Yurico grabbed Emerson's arm with such force that he almost crushed his bones, and dragged him to the most secluded part of the banquet hall behind the curtain.
The candlelight was blocked by the heavy curtains, and both of their faces were hidden in shadow.
"Are you crazy?" Yuriko's voice was extremely low, yet sharp as a knife. "Going to provoke Paul Gleman now? Do you think my situation isn't embarrassing enough?"
Emerson struggled but couldn't break free. He frowned and said, "Your Highness, you are of royal blood. Are you just going to let a country nobleman—"
"Shut up!" Yurico slammed him against the wall, spilling red wine from his glass and staining Emerson's expensive silk scarf.
"You think I don't know what you're up to? Trying to use me to settle your personal scores?" He sneered. "I know you have a grudge against Gleyman in the Northwest Bay!"
Emerson's face turned grim.
Yurico released him, straightened his cuffs, and his voice regained its aristocratic languor, yet carried a warning: "Listen, Paul Gleman is riding high right now; even the King gives him face. What will I gain by jumping in now, except to make myself look like a jealous clown?"
He leaned closer to Emerson, his breath reeking of alcohol in the man's face: "More importantly—now is the crucial moment for a counterattack against the orcs. If internal strife leads to defeat, who do you think His Majesty will spare?"
Yurico gently patted Emerson's stiff cheek. "Is it you, Wilder, who stirs up trouble, or me, your ungrateful brother?"
Emerson's Adam's apple bobbed, and the resentment in his eyes was gradually replaced by fear.
Yurico stepped back and smiled. "But you're right about one thing—I do need to earn military merits."
His gaze passed over the curtain to Paul, who was surrounded by his generals. "But not by foolish provocation, but by—" he paused meaningfully, "by going with the flow."
A burst of laughter suddenly erupted in the center of the banquet hall. Paul was pointing at the sand table and saying something, and the surrounding generals nodded in agreement.
Yurico watched this scene with a smirk: "Just you wait, Emerson! True nobles know when to be patient and when to reap the rewards."
He shoved the empty glass into Emerson's hand, turned and walked toward the lights where laughter and chatter filled the air, his figure quickly disappearing into the dazzling light.
Paul walked through the banquet hall with a wine glass in his hand, and out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Emerson Wilder standing in the corner.
The man's gloomy face seemed somewhat familiar, but he couldn't quite place where he had seen him before.
"Sir," Paul stopped and politely raised his glass, "have we met before?"
Emerson's fingers clenched the wine glass tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.
His chest felt like it was going to explode—that damned Gleyman couldn't even remember his face?!
The humiliation of being captured in the war of tyrants was so insignificant in the eyes of the enemy.
"My lord, you are a man of great importance and busy with many matters," Emerson said, forcing a stiff smile as he suppressed his anger. "I am Emerson Wilder, and I once served under Maltz Kent."
He paused, his voice deliberately calm, "Thanks to your 'care,' I was captured in the final battle."
Paul's expression froze for a moment, and then he remembered who the person in front of him was—the young nobleman who was still very arrogant when he surrendered.
"Ah…" Paul laughed awkwardly, raising his glass to cover his embarrassment. "Now that we are all united under His Majesty the King, let's let bygones be bygones."
Emerson nodded slightly, his smile growing even brighter. "Of course, Your Excellency is right." But his eyes were as cold as ice. "For the future of Aldo."
As the two clinked glasses, the crisp sound of their crystal glasses striking each other carried a hint of suppressed hostility in Paul's voice. He simply smiled gently, turned, and walked toward the other guests, as if it were nothing more than a trivial incident.
Emerson stared at Paul's retreating figure, downed the drink in his glass in one gulp, swallowing not fine wine, but poisoned hatred.
He looked down at the empty wine glass, a cold smile playing on his lips—vanished like smoke? No, some hatreds only fester and grow stronger with time.
His experience of being captured and imprisoned by the Alda army made him the object of ridicule in his own circle for a long time, and even his family no longer valued him as much as before, which was a great blow to the proud Emerson.
...
The counterattack against the orcs has begun!
The red flags of the Northwest Legion and the golden flags of the Crystal Legion swept across the loess land like a tide under the sun's rays.
The six armies maintained precise spacing, advancing eastward like a sophisticated machine. Accompanied by artillery, the infantry marched in columns, while cavalry patrolled the flanks. Upon encountering the enemy, the army immediately changed formation, advancing towards them while firing from a wide array.
Following them was a massive logistics convoy, continuously supplying provisions to the advancing army like blood. The four-wheeled trucks manufactured in the Northwest Bay had been put into full use, and for a time, the roads behind the army were filled with these transport vehicles with extremely high load capacities.
The six armies advanced in unison, steadily advancing eastward along the loess land.
The orc army and their human vassal forces were in a very powerless situation. The Aldor army was like a giant, moving wall, pushing them forward. Any attempt to stop this wall would only result in them being smashed to pieces.
Town after town was liberated and returned to the Kingdom of Aldor. The local residents, who had suffered under the oppression of foreign tribes, finally saw the day of their liberation.
What surprised them even more was the extraordinary "restraint" shown by the Aldo army that fought back.
The residents were already prepared to be further exploited by their own country's army, as this has always been the case in times of war.
But the Aldo army that invaded the Loess Plateau was so different; they did not plunder their wealth at all, and when purchasing military supplies locally, they paid according to the price, making the trade fair.
"An army composed of saints." Many clergy members remarked, as they had never seen an army so utterly respectful of the law.
Undoubtedly, the discipline of the Ordo army greatly moved the people of the occupied territories who had been oppressed by the conservative regime, and provided much assistance to the Ordo army in its counterattack, which greatly accelerated the kingdom's efforts to recover lost territory.
But this was very bad news for the Orcs, the Orcs' enemies.
"Humanity... is not marching!"
While discussing the situation with Chief Abar, the old shaman Otasi's bone staff trembled slightly, and he sighed helplessly, "It's like plowing the land!"