The snow night was heavy, and the fire in the hearth flickered weakly.

The "Fief Draft" on the table was unread, but everyone’s eyes unconsciously swept over the "Red Tide Civil Law Notice" on the wall.

Brooke, seeing the moment was right, softly added, "We just want a chance. A chance to stand and survive."

"Lord Louis is a hero; we all acknowledge that." He cleared his throat, "But now he monopolizes the military power, the granary, and the distribution rights. Where is there room for us in the entire Red Tide Territory? We are not here for comfort; we are here to jointly rebuild Snow Peak."

Baron Harris coldly chuckled, tapping his silver-edged cane on the floor, "Yes, which of us doesn’t come from noble bloodlines? But now, look, queuing for rations like servants."

The young Count Sirius sat with his arms crossed, speaking more vehemently, "Even my father’s old retinue must register and be audited. Does my title of Count differ from a refugee in the eyes of his Red Tide Knights?"

"Enough," Viscount Roland’s voice was small, yet he tried to dissuade them, "These are extraordinary times... After all, Red Tide has preserved us... being too radical, I fear..."

Viscount Brooke smiled, changing his tone, "Sir, we’re not talking about rebellion, just that... if we combine the majority of the nobility at the Snow Peak Council.

Demanding the restoration of each family’s military power, or perhaps... proposing that the Snow Peak Council should have unified control over resources, to prevent Red Tide’s monopoly, that would be reasonable, right?"

"You, with your seniority, should present the petition. It’s reasonable and weighty." He handed over a draft document, his eyes sincere but as sharp as a knife.

Viscount Roland hesitated for a long time and finally didn’t dare to take it.

The atmosphere fell into a brief silence.

Moments later, Sirius cursed under his breath, "Coward."

Sirius’s word "coward" seemed to have broken the last layer of facade.

Baron Harris laughed coldly, supporting himself with his cane as he stood up, walking over to stand beside Viscount Roland, looking down at him.

His tone was so calm it was almost gentle, yet it flowed down the spine like icy water, "Old Duke, you are the living signboard of Snow Peak County. The young ones speak harshly, do not take it to heart, but you should know your prestige is great, and everyone is watching you."

Brooke also smiled and stood, walking over.

He gently pressed a hand on Roland’s shoulder, as if affectionately straightening his wrinkled collar, yet the pressure made Roland’s breath hitch, "You taking the lead is the most fitting. More weight than us juniors.

Besides, this isn’t any kind of reckless act; it’s just ’expressing an opinion.’ Isn’t the Snow Peak Council supposed to have the right to voice opinions?"

Another young nobleman chimed in, "Indeed, Your Excellency Roland, just sign and submit the document. Even if Louis disagrees... it only shows his lack of regard, while we’re merely following due process."

Sirius tugged at the corner of his mouth again, "You wouldn’t want to spend the entire winter in a wooden cabin of the Red Tide, right? I’ve heard they’re planning to prioritize the new civilians for firewood distribution. You can’t compete with them."

All eyes in the room, neither sharp nor friendly, were fixated on the aged Viscount, more like silent hands lifting him from the high-backed wooden chair.

Roland’s face flushed crimson, his mustache trembled slightly above his lip. He knew the impropriety, the danger, the high likelihood of enraging that young Prefect.

But the eyes in the room pressed him, he had no retreat.

He felt a chill at his back, as if he had been pushed onto this stage long ago, only realizing it now.

This was not a "discussion."

But a "conspiracy."

In fact, the direction of this so-called "discussion meeting" had been determined through secret letters and private gatherings days before.

Viscount Brooke was the manipulator behind the scenes, using "rebuilding," "unity," and the "dignity of the old nobility" as bait, knocking on the doors of these nobles one by one.

Their families had either declined, lost land and soldiers, or were receiving allocations like refugees in the Red Tide.

He strung together lines of dissatisfaction, twisting each noble into a single force.