Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

Bradley took the drafts, and a prominent title immediately caught his eye: "Draft Charter for Northern Territory Material Council and Joint Defense."

"Listen while you read," Lord Louis said with the deliberation of careful thought. "I'll explain the key points."

"Bradley, you know I don't seek power for power's sake. All of this is to ensure that Red Tide and the Northern Territory can survive longer and live better lives."

"We can no longer rely on external aid or luck. The Northern Territory is rebuilt every year; if we can't unite, we'll only repeat the same mistakes."

Bradley nodded as he flipped through the pages.

"The first item is grain," Lord Louis said, pacing slowly. "As we discussed before, gratuitous relief will cease and be replaced by preferential, paid distribution."

"And with this as the core, at the next Northern Territory Reconstruction Conference, we will propose the establishment of the Northern Territory Material Council and the Northern Territory Commercial Alliance, to standardize trade and ensure returns on relief."

"Will they agree?" Bradley asked tentatively.

"More precisely, they have no choice," Lord Louis replied calmly, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips.

"There might be some initial resistance, but once they gain stable trade routes and we achieve financial circulation, no one loses out, and no one can operate outside the rules. That is balance."

"All the Red Tide-affiliated nobles and trade guilds will be integrated into a community of interest. I just need to make them understand who can keep this chain running."

Bradley secretly took a breath. Such a vision required not only power but also immense influence and control.

If it were anyone else, he would have considered it arrogant, but coming from Lord Louis, it seemed only natural.

"What about financial flow?" he couldn't help but ask.

Lord Louis pointed to the second page: "Red Tide needs a continuous financial cycle. The Council will be responsible for settlements, and the Commercial Alliance will ensure trade circulation."

He paused, then smiled: "Later on... we can issue our own currency, the Red Tide Coin."

"It's not to replace imperial currency, but to establish a credit system."

"To make the people of the Northern Territory believe that they no longer depend on the imperial capital, but on the Northern Territory's own production and trade, achieving internal circulation. And doing business with the Federation is not impossible. This way, even if the Empire collapses, the Northern Territory can still be self-reliant."

Bradley's breathing hitched slightly, almost doubting his own ears: "Red Tide... will mint coins?"

"It's just a concept for now," Lord Louis explained. "But making the Northern Territory accustomed to using Red Tide's units of measurement is part of control. What circulates is not gold and silver, but trust."

Bradley's heart quickened.

This young Lord had evolved from a pioneer controlling a single city to a designer planning for the entire Northern Territory, and perhaps even harboring other ideas he dared not imagine.

As for trading with the Emerald Federation, he wasn't very surprised; after all, most of the Empire's great nobles did so, and the imperial capital could only turn a blind eye.

"The second item is joint defense," Lord Louis continued. "Sign the 'Northern Territory Joint Defense Treaty,' establish military academies, bind military supplies and training to the Red Tide system, and have joint defense exercises and military supply approvals executed by the Council."

He slowed his tone: "There are too many wars in the Northern Territory, Bradley. Every noble has his own banner, which means every misunderstanding can turn into a battle."

"After finally having a few years of peace, I don't want to see such a winter come again."

"The purpose of joint defense is to teach them to cooperate under Red Tide's order, no longer fighting individually, but working together to survive."

Bradley's hand trembled slightly: "That's equivalent to taking away the military power of the various nobles..."

"Unified management," Lord Louis completed his sentence, his tone calm. "They handle the nominal authority; we handle the practical."

"Military supplies, provisions, and training all come from us. Over time, their armies will only recognize Red Tide's seal."

"Of course, this is just a future vision. For now, the first step is to bind them together with commerce and grain."

Bradley swallowed, fine sweat breaking out on his forehead, realizing this was a plan of conquest.

"The third item, the Northview Hall and the Bard's Network," Lord Louis turned the page. "The former is an intelligence agency; the latter is responsible for public opinion."

"Festivals and the historian system must all be brought under Red Tide's jurisdiction. The songs the common people hear, the stories the nobles hear, will eventually all lead back to the same person."

Lord Louis added: "Of course, this isn't brainwashing, but storytelling. We don't rewrite the truth; we only change who narrates it."

"When people believe that Red Tide can provide them with peace and give their children opportunities for advancement, they will naturally speak for this order."

Bradley stared at the text on the page, a shiver running through him.

He had never seen such a method of domestication, nor did he know if it could succeed, but this draft alone was already so shocking and subversive.

"This... this is to reshape the ideology of the Northern Territory," he whispered.

"Ideology, order, interest," Lord Louis replied, his voice gentle. "The three are indispensable. Order without ideology is tyranny; faith without interest is an empty shell. We want them to both believe and benefit."

Bradley put down the draft, took a deep breath, and asked again: "And the implementation method? How do you plan to make them accept it?"

Lord Louis smiled slightly: "We'll start with our own allies. Implement it for a year, gather data, then expand."

