Pal led the horse forward at a slow pace, his brow slightly furrowed.

He saw refugees in coarse cloth assisting with road repairs at a street corner, while officials indicated the route beside them, but there was hardly any scolding or coercion.

The attendant next to him was equally perplexed, unable to hold back: "This order... it's rare."

"Hmph." Pal snorted coldly, as if to mask something: "They're quite good actors."

Yet he himself noticed that his words were somewhat lacking in confidence.

The Red Tide Knights arrayed on the city walls made him even more uneasy. They were nothing like the typical, slack private soldiers of the nobility.

Pal recognized that most of these knights came from the Calvin Clan, then glanced at his own knights. Born of the same Calvin Clan, why was there such a discrepancy in their morale?

He wanted to find fault but realized there was nothing to pick at.

"How is it possible... in just over a year?" He felt a chill in his heart, asking himself if he could have done the same.

For the first time, he realized that the "Louis Calvin," not yet twenty, might not be the lucky lad he had imagined.

Passing the main street, Pal encountered a familiar face in a square adorned with a red carpet.

Willis Calvin, just finished greeting the reception officer of Red Tide City, slowly turned around, meeting Pal's gaze.

The two paused, after all, they were half-brothers. Though not close, they hadn't reached the point of turning against each other.

"Long time no see." Pal smiled a bit, his tone neither warm nor cold.

"Indeed." Willis nodded, responding gently.

They walked towards the banquet hall, one behind the other, their steps half a foot apart, the conversation barely natural.

"I heard that spring plowing started quite early on your side?" Pal probed.

"Yes, Louis helped me a lot." Willis's tone was calm, "We've set aside three hundred acres as a pilot area, planting cold-resistant rye. This year... we should be able to harvest some food."

His tone was steady, neither boasting nor concealing.

"Oh?" Pal raised an eyebrow.

"The waterwheel and the sowing team were also sent from here." Willis continued, "Initially the villagers were unfamiliar, but Louis's agricultural official taught meticulously, and the progress is still relatively smooth."

He mentioned "Louis's help," with gratitude in his words.

Pal listened, but felt uncomfortable inside.

He had certainly heard rumors that after Willis stationed himself in Snow Peak County, he took the initiative to align with Louis, even planning the fiefdom according to the Red Tide model.

He had thought it was a last resort of "exchanging allegiance for sustenance," not expecting that the other would speak so steadily at this moment.

It didn't seem like he was showing off, yet it was more piercing than showing off.

"Our side is about the same." Pal feigned nonchalance, "The water system on Wolf Plain Slope is quite open, I had people clear the land first. Although the magical beasts are somewhat bothersome... they've mostly been dealt with, and spring plowing has commenced."

While saying this, Pal used vague words like "also," "fine," "about the same" to obscure the situation.

He was unwilling to say that the frost layer was deep, the land unturnable, the people scattered quickly, and they had to rely on knights at night to prevent camp theft.

Even more unwilling to say, the seeds he could barely plant this time were transported by the second brother from the South.

After speaking, he glanced at Willis.

The other merely nodded quietly as usual, without probing or sneering, instead appearing overly composed.

In this instant, Pal suddenly felt an inexplicable sense of defeat.

The more low-key and earnest Willis was, the more it highlighted that he was merely putting on airs without substance...

He pulled at the corners of his mouth: "We're doing quite well too, let's grow and strengthen together."

But what he thought internally was: "Living off his younger brother's charity... isn't it truly shameful?"

Pal perfunctorily made a few more remarks, then the two exchanged pleasantries on inconsequential topics, maintaining appearances. But even until they parted, an indescribable bitterness lingered in his heart.

He was the eldest among the three brothers and had the best birth. Logically, by now, he should be the most stable one.

But in comparison now...

Louis emerged out of nowhere, with numerous military achievements, and today's Red Tide City had nearly become the new star territory of the Northern Territory.

Although Willis started late, he just caught Louis's strong support, and he was thriving, at least with no worries about food and clothing, and the governance had taken shape.

And as for Pal?

The fief was overrun with magical beasts, the people's morale scattered, relying on financial help from the second brother, barely standing, and still couldn't make sense of the land.

If what Willis said was true, then the one doing the worst was him.

The more he thought, the more annoyed he became, and he followed the Red Tide Guard back to the guest house.

The streets were clean, the soldiers orderly, even the young servants were courteous, as if this place was not a newly-prominent noble territory, but an old nobility that had ruled the Northern Territory for years.

This deepened his gloom a few degrees.

Back in the guest house, he flung his cloak aside and sat down heavily. His eyes were dark as he picked up a silver cup, as if to drain it in one gulp, but ended up taking just a sip, forcing out a sentence:

"Hmph... he's merely lucky."

The butler respectfully poured more wine beside him, softly reminding: "Sir, this visit was expressly directed by the Duke as a goodwill gesture... not a contest to determine victory."

Pal didn't respond immediately.

He certainly knew that this trip to the Red Tide was to represent the family's stance.

To admit that Louis was no longer a marginal figure, but the new core of the Northern Territory.

He just hadn't expected reality to be more glaring than he imagined.

He had thought, even if Louis had some military success, it was mere dumb luck.

That Willis was simply clinging to Louis's coattails, wasn't a skill.

But what he saw and heard today...

Scenes of orderly military formations, calm markets, those townsfolk's respectful homage to their "Lord," Willis's calm yet firm tone flashed through Pal's mind...

He gritted his teeth and drained the red wine from the cup.

"Let him relish the moment." Pal said quietly, "To think a few victories can secure the Northern Territory... is way too naive."

But even he could hear the lack of conviction in his own words.

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