"Us again?" Earl Grant frowned. "We can't even finish our own wars."
"This time is different." Duke Edmund's gaze swept meaningfully over everyone. "When successful, southern lands can be divided."
At these words, the reception room fell into brief silence.
Then came a cacophony of discussion.
"That's a good place!"
"Much better than our frozen mountain valleys here."
"His Majesty finally remembered to compensate us?"
"Ha, compensation? This is clearly making us the blade to cut down those southern old-timers."
"But I'm willing to be that blade!"
"Those southern wastes—who can they beat? We'll still have to carry the burden."
"Fight then fight. As long as we can divide land, I'll go to the front lines."
"Southern lands mean what?"
Laughter, whispers, and toasting sounds gradually intertwined.
Excitement fermented in the air—even several originally cold-expression nobles brightened.
Northern Province land was too harsh.
