Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence - Chapter 522 - 319: The Dinner Box (Part 2)
Chapter 522: Chapter 319: The Dinner Box (Part 2)
The table was laden with a sumptuous feast of magical beast roasts, especially accompanied by fine wine transported from the South.
All of this greatly satisfied Camille’s vanity.
Yet his expression remained indifferent, his demeanor intentionally maintaining arrogance.
This was his way of governing as an official.
Only by putting on a superior demeanor could he avoid being despised by regional lords.
Only by making the other party believe he was always high above could he bargain for more advantages during negotiations.
Thus, he coldly watched all this, yet hesitated to utter even a word of praise.
However, deep down, he had to admit: Red Tide City indeed did a commendable job.
Though not as prosperous as the Imperial Capital, nor as grand as southern major towns, in this Northern Territory that should have only ruins and snowfields, building such a city was already deemed a miracle.
It was strange, though, that the contact person appointed by the Silver Plate Commerce Association had not appeared these past days.
Initially, Camille did not mind, but as time passed day by day, an indescribable unease gradually surged in his heart.
……
Days later.
Louis finally held a banquet in the City Lord’s hall to entertain this Imperial Inspector Envoy who had come from afar.
The hall was filled with candlelight, with glass chandeliers reflecting golden halos under the flame.
Red Tide banners adorned the walls, bathing the entire hall in a warm yet solemn atmosphere.
At the center of the long table, the aroma of magical beast roast pervaded, with fresh mushroom soup and beef stew served on silver plates, and southern fine wine undulating with an amber glow in crystal glasses.
Camille entered slowly, draped in a heavy fox fur cloak, his gaze aloof, his steps deliberately slow.
Bradley saluted in welcome, while Louis rose to greet him, his conduct appropriate.
Camille entered slowly, draped in a heavy fox fur cloak, his gaze aloof, his steps deliberately slow, as if the entire hall was laid out just for him.
Bradley saluted in welcome, while Louis rose to greet him, his conduct appropriate.
“Special Envoy, we in Red Tide have awaited your esteemed presence for many days.”
Louis’s tone was neither humble nor arrogant, carrying the dignity of a host without the slightest servility.
Camille nodded slightly, raised his hand to indicate, and leisurely sat down at a side seat at the main table: “Hmph, seems you understand etiquette.”
After several rounds of drinks, Camille slowly put down his cup and cleared his throat.
“By the order of the Regent King and the Dragon Throne meeting, I have come to announce three matters.”
He raised one finger, his tone bearing a condescending certainty: “First, acknowledge Louis Calvin’s promotion to Count.”
He then raised a second finger, his gaze sweeping across the room, like a silent warning: “Second, the territories under Count Calvin’s domain are obliged to cooperate with the supervision of the Inspection Institute and accept the Empire’s oversight.”
Finally, he deliberately paused, the corners of his lips curling into a meaningful smile: “Third, His Highness the Prince will become the Special Envoy for the Northern Territory’s reconstruction, fully in charge of the reconstruction affairs in the Northern Territory.”
With these words, the candlelight in the entire hall seemed to quiet down for a moment.
Camille lowered his hand, half-closed his eyes, focusing on the young Red Tide Lord.
This was what he really wanted to see, how would this young man, who had risen through miraculous post-disaster feats and victories against the Barbarians, react at this moment?
Would it be anger? Resentment? Or sheer terror?
Unfortunately, he didn’t get the reaction he wanted.
Louis merely gave a faint smile, raised his wine glass, and said lightly as if making casual small talk at the banquet: “I will certainly keep the decrees of His Majesty and the Regent King in mind.”
His demeanor showed no panic whatsoever, the candlelight reflecting in his eyes, which were as deep and unfathomable as a dark pool.
Camille lightly tapped his wine glass with his fingers, a slight sinking feeling in his heart—this was not the reaction he expected.
Instead, this calmness stirred a faint unease in Camille’s heart.
However, this unease did not last long. After discussing the official business, the two naturally transitioned into lighter topics.
