In the golden hall, magic crystal lamps shone brightly, showing no sign that night had fallen.
Light melodies echoed through the hall, the air filled with intoxicating and luxurious atmosphere.
Nobles gathered in small groups holding wine glasses, chatting and guessing today's banquet theme... though there might not be any theme at all.
The Kingdom of Dawn's nobles were always hosting banquet after banquet with nothing better to do, and even this Frigid Moon couldn't stop their enthusiasm for parties.
The banquet wasn't very large—as it was about to officially begin, only about a dozen nobles had arrived, all middle and minor nobles.
Seems like the banquet host had intentionally excluded major nobles.
The music gradually softened and disappeared, and the nobles' gazes almost simultaneously turned toward the hall entrance.
Two capable servants in attendant clothing pushed open the heavy, ornate doors, and the mansion's owner, Count Vilan Wells, walked in wearing a black formal suit, with golden short hair and two meticulously groomed mustaches, looking quite refined.
But his complexion was pale in a sickly way, with two unnatural red patches, like a carnival clown.
This wasn't because he was unwell.
Among the Kingdom of Dawn's noble circles, only those with substantial wealth could have this complexion.
Because this was the result of nobles without magical talent frequently taking large amounts of magic potions to experience magical power.
Those expensive magic potions weren't something ordinary nobles could afford.
Seeing this count's pleasant smile, as if something good had happened, many people's expressions became more cheerful too.
But some people's faces changed after noticing the lean middle-aged man beside the count.
That lean middle-aged man's formal wear, etiquette, and bearing were all fine, but he was Viscount Roster!
That weirdo!
Using a barren viscounty, he'd forcibly seized the economic sources of over a dozen nobles, then when those nobles came to him secretly, he used magic bombs to blow them all up.
Even now, those dozen-plus nobles were crying behind the scenes!
How was he here?
Curiosity grew stronger, but the nobles' manners meant they couldn't speak rashly, only focusing their gazes on Count Vilan Wells...
"Count Wells, thank you for your wine and food. This is truly a memorable banquet. My friend, you must want to introduce your new friend to everyone, right?"
"Before introducing this friend, I'd rather everyone see this banquet's theme." Count Wells came to the center of the banquet hall and had servants bring up a large box.
The moment it opened, everyone fell silent!
"Oh! My God! Count Wells, how can you put so many magic bombs in the banquet hall! This is way too dangerous for us."
Magic bombs were quite famous in noble circles. After the northern battle, most of these nobles had purchased some to stockpile in their castles for defense.
Precisely because they understood them, they found them more terrifying.
Some who knew Roster were already lost in thought.
Just then, a noble suddenly spoke: "Count Wells, why do these magic bombs look different from what the Coffin-Carrying sells? Different from what the kingdom makes too! Don't tell me these were produced by your Wells territory?!"
With these words, all nobles refocused on Count Wells.
Vaguely, they seemed to understand this banquet's purpose.
"No, these are masterpieces of Viscount Roster's territory." Count Wells still wore a noble's smile, introducing Viscount Roster to everyone: "Compared to those magic bombs the kingdom manufactures, Viscount Roster's workshop makes them more refined and at lower cost!"
A viscounty making better quality than the kingdom at lower cost—how was that possible?
All nobles present showed incredulous expressions.
Until the next day, when they all visited Viscount Roster's territory and saw the assembly-line production in the magic bomb workshop, saw the arrays auto-charging... every noble's eyes went wide!
Magical items could be made like this?!
Magic bombs could auto-charge?!
"By the God of Wisdom! Viscount Roster, your workshop creations are simply... simply incredible. Have the God of Wisdom and God of Knowledge blessed you?! To create such an unimaginable production method!"
Just needing dozens of mage apprentices plus one array to continuously produce magic bombs, with production efficiency much faster than what they'd heard about... In a daze, they could already see a money-printing machine—even coin workshops didn't make money this fast!
Viscount Roster showed a smile: "It's the God of Technology! Magic Conductors, magic bombs, self-charging arrays—everything here is the God of Technology's blessing! I received the God of Technology's guidance... Now, the God of Technology's radiance will also shine upon each of you! As long as you join my enterprise..."
Roster was a very clear-headed person. He knew that as just a viscount, he was destined to be unable to mass-produce, unable to make his name and the God of Technology's name in the coming magic bomb craze!
After all, if he produced too much, other major nobles might really swallow him up.
But small-scale production wouldn't maximize magic bombs' influence. So he thought of a solution: find lots of small and medium nobles to cooperate with, using the funding and influence of dozens of small and medium nobles to rapidly expand scale.
This way, he might get even more benefits, even with so many more people sharing the cake. Plus, the God of Technology's influence would rapidly spread through these nobles' territories.
Maybe a single small or medium noble didn't count for much in this decaying kingdom, but a dozen small and medium nobles together would become a significant force.
A force even the royal family would have to take seriously!
Viscount Roster didn't stay at the scene very long—detailed business needed individual meetings. Now they needed to discuss and think.
If there were technical questions, Mr. Wild Mage was still on site.
"Viscount Roster, looks like your plan is going very smoothly. They'll most likely all join this great enterprise!" Count Wells could no longer hide his excitement.
Viscount Roster nodded: "Thank you for your assistance, Count."
"Don't be so polite!" Count Wells quickly waved his hands: "I'm also a 'shareholder' here, aren't I? If we want to bite off this piece of cake from the royal family, inviting them to join is essential."
"They're all nobles like us who have some interest in new things, have the courage to invest, and have scarce land. This will become their family lifeline. They'll guard our industry like they guard their family honor!"
"I hope so!" Roster nodded: "The more people participate, the more funding invested, the larger our scale, the more output, the bigger cake we all get. This will feed them well."
Count Wells laughed and stood up, his excitement beyond concealment: "To this beautiful era! The God of Technology is truly our salvation!"
"To this beautiful era!"