Just as the sky began to brighten, Viscount Brooke opened his eyes.

He sat up, donned a long robe with a black background and silver patterns, impeccably tailored, the leather wolf-tooth epaulets retained the Northern tradition, steady yet dignified.

He smoothed the cuffs gently before the bronze mirror, adjusted his bow tie, and casually draped a cloak bearing his family crest over his shoulder.

"Hmm, indeed a Northern noble." He murmured to himself, a satisfied smile flickering in his eyes.

Once fully dressed, he stepped onto the carriage with composed steps.

Inside, the carriage was lined with furs, and outside stood his remaining three personal guards, though slightly lower ranked, still spirited.

He lifted the curtain, gazing outside, where the streets of Red Tide Territory were already waking under the morning light.

The streets of Red Tide remained bustling.

Under the dawn's illumination, rows of neatly lined new-style wooden houses and semi-subterranean dwellings stretched along the street, geothermal chimneys emitted steam intermittently.

The roads were all paved, many refugees stood in orderly queues receiving hot porridge and clear water.

Children chased and played by the clay roadsides, while peacekeeping knights adorned with Red Tide emblems patrolled.

Further away, several craftsmen hoisted some boiler apparatus, and a Fire-backed Turtle dozed by the warming relay point.

"Indeed well done." Viscount Brooke observed it all, a hint of admiration in his gaze, "Better than many seasoned old nobles."

He stroked the wooden frame beside the carriage window, squinting, "Able to fight, yet understands livelihood... If only my son had a tenth of his ability."

But then, Brooke's smile faded: "It's a pity he doesn't understand the rules between the nobility. We are not commoners, not these poor souls living off porridge."

He gripped the window frame tightly, his gaze intensified.

Holding military power, storing supplies in the warehouse, pushing influence into a few confidential orders and the Inspectorate's ears.

Even if he comes from one of the Eight Great Clans of the Empire, even if he accomplished great feats, even if the Governor claims he saved the Northern Territory... what of it?

"I am not seeking anything… just some say, a few hundred troops, that's all." Brooke whispered, as if convincing himself, "I am willing to submit to him, truly. But one must have breathing room."

The carriage turned several familiar stone road corners, halting outside the inner castle district of Red Tide Territory.

The black stone gate of Earth Tower Castle remained heavy, knights on duty had changed, each with clean armor and crisp stature.

Brooke recalled his last visit here, during the beginning of the insect corpse crisis.

At that time, he humbly pledged loyalty, handing over all his knights just to preserve his family's lineage.

But this time, he donned noble dignity, brought a joint proposal, also garnered support from many Snow Peak Nobles.

"This time, I will not bow in submission."

He straightened his chest, walked into the meeting hall, steps steady as if entering the stage of a strategic play.

Inside the Red Tide Lord's meeting hall.

Dawn light poured through high windows, casting slanted rays on neatly arranged long tables, iron lamp racks embedded in stone walls dispelled the cold but not the heavy oppressive air.

Red Tide's flag hung high at the forefront of the hall, its sun-designed crest illuminated by the sunlight, resembling burning eyes that surveyed the crowd.

Tables and chairs were impeccably arranged, noble representatives seated according to family status and post-war registration order, name cards written with red ink.

Viscount Brooke sat near the center, his left hand idly playing with a silver ring,.

He appeared indifferent, yet his gaze swept past the guests in the hall, landing on the still vacant main seat above.

That was his true focus today.

Among those upper seats, already positioned were several core figures from Louis's Snow Peak conference.

First spotted was Baron Willis, Louis's brother, also Duke Calvin's son, who entered the Northern Territory a year after Louis, rising swiftly along with Louis.

Next was Baron Jorn, from the wealthy nouveau riche Harvey Clan, whose father was the recently ascendant Count Harvey.

Yet, this young baron followed Louis wholeheartedly, rumor had it they were close friends before arriving in the Northern Territory.

Below were several emerging nobles personally elevated and supported by Louis, despite humble origins, they wielded significant power, all loyal and steadfast.

Of course, there were a few dissenters in the hall as well.

Though they sat quietly, their expressions calm, they exchanged cryptic signals with Brooke occasionally.

These were precisely the "pieces" he had secretly associated beforehand.

And among the two highest seats, sat two young women.

Emily, with elegant blue hair, her demeanor composed, was the Governor of the Northern Empire and daughter of Duke Edmund, also Louis's legitimate wife.

Sif, with cold silver hair, an imposing aura, without speaking her presence commanded respect, though her background was unknown, she was not to be underestimated.

The main seat between them remained empty, the true protagonist of today had yet to appear—Louis Calvin Viscount.

Brooke slightly raised his head, looking at the unoccupied high-backed chair, a touch of mocking in his eyes.

"Louis…" he whispered internally, "I am ready, let's see how you respond today."

Thus scheming in silence, Brooke watched as the hall's clock pendulum ticked closer to the planned hour.

As the meeting clock struck, the doors finally opened slowly.

A gust of cold wind crossed the heavy threshold, ushering in the awaited young man.

Louis's steps were unhurried, draped in a crimson robe, his sword by his waist undrawn, bearing the Shield of the North emblem on his chest.

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