Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

Louis Calvin’s inauguration banquet as County Governor and Snowpeak County’s first council meeting are set to take place in Red Tide Territory.

As soon as the news broke, various nobles set off early, rushing to the young noble’s fiefdom.

They all had their own agendas, hoping to secure more benefits for themselves.

Snowpeak County, this region, had just finished a war last year, followed by the long winter of the Northern Territory. Logically, everyone should have been in disarray.

However, as soon as they stepped into Red Tide Territory, everyone fell silent.

This was far too inconsistent with their expectations!

They had imagined a scene of dilapidated houses and smoke, but what greeted their eyes were smooth gravel roads, streets so clean they reflected people's images, and even the trees planted along the roadside were neatly aligned.

“This... did we take a wrong turn?” a Southern Baron muttered, clutching his saddle. “What a joke. If this is a post-war wasteland, then wouldn’t our own territories be primeval forests?”

Another Northern Territory noble looked indignant, speaking stubbornly, but his eyes couldn’t help but drift towards the orderly villages.

Farmers were plowing fields, children ran into simple schools with books on their backs, and there was even a public notice board in the residential area stating “This Month’s Grain Distribution Standards.”

The nobles fell completely silent. Their own territories were still frowning over the lack of grain for spring, yet here, grain was already being distributed?

Occasionally, patrolling cavalry rode by, their armor gleaming, their steps uniform. They were clearly knights with Battle Qi, not at all like a hastily assembled army. Their cloaks flapped in the wind, and simply standing there, they exuded an oppressive aura that made the nobles feel pressured.

It didn’t seem like they were welcoming the nobles, but rather showcasing their own strength.

Some clicked their tongues, some frowned, and many more secretly gritted their teeth.

Red Tide Territory didn’t resemble a newly rising war-zone fiefdom; it was more like a well-functioning, strictly disciplined “new type of lordly regime.”

Especially the heirs of the old Northern Territory noble families, who barely spoke a word throughout the journey.

It wasn’t that they didn’t want to speak, but that they couldn’t.

One or two years ago, some of them had visited this place and seen its state with their own eyes.

This was a wasteland ravaged by war, with destroyed villages, where even tree bark was stripped and eaten by the indigenous people.

No noble had ever bothered to develop this area.

But now?

Walking on the smooth, clean roads, they could see repaired irrigation channels on both sides, and guards standing by the granaries at night.

Even the commoners’ expressions weren’t the numb “thank goodness I’m alive” kind, but rather a kind of indescribable tranquility.

“This is unreasonable,” a Baron murmured softly. “Even with money, it’s impossible to transform the Northern Territory into this state in such a short time.”

But whether they believed it or not, the facts were right there before their eyes.

Originally, they had felt that as local nobles of the Northern Territory, they naturally understood this land better than that young man who rose through military merits.

But at this moment, that sense of superiority began to crumble.

It was truly like primitive people seeing tall buildings, electric lights, and running water for the first time.

“This has been completely transformed,” a Baron said, his gaze complex.

And what shamed them most was that this was accomplished by Louis, an “outsider.”

Joseph Kaladi sat in his carriage, watching the streetscape of Red Tide Territory flash past the window, his gaze deepening.

No matter where he looked, this place didn't seem like it had experienced war; instead, it resembled a core territory that had been stable for several years.

He slowly frowned: “This Louis, he seems stronger than I imagined.”

He didn’t want to admit it, but it was the truth.

The order and prosperity of this land were precisely the goals of his original “three-year plan” for himself.

A nineteen-year-old boy accomplished it in one year?

He was silent for a moment, then chuckled softly, his tone carrying a trace of self-comforting confidence:

“Managing a territory well is just the basics. To be a noble, one needs influence, connections, and vision; one must know how to play politics.”

“No matter how well he does, a ‘military merit boy’ who doesn't know how to interact with nobles will ultimately be isolated and hollowed out.”

He had grown up navigating among the major nobles in the Southwest, keenly aware of the political manipulation of the ‘boiling frog’ strategy.

