Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

Inside Frost Halberd City, the medical room was filled with biting cold. Heavy armor was piled in the corner, still covered in frost and bearing the marks of exploded bug guts from the battle.

Duke Edmund sat shirtless on the operating table, his chest covered in a crisscrossing network of old scars, most of which looked like they were caused by sword and axe blows, cutting deep into flesh and bone.

The newest one, however, ran horizontally across the lower edge of his sternum, a dark, bruised area where something seemed to be wriggling.

“Three Corpse Worms have already burrowed in,” the military doctor said in a deep voice. “You’ve blocked them with your battle aura, but they’re still moving, trying to shift towards your heart and lungs.”

“Then dig them out,” Edmund said, lowering his head. He picked up a piece of rye bread from a nearby plate and bit into it with a crunch.

His tone was as light as if he were discussing the weather: “Cut directly, no anesthesia, don’t waste time.”

“My Lord—are you really not going to wait for the paralyzing agent to be prepared? The wound is too deep, we’re afraid you—”

“I’m afraid you’ll dither,” he snapped, glaring at the hesitant medical officers, his face like iron. “Get on with it, I’m in a hurry.”

The physicians exchanged glances and had no choice but to comply.

The moment the ice blade pierced his flesh, blood gushed out.

Amidst the grating sound of metal cutting, three wriggling Corpse Worms were slowly dug out and placed into a bowl nearby containing salt-ice and red zinc solution, emitting faint, disgusting squeals.

Edmund, meanwhile, continued to gnaw on his black bread, not even blinking, as if none of it concerned him.

He only coughed lightly when the doctors weren’t looking, spitting out a few ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) streaks of blood, which he wiped away before continuing to eat.

But the physicians saw it.

The old wound, struck by Shiro’s heavy axe, had not only split open but was also turning black in a strange way, appearing to be more than just a physical injury—it seemed like a deep disintegration caused by some internal battle aura backlash.

Shallow battle aura flow patterns showed signs of fracturing at the edge of the wound, indicating an old ailment that had been sealed for years during various campaigns.

Now, the seal had been shattered by the axe’s impact, and if it worsened, the consequences would be unimaginable.

“Duke Edmund, your battle aura seems to be in disarray. I suggest you rest for a month immediately, and reseal it, at least—”

“I don’t have that luxury,” Edmund interrupted coldly. “The swarm hasn’t fully retreated, and as for that little backlash—”

He paused, swallowed the last bite of dry bread, and said indifferently, “As long as I can hold on, it’s not a problem.”

The physician wanted to speak but hesitated, finally lowering his head. He could only silently burn the wriggling Corpse Worms to ash.

After the surgery, the medical officers silently packed up the ice blades and solutions, trying to make no sound as they left.

Only silence remained in the room. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

Duke Edmund sat in a low chair by the window, wrapped in a thick blanket.

Outside the window, a cold wind howled, and snow fell like ash, covering the entire high city of Frost Halberd.

In the distance, the Frostflame Reactor still roared, like the dying breath of a beast, sending a meager remnant of warmth to this last stronghold.

The wound on his chest was not yet fully bandaged, and blood was still slowly seeping out. But he didn’t care, he just gazed silently at the sky.

The night sky was heavy, as if it could collapse at any moment.

His knuckles tapped lightly on his knee, a habitual gesture when he was thinking.

“Twelve days,” he murmured, his throat sounding like rusty iron grating. “Without reinforcements, Frost Halberd can last at most twelve days.”

Among the northern counties, Snowpeak Fortress had fallen, Ridge River was lost, and there was no news from Whitefield.

Various places in the North were either besieged or had already been swallowed by the tide of Corpse Worms.

His proud Cold Iron Legion, once so formidable, was now exhausted, and even the torches at night couldn’t illuminate very far.

He had envisioned the worst-case scenario, and now it was descending inch by inch.

His gaze slowly fell on a table nearby, where a neatly folded letter lay.

It wasn’t finished yet. It was addressed to Snowpeak County.

To his most beloved daughter, and to that—son-in-law he found pleasing.

The fellow who, despite being born in the South, was more like a “Son of the North” than any Northern lord.

“...They haven’t fallen yet,” Edmund’s lips twitched slightly, a rare expression that was almost a smile but not quite. “He’s a tenacious young man.”

At first, this marriage was largely for political reasons.

But Louis had given him too many surprises, unlike other noble scions.

To be able to establish a foothold in such a remote, godforsaken place, and manage the desolate land of Snowpeak County so well, and even withstand the insect tide.

There weren’t many places left in the North where lights still shone; Snowpeak County was one of them.

Even as Frost Halberd City was pushed to the brink, he found himself comforted by Louis’s perseverance.

“If that child had a few more years, he would be limitless, what a pity—”

He reached out, took out paper and pen, intending to write a letter. The paper felt brittle from the cold in his fingers, and the ink had to be specially heated to flow smoothly.

But as soon as the pen touched the paper for the first stroke, he stopped.

He stared at the character “Louis” on the paper, unmoving for a long time.

“If the situation becomes untenable, retreat immediately,” he murmured to himself. “It’s not your fault. To survive is the true merit.”

These were the last words a dying commander would leave for his daughter and descendants.

But he ultimately couldn’t bring himself to write them, not because he didn’t understand the situation.

Edmund knew better than anyone: the front lines were collapsing, supplies were critical, his old wounds had flared up, and even the Frostflame Reactor only had two cold starts left.

But he knew even more clearly that if even he were to write “retreat,” that would be the true end of everything.

If even I surrender first, Frost Halberd won’t be a fortress, but a tomb.

He sighed softly and put down the pen.

“Duke Edmund!”

A young knight burst into the room, his silver helmet still on, his armor frosted, splashing a few bits of snowy mud as he knelt.

“Lord Arthur Garein has sent a military report! The Dragon Blood Legion will arrive in Frost Halberd within seven days!”

In that instant, Edmund’s rock-hard brow relaxed slightly.

He didn’t answer immediately, just quietly looked out the window at the distant sky. The wind and snow still raged, but it seemed to carry a little less of the suffocating heaviness.

“Seven days—” he murmured, his eyes brightening slightly.

Arthur Garein, Dragon Knight General.

His Dragon Blood Legion consisted entirely of high-ranking knights, of pure lineage and rigorously trained.

They were the Empire’s strongest legion, known as the Blade of the Empire.

“Very good,” he nodded, his voice steady, yet in that moment, the entire room seemed to be infused with new strength. “Tell the foundry to prepare to melt three more rounds of Frost Crystal shells. Within seven days, I want the Corpse Worms to taste what despair is.”

“Yes!”

No sooner had the young knight retreated than, before the door could even close, urgent footsteps approached from afar.

Another elderly knight burst in, his expression strange, as if he had just heard the good news at the door and wanted to interrupt but dared not.

“Duke Edmund—dozens of masked mages have arrived at the outer gate. Their leader claims to be the Supreme Mage.”

Edmund raised an eyebrow; he had heard that name.