Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

The morning mist of Red Tide had not yet dispersed, and the distant mountains were tinged white by the early spring sun.

The experimental site outside the city was hidden in the valley, where the scent of steam and coal smoke mingled in the wind, carrying the smell of tar.

This was one of Red Tide's most confidential locations.

Surrounded by high walls, with strict sentry posts, armed knights stood on either side.

Seeing the Lord's special carriage approach, they all stood at attention and saluted, their expressions solemn.

The carriage stopped in front of the experimental site's gate.

Bradley stepped out first, adjusting the collar of his coat: "Please be careful, Lord Louis. This place is still in the testing phase, after all."

Lord Louis, however, merely smiled slightly, lifted the curtain, and stepped down.

In the center of the experimental site, a gigantic iron vehicle stood silently.

Its furnace mouth still emitted a faint wisp of smoke, and the previous night's melted snow clung to its iron wheels. Sunlight struck its metal surface, reflecting a dark red luster.

It possessed a cold aesthetic, like a peculiar steel behemoth, with Red Tide's emblem carved into its side.

The vehicle body was cast from cold iron and refined copper. The circular boiler compartment at the front rose two people high, with copper pipes winding like blood vessels.

The body was tightly secured by heavy rivets. Two pairs of iron wheels at the front were embedded in temporarily laid cog rails, while the rear section, comprising the cargo and operating compartments, appeared bulky and crude.

Hamilton stood beside the vehicle, dressed in work clothes, his face covered in coal dust, his eyes filled with tension. He clutched a crumpled blueprint, soaked with sweat.

"Lord Louis!" Seeing Lord Louis, he hurried forward to salute, his voice trembling slightly, "Everything is ready."

The other craftsmen, seeing the Lord's personal presence, also put down their tools and saluted, their expressions a mix of awe and pride.

Lord Louis stepped forward, carefully examining the iron vehicle, and nodded, saying, "Well done, Hamilton."

"Th-this is all thanks to the blueprints and concepts you provided, Lord Louis," the young man stammered in reply, the coal dust on his face unable to hide his blush. "I merely followed your ideas and—built it."

"Everyone has inspiration," Lord Louis said calmly, "but to turn a blueprint into reality, that is a unique ability."

Hamilton's lips parted slightly, but he couldn't speak, his eyes shining like a furnace fire.

Lord Louis climbed the iron ladder and entered the vehicle's interior.

The cabin space was surprisingly wide. Although the layout was still rough, and there were unpolished marks on the iron walls, the structure was dense and precise.

Orange-red flames danced in the furnace, steam pipes wove into a net, and the rhythmic sound of the piston chamber vibrated in the air.

"Thump—thump—thump—" like the beating of an iron heart.

The control panel was assembled from refined copper and wooden planks, with the pointers of three pressure gauges trembling slightly.

Beside them were the main control valve and the # Nоvеlight # manual brake lever, their casings still bearing scorch marks.

Lord Louis leaned in to observe. While every detail was almost identical to the concept in his mind, he had no doubt about this talented young man's creative ability.

"Make it run," he said softly.

Bradley's expression changed slightly: "Lord Louis, for you to personally board, I'm afraid it's a bit dangerous."

Hamilton also quickly echoed: "Yes, Lord Louis, this time—this time, I can operate it."

Lord Louis turned around, his tone calm: "Haven't you already tested it?"

"Y-yes, it's been tested twenty-three times, and the results have all been stable," Hamilton stammered in reply.

"Then that's that," Lord Louis said with a faint smile. "I trust you all."

These words made all the craftsmen present hold their breath; the feeling of being trusted was warmer than the furnace fire.

Hamilton quickly regained his composure, taking a deep breath: "Add coal, pressurize to the first mark!"

The flames in the furnace suddenly shot higher, their red glow illuminating everyone's faces. A craftsman pulled down the control lever.

"Hiss—!" White mist spewed from the exhaust port, and the ground trembled slightly.

"Lord Louis, it—it will be a little shaky," Hamilton nervously reminded him.

Lord Louis sat steady, gesturing for everyone to hold the handrails, his voice calm: "It's fine."

Emily gently grasped Lord Louis's hand; it was her first time too, and she was a little nervous.

Weil's eyes were wide as he watched the front of the vehicle, so excited his breathing quickened.

"Start!"

The iron wheels slowly rotated with a roar, the cog rails meshing with a low metallic sound.

"Thump—thump—thump—" The light from the furnace spread along the vehicle body, and the iron vehicle, like a waking beast, began to move slowly forward.

Emily gasped softly: "It's really moving—"

Weil looked shocked: "Without horses? And no magic?"

Lord Louis smiled: "Hamilton, explain the principle."

"The principle, the principle is actually very simple," Hamilton explained haltingly, nervously adjusting valves.

"It's—it's steam pushing the piston, which then—then drives the flywheel, transmitting power to the axle through gears—and then the transmission rod drives the axle to rotate, that's how it can move by itself."

