Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

The morning chill had not yet dissipated when the caravan slowly crested the last hill.

In that instant, the view suddenly opened up.

The scenery before her made Mary hold her breath.

A city lay silently between the morning mist and the snowfield.

The half-finished, grey-white city walls stretched out like a giant beast, thin frost covering the unpolished stones, reflecting a cold light.

Cold iron beams were embedded one by one into the stone layers, hard and sharp, like steel armor draped over the city.

Several arrow towers already stood, piercing straight through the mist, with the lingering embers on the iron braziers at their tops still emitting faint wisps of smoke.

Even more captivating were the scarlet banners fluttering in the wind, forming a stark contrast with the vast snowy landscape.

Like a lighthouse in the snow, they pointed the way forward and offered hope. The children were the first who couldn't sit still, poking half their bodies out to look, exclaiming, “It’s so big! So tall! Mama, look!”

“It’s even tidier than Frost Halberd City—at least it looks that way.” A woman accompanying them hugged her young son, her voice trembling.

“Don’t be fooled by appearances; who knows what it’s like inside the city gates.” An older man squinted, his tone wary, but the light in his eyes betrayed his inner shock. Mary listened to the sounds around her and looked at the city enveloped in the morning mist, a slight warmth in her chest.

The city walls and gates of this city looked comparable to old Frost Halberd City, perhaps even more modern and sturdy.

Yet, she still couldn't fully relax.

There was both anticipation and worry.

After all, no matter how magnificent it was outside the city gates, it didn't mean life inside would be good. If it was even half as good as Frost Halberd City, that would be enough. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

As the caravan slowly descended the slope, the details of the city gate became clearer.

The tall, heavy wooden city gate was studded with countless cold iron nails, glinting with cold light as the morning sun fell upon them.

The grey-blue stone bricks on both sides of the city gate formed gently sloping ramps, convenient for both transport wagons entering and exiting, and for soldiers to deploy.

The Knights guarding nearby stood in neat formations; their armor was uniform, unblemished, and their breastplates were all engraved with the Red Tide sun emblem.

“Move to the left, prepare for entry inspection.”

The leading Knight held the reins, his expression calm, yet he instinctively lowered his voice, as if not wanting to disturb the order of the place.

The air carried a cool moisture and an indescribable sense of pressure that made one instinctively hold their breath.

Mary leaned forward slightly, looking out the carriage window, and saw that their caravan was being directed to a special lane on the left.

On the other side, further to the right, was a completely different scene.

A {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} dense crowd of ragged refugees huddled together.

They were curled up out of the wind, their faces gaunt, their eyes filled with longing.

Some refugees still held coarse cloth bags containing the last of their belongings salvaged from the ruins.

However, contrary to Mary's expectation of chaos, there were no shouts, no shoving, and order was maintained meticulously.

Under several makeshift wooden shelters, several clerks were registering each person's name, origin, and family situation one by one.

“Next, how many in your household? Those with children, please go that way first.” The official’s voice was calm but carried a hint of authority.

On the other side, soldiers were distributing hot porridge and bread.

Steaming clay pots were brought out one after another, given first to women and children, who carefully held their bowls as if cradling a long-lost hope.

“Did you see that? They're giving them bread and porridge, and quite a lot of it!”

“Who does that in the North? How much grain must that cost?” someone in the caravan whispered in awe.

The registered refugees were then led by soldiers to a temporary resettlement area inside the city gate.

Neat rows of wooden houses had been erected there; though simple, they at least offered shelter from wind and rain.

The refugees’ faces flushed with warmth from the hot porridge, and their hunched shoulders finally relaxed.

An indescribable emotion welled up in her heart, as if something hard was slowly melting.

Mary held the sleeping Irene, her gaze shifting between the refugee crowd and the temporary wooden shelters on the other side of the city gate.

Those people were in ragged clothes, thin and sallow, clearly disaster victims who had fled from further north in the North.

However, the expected chaos did not materialize; there was no snatch, no crying, and no infighting.

Instead, there was an almost incredible sense of order.

Mary stared blankly at all this, a memory flashing through her mind of the famine-ridden scenes she had occasionally witnessed outside Frost Halberd City.

There, refugees tore at each other for half a moldy hard biscuit, and the bodies of the dead were almost never collected.

