The banquet hall was dimly lit, with several gold-trimmed banners hanging on the walls in an attempt to lend it an air of aristocratic dignity.
But the wooden ceiling beams were exposed, and the carpet on the floor had visibly faded. Though several tables and chairs bore carved decorations, they could not conceal the rough workmanship.
The main course was a whole roasted Wasteland Boar, accompanied by a few plates of simple vegetables and ordinary game.
Clearly, the owner of the banquet hall had done his best to evoke aristocratic extravagance, but in the resource-starved Northern Frontier, his efforts still fell short.
Zachary Diaz sat in the seat of honor at the center of the banquet hall, swirling a glass of wine shipped from the south.
Six or seven Frontier Nobles clustered around him, their faces wreathed in flattering smiles.
"Lord Diaz, this gathering is truly significant!"
One noble raised his glass and said eagerly, "Those Northern Barbarians have pushed us too far. We nobles from the south must stick together. It's a blessing for all of us that you've stepped forward to take charge!"
"Exactly, Lord Diaz. As long as we Frontier Nobles stand united, even the Northern Barbarians might not be able to keep us down."
Another nodded in agreement, a trace of ingratiation in his eyes.
Zachary raised his glass and gave it a gentle swirl. "Unity is a good thing, of course. After all, they make the rules. If we don't want to be exploited, we must fight for ourselves."
A noble beside him nodded repeatedly, seizing the chance to agree. "You're right, my lord! Rather than wait for them to toss us a few scraps, we should take the initiative ourselves."
Holding his wineglass, Zachary thoroughly enjoyed their flattery.
More than half the Frontier Lords