The more he spoke, the faster he got, his voice unable to hide his excitement and shyness, as if he were reciting a secret from his heart.

Emily and Weil exchanged glances and nodded, but clearly didn't understand the technical terms.

Emily whispered: "It sounds—like magic."

Lord Louis, meanwhile, feigned nonchalance, nodding with a composed expression: "Hmm, I understand."

In truth, he hadn't understood at all. What came to his mind was the image of vehicles from his previous life, shuttling through cities.

He had only drawn the general structure from memory, but it was this shy young man who truly brought this iron beast to life.

The iron vehicle slowly advanced around the site, its iron wheels crushing ice and snow, with meltwater dripping along the tracks. Furnace fire and steam intertwined, and white mist was swept into the air by the wind.

Everyone watched the massive iron shadow intently, their breathing hushed.

Bradley stood to the side, his palms sweating. He only let out a sigh of relief when the iron vehicle slowly came to a stop three hundred meters away.

What followed was a long-suppressed cheer.

The craftsmen raised their arms, their shouts shaking the heavens.

Some excitedly slapped their companions on the shoulders, the light of the furnace dancing on their faces.

Hamilton, however, froze in place for a moment, his face flushed, his hands tightly clutching the rolled-up blueprint.

It wasn't until Lord Louis turned and nodded to him that he hastily responded, lowering his head and whispering, "Th-thank you, Lord Louis—"

The dust on his face was dissolved by sweat, trickling down his neck, his eyes shining with an unconcealable light.

Lord Louis dismounted, his gaze sweeping over the vehicle body.

The embers in the furnace still flickered, and heat still rose from the exhaust port.

Lord Louis reached out and caressed the metal casing, saying calmly, "Some areas are still not ideal; we must continue to improve them."

"Yes, Lord Louis! I understand!"

Lord Louis nodded, then turned to him: "The next goal is to put this thing on rails. We're not just building transport vehicles, but trains. And war chariots."

Hamilton froze, his lips slightly parted, the hot blood in his heart almost overflowing.

He instinctively clutched the blueprint in his arms, which contained lines personally drawn by Lord Louis.

That was precisely what he had relied on for countless days of research, experimentation, failure, and restarting.

Hamilton nodded forcefully: "Yes, Lord Louis! Your blueprints—I will definitely bring them to life!"

The red flames of the furnace reflected on their faces, and steam turned into white mist in the wind, rising towards the sky.

For the next two days, Lord Louis remained in Red Tide City, personally organizing government affairs and armament plans.

He handed over the workshop scheduling, taxation for other territories, and the Red Tide Academy's annual allocation table to Bradley, leaving only a few letters as clever stratagems.

Bradley stood before the desk, saluting and saying, "Everything will be handled properly, Lord Louis."

Lord Louis nodded, putting on his coat: "You've worked hard. I must go to Dawn Harbor; this year's plan cannot wait."

He took one last look back at the city, illuminated by the light of steam.

Then he boarded the carriage and set off south, to meet the pirates.

Before the cold wave arrived, a thin mist already hung over the sea.

The moon, like a chipped bronze plate, hung low over the dark bay near the coast. Ships formed a silhouette, their canvases like black wings folded into a forest on the sea.

Thirty-seven large black sails quietly gathered in formation, the sparse sound of anchors coming together in a rhythm.

Ten reinforced ships, modified by the Ashes Guild, docked in the inner circle. Iron hoops creaked on their wooden hulls, and the swivel cannons on their sides resembled dormant fangs.

The deck was stained dark red by bonfires and the smell of alcohol. Flames elongated the figures of people, then were torn apart by the sea wind.

In the very center, the wave devourer dominated most of the view.

Its nearly twenty-meter hull was sturdier than the other ships. The iron plating on its bow was fused with ancient runes, and a massive booming cannon was secured to the deck with thick shackles. That cannon could tear apart a section of a dock in an instant.

Alchemy fuel pots were stacked beside the cannon, their mouths sealed with wax, their bodies covered with explosion-proof talismans and straw mats, arranged neatly and ceremonially.

Kavir Ironfang stood before the wave devourer's helm.

Half of his face was shrouded in shadow, the other half exposed a metal jawbone under the firelight, rivets reflecting the dancing flames.

When he raised his cup, he first offered the rim to a seagull, letting the bird drink a sip, before he began to drink heartily himself.

A feast was underway on the deck. Drummers beat out a rhythm, a bladesmith hammered short blades by the fire, and several sailors pushed and shoved each other, draining their drinks and refilling.

Someone poured an entire barrel of strong liquor by the fire. The alcohol ignited, flames shot skyward, illuminating faces flushed with bloodlust and laughter.

A tall, thin pirate yelled, holding a bottle of wine: "Tomorrow morning, we'll drink Dawn Harbor's wine! And steal their women!"

This drew a round of cheers.

Another shirtless man slapped the table and roared: "Damn Red Tide! We'll drink their blood!"

Sailors plunged daggers into the wooden table, shouting out bets, clinking their broken copper cups together.