"Data?" Bradley was stunned.

"The most powerful political weapon," Lord Louis's smile deepened. "Numbers are more convincing than speeches. If production increases and trade improves within a year, they will come begging to join."

A sense of admiration rose in Bradley's heart; he hadn't realized Lord Louis had thought this far ahead.

Lord Louis continued: "As for external packaging, the first stage's rhetoric won't be called 'council system' but'sustainable rationing trial.'"

"At the same time, we'll introduce model benefits: tax reductions for demonstration cities, open commercial rights, and trade concessions, to give the nobles a taste of the sweetness."

"Yes, My Lord," Bradley recorded every word, thinking to himself that this rhetoric was so gentle it was almost art.

"Once they taste the sweetness, they will never be able to leave us," Lord Louis's voice was calm, yet sharp. "When materials, commercial rights, and military supplies are all tied to Red Tide, they will realize that opposing Red Tide is tantamount to opposing the entire Northern Territory."

"If this charter is successfully implemented, the Northern Territory will be free of strife," Bradley said softly.

"Not the end of strife," Lord Louis corrected, his tone tinged with humility, "but making choices clearer. I hope they choose order, not me."

He sighed again: "If I had the strength of Duke Edmund, I wouldn't need to put so much thought into these arrangements."

Bradley paused, then lowered his head, knowing that Lord Louis was being modest again.

Lord Louis smiled gently and said slowly: "This is just a rough idea of mine. There are certainly many immature aspects that you and the people in the Political Affairs Office need to improve step by step."

"Yes, My Lord," Bradley replied, his expression serious.

The two then discussed details for a long time, from the quota ratios for trade guilds to the supervision of port warehousing and the structure of the Council, meticulously refining even emergency tax rates.

It wasn't until the midday sun slanted into the study that Lord Louis put away the draft.

"Go do your work, Bradley. I still have something to do," he said, his tone gentle.

Bradley bowed, then turned and left.

Lord Louis looked at the documents on the table for a long time, finally put on his coat, opened the door, and boarded the carriage heading to the alchemy workshop on the outskirts of Red Tide City...

The morning wind seeped through the window cracks, carrying a hint of post-snow chill.

Merian woke up with a start from his dream, his chest heaving violently, his fingertips clutching the corner of the quilt tightly.

In his dream, it was still that lightless room in the Azure Tide Guild.

Damp air, the echoing scrape of chains, footsteps reverberating between the stone walls.

But when he opened his eyes, what greeted him was sunlight, real sunlight.

The curtain was lifted at one corner by the wind, warm yellow light spilled onto the wooden wall, and the air carried the scent of wood burning in the fireplace, along with the smell of freshly baked bread.

Merian was stunned for a few seconds, his mind blank.

Then he slowly sat up and looked around.

The door was unlocked, the window was open, and there were no shackles at his feet.

That unfamiliar freedom made him even more uneasy at first; it was too quiet, too bright, even fear had nowhere to hide.

He suddenly remembered that in all his years at the Guild, he had almost never truly seen the sun.

Ever since he was pulled into the underground research facility in his teens, his life had been locked beneath layers of stone doors.

Every corridor had dedicated guards, and even his sleep and diet were meticulously recorded.

The only places he could go were the lab bench, his dormitory, and the report room; he hardly ever had the chance to step onto the surface.

When occasionally dispatched for external missions, he was always accompanied, forbidden to speak with any outsiders.

That life of isolation and surveillance lasted for decades, and only now did he realize he had long forgotten what freedom meant.

He threw off the quilt; the smooth wooden floor was cool, but not damp.

In the corner of the room sat a small plant, white moss flowers blooming among its green leaves—a common cold-hardy species in the Northern Territory, with dewdrops clinging to its leaf tips, shimmering.

He reached out and gently touched it, [N O V E L I G H T] muttering softly: "It's been a month... I'm still alive."

His voice was almost inaudible, as if afraid to break the unreal tranquility.

Just then, a gentle knock came at the door, and a young servant's cautious voice: "Master, breakfast is ready."

The address "Master" made him tremble slightly. There was no cold command in the tone, only respect.

For a moment, he didn't know how to respond, only whispered: "...Thank you."

The servant placed the breakfast outside the door and then left.

Merian gazed at the bowl of hot porridge and two slices of buttered bread, silent for a long time.

The aroma tightened his throat, yet he found it strange; he had never smelled this kind of scent in the Federation's food. In that place, they usually consumed nutritional agents and pastes, which contained various elements to prolong his life, but the taste was certainly not good.

Then he sat by the window to enjoy his meal. Outside the window were courtyards with three-story buildings. His residence was located in the most luxurious part of Red Tide City.

The buildings were of wood and stone construction, with warm-colored exteriors and wide window sills. The courtyards had small fountains and neatly arranged plants.

Three servants were also responsible for his daily life, cleaning, and meal delivery.

Guards were stationed in the distance rather than at the door, more like an honor guard than watchmen.

