Al Barrowf's visit was only the beginning.
Over the next few days, more than a dozen nobles, both great and small, came calling one after another.
Some came to purchase iron ingots, weapons, and armor. Some came to offer up their daughters or sisters, hoping Allen would take a liking to them and forge a marriage alliance. Others simply came to make his acquaintance and exchange greetings.
In short, throughout their conversations, these nobles all probed indirectly, trying to find out what the Empire's Emperor planned to do next and when a large-scale war with the northern Trolls would break out.
After all, under the current system, nobles could only gain more land and higher titles through war.
So, without exception, they all desperately longed to see war erupt.
Of course, the prerequisite was that they had to be on the winning side.
When faced with such questions, Allen fully demonstrated the qualities of a qualified "politician." He directly borrowed Sir Humphrey's brand of meaningless nonsense and unleashed it without restraint.
How could these first-generation nobles of Upstart origins have ever seen anything like that? One after another, they were utterly won over by his "art of language."
Some were even completely talked in circles, so confused that they did not even know when they had left.
Standing atop the high tower of the wooden castle, Allen looked down at the bewildered expression on the face of the last noble visitor in the distance. Without turning around, he smiled and teased, "See that? That's the result of caring too much about saving face. Remember, whenever you don't understand something, or fail to grasp what someone else is saying, never pretend that you do. It won't make you seem smarter. It will only make you look both stupid and stubborn."
"Your