Power is never seized outright, but slowly stripped away.

Soon, Joseph put on a gentle and sincere smile and began to privately lobby the nobles, formally entering the “private operation” stage.

He proposed several “County Governor’s Suggestions,” each sounding righteous and grand.

He even made it seem like he was lightening Louis’s burden.

“County governance should embody the spirit of noble co-governance. I suggest establishing a ‘Snowpeak County Noble Council,’ where we collectively deliberate on major matters, which would be more stable.”

“Military and political nominations should also be prudent. Important positions should be nominated by the council and approved by the County Governor, with double checks to prevent power from becoming overly concentrated.”

“Given Snowpeak County’s proximity to the Snowsworn faction, the risk of war always exists. It would be better to establish an ‘Emergency Grain Storage Center,’ managed by us nobles to handle supplies and alleviate the County Governor’s pressure.”

Superficially, he was sharing responsibility and collaborating for stability.

In reality, every step he took was to undermine Louis’s power.

He aimed to let the council control personnel, grain, and administration, ultimately turning the young County Governor into a “mascot” without real power.

As for resource bait?

Joseph had, of course, prepared it.

The Silver Plate Guild had already promised several batches of support in grain and gold coins, which he could use to “make cakes.”

Joseph’s lips curled slightly, his eyes full of calculation: “Once these people take the first bite, they won’t be able to let go.”

Before the banquet officially began, Joseph proactively approached Miss Grant.

She stood in a corner of the garden, like a forgotten decoration.

Wearing a somewhat outdated gown, her waist was tightly cinched but couldn’t hide her ample figure. Her plump fingers nervously twisted a handkerchief, her eyes avoiding Joseph’s scrutinizing gaze.

She hated such occasions.

She knew she was too fat, too timid, and too lacking in “what a noble should be.”

She understood that the only reason she was invited was because the “Grant Family name” still held sway, not because of her personally.

“Miss Grant, a pleasure to meet you,” Joseph said with a smile, walking closer.

His tone was as gentle and polite as ever, as if she were the guest of honor at the banquet.

She flinched slightly, then responded in a somewhat overwhelmed whisper: “...Hello.”

No one had ever spoken to her so proactively, at least not with respect.

“You are the legitimate heir of the Grant Family, an undeniable bloodline among the old Northern Territory nobles,” Joseph said calmly, his voice tinged with a hint of pity. “But do these people truly respect you?”

Her plump cheeks trembled slightly. She wanted to retort but couldn't speak.

His few soft words pierced like needles into the softest, most fragile part of her heart.

“They don’t invite you, don’t drink with you, don’t mention your title. You sit here, yet it’s as if you don’t exist.” Grant lowered her head, her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes a little moist.

She had endured for many years.

Her father’s death, the decline of her family, being married off, being ostracized by her husband’s family.

And after returning to the Northern Territory this time, she had never truly been “accepted.”

She wanted to revitalize her family, but she knew nothing, and no one taught her.

“But I am not them,” Joseph’s voice brushed gently against her ear like a night breeze. “I know the glory of the Grant Family, and I know the position you deserve.”

Her heart pounded fiercely.

The long-lost feeling of being taken seriously washed over her like a tide, impacting her defenses.

Joseph leaned in slightly, as if sharing a secret, and whispered: “Join us. The Noble Council will give you a seat. Not as a decoration, but as a true voter, with a voice.”

Grant was somewhat taken aback. She looked up at him, a glimmer of expectation appearing in her eyes for the first time.

But she still hesitated. She wasn't sure if she truly had the right to sit at that council table.

“Moreover,” Joseph smiled faintly, “we are about to receive a batch of medicinal herbs, grain, spices, and rare fabrics from my family.”

“At that time, I will prioritize letting you manage a share of them. This is not just wealth, but also an opportunity to prove ‘I am not useless.’”

“Of course, I am not giving charity,” he paused, his tone softening. “Just respect.”

