Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

Dawn had not yet awakened, and a thin mist lightly covered the eaves of Red Tide Castle. Dew hung between the flagstones and vine leaves, as if the world had just opened one eye.

But today was no ordinary day.

This was the wedding day of the great Lord Louis Calvin.

The sky was still dim, but the square outside Red Tide Castle was already bustling with people.

People gathered in small groups, spontaneously, with hardly anyone carrying weapons or making loud noises.

They wore their best clothes, and some even tied on their self-embroidered “red-backed sun epaulets”—the colors of the Red Tide banner.

It was unclear who started it, but families one after another brought “celebration food.”

Pots of steaming fresh fish soup were laid out on spread cloths, with wild ginger and radish bubbling in the broth, their fresh aroma wafting through the air.

Dried coarse wheat bread was nearby, and next to it were children tightly clutching berry wine pots, a sweet and slightly tart wild flavor in the air.

There was no noise, no urging in the entire square.

The crowd sat quietly, some conversing in low voices, others with serene gazes, looking only towards the majestically standing Red Tide Castle.

The castle they had once looked up to on the coldest winter nights.

“He let us eat our fill through winter and drove back the barbarians.”

“He’s getting married today; we must come to offer our blessings.”

Though the voices were soft, they seemed to stir a thousand waves, drawing silent nods from everyone.

Some even quietly wiped away tears; it was an old woman, wrapped in a coarse, old shawl, her face weathered by wind and frost.

“My son—if he hadn’t been killed by the Snowsworn last year, he might have lived to see this day, well-fed and warm. The great Lord saved us...”

Her words did not disturb too many; those who heard simply gently tugged her shawl. Someone offered hot soup, and someone helped her sit down.

To avoid troubling the Lord, no one shouted loudly, no one sang loudly.

Yet, it was as if all emotions were condensed into this unawakened summer breeze.

The sun had not yet risen, but the “sun” of Red Tide Territory had long since been enthroned in people’s hearts.

The castle bells, after the seventh chime, slowly faded.

The double doors of the banquet hall deep within Red Tide Castle’s main keep quietly closed, shutting out the outside clamor and the people’s prayers.

Looking in from the doorway, it was like stepping into another world.

On the high vaulted ceiling, two large banners floated with the breeze.

The Calvin Family’s moon crest glowed with fiery heat, while the Edmund Family’s silver eagle seemed poised for flight, reflecting each other, weaving a glorious light of noble alliance across the hall ceiling.

Candlesticks stood all around, all crafted from traditional Northern Territory high-footed bronze, their flames gentle and steady, intermingling with the morning light filtering through the windows, casting a solemn sanctity upon the walls and banners.

And the bluebells, white vervain, and ice roses, chosen through three rounds by the Noble Merchant Guild, were artfully woven into the flower stands and table decorations.

The bluebells trembled like a morning breeze, the white vervain stood tall, and the ice roses sparkled like freshly melted frost and snow; they were not for splendor, but for remembrance—loyalty, steadfastness, honor.

All of this, from the crest banners floating down from above, to the meticulous outlining of every inch of the lime runes on the red carpet:

From the selection of flowers to the height and placement of the candlesticks, even the angle of the light entering the hall.

Not only that, every single detail on site demonstrated the Calvin Family’s respect for tradition, yet without appearing extravagant.

These arrangements made guests unconsciously hold their breath and lighten their steps once they entered.

All thanks to Bradley’s personal design and arrangement.

This old butler of the Calvin Family, the head of internal affairs for the Red Tide main keep, had been busy for over a month.

Just for the perfect completion of this moment.

He wasn't even at the main table, nor was he in the spotlight.

But every breath and rhythm of this wedding held his touch and belief.

The guests were already seated, and the wedding hall was silent.

On the front-most bench, a man and a woman sat upright.

One was the Governor of the Northern Territory, a high-ranking imperial minister, Duke Edmund.

