Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

After registration, the registrar waved to them, "Come on, I'll take you to your accommodation."

As he walked, he introduced himself, "My name is Harom, from the Old Bone Tribe. I've been a Red Tide citizen for three years now, and I'm responsible for welcoming new residents to the outer city."

Kosa walked at the very end. At first, his steps were slow, and his eyes constantly scanned his surroundings, like a young beast not yet familiar with its environment, subconsciously wanting to maintain distance.

But the longer he walked, the more silent he became.

The road beneath his feet was paved with grayish-white stone bricks, each one surprisingly uniform.

There was no mud, no scattered feed, and no sewage along the streets.

The drainage ditch was a half-covered stone trough, topped with an iron grate, and the water inside flowed clearly, without even a trace of foam.

Kosa involuntarily quickened his pace.

There were many voices in the distance, but no shouting, no scramble, only an orderly clamor he had never heard before.

Kosa lowered his head and continued to walk forward.

He could hear that the footsteps of the barbarian youths behind him had noticeably slowed.

Some were whispering, some were gaping in a daze, the shock and envy almost needing no words.

It was their first time seeing such a city.

Just with its streets and buildings, Red Tide left their haphazard wooden huts far behind.

No matter what tribe's bloodline or ancestral spirit's protection, it all seemed too shabby here.

"It's incredible—" the youth on his right couldn't help but exclaim in a low voice, "This is Red Tide—this is civilization!"

It was a person named Besha, a year older than them, the nephew of a chieftain from a small tribe.

He hadn't spoken much on the way, but from the moment he entered the city gates, his whole demeanor changed.

He spoke with reverence, looking at everything as if it were a miracle, from the city walls and the square to the copper hooks on the rooftops; even a neatly laid stone brick could evoke a sense of awe.

"I'd do anything to live in a place like this," Besha said, his eyes filled with a kind of fanaticism, as if he had found a new faith.

Kosa listened, but didn't respond, only silently gritted his teeth.

He didn't dislike this Besha, and he could understand why he was so shocked, but his transformation felt too quick.

Kosa felt he shouldn't be like this, so he tried hard to convince himself, 'I'm just here to learn, not to surrender. My surname is Hanchi, and I am Tolan Hanchi's son.'

In front of Fierce Tide Square, a tall building stood majestically in the morning mist.

It was based on bluish-gray stone, with dark gold trim along the edges. The main beams were built from cedar wood, the eaves hung low, and the sun pattern above the main entrance looked as if it could truly emit light.

"That's the Red Tide City Hall. All the policies, big and small, for the entire Red Tide Territory are born there," Harom stopped, proudly pointing to the building. "Lord City Lord usually handles affairs of state there."

His tone was not loud, but it carried an undeniable respect.

Kosa didn't reply, he just silently looked at the building.

In his past understanding, the abode of a ruler was at most a tent made of animal bones, or a stone altar with totems.

Some tribal leaders even filled their abodes with human bones to create a sense of horror, maintaining their rule through intimidation, but here it was completely different.

After passing the square, a lively atmosphere enveloped them.

Stalls were set up in rows, covered with tin roofs, arranged neatly.

There were quite a few people, but hardly any clamor, only footsteps and occasional brief inquiries.

"This is the South Market commercial district," Harom said as he walked. "These stalls all have licenses, and currency is uniformly settled with iron coins, copper coins, and resource tickets."

Kosa's gaze was drawn to an old craftsman repairing boots, with several pieces of thick leather he had never seen before at his side.

Not far away, merchants from the south were selling fabrics and spices.

Further away, there were even stalls directly bearing the Red Tide Workshop signboard, specializing in ironware and pottery, as well as some industrial products from Red Tide that Kosa had never seen.

All kinds of goods from around the world were available in the Red Tide market, but these were not what shocked him the most.

What shocked him most was that people voluntarily bowed to Harom, not with the kind of avoidance that came with fear, but as if to a truly respected person.

There was even a little girl who ran over and called him "Uncle Ha."

Harom even bent down and smiled, stroking her head.

This scene made Kosa a little stunned.

He subconsciously thought, 'That's a barbarian, though.'

But no one pointed, no one showed disgust; everyone was accustomed to it.

