"Of course, next we have the granddaughter of the old Duke of the Brel family and the heir of West Ridge Fort coming to visit, saying they've brought cheese and home-crafted red wine," the attendant quietly reminded him.
"Keep the cheese for the banquet, let them take the red wine back themselves," Louis wearily pressed his temple, his tone not showing much fluctuation, "How many more groups are there?"
"There are six groups today... fourteen groups tomorrow."
"Fourteen?" He raised his eyebrows, "They're nearly eating me into poverty,"
The attendant tried hard to hold back a laugh, "Everyone thinks you're the Northern Territory's most promising Lord, wanting to catch up and pay their respects."
In fact, ever since the news from the reconstruction meeting that the Count intended to pass the position to Louis, the mansion in Frost Halberd City became suddenly lively.
Nobility with various surnames, like cats smelling fish, all flocked over.
