Viscount Foss sneered: "We are Snow Peak's true masters. We've operated here for over a hundred years, we have popular support, the common people remember our kindness.
As long as we endure this winter, as long as we raise our arms in call, everything will return to our hands."
His gaze swept around the seated group, stopping on several hesitant new nobles' faces.
"A southern brat who lucked into his title through chance—what does he know about governance? His little barony is smaller than my stable."
Several couldn't help laughing, someone adding insult: "I heard that though he comes from a great family, he's just waste thrown to the Northern Province."
"Just good luck—born into the right family, picked up military merit, picked up a prefect title."
"But luck runs out eventually."
Viscount Foss waved his hand, tone becoming more relaxed: "I believe outward compliance with inner resistance is the safest approach.
