Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

The half-day sports festival concluded successfully amidst cheers and laughter.

Immediately after, the final event of the Spring Day, the Spring Beginning Feast, began.

The Red Tide Territory was no longer the desolate outpost it once was.

With the return of refugees and the stabilization of the border, the population had exceeded three thousand.

It was no longer practical to gather in a small open space for a meal as they had initially.

Thus, this territory-wide feast was divided into two parts.

In the center of the square, most residents sat in groups, with fires burning and wooden tables arranged in rows.

Abundant food was served: stews, hot porridges, roasted meat, bread, and even some small pastries rarely seen on ordinary days.

Some people sang, some danced simple group dances, children chased and played around the bonfire, and joy permeated the air.

Amidst this bustling crowd, a young figure slowly walked in.

It was the Lord of Red Tide Territory, Louis.

“It’s Lord Louis!”

“Look, the Lord is here!”

People stood up in surprise, their expressions as excited as if they had seen a god.

No, ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ it was like seeing the sun.

They looked at him, like people who had waited long for dawn in a cold night, finally gazing upon the light of morning.

That brightness and warmth were enough to rekindle the long-extinguished flame in their chests.

Louis walked from table to table, greeting them with a lowered head.

He wasn't aloof, just softly smiling: “Is today’s food to your liking? Are the children full? The rain a few days ago didn’t affect the construction site, did it?”

Even just a few words, even just a nod, were like the first sun of winter, seeping into people’s hearts and dispelling years of cold.

An old man stood up, leaning on his crutch, still tightly gripping Louis’s hand, choking back tears: “Lord—thanks to you,

we can still gather around a table to eat today—thank you, truly, thank you—”

And this voice drew agreement from even more people.

Those gazes, those tears, those smiles, all pointed to one person—Louis.

He didn’t say much, just listened and responded earnestly, as always, but the crowd seemed to have finally grasped hope.

Because they knew, with him, Red Tide would never be cold.

Meanwhile, in the main hall of Red Tide Castle’s high tower, another, more solemn banquet was quietly unfolding.

There were no exaggerated gold and silver decorations, no superficial pleasantries typical of noble gatherings, only polished oak long tables neatly arranged between the flickering stone walls.

Those who could enter this hall were the true pillars of the entire Red Tide Territory.

Those who could sit in this high tower were either Formal Knights or Elite Knights of Red Tide.

Or they were the various managers responsible for daily operations: Mick, the agricultural overseer, Luke, the fisheries manager, the workshop head, the construction foreman, the granary manageress...

There were even a few labor representatives still wearing coarse work clothes and looking nervous.

They were farmers, or artisans, and even one or two slaves.

Through their diligent work, they earned recognition as representatives of slaves, coming to this banquet.

But they would soon be freed from slavery and become free people.

In this banquet hall, no one was superior, no one needed to bow their head.

Because in Red Tide, as long as they were willing to work hard and help others, they deserved to sit in this great hall and drink with the Lord.

These were the rights Louis granted them.

And Emily, as a “friendly guest” from Frost Halberd City, was surprisingly arranged to attend this formal banquet.

As a “wandering merchant,” she felt a bit surprised.

What surprised her even more was that the people around her were not “nobles” in the traditional sense.

They were dressed neatly, but clearly not in formal attire; rather, they wore practical work clothes. Beneath their coarse linen garments were sun-darkened skin and calluses from hammer handles.

Their laughter and conversation lacked the reserved pretense of noblewomen; instead, they were warm and sincere.

“Mick, how are your spring plowing preparations going?”

“Not bad, Mac made me a heavy plow, it’s very effective.”

These “distinguished guests” were loudly laughing and toasting each other by the main table, exchanging experiences on farming, fishing, and well and canal maintenance, as well as recent work difficulties.

And their faces were filled with honor and naturalness.

Neither servile nor constrained.

Emily watched them with a puzzled expression, not understanding why Louis would do this.

Then her gaze inadvertently swept towards the high seat.

She expected to see the young Lord, but he wasn’t there; Louis was absent.

She finally couldn’t help but softly ask a female worker sitting nearby: “Excuse me, when will Lord Louis arrive?”

The female worker, who was pondering how to make the roasted meat taste better, smiled upon hearing the question and said: “The Lord? He’s still greeting the residents in the square, he should be back in a bit.”

As she spoke, her tone was relaxed, yet carried a subtle pride.

As if to say: He is our Lord, and we all know what he will do.

And it was at that moment that Emily suddenly understood something.

She understood why this land radiated such a different atmosphere.

