Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

The setting sun cast warm silhouettes of Red Tide Fortress's tall towers, and the entire territory seemed immersed in solemnity.

Bradley stood in the center of the main wedding hall, the silver monocle on his nose bridge trembling slightly with his anxious breaths.

As the chief butler of Red Tide Territory, his duty should have been as steady as a clock, but at this moment, he hadn't had a good night's sleep for three consecutive nights.

“Raise the Calvin Family’s moon-patterned banner half a foot higher—yes, a little higher, it mustn’t block the Edmund Family’s silver eagle.”

He whispered instructions to the attendants, the thick process manual in his hand already dog-eared from repeated flipping.

His gaze swiftly swept over the steps, guest seating, main entrance, and the altar's central position.

Every detail had been sculpted to near perfection.

However, he knew that for a true noble wedding, perfection was never enough.

This was a union that allowed no mistakes.

The ceremony was to be presided over by a high-ranking cleric from the Northern Territory, who held a considerable reputation there.

Although His Highness Louis had personally simplified many aspects of the ceremony, many key elements were still fully preserved, refined yet dignified.

Bradley even arranged musical ensembles for each segment, performed jointly by Red Tide Territory's local orchestra and Northern Territory's inherited three-string flutists, combining practicality with the symbolism of “North and South Playing in Harmony.”

The guest seating chart had been revised six times.

The front row was reserved for the bride's father, Governor of the Northern Territory Duke Edmund, and representatives of the Calvin Family.

The rows behind were arranged according to title and lineage, comprising Red Tide Territory's core knights, close relatives, and invited nobles.

Bradley walked to the window and saw the Northern Territory honor guard neatly arrayed in the open ground, practicing their formations—silver armor gleaming, cloaks fluttering, steps like drums.

He sighed in slight relief: at least in terms of grandeur, they wouldn't lose face.

And the arrangement of the wedding venue was the part he was most proud of.

From the main hall's dome hung intertwined banners of the two families’ crests—the soaring silver eagle and the clear moonlight, symbolizing the marriage and a new chapter in the reshaping of noble order.

The floor was marked with precise pathways outlined in lime, adorned with red carpets and silver ornaments, conveying a solemn yet practical style unique to the Lord's manor.

All the flowers were sourced from noble merchant guilds specializing in cultivating flowers, undergoing three rounds of selection, finally featuring a combination of bluebells, white valerian, and ice roses, symbolizing loyalty, purity, and Northern glory.

As for the guests' food, he proudly noted the latest arrival of southern ingredients today.

Cloud Bay's ice-scaled carp, Daran’s crystal dates, and dried black hazel deer meat were all top-grade provisions specially allocated by the Calvin Family from their private warehouses.

Even for an unostentatious union, not an iota of the necessary dignity could be omitted.

“What else is missing?”

He murmured softly, his gaze once again falling on the ritual table covered in red silk.

“Lord Bradley, you haven’t returned to your room to rest for three days,” an attendant advised.

He shook his head, forcing himself to stay awake as he pulled out the sixteenth draft of the process flow, a tired reply squeezed from his lips:

“This wedding is extremely important. It must be worthy of the Calvin Family’s lineage and also give the Northern Territory nobles nothing to criticize. It can be low-key, but it cannot lack dignity.”

Just as everyone was bustling for the upcoming wedding, Louis finally found a little time.

To be precise, it was only after he received a letter written by Emily herself that he remembered his own wedding was only half a month away.

So, that evening, Louis, accompanied by two guards, stepped into the banquet hall behind the main hall, specially decorated for the wedding.

For the first time, he saw with his own eyes how this banquet hall, once used for flag presentations and conferrals, was now adorned with blue and red brocade, transformed into a noble wedding stage.

Musicians were tuning their instruments in the corner, the steady double-stringed zither and Northern Territory long flute harmonizing into a serene melody.

Several maids walked around the steps, their backs perfectly straight, attempting to complete the guest reception ritual without stepping on their skirt hems.

Meanwhile, several young attendants, wearing trial ceremonial robes, were simulating the vow-taking scene, softly and devoutly reciting the vows: “Before the Dragon Ancestor and all present, I swear—”

The entire space was filled with solemnity, yet it also exuded an indescribable tension.

Perhaps the traditional ceremonies of the Imperial nobles were too severe, or perhaps the Red Tide Territory's subordinates were too reserved.

In short, it was like a meticulously polished scabbard, perfect but lacking a touch of warmth.

“You’ve arrived,” Bradley said, approaching upon hearing the news, still holding the day’s process scroll, his expression as restrained and composed as ever, though his eyes were now slightly dark.

“The preparations are going well,” Louis said softly, glancing at the entire setup.

Bradley, however, seemed hesitant, coughed, and cautiously began: “Your Highness, may I be so bold as to ask, given your status and Miss Emily’s, does this wedding seem a bit too simple?”

