...

Before the ball officially began, Joseph took the initiative to approach Miss Grant.

She stood in a corner of the garden, like a forgotten ornament.

Her dress was somewhat outdated, cinched at the waist but unable to conceal her corpulent figure. Her plump fingers nervously twirled a handkerchief, and her eyes avoided the scrutinizing gaze of Joseph.

She hated such occasions.

She knew she was too fat, too timid, too lacking in the "noble demeanor."

She understood that the only reason she was invited was because the "name of the Grant Family" still held weight, not because of her personally.

"Miss Grant, it's a pleasure to meet you." Joseph approached with a smile.

His tone was as gentle and polite as ever, as if she were the protagonist of the ball.

She was briefly stunned, responding in a low voice, somewhat flattered: "…Hello."

No one had ever spoken to her so proactively, at least not with respect.

"You are the rightful heir of the Grant Clan, an indispensable bloodline among the old nobility of the Northern Territory." Joseph spoke without a hint of emotion.

His tone carried a touch of pity, "But do these people really respect you?"

Her chubby cheeks quivered slightly, wanting to retort, but unable to find the words.

His few light words pierced like needles into the softest, most fragile part of her heart.

"They don't invite you, don't drink with you, don't mention your title… Even though you sit here, it's as if you don't exist."

Grant lowered her head, her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes somewhat moist.

She had endured many years.

Her father's death, the family's decline, her marriage off, and the rejection by her husband's family.

Even after returning to the Northern Territory this time, she was never truly "accepted."

She wanted to revive her family, but she knew nothing, and no one taught her.

"But I'm not like them." Joseph's voice caressed her ear like the gentle night breeze, "I know the glory of the Grant Clan, and I understand the status you deserve."

Her heart beat violently.

The long-lost feeling of being taken seriously crashed against her defenses like a tide.

Joseph leaned in slightly, whispering like sharing a secret, "Join us, and the Noble Council will offer you a seat. Not as a decoration, but as a real voter with a voice."

Grant was somewhat stunned, looking up at him with a trace of anticipation for the first time.

Yet she hesitated, unsure if she truly belonged at that council table.

"Moreover," Joseph smiled faintly, "we are about to receive a batch of medicinal herbs, grain, spices, and rare fabrics from the family."

"When the time comes, I will prioritize letting you manage a share. It's not just wealth, but an opportunity to prove 'I am not useless.'

"Of course, I'm not being charitable." He paused, his tone softening, "It's just... respect."

Grant tightly clutched the handkerchief, her heart turmoil-ridden.

She wasn't a fool; she knew he had motives.

But could she refuse?

All these years, she had been waiting for an opportunity.

An opportunity to stand up again, to no longer be seen as the "pitiful married-off woman."

She bit her lip, her eyes glistening with moisture, and finally nodded, shyly whispering, "Then I will... trust you this once."

Joseph displayed no triumphant emotion, merely nodding politely in thanks before turning to leave.

But inwardly, he nearly laughed out loud.

"The old nobility of the Northern Territory are nothing much," he sneered to himself. "Even if they pride themselves on their noble bloodline, as long as they're ignored for a while, a little kindness and resources can make them eternally grateful.

Grant is just the first brick. Once this corner is pried open, the defensive line of the old nobility's unity will begin to crumble, one by one."

It's with these three ploys

A promise of "you deserve respect," a seat saying "you can have status too," and a bit of tangible benefit.

Joseph almost, like an invasive siege, swayed several hesitant nobles within just two days.

Every conversation was like a strategically placed chess move advancing.

Some nobles, uneasy about their family's declining power, dared not oppose the new order, so Joseph gave them the illusion of "having influence."

Some, financially strained and unable to exploit their own territories, were promised generous quotas through "family support."

Even a few seemingly rebellious old nobles were nodding frequently at his assertion that "you are the true foundation of the Northern Territory and should not be marginalized."

But the most crucial premise for these tactics to work was the silence of Louis Calvin.

In the days leading up to the ball, Louis had scarcely shown up, nor had he proactively hosted any nobles; it was all handled by the butler, Bradley.

Joseph thought that at least he would engage in private conversations, arrange for people to build connections, even set a posture.

Yet, not even pleasantries were exchanged.

It was as if the arrival of these nobles was merely a routine "procedural meeting" he had arranged.

This made Joseph feel both annoyed and amused.

He thought his opponent was simply too weak.

"Such a person becoming a Prefect?" he sneered internally, almost rolling his eyes in disdain.

"What good is governance ability? If you don't understand how to manage hearts and minds, won't maneuver through power struggles... you are unfit to stand as Prefect."

He gazed at the peculiar castle, a thin smile on his lips.

"Do you think letting them see clean streets and orderly military bearing is enough? Naïve!"

"Nobility is not the common people; if you don't give them real power, don't afford them dignity, they will take it themselves."

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