Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

“The Emperor of the Empire... he’s missing?” Louis stared intently at the lines of intelligence, a nerve twitching slightly in the corner of his eye.

Then, due to the weakness brought on by his prolonged sleep, he nearly lost his footing, his shoulder slumping, almost hitting the copper mirror.

“Hmph.”

A soft sound, not loud, echoed in the washroom.

But Lambert, waiting outside the door, heard the noise immediately and became alert: “Lord, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Louis struggled to muster a reply.

He leaned against the sink, took a deep breath, and with a swipe, dismissed the intelligence panel.

The blue translucent screen faded like ripples, and the washroom returned to silence.

“Before I know the truth, I can’t make rash judgments based on a few pieces of intelligence,” he murmured softly. “Just keep it in mind for now.”

A moment later, Louis readjusted his disheveled collar and pushed the door open.

Lambert was guarding the door and immediately stepped forward when he saw him emerge: “You... you don’t look so good.”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Louis rolled his eyes, his tone carrying a familiar lightness. “I’ve been unconscious for five days; it would be strange if I didn’t look bad.”

“Indeed, the doctor said it was just exhaustion, not some hidden injury. But being unconscious for so long is still a bit strange,” Lambert said, worried.

“I know you’re worried.” Louis patted Lambert’s arm guard, his voice tired. “But the fact that I woke up means I’m not dead yet, and I won’t die.

Let’s eat. I haven’t eaten for days; I feel like my soul is empty.”

Before long, the food from the kitchen was laid out on the temporarily arranged long table.

After all, even if it was a special time after the war in the Northern Territory, who would dare to neglect Louis?

Golden plates, silver-inlaid ox-bone spoons, half-stewed venison, white beans sprinkled with herb sauce, and a pot of light wheat ale.

For most of the affected populace, this was a luxury from heaven, but for a Lord, it was reasonable and necessary.

Louis chewed his meat and casually instructed, “Please have someone inform Duke Edmund that I will personally visit later to express my gratitude.”

“Yes.”

“Also, tell the doctor to stop hovering at the door. I’m not dead yet,” he said, biting off a crispy corner of the crust.

“Besides, I know this body best.”

Lambert nodded with a wry smile, but still stood like a loyal shadow behind him, not daring to relax in the slightest.

The heavy door at the end of the corridor slowly opened in the cold wind. Lambert spoke in a low voice with the guards before stepping back, leaving Louis to enter the study alone.

The door closed behind him, cutting off the cold from outside.

Hanging on the walls were not paintings, but rolled battle maps and densely packed military and political documents, crisscrossed with red pen and ink marks.

The air was a mixture of the rich aroma of strong wine and the astringent scent of herbs, a bittersweet blend.

Governor of the Northern Territory Duke Edmund sat behind the desk, dressed in a plain grey robe, without noble adornments. His long hair was tied back with a simple hemp rope.

His right hand rested on a wooden staff wrapped in white cloth, and veins, like creeping vines, pulsed beneath his pale skin, one after another, like a countdown of sorts.

Though he had been prepared, Louis couldn’t help but feel a shock.

The man who once dominated the snowstorms now seemed to be just an empty shell scorched by war.

“You look more spirited than I imagined.” Edmund raised his eyes, forcing a smile. “I originally thought you would be unconscious for a week.”

“Thanks to you, I’m just a bit tired,” Louis replied, his voice steady.

“That’s good.”

Edmund slowly raised his hand and poured a glass of wine for both of them, his movements much slower than usual, almost spilling it as he held the jug.

Once Louis had taken his, he spoke directly, “The doctor says I have six months left to live.”

The wine glass trembled slightly in the firelight.

Louis’s movements paused, and his brows furrowed involuntarily.

Although he had known this through the Daily Intelligence System before coming, he still had to pretend to be surprised.

He was silent for a few breaths, then raised his glass and drank, not saying a word.

Edmund held his wine glass, his gaze passing over the firelight and landing on Louis, as if trying to see through his calm exterior to his inner thoughts.

His voice was low: “After the war, everything needs to be rebuilt, and I no longer have the strength to «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» carry on. I want to know, how do you see its future?”

The firelight flickered, casting shadows on Louis’s face.

He didn’t respond immediately, seemingly deep in thought, or perhaps choosing his words carefully.

A moment later, he said in a low voice, “I am still young, and not a talent for great achievements. For such a question, I beg your pardon for not speaking rashly.”

Edmund stared at him for two breaths, then suddenly smiled: “You don’t have to put on a show for me.”