Even merchants dressed as Southern Imperials spoke to him with respectful language.

But he himself wasn't quite sure if it was resistance, or a kind of — inexplicable envy.

Kosa walked with his head down for a while longer, his gaze sweeping over the impossibly neat streets, canals, eaves, braziers, and the coming and going crowds with calm expressions.

For the first time, a strange emotion surfaced within him.

It was a faint — sense of inferiority. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

This was not the first time Louis had arranged this kind of "observational guidance."

Before this, whether it was the children of the Northern nobles, members of the Southern delegation, or special inspectors sent from the Imperial Capital, as long as their identity was sufficiently crucial.

Louis would arrange such a walk for them the moment they arrived in Red Tide City.

It wasn't to listen to speeches, to read reports, or to be intimidated in military camps, but to walk into the city and experience the shock brought by civilization.

To let them see for themselves the clean ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) streets, the classless trust between commoners and knights, and the smiles on people's faces.

To let them hear Red Tide officials loudly explain how Red Tide's system had changed their lives, using calm tones that made them feel not so much persuaded as struck down.

To realize that their past so-called tribal glory, family superiority, and border hardships were not revered here, nor mocked, but simply ignored by everyone.

This was cruel, but also extremely effective.

"It's not about telling them; it's about letting them feel the disparity themselves," this was Louis's own assessment.

Red Tide City itself was his greatest weapon.

Those walking between Fierce Tide Square and the main thoroughfare didn't need to be persuaded; they would understand simply by opening their eyes.

Kosa didn't know the details behind all these arrangements.

But when he heard Harom, as a Red Tide official, speak of his origins on the wide flagstone path, the pride he used to resist began to subtly loosen.

Louis had tried this method many times.

Every time, it worked.

By the time they reached the Three-Ring Residential Area, it was almost evening. The braziers along the street had been lit early, and warm orange light emanated from the iron pots, dyeing the stone-paved ground a light gold.

"This will be your accommodation from now on," Harom walked ahead, pointing to the semi-subterranean buildings nearby. "These are Red Tide-style dome houses, a residential area for military families and staff. They're windproof in winter and ventilated in summer, and there are underfloor heating pipes inside. Burning the stove twice a day is enough to keep warm."

Kosa looked up at the roofs before him, which resembled half-buried rocky mounds.

Dark gray and dusky red stone bricks were tightly joined, with almost no gaps. Along the edges, a faint circle of dark gold patterns was visible, encircling the entire curved roof ridge.

He didn't speak, only subconsciously tightened the cloth bag on his shoulder, his steps slowing by half a beat.

Harom walked at the very front and pushed open the door of one of the houses.

The door hinge slid almost silently, and warmth flowed out from the gap, caressing their faces, making them squint their eyes involuntarily.

The house was clean and simple, with a solid stone floor. There were no superfluous furnishings in the center, and the stairs were designed to be curved and embedded into the wall, saving space while maintaining aesthetic appeal.

"This one is for you young men, six people per floor, split between upstairs and downstairs," Harom said, walking towards the lower level.

They followed him down, and saw a storage room and a kitchen on either side.

The stove was stone-built, with a copper ventilation pipe next to it that ran through the entire house. Cooking utensils were neatly arranged, wooden buckets and iron kettles were placed in the corner, and there was a whole, uncut piece of salted dried meat, wrapped in oiled cloth and placed on a shelf.

"It won't frost in winter, and it won't get moldy. Grain can last a month without spoiling," Harom said as if introducing something commonplace.

Besha followed behind Kosa, staring at the cooking counter for a while, then quietly exclaimed, "I've never seen such a clean stove."

He touched the warm stone on the wall, then poked the copper pipe, trying to feel the heat inside, his eyes shining.

"This house... living in it in winter, you wouldn't need to light a fire and still wouldn't be cold, right?"

No one answered him, but he didn't care. He just grew more and more excited as he looked, even circling the room once before standing at the doorway and gazing out at the entire residential area.

"This is Red Tide."

In that moment, there was something in his eyes that Kosa had never seen before.

It wasn't reverence, nor envy, but a kind of fanaticism.

Kosa didn't speak.