He wore a black and silver ceremonial robe, with a silver eagle cloak draped over his shoulders. His eagle-like eyes were slightly closed, his face as stern and majestic as a stone sculpture.

Today, he had set aside all official duties to personally come to Red Tide, as a father.

Edmund slowly opened his eyes, and in his eagle-like gaze, a hint of almost imperceptible tenderness emerged at that moment.

That expression seemed to pull time back more than ten years.

At that time, little Emily Edmond, wearing a small goose-yellow cloak, would chase eagles wildly in the snow, falling and shouting, “Father! Look what I caught!”

In a blink of an eye, she was getting married, which filled him with a myriad of emotions.

The woman beside him was Duchess Elena, Emily Edmond’s stepmother.

She was always dignified and serene, with the natural demeanor of an imperial noblewoman. However, at this moment, she tightly clutched a snow-white embroidered handkerchief, her knuckles slightly white.

Elena looked at the young woman about to appear at the end of the red carpet, her eyes already red, her lips trembling, as if she was trying hard to suppress some emotion.

She remembered the child’s voice the first time she called her “Mother.”

She remembered her curled up in bed with a fever in the middle of the night, and she herself holding her small hand, feeding her medicine spoon by spoon.

She remembered teaching her how to wear a gown, teaching her to dance her first dance, and remembering her smile in the sunlight.

Now she was getting married.

Elena took a deep breath, lowering her head to hide her moist eyes.

She didn't know that, through the window, Emily Edmond had already secretly glanced at her.

This glance, besides gratitude, also held a deep sense of reluctance to part.

For Emily Edmond, this wedding was not just about honor and family; it was also one of the most important farewells of her life.

The rest of the Edmund Family members and retainers were seated solemnly in the back rows according to their bloodline and etiquette.

Counts, barons, viscounts—they might not be familiar with the Calvin Family, nor with Louis.

But today, as members of the Edmund Family, they too had to witness this marriage alliance personally decided by their patriarch.

The Calvin Family did not send a large delegation far to the Northern Territory, as the Southeast Province and Red Tide were thousands of miles apart.

Ultimately, only the two elder brothers, Pal and Willis, who were already serving as pioneering nobles in the Northern Territory, and the third brother, Eduardo, who represented their father, were present.

Eduardo’s expression was composed, his demeanor proper, as if he were merely a guest observing the ceremony.

On the surface, he always wore a smile, but in reality, his thoughts were no longer on the wedding itself.

Last night, Louis’s mention of the “Worm-Eaten Household” had greatly piqued his interest and awakened his vigilance as a church envoy; perhaps it was related to his mission. Pal’s expression was much more complex, his gaze always carrying jealousy and unwillingness.

He envied Louis’s current glory, yet found it difficult to speak of his own defeat and loss of power.

In contrast, Willis appeared much more at ease.

He was genuinely happy for Louis, as his younger brother Louis had given him countless substantial help,

and had also helped his territory gain a firm foothold in the Northern Territory.

In addition, some collateral nobles of the Calvin Family in the Northern Territory were sent to “fill the seats,” though most were just insignificant figures.

They were respectful on the surface, but each had their own calculations in their hearts.

As the Calvin Family’s representative in the Northern Territory, the higher Louis’s prestige, the more benefits they could gain in the future.

The wedding ceremony was about to begin, and a clergyman in a gold-threaded ceremonial robe stood quietly before the altar.

He was one of the highest-ranking priests in the Northern Territory, with a solemn face and hands folded in front of him, looking like an ancient vow sealed ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) within a divine statue.

No one dared to make a sound; even a falling pin would probably be clearly audible in this silence.

Only music quietly flowed out.

From the side hall came soft, fragmented notes, at first just a few low string plucks, like the first footprints on snow.

Then a Frost Moon three-stringed flute quietly joined in, its tone ancient and distant, like the north wind circling mountain peaks.