His tone was like an elder seeing through a junior’s trick.

“The things you did in Red Tide, not everyone could accomplish. During the insect plague, you stabilized the order of your territory. During the winter disaster, you opened granaries to aid the people and reformed the military system.

Before the barbarians invaded the south, you reorganized the Red Tide Knights, and at the critical moment of battle, you personally went to the front line, turning the tide of war with less than two hundred men.”

He set down his wine glass, tapping the rim with his fingertips, “It’s not that you can’t think; you just don’t want to say it.”

Louis smiled slightly, unperturbed: “If I were to say it was all due to luck, the Duke would probably not believe it either.”

“Of course not.” Edmund sighed, a hint of comfort beyond weariness surfacing in his eyes. “The Northern Territory doesn’t lack Knights, it doesn’t lack nobles; what it lacks are people like you, who are clear-headed and ruthless.”

“—If the Northern Territory were truly entrusted to me,” Louis paused, then said earnestly, “I would treat it with caution, and first restore the people’s livelihood—.”

Edmund raised an eyebrow: “So you are willing?”

Louis paused and said, “Being willing to work for the Northern Territory does not equate to being willing to stand at the forefront of the storm.

I am not from the Northern Territory originally, and I am a direct descendant of the Calvin Family. If the Duke truly intends to hand over the Governor’s position to me, I fear not only the Northern Territory but even the Imperial Capital will not sit still.”

Edmund was noncommittal: “The Governor of the Northern Territory... is not something I can just hand over to anyone I wish.”

Louis raised an eyebrow slightly.

Edmund put down his wine glass and said slowly, “But now, the situation is different. The Emperor is missing.”

Louis’s expression tightened, his brows furrowing sharply, showing just the right amount of shock: “You said—what?”

“The news just arrived via swift-wind bird; not many people know yet. But—I trust you.”

Louis’s face was solemn; he said nothing.

“This matter can no longer be concealed. His Majesty, along with the First Legion, the Dragon Blood Legion, and the entire Imperial Guard, has gone missing without a trace.”

Edmund’s voice was low and hoarse, as if he were describing the collapse of a great edifice.

“The Imperial Capital is probably in chaos now,” he continued. “The Noble Council is vying for power, the military is in disarray, there’s no heir apparent... it’s likely to be chaotic for several years.”

Louis’s expression grew heavier, as if he was suffocating under the weight of this momentous news.

After a long pause, he asked in a low voice, “Then—what about our Northern Territory?”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to talk about.” Edmund looked directly into his eyes, his gaze exceptionally sharp through the firelight.

“They will contend, but it will take them years. The Northern Territory is on the desolate frontier, not worth mentioning; by then, the Imperial Capital won’t even be able to manage it. If I die, they won’t have the authority to immediately send a new Governor.

At most, they’ll establish a Northern Territory Reconstruction Affairs Council, a mere titular position. What you need to do is to establish yourself first in this situation and seize real power in the Northern Territory.

I will have all my subordinates who are still willing to obey support you. You just need to accept this authority; don’t worry about anything else.”

Louis opened his mouth as if to say something, but Edmund raised a hand to interrupt him.

“Don’t decline.” Edmund’s tone was firm, his eyes holding a calm born of being between life and death. “I have seen too many nobles,

Knights, and commanders, but you are the most capable person I have ever seen.”

He slowly rose, leaning on his wooden staff, and took a couple of steps, as if suppressing some emotion within him.

“I am not choosing you for the sake of the Northern Territory.”

His voice suddenly softened, like an old man recounting an old story.

“My children—my eldest son died in battle, my second son just turned one, my eldest daughter married into the Southern Territory and hasn’t returned in twelve years; we’ve become strangers. My youngest daughter, whom I love most, is now your wife.”

Louis’s heart trembled; he said nothing.

“My line—it’s almost withered. None of the other branches of the Edmund Family have amounted to anything.” Edmund’s voice carried a hint of weariness, and a hint of calm determination. “What I want to preserve is not just the Northern Territory, but also the spark of the Edmund Family.”

He turned and gazed at Louis.

“So I am temporarily entrusting the position of Lord of the Northern Territory to you. This is a gamble; I am betting that you can hold it.”

Silence filled the room, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire, like a whisper.

But at this moment, Louis’s mind was already racing, assessing this game of power.

Edmund was gravely ill, the Empire was in turmoil, the Emperor was missing, the legions were in disarray—the entire situation had entered a “grey power ascension period.”