Someone climbed the mast and shouted: "Mad King will make us rich!"

A chorus of agreement followed from below.

Wild laughter, curses, and songs mingled in the sea breeze, like a pack of out-of-control beasts celebrating the eve of a storm, rough, unrestrained, smelling of wine and blood. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

Kavir stood high above, letting their clamor sweep across the deck.

Someone shouted his name: "Mad King!"

He responded by raising his cup, his metal jawbone reflecting the firelight, as if smiling.

Just then, three scout ships docked in the distance, their signal lights blinking on and off.

The scout chief jumped onto the deck and reported to the captain in a concise tone: "Dawn Harbor's defenses show signs of weakening. Two sections of the outer harbor dike are under repair.

The warehouses are full of alchemical fuel and mineral powder; cargo loading operations will be completed within two days.

Escort ships are dispersed in three locations; one on the southern line is docked for repairs, and the western line is understaffed. The harbor's signal light rotation pattern is clear and predictable."

He took out a tide record and a rough harbor map, adding: "The inner harbor channel depth is approximately seven and a half feet, allowing large ships to invade.

Dawn Harbor's port garrison consists of about three hundred knights, halved at night. If a surprise attack is launched before dawn on the second day, we can first breach the dike, then cut off the storage area—"

Kavir merely nodded after listening, his gaze deep and bright, a slow smile spreading across his lips.

"Very good," he said, his voice like a blade, "That will be our meat to carve."

Then Kavir stood on the deck, as tall as a madman, his laughter drowning out the sound of the tide and the drumbeats.

He suddenly raised his cup, spilling wine onto the deck, which flashed in the firelight.

His voice was hoarse and fanatical: "Brothers! Those self-righteous dogs of the Empire are waiting to deliver food and oil to us!

In a few days, we'll drink their wine, burn their ships, and take their lives! Let's make one big score and earn a whole damn year's worth!"

A roar of laughter erupted on the deck. Some drew knives and hammered on the wooden table, others threw wine into the sky, shouting: "Long live the Mad King!" "Damn Red Tide!" "Drink tonight, kill tomorrow!"

Laughter mingled with the sound of the tide and drumbeats, like waves crashing against the deck.

Kavir spread his arms, and amidst the cheers of these beasts, he seemed to tower above the sea mist, his entire being like a shadow forged by fire and wind.

However, when the revelers dispersed and only a scattering of firelight and the last few guards remained on the deck, Kavir's smile immediately faded into a calm mask.

He pulled open the secret door by the helm and entered the cabin, where the lamps were dimmer. Maps and a sand table were spread out on the table, and the shadows cast by the candles cut his face into sharp planes.

That wild demeanor just now was a carefully crafted armor.

Kavir knew that these people, who lived by plunder, only believed in violence and madness. If their pirate leader showed even a hint of hesitation, they would tear him apart like a pack of wolves.

So he used wine, laughter, and madness to conceal his true rationality, making them believe he was still the fearless Mad King.

Only in this quiet cabin did he shed his outer shell, revealing his calm and calculating nature.

Kavir cross-referenced the three reports one by one—tides, harbor, cargo—imprinting them all in his mind.

At that moment, he was already calculating his escape route, not for the fleet, but for himself.

The failure of the previous mission had almost completely cut off funding for the Ashes Guild.

And thirty-seven black sails could not be sustained by mere robbery and empty talk of brotherhood.

Sailors needed meat, cannons needed lead, oil needed money. Once the granary was empty, they would turn on their captain first.

Kavir gazed coldly at the map on the table, his finger tapping the edge of the sand table.

A hint of an almost ruthless smile played on his lips—the smile of reckoning.

"If these guys don't have meat to eat, they'll eat people. So I have to eat them first."

Kavir had already decided to do one last big score.

Then sell the treasures he had hidden away over the years, buy a small city in the Emerald Federation, and become a wealthy local magnate.

As for these brothers? He would leave them to the waves, like drifting wreckage.

Of course, Kavir's plan was not a reckless gamble.

Dawn Harbor had only been built for two years. It had many ships but little experience, and was currently loading its first batch of precious alchemical minerals.

The escort ships were being moved around, and the defense shifts were chaotic—it was the ripest moment.

He carved letters and numbers beside the sand table, murmuring: "Three fake merchant ships will lure away the escort ships, the main force will flank from the mist, and swallow all the cargo in one bite.

The escort ships were being moved around, and the defense shifts were chaotic—it was the ripest moment.

He carved letters and numbers beside the sand table, murmuring: "Three fake merchant ships will lure away the escort ships, the main force will flank from the mist, and swallow all the cargo in one bite.

Then feign death and escape with a few men. The rest can go with the waves."

His finger tapped lightly on the wooden board, the rhythm cold and hard.

The façade of madness had completely peeled away at this moment, leaving only the calm predator.

No matter how formidable Red Tide's knights were, the sea was still his world.

The waves would not stop for anyone.

What he didn't know was that the Lord of Red Tide had long since seen through his innermost calculations, word for word, through intelligence.