That was the joint orchestra of Red Tide Castle and the Frost Moon Tribe, playing a celebratory piece prepared especially for today.

It was said that just to harmonize this “North-South Ensemble,” they had rehearsed for two full months.

Now, as it played, the entire hall seemed to be split by a rift in time and space, with the waves of the Southern Territory and the frost of the Northern Territory briefly merging in the notes.

The clergyman opened his eyes and looked up towards the main door.

The two protagonists should be making their entrance.

The music paused gently, like the silence of all sounds in a snowstorm.

Immediately following, the melodious sound of horns rose from both sides of the hall, like morning bells and evening drums.

First to appear was the bride.

Emily Edmond slowly entered the hall, dressed in an ivory-white wedding gown, her skirt sweeping the ground like a gentle snow wave, each step seemingly treading on morning light.

Her cloak, meticulously embroidered with Northern Territory-produced threads, shimmered with silver, like a starry river of the night sky draped over her shoulders, swaying gently with her steps, as if even the wind held its breath.

Her face was half-hidden by her veil; through the light fabric, one could see her eyes trembling slightly, like gentle ripples on a lake, hiding a hint of nervousness and an unspoken joy.

Around her neck, she wore an old silver pendant, antique in style, yet polished to a shine; it was the last piece of jewelry her mother had left behind.

It lay against her skin, like a silent guardian.

She instinctively looked up at the audience.

Duke Edmund sat in his seat, his expression steady and unruffled.

Duchess Elena gently wiped away tears, her eyes full of tenderness.

Emily Edmond’s gaze lingered on them for a moment, and tears uncontrollably welled up in her eyes.

She bit her lower lip, trying hard not to let the tears fall.

Today was her wedding, not a day for nostalgia, not a day for farewells.

Immediately after, the large doors at the other end of the hall slowly opened.

Under everyone’s focused gaze, Louis Calvin stepped into the hall.

He wore a modified Northern Territory ceremonial suit, its dark black base deep and understated, making his figure appear even more upright.

Two silver crests hung on his chest: one the Calvin Family’s moon crest, and the other the unique sun of Red Tide Territory, symbolizing his current status as the Calvin Family’s full representative in the Northern Territory of the Empire.

He wore a red and gold cloak over his shoulders, unsworded, yet exuding a chilling sense of pressure.

There were no extravagant jewels, nor ornate gold ornaments.

But he himself was like a long sword hidden in its sheath, standing quietly there, its sharpness not evident, yet no one dared to underestimate him.

Louis’s steps were steady and composed. His gaze swept over the guests in the hall, but when he saw the bride on the other side of the hall, he paused involuntarily.

That wedding gown seemed made for her.

And her eyes, her posture, her standing there, like a warm light suddenly blooming in a snowy night.

The mix of smiles and tears behind the veil made him feel a little lost for a moment.

“Truly beautiful,” he thought to himself.

On the other side, Emily Edmond’s gaze also cut through the crowd, landing on the man in the ceremonial attire, striding towards her, and her heart suddenly trembled gently.

A black cloak, a neat uniform, eyes so firm they seemed to pierce through wind and snow.

The first time she saw Louis, she felt that this man was not only handsome but also possessed an indescribable charisma.

Like light, but not dazzling.

Just like the sun, a reassuring presence.

“Oh no, much handsomer than I imagined,” she whispered to herself, but her lips couldn’t help but slowly curve upwards.

At the clergyman’s signal, the two walked towards each other step by step, finally slowly meeting in the center of the hall, standing before each other.

At this very moment, all the music and blessings seemed to halt between them; the entire hall seemed to hold only these two people. The ceremony was finally about to begin.

At the clergyman’s signal, Louis Calvin and Emily Edmond walked side by side towards the center of the hall.

Their steps were symmetrical, like reflections in a mirror, each one falling in time with the music, solemn and serene.

When the two finally met in the center of the hall and stood facing each other, the surroundings suddenly grew quiet.

