"Of course. Next are the old marquis of House Bray's granddaughter and the heir to West Ridge Castle. They say they've brought cheese and homemade red wine," the attendant reminded him quietly.
"Keep the cheese for the banquet. Let them take the wine back." Louis wearily rubbed his temples, his voice flat. "How many more parties?"
"Six more today... fourteen tomorrow."
"Fourteen?" He raised an eyebrow. "They're practically eating me out of house and home."
The attendant struggled to suppress a smile. "Everyone considers you the most promising lord in the Northern Frontier. They want to pay their respects."
In fact, ever since word had spread that the count intended to pass his position to Louis at the reconstruction conference, Louis's residence in Frost Glaive City had suddenly become bustling.
Nobles of every surname had flocked over like cats catching the scent of fish.
Some brought old parchment maps, claiming they contained strategic secrets they were willing to share with Red Tide.
Some carried two jars of wine of dubious provenance but undeniable potency, grinning as they offered to welcome home the Northern Frontier's greatest hero.
Some even brought their blushing daughters to visit.
Of course, none of them forgot to make their words sound impeccable.
"We came after hearing of your reputation, to meet the young hero who saved the Northern Frontier on the battlefield."
"We hope North Bay and Red Tide can strengthen their cooperation in the grain trade."
"I hear the Red Tide Fief is building roads? I have several craftsmen who are very skilled at road construction..."
Even their forms of address became exceptionally elaborate: "Your Highness, Lord of Red Tide," "the future protector of the Northern Frontier," "the ideal successor to the Governor's seat."
Of course, Louis knew that at the first sign of trouble,