Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

As Kavir gave the order, the fleet pressed against the gunwales and accelerated. Shark fire oil barrels were rolled out of the hatches. Sailors swiftly unsealed, ignited, and poured the hot oil, which spread along the waves. A thick smoke rose from the sea, carrying a pungent odor towards the dike.

The sails vibrated under taut ropes, and the wooden hull groaned with a low friction sound in the tide.

Each ship was moving at its maximum speed, a combination of manual rope pulling and wind-adjusted sails. This was the limit for old North Sea sailing ships; there was no black technology involved, but in the hands of experienced sailors, they were still as fast as a strong gust of wind.

Continuous horn blasts echoed on the deck, and signal flags on all ships changed simultaneously.

The two wing frigates began to glide from behind the thick smoke, forming a pincer attack formation under the cover of the smoke screen and current.

Kavir stood at the top of the quarterdeck, hands on the railing, his eyes never leaving the dawn, that cargo ship.

"Magic Bomb loaded," he leaned down to confirm the angle, judging it and the wind direction by experience alone, without instruments.

With a low rumble, the cannon mouth spewed white flame, and the cannonball arced through the smoke, hitting the front hull of the dawn directly.

The impact shook the sea, almost knocking people off their feet.

But when the smoke cleared, Kavir saw that the ships were still steady, with only a few shallow dents on their sides.

That was armor made of thick Northern oak and cold iron, with an Alchemist coating on the surface to disperse impact.

"How is that possible—" he cursed under his breath.

The cannonballs had almost no effect on the enemy ships, and the dawn's formation didn't even shiver its sails.

Their cannons and technology were provided by the Ash Trading Company, already considered cutting-edge in the world, though the Red Tide's range was limited, and accuracy relied solely on experienced estimation of distance and wind correction.

It was enough to deal with ordinary merchant ships or coastal defenses, but against these modified warships of the dawn, it appeared utterly ineffective.

Several gunners exchanged astonished glances, even their reloading movements slowing by half a beat.

"Continue! Keep reloading! Don't stop!" Kavir suppressed his anger and waved his hand sharply.

His heart pounded violently in his chest. He gripped the railing, staring at the hit locations, his gaze darkening little by little.

But subsequent cannonballs only left shallow marks on the dawn's hull, not even raising splinters.

It was clearly visible that the outer layer of those hulls shimmered with a faint golden coating, as if devouring all impact.

Kavir began to feel a chill, climbing from his spine all the way up his neck.

This meant that even if this planned attack succeeded, his own plan could not succeed.

For the first time, he felt a strange sensation: he was not the hunter, but the prey fallen into a trap.

The dawn's fleet was as steady as mountains, sails tightly bound, hulls unmoving in the current.

Meanwhile, on the other side, Louis stood on the command platform, holding binoculars tightly.

With the battle flag fluttering beside him, he watched his fleet spread out steadily, a satisfied smile on his lips.

The dawn ships were like thick-walled fortresses, their coatings reflecting a dark sheen, each cannonball leaving only shallow marks on the ship's side.

He was extremely satisfied with the defensive performance of these ships, truly worthy of the immense resources he had invested to create vessels that surpassed this era.

"Very good," Louis put down his binoculars and quietly ordered Elliot beside him, "Fire."

The signalman immediately raised the command flag, and the fleet adjusted to a broadside formation.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

A roar immediately erupted, as the dawn fleet fired a broadside of Magic Bombs.

At this instant, the entire harbor was illuminated by white light, the fire like lightning tearing through the sky.

The dawn's Magic Bombs were compact, yet they could dive underwater within seconds of impact and then explode, the shockwave directly piercing the ship's bottom.

Kavir watched helplessly as two frigates on his left flank were repeatedly hit, their hulls ripped in half, masts broken, decks fractured, and sailors thrown into the sea by the shock.

Immediately after, four more black-sailed ships were hit and caught fire, flames erupting from the hold, tongues of fire climbing up the gunwales.

Explosions were incessant, and the entire night sea seemed to be shaking.

The dawn's fleet was as steady as a mountain, the rhythm of their broadsides completely unchaotic, and each volley accurately struck vital points, with impact areas almost overlapping.

This was, of course, Silco's specially made naval Magic Bomb, with a runic iron casing, internally mixed with Alchemist detonators and magic crystal catalysts. After underwater detonation, it created a cavitation effect, enough to tear through a keel. Ships hit by it could not last more than ten seconds before capsizing.

"Damn it! What is this!" Kavir's adjutant roared, but his voice was almost swallowed by the thunder.

The pirate fleet was in complete disarray. Fires on the left flank rolled across the sea, flames bent by the tide and then whipped up by the wind.

Each broadside would hit a few more ships, the light of the explosions reflecting on the sea like blooming Red Flowers on the water.

Kavir clutched the railing tightly, his knuckles white. His ears rang, and his heart pounded violently in his chest.

Such concentrated firepower and precision were something he had never seen or imagined in his decades of sailing the seas.

"Hard to starboard, break through from the outer flank!" he ordered in a trembling whisper.

