The inauguration banquet for Louis Calvin as prefect and the first council of Snow Peak County will be held in Red Tide Territory.

As soon as the news spread, nobles from all directions began their journeys early, heading to this newly established noble's fief.

They each had their own calculations, aiming to gain more benefits for themselves.

Last year, this region of Snow Peak County had just finished a war, followed by the long winter of the Northern Territory…

Logically, everything should have been a mess.

But as soon as they set foot in Red Tide Territory, everyone fell into collective silence.

This was way beyond expectations, right?

They initially imagined a scene of ruined houses and smoke, but what lay before them were neat stone roads, streets so clean they reflected people's images, even the trees planted by the roadside were neatly aligned.

"Did we… take the wrong road?" a southern baron mumbled while holding onto his saddle.

"Are you kidding me? If this is post-war wasteland, then wouldn't our own fief be a primeval forest?"

Another Northern lord spoke with gritted teeth, though his eyes couldn't help but wander to the orderly villages.

Farmers were plowing fields, children with books ran into simple schools, and a notice board in the residential area stated "This month's grain distribution standard."

The nobles were completely silent; their fiefs were still worried about the lack of grain in spring, yet this place had already started distributing food?

Occasionally, patrolling cavalry passed by, with bright armor and tidy steps, clearly knights with fighting energy, not a hastily assembled army. The sound of their capes fluttering gave off a sense of oppression just by standing there.

It didn't feel like they were welcoming the nobles but rather showcasing their strength.

Some clicked their tongues, some frowned, and more secretly gritted their teeth.

Red Tide Territory, not like a newly risen war zone fief, but more like… a well-functioning, strictly disciplined "new lord regime."

Especially the heirs of a few long-established Northern lords, who barely spoke a word along the way.

It wasn't that they didn't want to speak, but they couldn't find the words.

A year or two ago, some of them had been here and saw what this place looked like with their own eyes.

This was once land scorched by war, villages destroyed, even tree bark peeled off by natives to eat—a wasteland.

There was simply no nobility willing to put in the effort to develop it.

But now?

Walking on smooth, clean roads, they could even see newly repaired irrigation canals, with guards standing watch by the granaries.

Even the expressions on the commoners' faces were not that kind of "just grateful to be alive" numbness, but rather… an indescribable calm.

"This doesn't make sense…" a baron murmured softly, "Even if there was money, it's impossible to turn the Northern Territory into this within such a short time."

But regardless of belief, the facts were before their eyes.

Originally, they thought as local Northern lords, it was only natural they understood this land better than that youth who rose through battle achievements.

Yet at this moment, that sense of superiority began to crumble.

It truly felt like cavemen witnessing high-rise buildings, electric lights, and running water for the first time.

"This is… a complete transformation." A baron looked on with a complex expression.

And what shamed them the most was that this was all done by Louis, an "outsider."

......

Joseph Kadari sat in a carriage, watching the scenery of Red Tide Territory flash by outside the window, his eyes deepened.

No matter where he looked, this place did not resemble a land that had endured war; instead, it resembled a core fief that had been stable for years.

He slowly furrowed his brows, "This Louis seems stronger than I imagined."

He didn't want to admit it, but it was the truth.

The order and prosperity of this land had been his own goal for a "Three-Year Plan."

A nineteen-year-old youth achieved it in one year?

He was silent for a moment, then lightly smiled, though his tone carried a self-consoling confidence:

"Managing a fief well is just the entry point. To be a noble, one needs influence, connections, a strategic perspective… to understand how to play politics."

No matter how well he does, a 'boy of battle achievements' who doesn't understand interacting with the nobility will eventually be isolated and hollowed out."

Raised between the great lords of the Southwest, he was well-aware of the warm water boiling frog approach in political maneuvering.

Power is never seized outright but gradually stripped away.

Joseph soon put on a gentle and sincere smile, beginning the phase of quietly persuading the nobles, formally entering the "under-the-table operation" phase.

He proposed multiple "Commandery Princess suggestions," each sounding righteous and dignified.

He even made others feel as though he was lightening Louis's burden.

"The governance of the province should embody the spirit of co-rule by the nobility. I suggest establishing the 'Noble Council of Snow Peak County,' where we jointly discuss major issues for more stability."

"Military and political nominations should also be cautious; important positions should be nominated by the council and approved by the prefect, for double checks to prevent excessive concentration of power."

"With Snow Peak County bordering the Snow Swearers' territory, the risk of war is ever-present. It would be better to set up an 'emergency grain storage center' managed by us nobles to share the prefect's pressure."

On the surface, he was sharing responsibilities, collectively seeking stability.

In reality, every step was intended to undermine Louis's power.

Entrusting personnel, food, and administration to the council, eventually turning the young prefect into a powerless 'mascot.'

As for the resource bait?

Joseph was well-prepared.

The Silver Plate Guild had already agreed to several batches of support with grain and gold coins…

He had plenty to 'make a cake.'

Joseph's lips curled slightly, his eyes full of calculation: "Once this group takes the first bite, they won't be willing to let go."

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