Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

The carriage rattled along the muddy road after the snow.

Mary leaned against the window, dozing, holding little Eni in her arms, with the low hum of the carriage wheels crushing snow in her ears.

Suddenly, she was awakened by a stifled discussion.

“Look! Look outside!”

“Oh my goodness, what is that place?”

“It can’t be Red Tide Territory, can it?!”

Mary rubbed her eyes, drowsily climbing to the carriage window.

Just then, the convoy slowly rounded a small hill, and the scene before them suddenly unfolded.

In that instant, Mary’s breath caught in her throat.

As the carriage slowly moved over the hill, the sight before them came rushing forward.

Below was a vast river valley, as if someone had carved a spring-like fissure into the heart of winter.

The entire Wheat Wave Territory stretched across the river valley, with silver-white greenhouses reflecting shimmering ripples in the sunlight, like waves stirred by a gentle breeze.

On the hillsides, round, semi-underground houses were neatly arranged.

And wide, straight cross-roads extended like neural pathways, connecting villages, greenhouses, and grain processing workshops tightly.

Of course, what was most breathtaking was the boundless field, and the thousands of people wielding iron plows and wooden shovels, tilling the soil, sowing seeds, and carrying water.

Shouts, work songs, and the clang of iron tools rose and fell, like a spring song, passionately playing out on this once desolate, frozen land. An elderly woman in the carriage murmured, “Where in the North can you find a place like this? Not even the estates outside Frost Halberd City are this neat.”

A child was so excited he almost climbed out the window: “Mother, look! The little calf over there is pulling a ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ plow! Its horns are white, it’s so fun!”

The already crowded families in the carriage all craned their heads out the window, and a cacophony of voices erupted.

Hearing this, a Red Tide Knight accompanying the convoy smiled, reined in his horse, and approached the carriage, saying loudly, “This is not Red Tide Territory, ladies.

This is Wheat Wave Territory, just an experimental site under our Lord’s new plan.”

Seeing the bewildered faces in the carriage, the Knight grinned, a clear sense of pride in his voice: “Red Tide’s main city is several times better than this. Once you arrive, you’ll know what true Red Tide glory means.”

Mary gazed at the farmers tilling the land outside the window, the scent of cooking smoke and earth mingling as it wafted into her nostrils with the wind.

This was the North, once known for its desolation and barrenness.

Yet now, someone had carved a new lifeline into the frozen earth.

She recalled the famine and chaos after the insect plague in Frost Halberd City, then looked at the orderly and vibrant scene before her, and for some reason, she began to look forward to the city she would live in and her future life.

The spring breeze swept through the river valley, bringing with it the scent of damp earth.

The newly built Government Hall of Wheat Wave Territory stood by the river, its exterior carved with a sun motif encircled by wheat ears, the symbol of Wheat Wave Territory.

Though its interior lacked gilded domes and silk drapes, it possessed a sense of steady and grand power.

At this moment, dozens of village chiefs, workshop leaders, cultivation record officers, and supervising officials were already seated, and the air was filled with tension, while the young Lord of Red Tide sat quietly at the head of the table.

Louis was not wearing grand attire, just a dark, short cloak, its collar fastened with a silver pin of the Red Tide Knights.

This was the mid-spring plowing report meeting this year, and also the first Wheat Wave administrative meeting personally presided over by Louis since the end of the war.

Seeing the Lord in person after a long time, everyone’s feelings were complex, both excited and subtly reverent.

Louis tapped his fingertips lightly on the table, signaling for quiet in the hall, and spoke softly: “Gentlemen, spring plowing is the foundation of this year. Although the war has kept me preoccupied, I have always kept this matter in mind.”

As his low voice fell, the previously whispering officials immediately fell silent, even their breathing becoming lighter.

Louis surveyed the room, nodding slightly: “Speak, what is the current situation.”

The first to stand was Mick, rubbing his hands together in front of him, the thick calluses making a faint rustling sound.

He hadn't seen Louis in a long time, so he was still very nervous: “M-my Lord—um, I’m here to report on this year’s spring plowing.”

Louis rested his elbow on the armrest of his chair and smiled slightly: “Go on.”

Mick looked up at him, his voice gradually steadying: “Last year, our Wheat Wave cultivated a total of forty-six thousand mu. This year, it has expanded to eighty-eight thousand mu—almost doubled.”

“Not bad.” Louis nodded gently.