Whether it was the music, the incense, the guests, or the swirling colored light overhead, all seemed to be gently paused by some invisible force.

Only the two of them remained.

The clergyman raised his dragon-engraved scepter, and his ancient, solemn voice echoed through the high hall:

“Under the witness of the Dragon Ancestor, before all present, the newlyweds shall make three vows—”

The first oath, the Family Oath.

"Are you willing to swear to uphold the honor of your bloodline, support your spouse, and work together for the prosperity of your family?"

Louis extended his right hand, taking Emily Edmond's veiled hand. The warmth of her palm was comforting, yet firm.

He looked into her eyes, his voice steady: "I am willing."

He did not hesitate, did not falter, even though not many emotions stirred within him.

He did not dislike her, but he was not familiar with her either.

Emily Edmond, a name incredibly important from a political perspective, but from an emotional one, this was only their second meeting.

A political marriage.

He had long understood the essence of this marriage.

Yet, he still spoke the vows with conviction.

Emily looked at him, taking a soft breath.

"I am willing."

Her voice trembled slightly but was clear. She had been preparing for this day for a very long time.

From the moment she knew she was to marry into the Red Tide Territory, she understood that she was being sent not just as a "daughter" or "noble lady," but as a "wife" and "future Lady of the Territory."

She could not be weak.

But the pride in her parents' eyes, her godmother's hushed instructions, and the etiquette she had studied day and night, along with her imaginings of the future—

At this moment, they surged from her heart like a tide, almost overwhelming her.

She lowered her head, hiding the tears that quietly welled in the corners of her eyes.

The second oath, the Empire Oath.

"Are you willing to be loyal to the Empire, abide by its laws, and never betray it?"

"I am willing." Louis did not hesitate.

"I am willing." Emily gripped the edge of her gown. She knew this vow was the continuing link between her and her family, and also the second threshold into this new world.

The third oath, the Faith Oath.

"Are you willing to follow the Dragon Ancestor as your guide, and walk hand in hand through light and hardship?"

"I am willing."

"I am willing."

Tears glimmered in Emily's eyes, subtly sparkling beneath her veil, but she no longer shied away.

And so, the three oaths were complete.

The cleric solemnly announced:

"In the name of the Dragon Ancestor, your destinies shall intertwine from this day forth; the chains of bloodline and faith have bound you closely together."

Applause erupted, and colorful confetti fluttered like snow.

The Dragon-紋 Scepter lightly touched between them, and the holy emblem, interwoven with white-gold and red-gold, shimmered faintly, like a blessing bestowed by an ancient god.

Emily trembled slightly, feeling a warmth fall upon her brow, as if truly imprinted upon the depths of her destiny.

In the front row of guests, Duchess Elena quietly wiped away tears. As her fingertips brushed the tears from the corners of her eyes, she quickly regained the usual composure of a noblewoman.

She looked at her daughter's seemingly grown-up back, and a strange sense of weightlessness arose in her heart.

It was not sadness, but the fulfillment of a mother eagle pushing a fledgling, whose wings had grown, into the sky.

Duke Edmund sat beside her, his expression as calm as ever.

Even in the face of such a situation, he remained the composed and unperturbed imperial minister.

However, the moment Emily officially swore her vows, a soft light still flickered in his eyes.

On the other side, Pal Calvin leaned back in his seat, his expression dark.

He gritted his back teeth, but forced himself to maintain the smile a nobleman should have, though that smile looked more like mockery.

"It's just a political marriage, she won't truly like him." He chuckled softly, half-sarcasm, half-unwillingness.

He could not accept that this once-ignored younger brother was now marrying the most dazzling woman in the entire Northern Territory.

"What a waste of a beautiful flower." He consoled himself.

As the wedding vows were completed, the ceremony moved into the celebration phase.

First was the Holy Emblem Coronation.