Grant clutched her handkerchief tightly, her heart fiercely wavering.

She wasn’t foolish; she knew he had an agenda.

But could she refuse?

For years, she had been waiting for an opportunity.

An opportunity to stand up again, no longer to be seen as a “pitiable married-off daughter.”

Grant bit her lip, her eyes glistening with moisture, and finally nodded, whispering shyly, "Then I'll—I'll trust you this once."

Joseph showed no trace of triumph, merely nodded politely in thanks, then turned and left.

But deep down, he was almost laughing aloud.

"Northern old nobles are nothing more than this," he sneered inwardly. "Even if they pride themselves on their noble blood, if they're neglected for too long, a little tenderness and a few resources are enough to make them immensely grateful.

Grant is the first brick. As long as this corner is pried open, the old nobles' collective defense line will begin to loosen, and they'll fall one by one."

It was all thanks to these three simple tactics: a phrase like "you deserve to be respected," a promise of a seat that implied "you can also have status," plus a little bit of tangible benefits.

Joseph, almost like a conqueror, managed to win over several indecisive nobles within just two days.

Each conversation was like a precisely placed chess piece moving forward.

Some nobles, feeling insecure about their family's declining influence, dared not defy the new order, so Joseph offered them the illusion of "a voice." Other nobles were short on funds, unable to exploit their own territories, so he promised them generous allocations through "family support."

Even a few seemingly unruly old nobles were swayed by his words, "You are the true foundation of Snowpeak, and you shouldn't be marginalized," causing them to nod repeatedly.

However, the most crucial prerequisite for these tactics to work was Louis Calvin's silence.

In the days leading up to the banquet, Louis was almost entirely absent and did not personally receive any nobles; all receptions were arranged by his butler, Bradley.

Joseph had expected him to at least have private talks, arrange for people to build relationships, or even just put on a show.

But there wasn't even any polite small talk.

It was as if the arrival of these nobles was merely a "procedural meeting" he had arranged as a matter of routine.

This point made Joseph both exasperated and amused.

He felt that his opponent was simply too weak.

"How can such a person be a County Governor?" he thought, laughing with such contempt that he almost rolled his eyes.

"What if your governing ability is good? If you don't know how to manage people's hearts, if you don't know how to maneuver in power struggles, you don't deserve to stand in the position of County Governor."

He looked towards the strange castle, a cold sneer appearing at the corner of his mouth.

"You think showing them clean streets and neat military formations is enough? Naive!"

"Nobles are not commoners; if you don't give them real power and dignity, they will take it themselves."

He felt he had seen through this young new noble.

He was ignorant of power struggles, poor at making connections, and though he held a good hand, he was destined not to keep it.

The banquet hadn't even begun, and he was already certain: the outcome was decided.

Of course, Joseph's strategy wasn't effective on all nobles.

Especially when he tried to persuade Yoen Harway, it was like hitting a brick wall with his head.

He had long known that Yoen and Louis had a good private relationship, but he always firmly believed in one thing: "No noble can refuse temptation."

As long as Yoen was willing to budge and [N O V E L I G H T] help persuade Louis to "open up power," transferring some authority to the so-called "Noble Council."

"Then you will be the third-in-command, second only to me and the County Governor," he promised, his tone so confident that he seemed to already see Yoen nodding in submission.

Not to mention, he also brought out a whole set of resource chips: food quotas, garrison coordination, and even priority access to Southern merchant channels. In the end, he added a meaningful remark: "Louis holds all the power alone; in the end, you and I are merely pawns. If he fails, we will all become sacrifices."

After speaking, he didn't forget to pour himself a glass of wine, waiting for Yoen to hesitate, weigh his options, and be tempted.

Yoen took the wine glass, a half-smile appearing on his face, but his tone was relaxed and cooperative: "You make a lot of sense. Indeed, it's time to consider the future direction."

He nodded, even adding, "Louis should also hand over some of his power and let us all share the burden, as everyone cares about Snowpeak County, after all."

