Rise of the Argentine Empire

This banquet was jointly organized by Saint-Hesse and Klein. Saint-Hesse, with his bulging wallet, was somewhat smug.

This was the first formal banquet he had attended since transmigrating. He had invited influential figures from the military, as well as some peripheral family members and socialites from within the city.

Unlike his previous outings to taverns for drinking and eating meat, this time he was entering a high-end setting, which made him somewhat excited.

The Akralah Hotel was one of Cordoba's premier gathering venues, renowned for its elegant decor. It stood sixteen stories tall,

making it one of the tallest buildings in Cordoba at the time, and an excellent place to overlook the city's scenery, second only to the San Martin International Hotel.

Moreover, the Akralah Hotel's signature tequila was famous far and wide, imported from distant Mexico. Its taste was clean and crisp, a drink praised even by the Yankees.

It was rumored to be a prized item during the Prohibition era. Although the Yankees had long since lifted Prohibition, tequila's reputation had spread throughout the Americas.

Argentina's local liquor production mainly consisted of wine and beer. Beer technology came from Spain and Germany, while wine came from Italy and France. Now, Argentina was the largest wine producer in South America.

Cordoba Province also had a few small wineries that produced local wine and beer, but the taste was not something to be praised.

One could only say it was a little better than drinking water. Truly delicious wine came from the Mendoza region at the foot of the Andes Mountains, followed by San Juan Province, which was not far from Cordoba Province, but the quality was much lower.

He still wasn't used to the wine here, and the bottled beer here was too watery, with a low alcohol content and mediocre taste. Drinking beer without ice just didn't feel right.

To be fair, the local draft beer tasted pretty good, but because it wasn't pasteurized, it was difficult to preserve, and could only be bought near the brewery. So, he could only drink it occasionally. These breweries were mostly located in the suburbs.

The draft beer from the local Vilde factory had a clean, delicate foam and a distinct aroma of fresh hops, with a refreshing and mellow taste. But strangely, their pasteurized beer tasted terrible, perhaps due to the production equipment.

Even ordinary household refrigerators were a rare sight, only affordable to the wealthy, and usually smuggled in. When the weather was cold, it was better, but the local beer was indeed terrible, with a mediocre taste. Although Saint-Hesse could afford a refrigerator, there was no need to spend the money, as the country couldn't produce refrigerators, and smuggled goods from abroad were too expensive.

Only tequila from Mexico suited his taste, with enough kick and a high enough alcohol content. Saint-Hesse's predecessor had a huge alcohol tolerance, claiming to be able to drink two pounds of baijiu without faltering.

However, he usually drank mainly beer and wine, for no other reason than that Saint-Hesse's predecessor liked to save money. His ultimate goal was to buy a house in the capital, but the capital's housing prices were beyond Saint-Hesse's reach.

Moreover, the financial industry had been quite backward in the past two years, which had also led to the backwardness of the real estate industry. There were not many construction companies in the area, and now you could only buy a house with cash. A house in Buenos Aires cost over 1 million pesos,

while a small courtyard house in Cordoba now cost around 400,000 pesos. Therefore, the predecessor frantically made money, sometimes through less-than-honorable means, and was reluctant to spend it. He usually just drank a little wine, and even freeloaded on occasion, but it was harmless.

Of course, this situation would soon be over. The Perón government had already begun an ambitious housing construction plan, raising funds to develop real estate for ordinary workers.

Tequila was not made from grain, and was now considered a smuggled luxury item. Nowadays, there was a great admiration for American goods and the American lifestyle, but unfortunately, the Perón government had offended the United States, and they wouldn't play with him.

Even tequila from Mexico was being smuggled in like crazy, appearing on the tables of many wealthy Argentinian aristocrats, because they couldn't spend their foreign exchange in pounds, so they could only buy some luxury goods to maintain appearances.

For Saint-Hesse, tequila was only barely acceptable. When it came to alcohol culture, China was the real master. Maotai and Wuliangye were the real good stuff. Perhaps when he had money, he could import some, or even start a distillery himself.

About eighty squad leaders and some friendly local families, as well as socialites and celebrities from the city, came to this party.