It was like a casual compliment, but it visibly relaxed Mick’s shoulders.

“The newly added cultivated land is mainly gentle hillsides, shallow wetlands, and a portion of plateau land.” Mick paused, then added, “As per your instructions, we laid geothermal pipelines in advance—so night frost is no longer an issue there.”

Louis raised an eyebrow, nodding for him to continue.

“This year—” Mick opened his record book, “As for the crops planted, there are several more varieties than last year.

The Agricultural Research Institute selected several new cold-resistant, high-yield seeds. Currently, the seedling emergence rate in the greenhouses is ninety-two percent, significantly higher than last year.”

“Ninety-two percent?” Louis repeated softly, a slight curve to his lips.

Mick couldn’t help but smile as well, then continued: “Based on this year’s sowing rate, the autumn harvest is expected to reach one hundred ninety-seven thousand tons, enough to feed one hundred twenty thousand people for a whole year.”

At this point, he scratched the back of his head: “My, my Lord—if the heavens don’t act up, our Wheat Wave granaries this year, I’m afraid—will burst.”

A wave of suppressed laughter rippled through the Government Hall, and the tense atmosphere instantly relaxed a few degrees.

Mick finished speaking and sat down, and everyone applauded, led by Louis.

The atmosphere eased slightly, and the taut strings in everyone's hearts relaxed a bit.

Next, a tall, thin, dark-skinned man stood up and bowed clumsily.

This was Andre, an official of the newly established Livestock Bureau this year.

He was originally a large ranch foreman in the Southeast Province of the Empire, and it was only last year that he came to the North, recruited by Louis with a hefty sum.

Andre wiped the sweat from his forehead, his lips appearing slightly dry from nervousness: “Reporting to my Lord, this year—the number of livestock is much better than expected.”

He opened the parchment scroll in his hand, pointed to the neat ink, and took a deep breath before continuing:

“Firstly, cattle and sheep. Because we built sheltered semi-underground cattle sheds in the North Hills, relying on geothermal heating, the mortality rate was half of what was estimated. Of the seven hundred fifty thick-wool cattle purchased late last winter, six hundred eighty-nine have successfully survived.”

“The sheep flock has expanded from nine hundred last year to three thousand one hundred, mainly snowfield sheep and short-horned mountain goats.

We are experimenting with ‘Giant Bone Meal’ as a feed additive, and the effect is excellent, increasing wool production by nearly thirty percent.”

At this point, his eyes brightened a bit, and his tone began to carry a hint of pride: “As for poultry, six large new chicken coops were built this year.

The first batch released eight thousand, and an estimated six thousand will be ready for market this summer. Geese and ducks are also being tried on a small scale, but currently only as supplementary food, not as a main force.”

Everyone in the hall nodded slightly, clearly this achievement exceeded most people’s expectations.

“There is also the magical beast trial breeding program, which is also underway. Although the numbers are not large, they are all healthy individuals.”

Andre paused, then looked up at Louis with a hint of caution: “Also—my Lord, the Morning Glow Pond you mentioned has already been put into use.”

Louis raised an eyebrow slightly, asking in a calm tone: “How are the results?”

“Very successful, my Lord!” Andre’s voice clearly rose by half a degree.

Someone in the hall chuckled softly, but Louis simply waved his hand, signaling him to continue.

Andre paused, then raised the parchment scroll with a hint of excitement: “The five Morning Glow Ponds we excavated have been put into use, and the first batch introduced three common fish species: Silver-Striped Carp, Red Tide Fin, and Northern White Bream. Their adaptability is excellent.”

He paused for a moment, his voice lowering slightly: “Also—as per your instructions, we tried breeding the first batch of magical beast fish in the deepest pond.

Red-Maned Spring-Swallowing Catfish and Three-Eyed Moon Scale, though not large in number, are kept within a safe range, and are currently in good condition.”

Upon hearing this, Louis nodded slightly, his tone calm but with a hint of approval: “Very good, stabilize the scale first, no need to rush expansion.”

Andre, who had been praised, visibly breathed a sigh of relief, his ears still red as he returned to his seat.

Next, Green slowly stood up, a thick sheepskin ledger placed before him.

“My Lord.” He bowed slightly, opening the first page of the ledger, “I will report on population and systems.”

Louis nodded, picked up the hot tea from the table, and motioned softly: “Please speak.”

