Louis heard this and slowly sighed, finally putting down his wine glass, and said with a helpless tone: "I originally didn’t want to do this. I wanted to handle it tomorrow, let everyone have a good drink first."
Then he inexplicably laughed and looked at Joseph: "But since you’re so anxious... let’s do it now."
Joseph was secretly delighted, hardly able to hide the mockery on his face.
As expected, he was a young man who couldn’t keep his composure and was easily provoked.
Just as he was about to respond, he saw Louis suddenly raise his hand and gently clap twice.
Crisp applause echoed in the hall, and everyone was stunned, then the side doors of the banquet hall slowly opened.
Teams of knights, armored and sword-bearing, marched in in an orderly manner, with an imposing aura.
And more than twenty knights stood silently in the hall, sealing off all exits.
The hall was in an uproar, everyone looked at each other, not knowing what Louis intended.
For a moment, no one dared speak.
Joseph was taken aback.
He wanted to stand up and reprimand, but found his chair seemed sunk into the ground, with all eyes falling squarely on him.
He instinctively glanced around, suddenly alarmed.
Unnoticed, he was already surrounded by layers of cold armored knights.
"Louis... what do you want to do?" his voice began to falter.
Attempting to squeeze out a shred of authority to reproach, but the tough tone contained traces of shaky emptiness.
Louis slowly looked at him, his expression not angry, but rather so calm it was almost indifferent.
But his gaze was no longer the gentleness of before, the serene smile vanished without a trace.
"You can take him away now." Louis said indifferently.
Before Joseph could react, two knights swiftly stepped forward from left and right, cleanly and succinctly pressing his shoulders, one hand twisting his arm, the other restraining his back.
"How dare you touch me?! I’m nobility! I’m..."
His voice suddenly rose, struggling desperately to break free from the restraint, he was genuinely an Elite Knight.
Yet he was firmly restrained by an Extraordinary Knight, like a trapped beast jumping frantically, powerless.
His face started to flush, veins bulging on his forehead, eyes wild with panic mixed with screams: "You have no right to do this! You’re abusing power! This is trampling on the Empire’s noble code... this is...!"
He roared furiously, saliva flying, cheeks distorted, somewhat resembling a terrified fat pig squealing.
The dignified demeanor, attire, and noble etiquette he deliberately maintained, all collapsed at this moment, leaving only stark panic and annoyance.
"I’m... I’m the pioneer noble appointed by the Emperor! Daring to touch me is..."
"Shut up." The Knight Commander coldly interrupted.
He raised a hand, precisely hitting Joseph’s neck artery with steady and measured force.
Joseph let out a strange low growl, like a whimper mixed with a wail, eyes rolling back, tongue slightly out, throat choking, instantly going limp.
Like a deflated empty flour sack, with an embarrassing sound of flesh, he collapsed onto the ground.
The leading knight expressionlessly waved a hand, and two knights silently dragged Joseph out of the banquet hall.
His clothing dragged on the ground, boots overturned a wine glass, spilling the wine all over, leaving a disgraceful trace.
The previously aggressive and smug appearance was now just a mess of disheveled hair, spit-stained clothes, and limp limbs, a ridiculous sight.
The entire hall fell into dead silence.
Even the crackling of burning torches seemed starkly loud in this stillness.
No one in the banquet hall raised a glass, no one spoke, even the sound of swallowing was startlingly abrupt.
Then shock quickly spread, the nobility finally realized: this was not coincidental, nor a sudden decision.
This was clearly a scheme Louis had planned all along. Fresh chapters posted on 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵⁂𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮⁂𝓷𝓮𝓽
He wasn’t acting impulsively, but had caught the fish, and was now elegantly closing the net.
"Did he... know all along?"
"Then all those things we said earlier..."
Fear and regret surged like a tide, especially for those nobles who had just sided with Joseph, speaking harshly, their faces turned pale instantly, even their breathing became hasty.
They didn’t even remember what they had just said.
Someone sweated on the forehead, quietly hiding within the crowd.
Others subtly shrank back from the edge of their chairs, like guilty schoolchildren, fearing they might be next to be called out.
The worst off was a young Baron, who intended to take the opportunity to express loyalty to Joseph, uttering some mean words to gain presence, now with legs weak, unable to control the urge to urinate, sneaking a glance downward, his face flushing red, breathing chaotic.
"Did we... choose the wrong side?"
That sentence, murmured by someone in a low voice, was like a knife silently cutting through everyone’s facade.
No one dared move, no one dared meet Louis’s eyes.
The seemingly gentle young man, sitting at the head with a detached demeanor, as if this "purge" was merely a post-meal stroll, casual weeding.
They finally realized that this young Prefect in a black robe, with a smiling face, wasn’t a "young, easily bullied shell."
He knew better than anyone what he was doing.
Yet Louis seemed entirely unconcerned by the pallid, shattered nobles.
He didn’t even spare them an extra glance, merely picked up his wine glass gently, his expression serenely nearly indifferent.
His tone unhurried, as if the previous scene was just a minor interlude during the meal: "Continue the music, continue the dance."
Thus a peculiar sense of discord pervaded the air.
On one side, music and dance, glasses clinking and crossing;
On the other, the awkward atmosphere of the just-taken noble’s cries still lingering.
The absurd, oppressive atmosphere almost suffocated.
But Louis seemed oblivious, simply smiling as he lightly drank the wine in his cup, elegantly putting down the glass, as if nothing had happened.