He just stood in the room, looking at the clean stone seams in the corner, the extinguished fireplace, and the copper decorations on the window sill.

He had heard people say when he was a child that this was a place only imperial nobles could live.

But now, it was these barbarian youths, carrying cloth bags and wearing animal skins, who had walked into such a house.

He remembered his original dwelling, a shack surrounded by wooden stakes, with a leaky roof in winter and cooking smoke that only rolled inside.

When the wind was strong, he and his brother had to block the corners of the walls with torn animal hides just to barely get through the night.

But here... here there was even hot water, an oven, dried food, and a copper teapot.

This contrast was more piercing than the biting wind to Kosa.

Kosa didn't know what others thought, but he couldn't take his eyes off it.

He mumbled, "It's just that the roads are paved a bit better, and the houses are a bit rounder. It's not that big of a deal."

But as he said it, his steps slowed even further.

Kosa suddenly wondered if his mother could live in a house like this, would she stop coughing all the time?

So he said nothing more.

Harom explained the rules of use and added, "Food is on the table. Eat and get some rest. Someone will come to call you for assembly first thing tomorrow morning."

The door closed.

The room immediately fell silent.

The air was filled with the wheaty scent of bread, and a slightly fermented sourness—that was Red Tide City's newly produced "Salted Yellow Cheese."

On the table was a basket of sliced bread, next to it a pot of warm water, a small jar of cheese, and a few pieces of roasted cured meat. Though not lavish, for these youths who had traveled from Border Guard Village through wind and snow, it was an exceptionally good treat.

One of the tall barbarian youths rushed forward first, grabbed a piece of bread, and took a bite, his eyes instantly widening.

"Is this really what they eat every day?"

"Didn't they say Imperials only eat beans?"

"What is this stuff called?!"

The youths chattered excitedly, gathered around the table, and soon ate with satisfied expressions.

Kosa didn't move, just sat in the corner, watching them.

He wasn't as excited as they were, nor did he completely disagree.

It was just a feeling of relief that faintly rose in his chest.

Kosa had originally thought he was coming as a hostage, or even to be humiliated.

But now, he was simply in a warm room, eating soft bread with a few peers.

Even the fact of being a barbarian seemed less important now.

He couldn't help but lower his head and put a small piece of bread into his mouth.

After chewing a few times, he suddenly chuckled softly.

The roads were indeed paved a bit better, and the houses were indeed a bit rounder, but—it seemed quite remarkable indeed.

That night, Harom returned to Red Tide City Hall.

He didn't go back to his residence first, but waited outside Louis's study for a moment and was granted an audience.

The room was brightly lit.

Louis, wearing a dark gray trench coat, was sitting behind a long table, reviewing a workshop budget draft, while Bradley stood to one side, recording items for him.

"Come in," Louis said without looking up.

Harom entered the room, gave a half-bow, with a hint of barely concealed excitement:

"Reporting, my Lord, the seventeen youths recommended from Border Guard Village have been successfully settled in the city's three-ring residential houses. Their emotions are stable, and their naturalization registration is complete."

"During the tour of the square, market, and residential facilities along the way, the youths showed clear signs of shock, surprise, and admiration, indicating an initial tendency towards identification."

He paused briefly, then added, "I followed your instructions, not over-indoctrinating them, but letting them see for themselves. The effect was even better than expected."

Bradley nodded, briefly recorded it, and turned to Louis, "It seems the first small-scale implementation of the Civilization Lighthouse Project is a success."

Louis closed the document in his hand, his gaze finally turning to Harom, with a satisfied smile, "Well done."

Harom lowered his head at the words, his voice even softer, "This subordinate merely—followed your Lordship's commands."

"If not for your Lordship making an exception to accept me, a barbarian, three years ago, and giving me an important position, this subordinate would not be standing here today, nor would I dare to imagine bearing such a task. I will not fail your trust."

Louis looked at him, not responding, just raising his chin, "Understood. You may go back and rest now."

"Yes." Harom bowed and withdrew, and the room returned to silence.

Bradley flipped through the records and said calmly, "I didn't expect that taking him in three years ago would now benefit the barbarian youths."

Louis chuckled softly, "This is just an example. Barbarians are people too. He is the first, and he will certainly not be the last."