Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

The underground stone chamber of Frost Halberd Fortress was damp, cold, and reeked of hot iron mixed with blood, like some twisted purgatory.

Karlan was suspended upside down from a torture pillar, his body mottled with blood, his once tall and sturdy physique now just a skeletal frame wracked with convulsive spasms.

The interrogator pressed a red-hot iron needle into the nerve plexus of his calf, eliciting a bone-chilling wail.

He screamed hysterically, his voice like the whimpering of a trapped beast, repeating what he had already said: “It was Joseph! It was Joseph Kaladi! He was the one who approached us... He was the one who voluntarily offered the map!

He provided the Iron-Blood Empire’s southwestern defense map! Even the changing of the guards at the Iron-Blood Empire’s southwestern watchtowers was written down by him—”,

Duke Edmund stood quietly before the torture rack, flipping through the Silver Plate Guild’s ledger and notebook in his hand.

The pages were slightly curled from the dampness of bloodstains, but the handwriting was clear, and even Joseph’s signature was scrawled and authentic.

He stared intently at the words, lost in thought.

Karlan gasped violently: “I—I was just a transit point—transporting, allocating, delivering people and medicinal materials as needed—Joseph is the one... He wants to be the Federation’s... beachhead.

He said he was marginalized by his Kaladi Family and wanted to use your Iron-Blood Empire’s mess to rise to power. Please, please let me die—give me a quick end——”

His once sharp eyes were now dull and yellowed, bloodshot, with sobs and whimpers mixed in his throat, making it impossible to distinguish between pleading and cursing.

“Why don’t you kill me——”

He whispered tremblingly, “You Iron-Blood Empire people are even more vicious than the Federation——”

Edmund said nothing, only slowly turned to the next page of the notebook.

There was a list of noble demands written in strange abbreviations:

“Giant Sun Potion × 12, suitable age beautiful female slaves (13-17) × 18, West Ridge private salt, magma essence, soft gold——”

He slowly closed the notebook, took a deep breath, anger churning in his chest, yet his expression was surprisingly calm.

“It seems it’s true, Joseph Kaladi—you truly are audacious.”

He turned to the silver-masked torturer: “Seal the throat, stop the bleeding, keep him alive. I want him alive, alive until he can spit out every word Joseph said, every map he drew.”

“Yes.”

Karlan whimpered in despair, like a hound whose bones had been torn apart, still forced to bite out the names of his companions in desperation.

And Edmund’s figure had already stepped into the long corridor at the end of the stone chamber, his voice low, like a command, or a judgment:

“Prepare the secret letter for the Emperor! If this is true, it’s not just treason! It’s a grave crime that shakes the very foundation of the Iron-Blood Empire’s southwest!”

Duke Edmund returned to his office, silently picked up a wine glass, the liquid swirling gently in the cup, reflecting a dim light.

He took a sip, the aroma of the wine slightly alleviating the anger within him.

His sharp grey eyes pondered for a moment, then he slowly exhaled, his gaze filled with an indescribable shock and fury.

“This madman,” he murmured in a low voice, his tone deep, mixed with a hint of incredulous contempt.

This young man not only participated in collusion with the Federation and military infiltration accounts, but he even dared to brazenly record these crimes in black and white?

He understood why he did it—it was nothing more than to show loyalty—but his audacity was simply astonishing.

Duke Edmund gently stroked the cover of the ledger, his fingertips slightly cool, but a raging fire burned in his heart.

And thinking of the other young man who brought back these evidences, Duke Edmund’s lips curled slightly, a deep light flickering in his eyes as he gazed at the tabletop, his tone tinged with a hint of triumph:

“Louis is truly worthy of my discerning eye. He was able to crack such a major case, and he missed no evidence that should be taken, no captives that should be captured. Not even a single gold coin from that pile was embezzled; all of it was sealed and sent here.”

He raised his wine glass and took a small sip, the wine leaving a faint sweetness in his mouth. His gaze passed beyond the candlelight, as if penetrating the vast northern lands, landing on the distant Red Tide ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ Territory.

“Steady, decisive, clean and efficient—and he knows what can be touched and what cannot.” He murmured to himself, a broad smile on his face, even a feeling of having found a treasure, “Once this child’s wings are fully grown, his future is unimaginable. It’s a good thing I acted first.”

After finishing his wine, his gaze once again sharpened, as if breaking through all gentle facades, his entire aura suddenly becoming solemn.

“As for Joseph——” He slammed the ledger shut, his eyes narrowing, “Someone.”

A servant immediately pushed the door open and entered, bowing his head respectfully, seemingly sensing the Duke’s anger.

“Go to the Red Tide Territory and immediately apprehend Joseph Kaladi. No accidents allowed,” the Duke ordered coldly.

“This case is too significant for us to handle directly. Send him straight to the Imperial Capital; His Majesty will decide.”

He paused, his tone laced with a sneer and deep contempt: “Let His Majesty see clearly whose rotten mess this southwestern mud swept out from the North is.”