This time, in order to unite and get to know some celebrities, he had spared no expense. The cost of booking the hotel and the drinks alone exceeded 100,000 pesos, with Saint-Hesse sponsoring 60,000 pesos. If it had been the original Saint-Hesse, he certainly wouldn't have had the courage to do this, and would have felt the pain for a long time.

Arriving at the entrance of the Akralah Hotel, he parked his three-wheeled motorcycle and strolled towards the hotel entrance. The party hadn't started yet, so Saint-Hesse considered himself half an organizer.

So, he did some simple welcoming work at the entrance of the banquet, wearing a high-end custom-made tailcoat, which was well-tailored. His hair was styled into a slicked-back look, revealing his handsome face, with a fake smile on his face as he greeted the guests one by one, showing off a little, almost making his mouth ache from smiling.

The main characters of this party were not Saint-Hesse, but the city defense commander, Little Thompson, and his nemesis, Councilor Champs, his drinking buddy Abel, and some other prominent figures in the city.

The whole banquet had a somewhat decadent atmosphere. There were not many Gaucho captains, only a few, and most of the others were white captains, engaged in a hypocritical social gathering.

Saint-Hesse even bragged to Champs a few times, and had a simple "friendly" exchange.

"Hey, Mr. Champs, I heard your sheepdog is missing," Saint-Hesse said with a smile, looking at Champs, who was meticulously dressed and also sported the most popular slicked-back hairstyle, but seemed a little deliberately pretentious.

"Squad Leader Saint-Hesse, your news is quite well-informed. I heard that Gauchos are most fond of doing such petty theft, alas..." Champs shook his head, pretending to sigh.

After saying a few casual words to Champs, he excused himself to go to the toilet and went to chat with people elsewhere, as if he had only come to tell Champs that his dog was missing, leaving Champs feeling like he had nowhere to exert his strength.

Champs was a law graduate and was very good at arguing. He was a professional contrarian, so Saint-Hesse didn't talk to him too much, for fear of being outmatched.

Saint-Hesse wandered through the entire banquet all night, trying to blend into the whole banquet. This was a considerable challenge for Saint-Hesse, as he was not a smooth talker.

His predecessor was at most a small team leader with limited power, or perhaps just someone who drank and ate with some Gauchos at dai pai dong-style restaurants and taverns, enjoying skewers and the like.

Eating grilled meat, Cordoba's local food culture mainly comes from a fusion of Spanish and Italian influences, while the Gauchos also have some Native American blood, so there's a bit of everything, a mixture of many things.

San Jose spoke with a pure Iberian accent, occasionally making unimportant jokes about the upper class to these people, appearing relatively mature and steady. He finally became one of the focal points of the banquet, attracting the attention of the commander.

Commander Thompson, with a simple small mustache and gold-rimmed glasses, could easily be mistaken for a refined scholar or professor if you weren't told he was a military officer.

Commander Thompson chatted with San Jose for a few minutes, occasionally uttering insightful remarks, witty and humorous, with some unique insights, giving him a somewhat impressed feeling towards San Jose.

It allowed him to re-evaluate this Gaucho subordinate, and the predecessor's perception of the commander as a useless figure was completely shattered. Instinct told him that this was a truly cunning old fox, even though he was only in his forties, and he needed to be more careful in the future.

Thompson even praised San Jose, saying that among so many small teams, he found their team to be the most disciplined and well-trained, and he would consider having him as his adjutant in the future.

San Jose didn't directly agree, but felt a chill down his spine. It turned out that his performance was being watched. He only expressed his gratitude to the commander for his cultivation, appearing very excited, and saying that his abilities were still lacking and he couldn't handle the responsibility.

He also saw several people near the commander, protecting Thompson in a special formation. One of them seemed to be the leader, but San Jose didn't dare to continue talking.

After the main purpose was achieved, the banquet also began its free mode. He took a glass of tequila from the waiter and walked to the hotel's buffet area, where the food was quite sumptuous.

He had been busy all day and hadn't had a good meal, so it was a good time to eat some delicious food to fill his stomach.