He had the Daily Intelligence System to foresee the future and the foundation of Red Tide to secure his rear.

And the Northern Territory was now vacant, waiting; whoever could seize the opportunity would control the future.

But this path was by no means smooth.

The Empire’s Third and Ninth Legions were still intact, their military strength unshakeable. The Sixth Prince, Asta, was also eyeing it covetously, and the Southern Frontier nobles were coming on strong. The shadows of the old Northern Territory vassals had not dispersed; each had their own calculations, and none were benevolent.

“Can I—truly handle all of this?” Louis whispered in his heart.

But this thought did not linger long, replaced by another, deeper intention: You are a transmigrator, after all. If you can’t even handle this situation, how do you expect to become a god through incense offerings?

He laughed at himself inwardly, the brief hesitation like breaking ice, revealing the surging fire beneath.

Louis finally spoke, his tone resolute: “If you trust me, then I will not fail your trust.”

Edmund gazed at him, a hint of relief in his eyes.

“Good.” He raised his wine glass, gently clinking it, and the two glasses made a crisp sound.

“For the time I have left, I will protect you for as long as I can. How far you can go from now on will depend on your own abilities.”

Louis nodded silently, raising his head to drain the strong wine in his glass.

At that moment, he finally took the baton in this relay race of destiny, and the fate of the Northern Territory was rewritten from then on.

The early spring night in Frost Halberd City still carried a chill, but the inner hall deep within the Governor’s Mansion was warmly lit, like the lingering embers of a fireplace after a snowfall.

Ten days after the war ended, Louis did not immediately return to Red Tide but remained in Frost Halberd City.

Nominally, he was recuperating, but in reality, he was designing the future direction of the Northern Territory.

Duke Edmund’s health was deteriorating, yet he did not slow down in the slightest, calling Louis into his study almost daily.

They would drink wine or medicine, or he would lean back on the sofa wrapped in a wolf-skin cloak, eyes closed, giving instructions.

And he intentionally or unintentionally brought Louis into the core of Northern Territory governance.

“You need to keep an eye on the Bladebreaker Knights—the Vice-Commander is loyal, but his vision is insufficient.”

“Don’t rely entirely on the Empire for grain routes; open up a route from Red Rock and the old path of Broken Peak Mountain. That area is safer after the insect plague.”

“And these few, I will have you meet them individually; they are trustworthy.”

As he spoke, he introduced all the old subordinates and vassal nobles he had accumulated throughout his life to Louis, much like an aging Mafia godfather entrusting his empire to his successor.

Louis always agreed with a smile, but inwardly, he felt a sad sense of “entrusting the orphan” within this heavy trust.

Before the reconstruction meeting, Duke Edmund did not gather all his vassals at once but, in an extremely cautious manner,

summoned them in batches, individually.

At night, in his study, he called his core generals, old Northern Territory nobles, and vassals one by one, personally informing them of his decision to “entrust the Northern Territory to Louis.”

Most people already knew of the Duke’s severe injuries, and though they were filled with grief upon hearing this, they raised no objections.

In their eyes, although Louis was young, his achievements over the past few years were evident, and his governance ability in Red Tide was well-known.

More importantly, they generally believed this was only a temporary entrustment.

When young Edmund grew up, power would eventually return to the Duke’s line.

Of course, not everyone was convinced.

Some of the surviving old Northern Territory families outwardly agreed but secretly harbored discontent.

They harbored doubts about this young noble from the south: “After the Duke dies, the Northern Territory will surely fall into chaos. That will be our real opportunity.”

Of course, they concealed these thoughts very deeply.

But on that translucent blue screen, everything had already been revealed.

Louis noted each one, making it clear who could be used and who could not.

Several days later, Emily finally arrived in Frost Halberd City.

She wore a thick cloak, her face slightly flushed, but she couldn’t hide the slight bulge in her abdomen.

“Are you crazy, rushing over like this?” Edmund frowned, his words stern but full of worry.

Emily gently held her father’s thin hand: “I couldn’t rest easy without seeing you.”

That night, their family gathered around a table.

Little Isaac, the youngest son, nestled in his mother’s arms, yawning.

Lady Elena personally served the soup, scolding Emily for her fatigue, and refilled Louis’s soup three times.

The fireplace cast a warm and soft glow on everyone’s faces.

This was Edmund’s most peaceful and warmest night in years.

He even entrusted the entire arrangement of the Northern Territory Reconstruction Meeting to Louis, not preparing it himself.