All of this made Merian incredulous. In the Federation, he had spent his entire life underground. Now, in this corner of the Northern Territory's desolate land, he possessed a house of his own, and such a luxurious one at that.

Before arriving at Red Tide, he could never have imagined such a life.

For a month, this tranquility still made him uneasy, often waking up thinking he was still dreaming.

This was all arranged by Lord Louis.

During his days in Red Tide, no one restricted his freedom, but Merian still dared not venture far, mostly lingering between the laboratory and his residence, only occasionally watching the city center's lights from the third-floor terrace at night.

After breakfast, Merian changed into his white robe, his movements a bit clumsy. His hand was still trembling slightly as he fastened the last button.

But when Merian pushed open the door and stepped out, and sunlight streamed through the opening, for the first time, he didn't instinctively retreat.

At this moment, he suddenly had an illusion that he had truly left the shadows.

Then came the faint sound of hooves. It was the carriage prepared for him, the coachman already waiting at the door.

Merian put on his outer robe, gave a few low instructions, and then boarded the carriage.

The carriage compartment was warm, padded with thick fur blankets.

He was still somewhat uneasy, his fingers tapping lightly on his knees from time to time, until the rhythm of the wheels on the cobblestone street gradually calmed him.

The carriage drove through the streets of Red Tide, white steam rising from workshops along the roadside.

The air was filled with the scent of flowers and herbs—a Northern Territory town he had never imagined.

In the minds of almost all Federation people, this place should be desolate and backward, but the orderliness he actually witnessed surprised him.

The carriage stopped in front of the alchemy workshop.

This was a brand new building, its exterior more spacious and brighter than the Federation's underground research towers.

The interior of the workshop was clean, well-ventilated, and fully equipped with instruments; even the material of the refining furnaces was the same as in the Federation's main cities.

Lord Louis had specially set up an independent studio for him.

It was equipped with firewalls and ventilation towers, a complete set of glass instrument racks, temperature-controlled alchemy furnaces, an independent herb room, and even a dedicated experimental record assistant.

Every detail showed the designer's thoughtfulness.

Upon his arrival, several young assistants came forward, their expressions respectful.

One of them handed over a newly organized list of herbs, his tone somewhat excited: "Master, these are the samples re-refined yesterday according to your instructions. The purity has increased by three percentage points."

Merian paused, still somewhat unaccustomed after a month.

He had originally thought these assistants were merely assigned to monitor him, but their eyes held only sincere respect.

"Very good... excellent," he murmured.

After the assistants dispersed, he surveyed the studio alone, his heart still unsettled.

The equipment and herbs here were neatly arranged: silverleaf grass, condensed magic stone, aquamarine crystal, dew extract, and even the rare Frostleaf Vine, all on tidy shelves.

There were even several new materials similar to Frostleaf Vine that he had never seen in the Federation, seemingly new catalysts extracted from Northern Territory specialties.

The preciousness of these materials made him almost believe he was still in the core experimental layer of the Guild.

This was what surprised him the most: the resources of an imperial frontier city were actually no less than one of the eight major trading houses of the Emerald Federation.

However, when he examined the samples, he felt a hint of confusion.

Despite the quality of these materials, the finished products appeared somewhat crude; the proportions and fusion were not as expected.

For the past month, his main task had been to reassemble these materials, re-sequence reaction pathways, and correct flaws in Red Tide's alchemy system.

Merian continuously modified formulas in the experimental records, noted temperatures and times, and tried to improve the stability of the finished products with more precise techniques.

Unconsciously, the furnace fire dimmed, and the sunlight shifted from the window crack to the doorway.

Only then did Merian realize it was already late afternoon. Just as he put down his notebook, a gentle knock came from outside the door.

"Master," an assistant carefully pushed the door open and peered in, his tone respectful, "Lord Louis has arrived and wishes to see you."

Merian's hand paused.

That faint layer of tension resurfaced in his heart. The young Lord, whom he had not truly seen since their first meeting in Dawn Harbor.

"I..." He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, then swallowed it back, hesitating for a moment. "I understand. Please inform him that I will be right over."

The assistant nodded and withdrew.

Merian raised a hand to straighten his collar, his chest tightening slightly.

He knew he couldn't avoid it; no matter what, he had to face him.

Just then, steady footsteps sounded at the door.

Lord Louis entered the laboratory, his expression gentle, with a polite smile.

"Master Merian," his tone was calm and cordial, "I hear your recent work has been quite fruitful. I wanted to come and see for myself."

Merian hastily stood up, almost knocking over a bottle rack on the table, and quickly said: "No, I wouldn't dare, My Lord... It's just some re-combination experiments, still very rudimentary."

"Don't be nervous," Lord Louis smiled, his gaze sweeping over the notes and bottles. "Could you tell me about your research this past month? I'd like to hear it from you personally."

Merian took a deep breath, nodded, and slowly opened his notebook.