He paused, then added: “According to Red Tide Territory’s current prestige and status, plus the marriage between two great families from north and south—if we appropriately add some ceremonial segments or introduce a viewing process, it might better emphasize its significance.”

What he didn’t say aloud was that this wedding had already been tacitly recognized in noble circles as an important signal of “the old powers uniting.”

If it was too restrained, would it lead to misunderstandings that the Calvin Family had lost influence in the Imperial Capital?

Or would it make outsiders suspect that this marriage was rushed?

Louis listened, his expression unchanged, his gaze slowly shifting to the honor guard nearby who were practicing their entrance rhythm.

“I know you mean well,” he said in a low voice, “but it cannot be more grand.”

Bradley was startled.

“The current situation is that the Imperial Family is purging the old nobles, and the Southern noble factions are retreating step by step. This wedding of mine is already sensitive enough,” Louis said, a flash of rationality in his eyes.

Bradley lowered his head and softly replied, “Understood.”

Although Louis said he wanted to keep it simple, and although he had to be low-key due to the special circumstances,

this was, after all, his first wedding in his life, and very likely his last.

He wasn't someone overly obsessed with rituals and grand displays, but precisely because of the various meanings behind this wedding—the consolidation of status, the forging of alliances, the realization of emotions—

this wedding deserved to be remembered.

Yet, looking at the perfectly textbook-like process chart before him, and listening to the attendants recite vows in emotionless tones, a thought kept gently tapping in his heart:

“Something is still missing—that something that can instantly touch one's heart.”

He slowly walked to the edge of the viewing platform, his hands clasped behind his back. The setting sun cast its last rays on the rooftops of Red Tide City, the distant Northern Territory mountains were enveloped in gold and red, night quietly fell, and above the sky, sparse stars were beginning to appear.

In the evening breeze, the distant townspeople were still making final preparations for the wedding; children ran in the alleys, adults hung banners, and transported wine barrels, a scene of busy tranquility.

At that moment, a thought suddenly arose in Louis’s mind.

“If all this could conclude with an instant of brilliance—even if only for a few seconds, it would be enough.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, as if seeing some image through the {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} twilight.

A smile touched his lips, and he turned to Bradley, saying, “Let’s add a segment.

When night falls, we’ll light ‘fireworks’ in the sky above Red Tide Territory.”

Bradley was stunned: “...Fire? Your Excellency, do you mean braziers? Torches? Or—”

“None of those,” Louis waved his hand, a beautiful scene appearing in his eyes, “It’s the kind of fire that flies into the sky, then ‘pops’ open in the air, emitting light.”

Bradley’s brows furrowed like ravines; he couldn't imagine what Louis was describing: “Your Excellency, is this some kind of... weapon?”

“Not a weapon either,” Louis chuckled, “It’s a device used for celebrations; it only frightens people, it doesn’t harm them.

But the effect, I guarantee, will make everyone shut up and look at the sky, forgetting whether they should toast or dance.”

He paused, then added, “And I want Emily to see that moment.”

Bradley was momentarily speechless. Although he was a butler who pursued perfection, he couldn’t find a suitable reference at this moment.

He remained silent for a few seconds, then said in a low voice: “—I really can’t imagine what that would be like.”

“It’s fine,” Louis was already turning and striding away, “I’ll find someone who can make it.”

To turn the inspiration in his mind into reality, Louis rushed non-stop to the workshop area.

That was Silco’s domain, the place in all of Red Tide Territory most likely to “explode something.”

As the sun set, Louis pushed the door open, the iron door echoing with a “bang” and releasing a faint smell of gunpowder.

“Sil—”

Before he could finish, a chaotic scramble of footsteps sounded inside, accompanied by the “clank, clank” of glass bottles tipping and metal colliding, and even the sound of a stool falling over.

When he entered the main work area of the laboratory, he saw Silco standing by the workbench, drenched in sweat.

The curtain behind him had just been hastily drawn, and a distinct female silhouette was faintly visible from its edge.

“What are you doing?”

“Me, me? I’m—I’m formulating potions.”

Silco’s face was filled with an awkward smile, but that awkward smile couldn't be hidden, like a child caught stealing candy.

And the female figure behind the curtain seemed so flustered that she accidentally revealed half her face, her cheeks flushed, before shrinking back, head lowered. “You, you came too suddenly!” Silco coughed, his earlobes visibly reddening.

Louis raised an eyebrow, a half-smile playing on his lips as he surveyed the messy floor, and slowly said, “Hmm? Did I interrupt your... important experiment?”

The girl's face instantly flushed down to her neck, and she hid further back.

Silco quickly coughed a few times, forcing out a serious expression: “You, how did you know?”

“Know what?” Louis tilted his head, arms crossed, a knowing smile on his face.

“About the successful development of the ‘Knight Growth Potion’!” Silco’s eyes still held a hint of panic.

“We just formulated the first batch of finished product! We were so excited, we just celebrated a little, and hadn’t had time to inform you! How did you know?!”