The banquet was a buffet style, and the food on the tables was quite abundant, including Antarctic tuna, Pampas beef, Iberian ham, Pallen turkey,

San Rosa lamb chops, French foie gras, North American caviar, all kinds of seafood, such as oysters, scallops, lobsters, and some exquisite meat skewers, vegetarian dishes, cream cakes, sour soup, and some Brittany bramble juice drinks.

"The calories seem quite high," San Jose said, looking at the plate of coarse turkey meat. He ate a piece, and, well, it was handled quite well, and the earthy taste was almost completely masked.

He took other delicacies and tasted them one by one. This time he spent a lot, so he had to eat more.

No wonder these small aristocratic councilors are all pot-bellied. They eat so much oily food every day, it's strange if they're not fat.

Most of the army's team leaders are still relatively well-proportioned, after all, the army still needs some training, and the food in the canteen is relatively simple... even unpalatable. They often secretly go out to have a feast, although this is a strictly prohibited behavior.

San Jose ate some meat in the corner first. Except for the turkey, the other tastes were basically okay, and the nutrition was quite rich. However, he was not used to eating some raw seafood. San Jose was afraid of parasites and missed Chinese stir-fries.

Recently, he has been eating traditional Western and Southern European food, such as pea soup, chickpea stew, pasta, etc., with quite rough cooking techniques. He was still not used to that sweet and sour taste.

...

This banquet was not a particularly formal large-scale banquet. Most of the local family attendees brought their female relatives.

San Jose chatted with a lady next to him. This was one of San Jose's goals, to hook up with some councilors' wives in the city, whisper sweet nothings in their ears, which could improve his status to some extent and also inquire about some small news.

"Mrs. Sias, you look radiant today."

"Mr. San Jose's outfit today is also very appropriate..."

San Jose gradually adapted to the rhythm of the banquet, his expression was not as stiff as at the beginning, and he danced with Mrs. Sias in front of him.

Of course, when a noble lady in her fifties frequently winked at San Jose, San Jose once again decisively refused.

Most of the National Defense Army colleagues did not participate this time, after all, the main body of this banquet was the City Guard Army, and occasionally those who wanted to participate also refused after consideration.

San Jose had a simple chat with most people, inquired about some new information, and stood on the balcony to watch the night scene. There was a breeze tonight, and it didn't rain. Overlooking Cordoba City, the lights twinkled.

This banquet lasted for three hours, and the purpose was basically achieved. At least San Jose's cannery can be protected by the commander in a short period of time. As for the price, it is a protection fee of 20,000 pesos per month. The small group ultimately failed to reach an agreement, and he didn't feel regret.

San Jose left early. Although the Gauchos are his family, most of them are still unreliable. The entire Gaucho group is only a little over 100,000 people.

The wealthy San Jose had a deeper understanding of Cordoba's local forces. It is estimated that the National Defense Army can still get a piece of the pie here, but Commander is not as incompetent as rumored.

It is indeed not simple to be able to sit as the commander of the Cordoba City Guard Army at the age of thirty, even if he relied on some family forces.

These councilors and officials are more shrewd than monkeys and have a huge influence on Cordoba City.

Giving some painless small promises, empty checks, etc., these councilors can do it with ease, without drafts. If San Jose hadn't been tricked before, he would have almost believed it. Indeed, one cannot underestimate the heroes of the world.

The current Cordoba is a place of right and wrong. San Jose, who has shallow roots, still has a long way to go if he wants to gain a firm foothold.

However, if he can cling to the biggest thigh at present, it is not a failure, and he has seen a bit of the world.

Back at his residence, he cooked some sobering soup, calmed down, summarized the gains and losses of this banquet, repeatedly thought and pondered, read a book for a while, and fell into a deep sleep.

This trip to the Akrala Hotel can basically be said to be a failure. Most of the people he won over were useless, and the socialites who came were also there to find rich men. The only real power figure was the commander, but fortunately, he was able to say a few words to the commander, so this wave was not a loss.

It's just that the 50,000 pesos spent was not worth it. He was played, and San Jose's ears were too soft, and he gave the money away in a moment of excitement.

I'm so stupid, really, San Jose thought.