The frigates immediately adjusted course, but just then, another volley of Magic Bombs fell.

Two ships were blasted into two halves right before Kavir's eyes, debris flying, fire waves kicking up sea spray.

Human shouts, explosions, and the sound of wood breaking intertwined, as if the entire sea was groaning.

"Break through!" Kavir shrieked.

He knew this battle was irreversible.

The dawn's firepower far exceeded expectations, and his fleet had lost its formation.

Although he still didn't know where exactly he had lost, he understood that if he didn't escape, he would be completely annihilated.

He gritted his teeth and ordered: "All operational ships, full speed south! Don't worry about the rest!"

The wave devourer turned and accelerated, fire oil thrown into the sea from the stern to obscure its trail. Thick smoke and flames cut off vision, and he no longer looked at that chaotic sea.

The remaining burning ships were left behind, the cries of their crew and the sounds of explosions scattered by the wind.

But Kavir only wanted to escape, whatever the cost.

However, the Dawn Harbor's fleet did not stop.

Several light pursuit ships broke away from the formation, their sails instantly unfurled, the wind cutting through the night mist like a knife.

Louis's order was clear and calm: "No survivors, except for the main ship."

So Elliot's dawn formation rapidly advanced, the line of fire pushing forward like a tide.

Each bombardment landed precisely along the wave devourer's wake, water columns from explosions constantly rising behind the ship.

Kavir looked back, almost able to clearly see the gleaming Red Tide emblem on the bow of the dawn.

It was an oppressive feeling, as if even the Sea God stood with the enemy.

The dawn's fleet pursued extremely fast, like a wall of steel pushing forward, cutting the waves into a straight line.

Kavir's mind was in turmoil, and he finally realized that the dawn's combat power was on a level he couldn't comprehend; it was a gap that couldn't be bridged by numbers or firepower.

But things had come to this, and only a last resort remained.

The deck was in chaos, pirates instinctively sensing that something was wrong.

Some shouted to abandon ship, some jumped into the sea, and others desperately shook cannons, trying to fire another round of counterattack.

Kavir, after a moment of brewing emotion, then threw his head back and laughed, his voice hoarse: "To hell with them! Let them sink with us!"

His voice was like tearing metal, crashing wildly in the firelight.

Several adjutants looked at him, their faces pale; they all knew the Mad King was going mad again.

"Ignite the oil storage in the hold!" he roared, picking up a torch and smashing it to the deck. Oil splattered, and flames immediately shot up.

Several pirates frantically tried to put out the fire, but he drew his saber and shouted them back: "Those who want to leave, get out!"

The ship began to shake violently, the fire spreading rapidly, flames illuminating every desperate face.

Just when everyone thought the Mad King would take them all down with him, his eyes suddenly regained their calm.

Kavir whispered to two confidants: "To the stern hold, prepare the small boat."

His tone was as calm as if giving an ordinary sailing order.

Amidst the chaos before the explosion, he and his confidants quietly slipped to the stern, lowering the already prepared small boat.

The flames in the hold had already reached the curved timbers, and the sound of wood cracking came from the deck.

He took one last look at the burning deck, the screams, curses, and firelight – a nightmare he had personally orchestrated.

"Full speed, escape north with the current," he commanded, once again becoming the calm commander.

The small boat left the battlefield with the undercurrent, the sound of oars almost drowned out by the echoes of explosions.

The wave devourer exploded with a roar behind them, the entire ship torn in half, flames shooting into the sky.

Several escaping sailors struggled in the sea, swept into the inferno by the shockwave.

Kavir did not look back. He knew he had lost, lost completely.

Even he didn't know if he had lost in strategy, tactics, firepower, or to that young lord he had never met.

"Avoid that line of fire, full speed!" he whispered to the helmsman confidant.

The small boat bobbed in the waves, finally leaving the battle zone's firelight.

Almost the instant he thought he had escaped, a metal net was thrown from the side, firmly ensnaring the small boat.

His confidant was tangled in the net, and Kavir had no chance to react, thrown into the sea.

He choked on two mouthfuls of salt water, struggling to look up.

Several Red Tide Knights were already looking down at him from the deck, their spears gleaming coldly in the moonlight.

The sea returned to silence.

Only debris and charred wood fragments floated on the surface, and the smell of burning oil still lingered in the night wind.

Of the thirty-seven black sails, twenty-three were ashes, and the remaining few were either sunk or broken, only their masts swaying in the waves.

The dawn's fleet was arrayed in neat formation, the firelight illuminating the sea.

Louis stood on the deck, looking down at the Pirate King being dragged aboard.

The man was disheveled, his metal jaw burned red, his eyes filled with ash and bloodshot.

"Mercy—I surrender—please—"

He lay on the deck, continuously squeezing out pleas for mercy from his throat, broken, hoarse, and tearful, unable to complete a sentence.

Louis did not speak immediately, only watched him quietly.

Kavir secretly raised his head and finally saw him clearly: the young Count was ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) tall and straight, his black hair swept by the wind, his cloak still stained with gunpowder ash.

There was no anger on his young face; the firelight reflected in his eyes like an impenetrable mirror.