The cleric placed the double-ring holy emblem, symbolizing the union of husband and wife, upon the newlyweds' shoulders. The emblem was engraved with dragon wings and a rising sun, symbolizing faith and the future.

Louis knelt on one knee, received the emblem, then stood and personally pinned it onto Emily Edmond.

At that moment, Emily's eyes widened. His movements were very light, his fingertips brushing the strands of hair at her neck, a barely perceptible tenderness that made her heart skip a beat.

He... was meticulously performing every detail.

Next was the ceremonial wine offering, where the two held a silver cup together, offering wine brewed from their respective homelands to each other.

Louis poured her wine brewed in the Red Tide Territory. The wine was clear, but its taste was as fiery as a fierce wind on a cold night.

He watched Emily drink it, and smiled slightly: "You can switch to water if you're not used to it."

"I quite like it." Emily's throat tightened, and she said softly.

She was serious.

The wine was strong, but it had a unique crispness and directness, characteristic of the Northern Territory, just like him—few words, yet always leaving a deep impression.

Immediately after, the court musicians played a poetic ode.

A bard walked to the center of the hall, reciting selections from the Empire's chronicle poems, praising the glory of the Dragon Ancestor and the joy of the new couple's union.

The song flowed like water, intertwining, as if history overlapped at this moment, and the marriage of this new noble couple was being written into the continuing chapters of the Empire.

And then came the banquet.

Colors shifted, silver plates spun, and fragrant mist rose. Noble guests rose one after another to offer toasts to the newlyweds, with congratulations and clinking glasses rising and falling.

On the long table, Red Flame Lobsters from the Imperial Capital, Frozen Pulp Chestnuts from the Red Tide Territory, and Golden Feather Crane Meat specially supplied by the royal family were served one by one, creating a feast for the senses.

Emily sat at the head table, slightly reserved, but trying her best to respond to every toast with a smile.

She occasionally turned her head to look at Louis.

He remained calm, handling every guest with measured speech and composed demeanor.

But she noticed that several times, he had already looked her way before she looked at him.

When their eyes met, he would nod gently, without extra words, but as if they had a telepathic understanding.

As the ceremony neared its end, the music faded, and the scent of wine, formalities, and pleasantries gradually receded.

Just as everyone was preparing to leave, Louis leaned in slightly and whispered into Emily's ear: "Come with me."

Emily was stunned, before she could react, her hand was already taken by him.

"Lou-Louis?" She was led by him, her dress swaying slightly in the long corridor, only able to jog to keep up with his pace.

The two passed through a side door of the banquet hall and stepped onto the grand balcony that faced the starry sky and overlooked the entire hall.

Immediately, Louis made a gesture to the attendant behind him, and the accompanying official loudly announced:

"Please, esteemed guests, move to the balcony to enjoy the spectacle of the wedding ceremony."

The crowd quickly gathered there. The cold night, softened by braziers and warm wine, was not piercing, but rather imbued with a sense of solemnity and mystery.

In the distance, the night sky was clear as crystal, with sparse starlight, as if specifically clearing the stage for this moment.

Emily had not yet understood what was happening, but Louis was already standing in the center of the balcony, nodding slightly towards the crowd.

"This marriage belongs not only to the two of us." His tone was steady, as he looked at the pairs of eyes watching beneath the stars, "It also belongs to this Northern Territory. I want it to be remembered."

He raised his hand, signaling, and a row of metal devices in the distance were ignited.

The next second, the first alchemical firework soared into the sky.

Boom!

A scorching crimson sun bloomed in the night sky, its central core flame burning brightly, like the heart of a raging fire.

The crowd gasped in astonishment.

"It's the sun—the symbol of the Red Tide!"

"It's so beautiful—the first time I've seen magma essence fireworks—"

Emily stood rooted to the spot, the firelight reflecting in her pupils. She quietly looked at the man beside her.

He said nothing more, just quietly watched the crimson fire lotus bloom in the sky.

Then the second boom sounded: Boom!

