"Us again?" Count Grant frowned, "We can't even finish our own battles."
"This time it's different," Duke Edmund's gaze swept over the crowd meaningfully, "After success, the land in the South can be divided."
As soon as these words were spoken, the parlor fell into a brief silence.
Soon followed by a flurry of discussions.
"That's a fine place indeed!"
"Far better than this freezing backwater we have here."
"The Emperor finally remembers to compensate us?"
"Ha, compensate? This is clearly to make us the knife to pare down those old Southern folks."
"But this knife, I am willing to be!"
"Those Southern weaklings, who can they even beat? When the time comes, we'll have to bear the burden."
"Fight if we must, as long as we can get some land, I'll even go to the frontline."
Laughter, whispers, and toasts gradually intertwined.
Excitement fermented in the air, even a few nobles who originally held indifferent expressions lit up.
