Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

Nora's preparations began with extreme efficiency.

First, several ordinary-looking carriages were prepared. Their exteriors were covered with gray cloth, making them simple and inconspicuous. The carriage roofs were slightly dusty, making them look like old items that had endured a bumpy, snowy journey.

The carriages were filled with wooden crates and cloth bundles, appearing from the outside to be the typical cargo of a wandering merchant.

A "wandering merchant" was a common type of itinerant trader in the North, not relying on ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) fixed shops for a living, but traveling between various territories by carriage, selling silk, spices, medicinal herbs, or other daily necessities.

They would exchange goods for money or barter, drifting for years, almost unnoticed.

In Red Tide Territory, a few wandering merchants occasionally visited, but since Louis controlled the Calvin Family's channels,

Most supplies were specifically procured and delivered directly to the territory.

Therefore, there was little interest in these small, unreliably sourced merchant caravans.

Next, Nora personally supervised the arrangement of more than ten guards behind the carriages.

Their armor was entirely replaced with simple iron plates, in a rustic style, looking more like temporary guards hired from mercenary backgrounds, completely unrelated to noble knights, low-key and practical.

The final preparation was the most crucial step: disguise.

Nora took out a small wooden box and gently opened it. Inside were clay paste, lip gloss, dark red powder, and dyes mixed with a small amount of herbs.

She pinched a bit of pigment and turned to Emily: "Miss, this is for the disguise. I'll draw a large scar on your cheek, making you look even less like a noblewoman."

Emily nodded without hesitation, sat in front of the dressing mirror, closed her eyes, and allowed herself to be handled.

Nora's fingers were nimble as she meticulously drew the fake scar, bit by bit, onto Emily's fair cheek.

This old scar, slanting from her brow bone, had faint hints of red and gray.

She then dabbed dust and grime on her nose bridge and jawline, making Emily's entire face less delicate and more weathered.

The person in the mirror was no longer the radiant Duke's daughter from Frost Halberd City, but rather a tired yet resilient female merchant.

Emily looked at herself in the mirror and smiled softly, indicating her satisfaction: "It certainly looks the part."

Of course, how could all these "secret travel" arrangements be hidden from her father?

Emily knew from start to finish that this was merely a "performance."

She was performing for her father to show her attitude, and she knew her father would likely agree.

Indeed, on the evening before her departure, the old butler quietly reported the matter to Edmund.

By the dining table, the Duke simply gazed silently out the window at the floating snow, then, after a moment of contemplation, a knowing smile appeared on his face.

"Let her go—" He instructed the personal guard beside him, "Have Viktor escort her secretly. Don't let her notice."

So, on the morning of the next day, before the mist had dissipated, several carriages quietly drove out of Frost Halberd City's west gate, silently heading towards Red Tide Territory.

Emily didn't know if the young Viscount was worthy of her lifelong trust.

But she was willing to go see the answer for herself.

On an early spring morning, Louis had already settled into his office, ready to begin his day's work.

He held a cup of hot red tea, with a faint aroma of lemongrass and mint, sipping it slowly.

Beside him, the old butler Bradley, always meticulously serious, placed a thick stack of documents on the left side of Louis's desk.

Actually, this stack of documents wasn't much; this was the norm for winter governance.

Although Red Tide Territory had a larger population, it was still the North. After winter set in, everything's pace was slowed by the snow.

Compared to the frantic chaos of autumn's grain distribution and post-war construction, these daily trifles now felt as relaxed as a holiday.

At this point, Bradley reminded him, "The one on top is the Duke's letter."

"Duke Calvin?" Louis raised an eyebrow.

Louis casually tore open the wax seal and unfolded the letter.

Elegant and neat handwriting met his eyes, so familiar that he knew at a glance it was written by his father's own hand.

As he read, he gently rocked his chair, and the more he read, the more a playful smile spread across his lips.

First, there were the usual pleasantries and congratulations.

"Congratulations, you have finally become a Viscount. You truly are the result of my many years of careful cultivation."

"Careful cultivation my foot!" Louis inwardly grumbled without hesitation, "From the time I could walk until I came to the North, I've seen you less than twenty times, mostly at family banquets."

The second paragraph was the main point: the Duke expressed great satisfaction that he had arranged an "extremely respectable marriage" for him.

The intended bride was Emily Edmond, the beloved daughter of Edmund.

"Ha—"

Louis's expression was calm when he saw this bombshell news; he wasn't too shocked.

After all, the Daily Intelligence System had already reported this matter several times.

Moreover, he had received a piece of intelligence about Miss Emily this morning.

【1: Miss Emily left Frost Halberd City in the early morning, disguised as a wandering merchant caravan, suspected of heading to Red Tide Territory】

This piece of intelligence was quite interesting and piqued Louis's interest.

Of course, he wasn't particularly nervous or in a hurry to react.