His heart suddenly clenched, and the rumored name flashed through his mind: "Red Tide Count—Louis—"

At this moment, he understood that he was not facing an ordinary lord, but a predator who only appeared at the center of a storm, merely disguised in noble skin.

Suddenly, Louis smiled slightly, a cold smile with a hint of mischief.

He leaned down, his tone as calm as if casually gossiping: "I know about your wife and daughter, in Seril Harbor of the Emerald Federation."

Kavir stiffened abruptly, first stunned, then gasping violently, the color draining from his face little by little.

He looked up, his pupils contracted to pinpricks, his voice hoarse to the point of breaking: "You—how do you know—"

Louis didn't answer, only wore a playful smile. In truth, this information meant nothing to him.

After all, he couldn't possibly go to the Emerald Federation to capture his wife and daughter; it was just a small mischief of his, wanting to see this Pirate King's reaction.

Kavir's hands trembled, wanting to support his body but lacking the strength. On his once ruthless and mad face, true fear and panic appeared for the first time.

"Don't move!"

He wanted to lunge, to roar like a beast, but two dawn Knights had already pressed down on his shoulders, steel boots crushing his body, blades against his neck.

"Please—spare them—"

Kavir struggled and shrieked, but his voice was immediately suppressed, a few pleas for mercy breaking into fragmented gasps, finally scattered by the night wind.

Louis still only smiled playfully: "Take him away. Dig up all his treasure locations, not one left."

Kavir's pupils contracted sharply, his whole body trembling, as if his last line of defense had been stripped away.

Louis withdrew his gaze, turned around, and no longer paid attention.

The Knights dragged the Mad King away, their boot soles crushing the bloodstains on the deck.

Kavir's struggles grew weaker and weaker, the light in his eyes completely extinguished, like a snuffed-out spark.

Within a few steps, the dawn's makeshift cage was set up, iron stakes securing the captured pirates.

Several Knights escorted Kavir into a crude interrogation chamber.

Kavir sat in the chair, still cunning. The pathetic state just now was merely an act; he had long prioritized his own safety over his family's.

And he knew that the dawn's lord would not easily kill him, at least not yet.

As long as he held onto the crucial treasure coordinates, he could still bargain for his life.

He surveyed his surroundings, his mind quickly calculating. As long as he could stall, as long as there was a chance, he could find a way to escape.

But he soon realized that this interrogation was different from any he had seen before.

The Knights had no whips, no fire tongs. The instruments they laid out, however, sent a chill down his spine.

"Seal his mouth, don't let him shout," Elliot instructed, his tone calm.

A mist canister was lit, and a pale white smoke was enveloped by a mask over his mouth and nose.

Kavir frowned. The bittersweet scent instinctively made him uneasy. He had intended to beg for mercy, but could only emit a low, muffled wheeze.

Another Knight took out a slender syringe, which gleamed silver, reflecting cold light under the lamp.

"What is that?" he asked hoarsely, a hint of unease in his voice.

No one answered.

The needle pierced his arm, with almost no pain.

What followed was a coldness, creeping from his veins all the way up his neck.

After a few seconds, his heartbeat became erratic. He could hear his own breathing grow heavy.

A faint glow appeared at the edge of his vision, like shadows floating in mist.

Kavir tried to hold back, telling himself this was just intimidation, but his body's reaction was faster than his consciousness.

Fragments of memory began to surface, his mind feeling torn open, light and sound intertwined.

He heard the church bells of his hometown harbor, saw the shadow of his wife holding a lantern, and then saw the reefs of the Ice Abyss Archipelago, the outlines of those hidden chests.

"Speak," his mask was removed.

Kavir gritted his teeth, trying to steady his breathing, forcing himself not to speak.

"In—North Reef Three—" But the words rushed out of his throat on their own.

He abruptly clamped his mouth shut, biting his tongue, a metallic taste spreading.

But his tongue was no longer under control. Each time the syringe lightly tapped again, his voice flowed out on its own, that coldness like an invisible thread, pulling his memories out.

"East Reef, White Bay—bottom of the dark hold, second layer—" His eyes were terrified, sweat trickling down his cheeks from his temples.

"Stop! Stop!" he shrieked, his voice broken, but he couldn't stop it at all.

The Knights merely calmly noted each coordinate, occasionally exchanging glances.

As the liquid was injected, his thoughts were torn into countless pieces.

When the last bit of resistance was shattered, he slumped in the chair, his eyes glazed over, still unconsciously mumbling: "Barrel—bottom of the second barrel—"

Elliot glanced at the record book, signaling the end. The Alchemist put away the instruments, the mist canister extinguished, and the air slowly cleared.

"This thing—truly a work of genius," a Knight exclaimed.

Kavir's body trembled slightly, his eyes hollow, his mouth still twitching.

He was no longer cunning, no longer mad, only silent terror remained.

He knew he had given away everything, yet he couldn't even remember why he had spoken.

The night wind outside carried the smell of ash, and debris floated on the sea.

The Knights departed in groups to excavate those coordinates. Louis watched silently from the deck, saying nothing more.