This time, an ice-blue flame cascaded downwards, like a sky-wide waterfall of snow pouring from the heavens.

Crystal light, like snow, drifted like an illusion, enveloping the entire Red Tide Territory, as if the whole world was surrounded by a gentle mist of snow.

Emily held her breath, "So beautiful!" The third boom—!

One gold, one silver, giant wing-shaped fireworks exploded from the zenith, unfolding across the dome.

The light and shadow of soaring wings left a magnificent arc in the night sky, shaped like a silver eagle soaring, subtly forming part of the Edmund Family crest, symbolizing order and alliance.

"Wow—"

Even the noble children couldn't help but clap, and the elders looked on with reverence.

Louis, meanwhile, raised an eyebrow slightly: "Silco really does have some skill."

He had originally scoffed at that guy's so-called "alchemical genius."

After all, the man usually spouted strange theories all day and was always causing trouble, but now he had to admit.

When that guy got serious, he really could produce something incredible.

On the hall balcony, there was already a low murmur of clamor and shock intertwined.

Almost none of the noble guests who were seeing this sight for the first time were unmoved.

"What is that? Magic?" A southern noble squinted in surprise.

After three consecutive earth-shattering fireworks, the night sky did not return to silence; instead, it grew even more vibrant.

As the mechanisms activated one by one, a series of dazzling lights and shadows soared into the sky—flower shapes, streamlines, spirals, star rain, phoenix tails—one after another, almost painting the entire night sky into a flowing masterpiece.

The nobles were captivated, almost completely rooted to the spot.

"Is that magic?" Someone spoke, their tone still carrying a hint of uncertain awe.

"No—is it an illusion? How can there be such precise changes?!"

"Look at that trajectory—is it Magic Bombs! Magic Bombs can actually create this effect!"

"This, this is no longer the 'salute' we knew, is it—"

Murmurs rose from the crowd, but no one was willing to look away.

They had attended countless weddings, seen countless displays of luxury, but they had never witnessed a ceremony that used the "sky" as its canvas.

It wasn't just fireworks; it was a declaration that completely surpassed all imagination.

Even Duke Edmund, who was usually composed, slightly raised his head and watched for a moment.

He had never liked lively scenes and was indifferent to luxury, but at this moment, he uncharacteristically paused his thoughts, gazing in silence,

A glimmer of light appeared in his eyes.

"It is indeed quite beautiful," he said.

As if even he himself was forced to admit the unusual nature of this "young couple's wedding."

And Lady Elena, standing beside him, could not hide the astonishment in her eyes. Her eyes shone as if illuminated by the fireworks, and she murmured with emotion:

"It truly is too beautiful."

She wasn't just talking about the fireworks; it was more like she was reflecting on the meaning of her daughter's wedding, this night.

"You prepared this earlier?" Emily asked softly, her voice so faint as if afraid to disturb the starlight.

"It's not for everyone else." Louis looked at her, his voice still calm, but with a rare seriousness, "It's for you."

Emily froze, a breeze rustling her hair, but unable to disperse the tremor in her eyes.

Louis spoke slowly, as if weighing each word, "I understand how much you've given for this day. But I don't want you to feel like you're just a family pawn."

He turned to look at the colorful fireworks in the sky, his tone low but firm: "After today, you are my wife. I hope that when you recall today's scene, it will be a light that welcomed you, that bloomed for you."

Emily stared at him, captivated, looking at this fated person.

The firelight bloomed again, starlight rained upon her shoulders, and her heart, too, seemed to skip a beat at that moment.

"Why did you—" She opened her mouth, but found her throat tight, her voice trembling slightly.

"I'm not good at saying moving words," Louis chuckled softly, "but I know you deserve a night like this."

In that instant, Emily's tears almost spilled over.

She slowly reached out and took his hand.

The wind stirred gently, as if it, too, had softened.

This moment belonged to them, not to any alliance, family, or empire.

It belonged only to her and him.