Anyway, she hadn't arrived yet, and besides, she wasn't planning to come openly for a blind date. She was just "disguised as a merchant" to see what kind of person he was and what he looked like.

He couldn't make grand arrangements either.

Next was the third matter, which Louis was not yet aware of.

"To fully support the family, His Majesty the Emperor has issued a new 'Northern Expansion Order.'

It has been decided to send your two elder brothers, Willis and Pal, to open up territories. If they encounter difficulties then, please assist each other.

Of course, you are still the Calvin Family's representative in the North, and all matters concerning the family in the North are centered around you."

Upon reading this, Louis raised an eyebrow: "Make me, a Count, their babysitter?"

His fingers unconsciously tapped the edge of the letter twice, and he quickly weighed the situation in his mind.

Willis and Pal, these two brothers' names were somewhat unfamiliar, and Louis had no impression of them.

"Hmm—if my two brothers come asking for help, I'll help if I can, but I won't go out of my way.

But if they're truly disobedient or unreasonable, then don't blame me for standing by idly."

He had no ill will towards these brothers, but he also had no affection for them.

Blood ties couldn't represent everything, especially such "blood ties" that had no emotional connection whatsoever.

In this North, where cold winds and war intertwined, only reliable companions and demonstrable strength were worthy of discussing the future,

Only they were worthy of forming alliances with him and receiving his help.

He shook his head, folded the letter, and placed it in the letter tube. He pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and quickly penned a reply.

The content was brief, roughly: "Acknowledged the Northern Expansion Order. Thank you for your concern, Father. All is well in Red Tide Territory. May the glory of the Calvin Family never wane."

He wrote nothing more, keeping it concise and polite, with neat but coolly distant sentences.

After writing, he put the letter in an envelope, sealed it with wax, and handed it to Bradley: "Send it back."

"Yes," the butler carefully put away the reply, then continued, "My Lord, there are still some local matters. Although trivial, they need to be handled quickly."

"Mm." Louis nodded and opened the first page.

The first report was from the River Management Team: "Snowmelt in the upper reaches of the Red Rock River, water levels are starting to rise, there may be flooding."

Louis glanced at the map and quickly circled the river section: "Have the river workers depart tomorrow, retrieve timber from the lumber warehouse, and bring the heavy pile drivers."

He said curtly, "Also, call two teams of militiamen to assist. Don't let the houses get flooded."

"Yes." Bradley noted it down.

Next, a request from the Road Maintenance Team: "Accelerated snowmelt, roads are muddy and difficult to travel."

"Allocate ten carts of straw to pave the roads. Don't lay it too thick; too much will make it difficult to walk."

"Understood."

Next was a report from the workshop: "Winter clothing reserves are excessive, suggest reducing production."

"Suspend leather gloves and wool boots production, shift to repairs and inventory organization. Free up manpower to arrange bridge repairs and snow barrier construction."

Louis put down his pen, and one by one, tasks were smoothly arranged by him, like steadily laying bricks.

Bradley stood by, watching the Lord make various decisions casually from his chair, somewhat astonished.

Although he had witnessed it countless times, that flowing composure still made him inwardly sigh: "Though he is young, he is already more like a true ruler than many old lords."

Louis closed the last report, leaned back in his chair to rest for a moment, and looked out the window at the street scene where the snow was gradually melting.

The eaves at the street corner were no longer adorned with ice, the slush at pedestrians' feet had turned into puddles of dark brown mud, wheel ruts were deep, dogs barked frequently, and sparrows had returned to the eaves, chirping incessantly.

He exhaled softly, muttering to himself, "Spring is coming, and it's time for—"

That wasn't just a simple change in temperature, but a sign that an entire territory was about to awaken.

Next would be the thawing of ice, livestock being let out, workshops resuming work, and seeds being planted. Louis thought he might plan a festival to celebrate.

So he pulled out a clean sheet of paper, dipped his pen in ink, and began to write.

In a short while, a clearly conceived festival plan was written.

He spread the paper on the desk, scrutinized it for a moment, found no omissions, and then called Bradley.

"I want to hold a celebration day," Louis said calmly, "for three reasons: first, to celebrate the arrival of spring; second, to celebrate the first anniversary of Red Tide Territory's establishment; and third, to celebrate my ennoblement as a Viscount."

He pushed the written paper towards Bradley.

Bradley looked down and read it, his eyes widening slightly.

He had seen nobles hold celebrations before, but most were banquets for guests, for drinking and amusement, completely unrelated to common folk.

However, in this plan, every design stroke by Louis clearly pointed to one goal.

To involve the entire territory, from old to young, from slaves to farmers, so that everyone could find a sense of "belonging" in this celebration.

"This—" Bradley was speechless for a moment, then after a long pause, he said, "—is indeed very novel. I have never seen such a comprehensive and heartfelt festival plan. Your subordinate will arrange for its execution immediately."