She understood why these people, originally of humble origins, had faces that glowed with a dignity not belonging to those at the bottom.

Louis, initially, gained his position through family background or power.

However, in governing the territory, he did not exploit his power against these residents.

Louis did not sit on a high throne, but walked among the people.

With the order he personally created, he gained their loyalty.

At that moment, Emily gently lowered her head, her eyes no longer confused, only filled with genuine respect.

Just as she was lost in thought, the hall entrance suddenly grew quiet.

It was a natural silence; everyone, without prior arrangement, put down their cups and turned their heads.

The first to stand was an old craftsman, followed by more people, the sound of chairs sliding echoing, and applause and shouts erupted like a wave:

“Lord Louis!”

“Our Lord is here!”

Everyone’s eyes were filled with respect and gratitude, as if they were welcoming a true guardian.

Emily also immediately looked up; he had arrived.

The legendary Red Tide Lord, the young Viscount, her fiancé.

Louis made a grand entrance.

He wore a sharply tailored black and gold uniform, its colors understated yet dignified.

Emily gazed at the young Lord entering the main hall, momentarily lost in thought.

Louis was completely different from the “battlefield hero” she had imagined.

She had once reviewed intelligence about the Battle of Qingyu Ridge in Frost Halberd City, and when reading reports that stated “defeating a thousand with a hundred” and “crushing Snowsworn elites,”

the image she had constructed in her mind was of a burly, rugged young general.

Perhaps like her father, his face would be covered in scars, bearing an intimidating and fearsome appearance.

After all, how could someone who stood out in such chaotic times not be a roaring beast?

But Louis, standing before her now, completely overturned her perception.

He was not burly; his physique was tall and strong, with defined but not exaggerated lines, like a sheathed sword.

His skin glowed faintly in the candlelight, and his face was refined and handsome.

Emily even couldn’t help but add in her mind, “a bit too handsome.”

What she couldn’t ignore most was his gaze, like the deep sea at night, calm and steady, yet harboring a storm.

This was not a fierce general roaring and slaying enemies on the battlefield; this was a king who could sit atop a mountain, surveying the entire situation.

Emily averted her gaze, lowering her head to conceal a subtle hint of shyness.

“So—my fiancé is this type.”

A smile of unreadable meaning played on her lips, but her heart beat a half-measure faster, somewhat uncontrollably.

It wasn’t entirely because he was handsome. What truly moved her was what she had seen and heard over the past two days—

the cheers from the sports festival, the shouts from the square.

It was the unconcealed pride in the residents’ eyes, the way those who had once been silent now held their heads high again.

That was the true image of a lord who had won the trust and support of his people.

This was what Emily found most captivating, and of course, all of this was predicated on him being handsome.

Louis finally entered the main hall of Red Tide Castle.

Applause, respectful greetings, and people standing up surged like a tide, but he merely nodded slightly in acknowledgment, his gaze subtly sweeping over a certain corner of the guest seating before he took his place.

His gaze lingered there for half a second.

A woman was sitting with her head bowed, her posture so reserved it was almost ghostly.

On her face, there was a diagonal old scar, extending from her brow bone all the way to her jaw, like a mark left by a sharp blade.

The scar was faint yet clear, striking, almost instantly categorizing her as a “woman who survived the war.”

But Louis’s gaze only rested on her face for a moment before he withdrew it, seemingly unconcerned.

“The makeup skills are good; the colors are well-blended, and even the light and shadow are meticulously handled. Too bad it can’t fool me.”

“Since she doesn’t want to show her true face, I’ll wait for her to speak first.”

“Anyway, there’s no rush.”

Louis withdrew his gaze, not lingering, and walked without stopping towards the main seat, his figure in the black and gold uniform casting a sharp shadow in the candlelight.

He ascended and sat on the high seat, raising his cup to the assembled crowd.

The hall fell silent; everyone awaited his voice.

“Companions, this year we have endured the harshest winter together.” He slowly surveyed the hall, “It is your perseverance, your hard work, that has kept the warm fire burning in this territory.

I especially want to thank the female workers of the smoked fish workshop, the porters at the grain station, and the artisans of the carpentry team. It is your efforts that sustained the granary and provided roofs this winter.”

He paused, then smiled and raised his cup to everyone: “Now, spring has arrived. In the coming year, we will continue to build roads, construct houses, cultivate fields, and fish, making our home even better.

Today, there is no distinction between noble and commoner, no matter the position, whether you are a knight standing on the city walls or a farmer tilling the land, this is a festival belonging to every person of Red Tide.

Eat well! Drink well! Laugh freely! This moment, Red Tide belongs to you!”