Unexpectedly, this young Red Tide Lord also had quite a knowledge of fine wines, gems, and luxury goods. When discussing the vintage of southern wines or the cutting techniques of certain gems, he could speak with clear insight.
Camille, initially carrying an air of arrogance, couldn’t help but admit, amid the clinking glasses, that the conversation was unexpectedly pleasant.
The opposite party, indeed, hailing from the Calvin Family, was different from these native barbarians, adhering to certain noble etiquettes.
Louis was neither humble nor arrogant, his compliments perfectly measured.
The two raising their glasses truly resembled “the aristocrats of high society,” exuding a faint air of commanding the realm.
Camille found himself admiring this young man a bit more.
It’s just that these younger ones, perhaps not understanding the rules, required a little “subtle hint” for expected tributes.
Camille laid down his knife and fork, looking at a plate of jewel-like desserts on the table, his tone nonchalant: “Hmm, these northern delicacies… they’re quite sought after in the Imperial Capital. If someone could send them regularly, it would indeed be considered a ’token of regard.’”
As his words fell, he downed his glass of wine in one go, his expression seemingly casual but actually hinting.
As expected, his hint was not in vain.
Louis just gave a slight smile and waved his hand.
Bradley understood, bowed in salute, and had someone present an exquisite dining box, gently placing it in front of Camille.
The dining box was intricately carved from ebony, inlaid with gold lines on the surface, the box separated into two layers, appearing hefty.
Camille looked at the box with a smirk to himself.
Indeed, an understanding of the rules.
His slender fingers lightly touched the brass clasp, pressing slightly, a crisp “click” echoed, and the upper layer of the box slowly opened.
As the lid lifted, a dazzling light burst forth.
On the entire layer, various gems were spread, glittering under the candlelight, as if casting vibrant hues across the entire table.
Camille gently picked up a ruby the size of a fingernail, turning it under the candlelight before placing it back in the box, as if leisurely savoring it.
“Hmm…” he murmured, his tone carrying an unabashed appreciation.
Not bad, indeed not bad, this young Count has quite the taste.
He closed the lid, and slowly went to unbuckle the lower layer.
His actions remained elegant and composed, as if everything was within his control.
Since the first layer was so grand, the second naturally couldn’t be inferior to these gems; he was quite looking forward to it.
With a crisp “click,” the second layer was slowly pushed open.
However, what came to greet him wasn’t the glow of gems, but a sharp, suffocating scent of blood.
Camille’s action suddenly froze, the arrogance in his eyes instantly frozen.
Under the candlelight, a severed head was laid grotesquely in the box.
The blood had been wiped clean, but those eyes, wide open in death, still bore indelible terror.
Camille’s heart sank, his breath erratically disrupted, for he recognized this face.
Before his departure, he was handed a sketch portrait.
That was of the chief responsible for the Silver Plate Guild’s affairs in the Northern Territory.
Camille could no longer maintain his elegance, his fingertips slightly trembling, even his breath becoming frantic.
The earlier pride and complacency crumbled in an instant, leaving only a chilling dread.
His heart seemed to be clutched tightly by an invisible hand, blood roaring in his ears.
Why is it here?
Why is he dead?
How was he exposed?
Cold sweat trickled down Camille’s spine as he suddenly realized a fact more terrifying than the severed head itself.
If the other party could present the head before him, then surely… his connection with the Silver Plate was already thoroughly discovered.
His identity as a spy was exposed.
This realization stabbed into his heart like an icy dagger, leaving him nearly suffocated.
Camille dared not look at the head any longer, gulping with a throat that couldn’t utter a sound.
For a long time, he mustered the courage to slowly raise his head.
His gaze traversed the candlelight, catching sight of the young Count across the table.
Louis remained calm and collected, his lips holding a genteel aristocratic smile.
As if what the dining box held was not a bloody head, but merely an ordinary dessert.
The next moment, he raised his wine glass, lightly gesturing at Camille, his moves elegant and composed.