A man stood high on a mountain peak in the North, gazing at the sky.

His name was Joseph Kaladi, the sixth son of the Iron-Blood Empire’s renowned Kaladi Family.

He was not a good-for-nothing, nor was he ever a neglected marginal figure.

From a young age, he displayed exceptional intelligence and courage. At nineteen, he was entrusted with assisting in the management of southern finances and taxes, and even once held the family’s trade agency rights in five provinces.

Within the Kaladi Family’s strictly hierarchical and class-divided system, he was a truly trusted and empowered individual.

But he knew clearly that none of this would ultimately belong to him.

In this iron-clad family tradition, titles, honors, and the position of family head were denied to him from the moment he was born.

“I am the sixth son. I was born only to be used, not to inherit.

All glory, in the end, belongs to that eldest brother who sits in the place of honor, merely a figurehead.

And even if I were to conquer the entire Iron-Blood Empire for him, I would still be nothing more than a useful steward.”

So he took the Northern Territory Development Order, a generous sum of support funds, and merely two hundred knights, and voluntarily requested to go to the North.

The territory near Qingyu Ridge was barren, remote, and windswept.

But it was a strategic thoroughfare, a place where great achievements could be made.

He chose this place, like a gambler laying down his last chips.

As long as he won, he would be able to rise swiftly, forcing the entire Kaladi Family to look at him with respect again.

However, the wind and snow of the North were more brutal than he had imagined.

Before winter even arrived, the ground froze solid, oxcarts could barely move, and the night wind outside the tents was like a knife, even his breath carried the smell of blood. Half of the “capable craftsmen” he brought from the south fell ill within three days, and the rest were either fleeing or crying by the fire.

Joseph stood in the wind and snow, cloaked in a grey cape, but there was no hint of retreat in his eyes.

He had long anticipated the difficulties.

The North was not a greenhouse; it was plagued by factions, harsh and desolate. Controlling a region there was not an easy game of chess.

But he was not a reckless person; he never thought of putting all his eggs in one basket. He had made multiple preparations.

A week before his departure, he secretly met with representatives of the Silver Plate Guild.

It was in the backyard of one of the Kaladi Family’s spice shops, very secluded.

A casually drawn map was slowly unrolled, outlining the locations of garrisons along the Iron-Blood Empire’s southwestern defense line,

the frequency of troop movements, and the detailed routes of supply lines.

This intelligence naturally brought substantial rewards.

Moreover, he had already made full preparations for the worst-case scenario.

Should the situation spiral out of control, he could directly cross the border and escape to the Federation, where special personnel would be waiting to receive him.

In the Federation, he already had a new territory, a new identity, and two high-ranking Emerald officials willing to protect him.

They promised that once he successfully instigated unrest in the southwest, they would recommend him to the Federation’s Noble Council, granting him permanent protection as an “external elite.”

Of course, he did not intend to simply surrender to an enemy country.

With his intelligence and the strong support of the Silver Plate Guild, he believed he could make a name for himself in the Iron-Blood Empire’s North.

Going to the Federation was his last resort, a fallback if everything became irreversible.

He still hoped to establish himself in the North through his own abilities and opportunities, becoming a powerful and influential figure,

rather than willingly becoming a puppet of an enemy nation.

He had planned all of this for a long time, and his meticulous arrangements were enough to amaze any old fox.

Of course, this was not betrayal; this was foresight, he constantly told himself in his heart:

“If the Iron-Blood Empire doesn’t see my value, then I’ll let others recognize it.”

He even felt that—those nobles who laughed at his “disfavor” would one day regret it.

When he stood above the Imperial Council, looking down on them.

Just then, a pure white invitation was handed to him. The wax seal was still wet, and the paper was pristine.

The personal guard carefully held the letter and said, “Louis, the Governor of Snowpeak County, invites you to a banquet in Red Tide Territory.”

Joseph raised an eyebrow, the corner of his eye slowly lifting.

“So he’s here. A new official always has to make a splash.”

He tore open the letter, his gaze sweeping over the smooth, elegant handwriting, but a sneer curled on his lips.

“He thinks this banquet is his stage to control? What a pity, I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

He had already rallied the newly rich pioneer nobles from the South, as well as some ambitious border nobles from the North.

These people, like him, held contempt for the so-called “young county governor from a military background.”

In their eyes, Louis was merely a noble who had gained power by chance, good at fighting, but ignorant of politics.

They believed that Louis was incapable of controlling people’s hearts. As long as they could quietly erode his foundation and hollow out his power—

Soon, he would become the true master of this territory.

Of course, all of this relied on the strong support of the Silver Plate Guild.

According to their calculations, their resources should be arriving soon.

An eagle, if it loses its talons, is nothing more than a pretty bird.

Joseph fastened his cloak, his cape billowing in the wind, a cold glint flickering in his eyes.

“Louis, I will make you see with your own eyes! Your position is nothing more than a stepping stone for me.”