Chapter 80
Chapter 80
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 80
Chapter Title: Blueport Trade Hub Plan Launch (2)
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The extravagant European balls we commonly refer to as salons didn't fully take shape until the 19th century.
Prior to that, banquets—especially those in the medieval era—were held with the sole aim of raucous revelry, regardless of whether the attendees were commoners or nobles, prioritizing fun over decorum.
Thus, nobles distinguished themselves not through music, ambiance, or dance, but with opulent dresses and suits of silk and velvet, along with lavish food.
Food, in particular, was seen as a direct display of their refinement and wealth. They would toss handfuls of pepper—worth nearly its weight in precious metals—into a single glass of fine wine, or plate up turkey gilded with gold to flaunt their grandeur.
Of course, even this was enough back then for nobles to bask in their sense of superiority over the common folk...
But true nobles have always craved distinction from serfs and peasants in every little thing, from the way they walk. To satisfy that desire, I ran myself ragged issuing orders left and right.
"Hang chandeliers from the Grand Hall ceiling. Each one's worth 300 gold coins—don't you dare drop a single one!"
"Ice cream must be served in whatever quantities the nobles desire! If we're short on milk, pay the local serfs triple and procure more! I'll supply unlimited sugar!"
"The orchestra must memorize both the original-tempo pieces for when I dance and the slower versions for nobles experiencing these dances for the first time—perfectly! No mistakes, and I'll reward each of you with two gold coins!"
"You're servants, yes, but those carrying food and pouring drinks are to comport themselves as upper nobility. No rushing about like in past banquets—move slowly and gracefully instead! That, too, will captivate them!"
"Every prop and stage element for the performance must be installed without a single inch of error! Your lives and pride are on the line here!"
A count normally wouldn't—and shouldn't—have to stoop to this level...
But this banquet was to be held in the Allied Kingdom's palace, and if things went my way, the king himself would attend.
Even if I wasn't an official diplomat, from the king's perspective, a count from the mighty Elrain Empire demonstrating something novel would surely pique his curiosity.
That's why I threw myself into making this banquet a success—and to claim I'd shown proper deference should the king attend.
For three straight days, without regard for night or day, I directed my retinue and the palace servants to prepare the most flawless stage imaginable.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ On the day of the ball, as expected, a flood of nobles arrived to pay respects, drawn by the allure of a foreign count hosting the event firsthand.
"Baron Sergei Tula. It's an honor to attend a banquet personally hosted by a count of the Elrain Empire."
"Viscount Bisilkof Novgorod. The Foreign Minister insisted I come."
"Count Braif Kirigort. It's been decades since an imperial count last visited—we're all eager."
I greeted them all with utmost courtesy. Only after this endless parade of nobles did the true heavyweights finally appear.
"I'm Duke Mikhail Vladivostok. And His Majesty will arrive shortly."
"An honor, Your Grace, Duke Vladivostok."
"Your Grace? My domain's smaller than yours anyway..."
I dipped my head slightly and replied with feigned nonchalance.
"Though I am a foreign count, how could I disregard the head of the Vladivostok family, a pillar of the Allied Kingdom? That said, His Majesty..."
Trumpets and drums soon blared, followed by a commanding voice.
"His Majesty, King Sergei Vladimir Basiliev, arrives! Show your respects!!"
Foreign or not, he was a king of a nation, so I knelt on one knee and bowed deeply, just as I would before the Elrain Emperor.
After several dozen seconds of homage, the king halted before me and spoke.
"Rise, Count of Elrain."
I lifted my gaze to meet his.
The king, with his impressively long beard and hair, wore a Northern Alliance-style suit with wide silk sleeves.
"An honor, Your Majesty."
"This banquet lives up to the hype? The Foreign Minister built it up quite a bit."
I clapped loudly enough for the door guards to hear.
"Your Majesty, this humble banquet is my offering. Please enjoy."
With that, the grand ballroom doors creaked open.
Chandeliers of gold and silver gleamed like stars on the ceiling. Ornate paintings, gilded pillars, and walls shimmered with subtle opulence.
Marble tables bore silver- and gold-plated finery, and at the far end sat a throne for the king.
Moments later, the orchestra I hired struck up elegant melodies.
The Northern nobles gasped in awe.
"Was the palace ballroom always this magnificent?"
"It's like the heavens from scripture..."
I addressed the stunned crowd.
"Stewards will soon guide you to your seats. Please take your places."
Stewards emerged shortly after to escort the throng of nobles, directing each according to rank and station with the poise I'd drilled into them.
Next, dishes were served in sequence.
Distilled spirits to whet the appetite first, followed by sauce-drizzled fried tofu, then appetizers: grilled salmon, shashlik lamb, and rich cheese.