Joseph smiled, his eyes growing even more confident; he felt that this was a done deal.

Of course, what he didn't know was that Yoen's upturned lips weren't in agreement with him.

But simply found it amusing.

The resources Joseph had just mentioned probably weren't even as significant as a single hair sent by his old man each month.

Third-in-command? You're dreaming too highly of yourself.

And also, the reason I can sit here today is entirely thanks to the boss, the one you call 'holding all the power alone.'

Six or seven years ago in the Imperial Capital, he already had my back. I've almost perfected the art of clinging to this powerful figure; who would sell out their own brother for some random minor figure?

But your rhetoric, it's quite like a Southern noble's.

Although he felt extreme disdain in his heart, even wanting to laugh aloud, Yoen maintained his usual composure and dignity on the surface, even deliberately showing a slight 'slow-on-the-uptake' dullness.

He pretended to listen intently, occasionally revealing expressions like "Ah... I see."

As if he had developed a strong interest in the "reforms" and "council" system that Joseph spoke of.

Then, their conversation quietly drifted into another dimension.

Wine, women, festival balls, which noble's daughter eloped with a stable boy, which countess made a fool of herself after getting drunk at a banquet.

Joseph grew more and more relaxed as he spoke, even patting Yoen's shoulder, looking as if to say, "You and I speak the same language."

"Baron Harway is indeed no bookworm! I knew someone like you understands how to enjoy life," he laughed triumphantly, as if he had already brought the other party under his influence.

Yoen also laughed, a bit foolishly: "Ha—I don't really know much, I just hear a lot."

"That's fine. Another day, I'll treat you to the plum wine sent by my family; I hear even the Emperor enjoys it."

"That would be a great honor."

Once the conversation completely wound down, Joseph checked the time and stood up, saying, "We've talked for quite a while today. I won't disturb your rest. Let's talk in detail another day."

"Hmm—I am a bit tired today, indeed," Yoen nodded cooperatively.

He even showed a dazed expression, as if his mind was still lingering on the "plum wine" and the "young lady and stable boy elopement incident."

Joseph left contentedly, his steps light, as if he had just won a gamble.

"It's so easy it makes you question everything. I thought this Harway fellow would be difficult to handle, but he's nothing special. After all, how many young nobles can resist the temptation of power and profit?" he thought in the corridor.

Because everything recently had gone so smoothly, he had not the slightest doubt.

But when he walked out of the room, those eyes that had seemed slightly hazy moments before were now as clear as a blade.

Yoen smiled faintly, his smile tinged with a hint of sarcasm, but more so with the boredom of having already anticipated all of this.

"Hmph, 'third-in-command,' he really thinks he's someone important."

He casually adjusted his collar and walked out of the study with light but unostentatious steps, heading to Louis's office. "Boss, that Joseph is up to no good. He offered me a bunch of prices—you need to prepare; he might have quite a lot planned."

Louis was sitting by the fireplace, drinking tea, and merely smiled faintly after listening. "Let him be."

"Aren't you worried?"

"Worried about what? I have my own preparations; you can rest assured," Louis's tone was as light as if he were talking about the weather.

Yoen blinked, and seeing that Louis had everything under control, he said no more. He 100% trusted his boss's methods.

Meanwhile, Willis, being Louis's older brother, didn't wait for someone to try and win him over; he himself sensed that something was amiss.

"That Joseph is whispering to people everywhere; he's making too many moves."

He came to Louis with a frown, his voice unusually tinged with unease: "I suggest you stay steady. You should also show your face to the nobles you need to see; don't let people think you're too aloof, or you'll be too passive later."

Louis, however, merely nodded lightly: "Understood. Don't worry, I have my own arrangements."

Seeing his composed expression, Willis didn't press the matter, but he couldn't shake the feeling that a storm was brewing.

And Joseph was still contentedly setting up his chess game, unaware that he had long been held by an invisible hand, at the edge of the chessboard.