Yet here, these equally displaced people sat quietly drinking porridge, and children giggled when they received bread.

The mothers, whose eyes were red from the cold, showed a long-lost expression of relief as they received cotton blankets from the soldiers.

An inexpressible impact struck Mary's heart.

The accompanying Knight noticed their expressions and smiled, explaining, “This is Red Tide Territory's refugee reception policy, set by Lord Louis. First, register identities, then distribute food and lodging to prevent chaos and disease.”

“Is it free?” someone couldn't help but interject.

“Yes, completely free.” The young official’s voice carried an undeniable pride, “As long as these people are willing to stay, they will all become part of Red Tide in the future. This is a rule set by Lord Louis.”

Red Tide Territory's reception system was unprecedented in the North, and even in the entire world.

Even the most vulnerable among the refugees—the elderly, the weak, and the sick—could receive a bowl of hot porridge, a piece of bread, and temporary shelter here.

More importantly, they could rediscover order in a chaotic land.

Of course, these were not merely acts of charity.

In Lord Louis's plan, all refugees would be thoroughly recorded, including their names, original residence, relatives, and physical condition.

Everything was registered one by one and managed by category.

Women and children would be prioritized for wind- and snow-sheltered wooden houses and uniformly supplied food, while the young and strong would be directly assigned to construction teams.

They would build city walls, lay roads, and erect dome-shaped houses. If anyone had a skill, such as a blacksmith, carpenter, apothecary, or leatherworker, they would be prioritized for placement in workshops or the military supply system, exchanging their skills for food and lodging, achieving self-sufficiency.

This system of 'labor for life' not only avoided security risks but also allowed Red Tide Territory to quickly absorb a large amount of much-needed manpower.

Thus, in the post-disaster ruins of the North, Red Tide Territory created order in a different way.

And for these refugees who had fled all the way, this order was almost an incredible grace.

War and famine push human nature to its limits.

For half a moldy hard biscuit, brothers would draw swords; mothers would leave their last bite of food for their children and starve to death themselves, though without a mother, the children wouldn't last long either.

They had seen too many such things on their escape route; they had witnessed the coldest rejections and encountered the cruelest expulsions.

Therefore, when they intermittently heard a rumor on their escape route: “There's a city in the Southeast that's taking people.”

At the time, almost no one dared to believe it was true, that such a paradise could exist in the North.

They still clung to a faint, almost extinguished hope, following the vague rumor, trudging step by step.

Seeking only a bowl of hot porridge, a piece of bread, a way to live.

It wasn't until they truly arrived at the city gate of Red Tide Territory, until they saw the steaming porridge in the clay pots brought by the soldiers, until the officials under the wooden shelters looked up and gently asked their names, and the children were wrapped in clean cotton blankets.

Only then did they realize for the first time that they were not abandoned by this land after all.

Some elderly people burst into tears on the spot, kowtowing repeatedly in the snow, their voices hoarse.

Young fathers, with red eyes, fiercely covered their faces, not daring to let tears fall.

And many more children, holding warm clay pots in their hands, their small faces flushed from the cold, but their mouths trembling with smiles.

They drank the hot porridge, giggling, as if reborn after a catastrophe, or waking from a dream.

For them, Red Tide Territory was more than just a city.

In this wilderness where even the wind and snow carried despair,

It was more like a fiercely burning flame.

Tearing through the darkness on a deep winter night, illuminating a path for them to survive.

Mary and her group were Broken Fang Knights’ families, so they did not need to register one by one like the refugees.

Compared to the scene in front of the refugee shelters, the reception here was almost like another world.

A team of Red Tide Knights stood in formation, the neat sound of hooves and the light clatter of iron armor approaching.

At the forefront, an old man in a dark robe slowly stepped forward.

He was neatly dressed, his silver-white hair meticulously combed, and though there were traces of age on his brow, they could not hide his composure and dignity.

He was none other than Bradley.

Once a butler in the Calvin Family, rarely noticed, he was now the true second-in-command of Red Tide Territory's internal affairs.

Although he still insisted on calling himself “Lord Louis’s butler.”

Bradley bowed slightly, his voice gentle yet clear, reaching everyone's ears: “You have come a long way, and I commend your efforts. Lord Louis has ordered me to personally welcome all of you. Please rest assured, all arrangements have been made.”