“As of the beginning of this month, the total registered population of Wheat Wave Territory is seventy-six thousand three hundred forty-two people.”

Everyone gasped softly; this number was astonishingly higher than last year’s data.

Green continued: “Last year, we relocated over fifty-two thousand displaced people; this year, an additional eighteen thousand seventy-two applications for relocation have been received.

The household registration system is becoming more complete, and initial family binding and labor service statistics have been completed.”

Louis put down his teacup, his eyes shifting slightly: “So many? This means—our food security has given them enough confidence.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Green looked up, his expression extremely serious, “Throughout the entire North, this is the only place where displaced people can settle down and thrive with their families.”

At these words, an uncontrollable sense of pride appeared on the faces of everyone in the hall.

“Additionally,” Green turned to the second volume of the ledger, “this year is a crucial year for system implementation. The first batch of ‘Red Tide Citizen Rights Certificates’ has been distributed.”

“Citizen Rights Certificates?” Louis raised an eyebrow slightly, looking at Green, as if guiding him to explain to others, even though he had personally designed this policy.

Green immediately explained: “As long as household registration is completed and basic service obligations are fulfilled, a Citizen Rights Certificate can be obtained. With this certificate, one can inherit housing, enjoy priority access to children’s education rights, medical allocation, and disaster subsidies.”

At this point, the eyes of several village chiefs lit up; they knew what this meant. For displaced people, this was not just about eating enough to survive, but also about hope for the next generation.

“And job classification is also progressing.” Green’s tone shifted, and he began to flip through another thin sheet of forms, “Last year, most new citizens were unskilled laborers.

After professional training, the first batch of new professional groups has emerged, including professional farm workers, irrigation technicians, fertilizer compounders, and even greenhouse repairers and geothermal maintenance workers.”

Louis smiled when he heard this: “This shows that everyone is starting to find their place.”

“Furthermore, to encourage birth, the Medical Office implemented the Warm Infant Project this year.”

Green raised his hand slightly, and the record officer next to him handed a thin booklet to the table: “Insulated baby beds, maternal food rations, birth coaching.

These three measures were implemented simultaneously, and this quarter’s newborns reached six hundred thirteen, doubling last year’s number.”

This time, many officials let out small gasps of admiration. For the frozen lands of the North, this number was almost like a miracle.

Louis tapped his fingertips lightly on the table: “Remember, these infants are the future Red Tide people. Give them the best protection.”

Everyone nodded in agreement upon hearing this.

Finally, Green turned to a page with a red-stamped list: “Due to the implementation of last year’s policy rewards, this year’s ‘Cultivation Ranking’ saw fierce competition among villages and communities, with efficiency increasing by nearly thirty percent compared to last year.

The top three villages have achieved an average sowing speed double that of last year.”

The village chiefs sitting in the front rows of the meeting couldn’t help but smile, exchanging glances, clearly proud of their achievements.

Louis leaned back slightly in his chair, tapping his fingertips lightly on the table, his gaze sweeping back and forth across the data and charts.

Eighty-eight thousand mu of cultivated land, seventy-six thousand registered population, a preliminary domesticated magical beast husbandry project—this was the blueprint he had personally envisioned, the plan he had stayed up late writing at his desk.

He should have been prepared for all of this, but when the specific numbers and real results were laid before him, he couldn’t help but sigh softly in his heart: “They did even better than I imagined.”

These people—Mick, Green, Andre, and even those village chiefs, workshop leaders, and cultivation record officers—they may have come from different backgrounds, originally just displaced people, slaves, artisans, soldiers, but now, each of them could stand on their own.

This meant that Louis was no longer the young Lord who needed to be hands-on and meticulously oversee every detail.

He set the direction for them, and they could carve their own paths.

Red Tide Territory was finally starting to become a truly functioning machine.

After a moment of silence, Louis spoke in a gentle tone: “I know these days have not been easy. Many of you have come from war, famine, and exile—with children, with scars, not even knowing where you would settle tomorrow.”

He paused for a moment, then raised his voice: “But now, look at your achievements. Look at this river valley, these greenhouses, these hills full of cooking smoke.

You have not only survived but also given new life to this frozen land. The food you produce will save the entire North.”

As Louis finished speaking, a faint smile played on his lips: “Well done. Of course, you need to do even better next. Can you do it?”

At this moment, everyone in the Government Hall almost instinctively stood up: “Yes!”