The reactions exceeded even my wildest hopes.
"These fork and knife things are a hoot. Way better than hacking at food with a crude blade and skewer!"
"What are you saying, Baron? Drinking before eating warms the body just right."
"This ambiance... Even plain fare feels like a 20-gold-coin feast with the music."
"Tofu, was it? Made from beans, yet meaty, nutty, and melts so smoothly. My aging mother would love it."
Finally, I presented the desserts—the true value creators—while glancing toward the king.
"My County of Kroitel offers even more noble-worthy delicacies for sale. Now, savor the finale to your meal. Enjoy."
Identical desserts arrived for the king and all nobles alike.
Rich milk ice cream, pudding, macarons, a slice of fresh cream cake, and a non-alcoholic cocktail blending lemon and peach.
Served in fine glassware and bowls, they vanished eagerly before the nobles' enthusiasm.
"Unbelievable! So cold and sweet, melting on the tongue like a baby's skin..."
"That crisp sound as it crunches, then nutty sweetness flooding the mouth... Who knew?"
"It just touches the lips—no chewing—and dissolves like warm snow..."
"Lemon's tartness and peach's sweetness in perfect harmony... Like summer in a glass."
Soon after, the king—who'd remained silent throughout—spoke in admiration.
"Served in the perfect order to maximize enjoyment, ending with sweet bliss to sate the soul... I've never dined so happily."
Hearing that, despite the program not being over, I knew the ball was a triumph.
The king, representing all nobles with his stern judgment and tight lips, had given his seal of approval.
No noble would dare reject it harshly now; they'd bend over backward to embrace it.
I offered the Northern king my genuine thanks.
"My gratitude, Your Majesty. But much remains—please enjoy the rest."
I clapped sharply, signaling silken curtains to drop from the hall's center.
Actors in theatrical costumes emerged from behind.
The lead, playing Major Frost—the highest-ranking figure—bowed deeply to the nobles and began.
"I am William. Tonight's performance depicts the honorable soldiers under Count Kroitel: Major Frost and Ensign Mark in the Battle of Sternheim. Let's begin."
Actors swiftly took the stage in changed attire.
Mark and Frost were distinguished by unique helmet plumes; others by distinctive makeup.
The play commenced.
It told of Mark and Frost, with a mere 5,000 infantry blessed by God Deus, slaying 2,000 knights, earning my recognition: serfs elevated to petty nobility, bastards to knighthood.
A tale drawn from chivalric literature, where even serfs under honorable lords gain domains through merit.
As the play started, palace servants silently refilled cups with juice.
Mark and Frost's actors launched into the scene.
"Major Frost! Our troops tremble in fear, while the enemy knights' morale soars sky-high."
"Calm yourself, Mark! Their morale may pierce the heavens, but their lord lacks honor. We shall never fall to the dishonorable. Rally the men—our commander leads from the vanguard himself..."
I'd vetted the script, but seeing the actors ham it up with adolescent bravado was cringeworthy.
From the troops' view, though, it rang true enough...
Reactions varied wildly.
Some teared up, others gaped in awe, many silently cheered Mark and Frost...
The play pressed on.
In the wagon fort scene repelling knight charges, flimsy paper "horses" tore on impact. Mounted knights and blocking infantry delivered vivid drama.
"Hold the enemy charge! Don't let them plunder our allies!!"
"Kill the Kroitel scum! Seize his riches for ourselves!! Long live Lord Schwein!!"
"Argh!!"
That actor flew back in Hollywood-style flair upon "impact."
The climax neared. Finally, the actor as me held aloft Schwein's severed head, intoning solemnly.
"Count Schwein, to perish so vainly. A pitiable soul indeed. By my honor as knight and noble, I swear to spare your kin. Your dishonor stains not your family."
The actor-as-me handed a dagger to Mark and my own sword to Frost, ending the play.
As actors bowed, thunderous applause erupted.
"Bravo!!"
"Incredible! Even serving a lord stripped of honor, knights fell to soldiers under an honorable one!"
"Frost, a mere company commander, showed knightly promise—and the count spotted it! Brilliant!"
"Charging with his banner to behead the enemy count himself! Such honor and valor!!"
I was thrilled they'd embraced our tale so fully, yet a strange twinge lingered.
Truth was, I'd just picked off exhausted knights—no grand duels like in the play.
Soon, the king rose, clapped twice, and declared.
"Splendid! A banquet beyond our imagining. Count Kroitel, join me for the North's finest spirits and tales of your wars?"
On the surface, merely a king eager for war stories.
But his eyes burned with desire for this banquet's culture, cuisine, and value.
Half my plans had already succeeded—I felt it.
My mouth nearly split to my ears, but I composed myself.
"To share Your Majesty's spirits is an honor passed down through my line."