At this moment, much of the anxiety and tension in many people's hearts was somewhat soothed by the old man’s calm words.

“These are the officials responsible for your reception; they will lead everyone into the city and arrange your lodging.” Bradley smiled slightly, gesturing behind him.

Several young Red Tide officials stepped forward quickly, saluting the caravan: “I will be responsible for leading the families from now on. I will accompany you throughout and introduce you to Red Tide City.”

The caravan slowly passed through the heavy city gate and entered Red Tide Territory's main road.

A gust of air, mixed with crisp frost and the damp smell of lime, greeted them.

The young Reception official rode at the front, raising a hand to signal the caravan to follow slowly.

His voice held an undisguised sense of pride: “This is Red Tide’s main road, paved with thick stone bricks. In winter, warm water circulates through pre-embedded heating channels to melt snow and prevent slipping, avoiding freezing and collapse. It was personally designed by Lord Louis.”

Mary gazed intently at the straight, wide road, almost forgetting to blink.

On both sides of the road, pine and cypress trees stood in neat rows, their branches still adorned with unmelted thin frost, white and green intertwined, like natural guardians.

The wind blew, and the scent of pine mixed with the crisp air, bringing an indescribable tranquility.

“These pine and cypress trees not only provide wind and snow protection,” the young official continued to explain, “but also serve as green belts, complementing the drainage system. In winter, accumulated snow and rainwater flow into snowmelt pools through channels on both sides, preventing the streets from flooding.”

Mary instinctively looked, only to see that the drainage ditches along the roadside were uniform in width and so clean they looked as if they had just been wiped. Trickling melted snow flowed into a thin pipe, finally disappearing into the underground culvert beneath the city.

“This is in the North? How is that possible?”

She could hardly believe that the scene before her was real.

There were not many pedestrians on the street, but they were orderly.

Merchants called out softly, and a group of children chased and played under the eaves, quickly stopped by their teacher nearby: “Get back in line!”

The children pouted as they lined up, then were led towards the school.

“That is one of the city's schools,” the young official explained, following her gaze, “Children start at six years old. Excellent students can become deacons, accountants, or other officials in the future.”

Mary lowered her head, looking at Irene in her arms, a surge of emotion in her heart.

She had originally planned for Irene's life to be that of a Knight's wife, just like herself—she had thought this was the best future a girl could have in the North.

But in Red Tide, her daughter's future might be completely different from her own; more choices were always good.

The carriage slowly moved along the main road, the crisp sound of hooves coming from ahead.

Before long, a small team of Red Tide Territory Knights turned out from a side street.

They were fully clad in silver light armor, wearing red cloaks, their lances gleaming, and their horses' manes neatly trimmed.

This scene somewhat surprised Mary.

She was the wife of a Broken Fang Knights squad leader and often saw Knights, so she shouldn't have been surprised.

But what captivated her was not the Knights' might, but the reactions of the people on the roadside.

An old woman by the street gently pulled her grandson’s hand, quietly reminding him: “Move aside, the Red Tide Knights are coming.”

Her tone was gentle, even carrying a hint of respect.

The little boy obediently moved aside, his eyes shining as he stared at the Knights, whispering, “When I grow up, I want to be a Knight too!”

Vendors saw the Knights and nodded in greeting with smiles, and the Knights would raise a hand in return.

A ragged refugee was walking out of a porridge shelter, holding a clay pot, and hastily retreated upon seeing the patrol team.

But one of the young Knights leaned slightly, reached out to steady him, and said softly, “Slow down, don’t fall.”

The young official noticed Mary’s gaze, smiled, and explained softly:

“This is Lord Louis’s decree: Red Tide Knights are not meant to suppress the populace, but to protect their homes and safety. If the common people are afraid when they see Knights, that is his failure, and the failure of the Knights.”

Mary’s heart trembled slightly.

In Frost Halberd City, Knights meant power and violence, cold enforcers of order.

But here, Knights were more like guardians, like a shield over people’s hearts.

A strange feeling suddenly arose in her heart; she realized that there could be another kind of relationship between Knights and the common people.

She also understood why the air in Red Tide Territory had a sense of security she had never felt before.