Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

Night fell, and Louis, Sif, and several knights sat in the dining hall eating supper.

Several dim oil lamps were lit, illuminating the simple meal on the wooden long table.

There was smoked fish with a faint scent of firewood, steaming wheat porridge, and a few pieces of coarse wheat bread and some pickled sour vegetables.

The dining hall itself had no lavish decorations; there were wooden tables and chairs, slightly yellowed oil lamps, and even a few cracks visible on the wooden walls.

Sif looked at all of this, a little surprised.

This was completely different from the noble life she had imagined.

In her understanding, a noble's dining table should be covered with a gold-embroidered tablecloth, the plates piled high with exquisite delicacies, silver gleaming, and wine glasses filled with sweet wine.

But the reality was that Louis's dinner, while a bit better than that of ordinary commoners, was far from luxurious.

Louis noticed her subtle change in expression: "Not to your liking?"

Sif quickly shook her head: "No."

Although she had once been a princess of the tribe and eaten better than she did now, resources in the North were scarce to begin with, so it was never truly extravagant.

She picked up the wheat porridge and took a sip; the warm, wheaty aroma spread in her mouth, and the taste was quite good.

Halfway through the meal, Sif looked up and casually asked, "What are you going to do tonight?"

Louis, chewing on the smoked fish, replied, "Wolf training."

"Wolf training?" Sif was startled for a moment, then her eyes lit up.

Louis nodded: "Yes."

Now, Louis spent a few evenings each week at the beast-training ground, training the Icefield Wolf Cold Fang.

After several weeks of training, Cold Fang had begun to respond to Louis's commands, but more practice was still needed for complete obedience.

Today's practice was hunting whistle commands.

Hunting whistle commands are a system of whistles specifically used for taming wild beasts, commonly used for hunting, combat, or patrol.

It uses different tones and rhythms to make animals understand and execute instructions.

Louis raised his hand, placed the whistle to his lips, and blew a long, high note.

Cold Fang's body tensed slightly, then he crouched low, his limbs pressed against the ground, ready to ambush prey at any moment.

Then Louis blew two short, sharp notes.

Cold Fang suddenly leaped up, pouncing fiercely towards the target ahead, his sharp fangs biting into the cloth dummy, tearing it violently!

The cloth strips shredded, and a low growl rumbled in the wolf's throat.

Finally, Louis blew a series of rapid trills.

Cold Fang abruptly stopped his movement, vigilantly scanning his surroundings, then released his sharp teeth and quickly retreated to Louis's side.

The entire sequence of movements was fluid and decisive, already demonstrating a certain level of tactical coordination.

Louis nodded with satisfaction, reaching out to gently stroke Cold Fang's neck.

"Well done," he murmured, then pulled out a pre-cut piece of meat from his waist and offered it to Cold Fang.

Cold Fang licked his fangs but didn't pounce immediately.

Instead, he first looked at Louis, and only after confirming his master's permission did he suddenly open his mouth and bite the meat, a satisfied low growl rumbling in his throat.

"He's already showing some discipline," the beast trainer Egg respectfully stepped forward, his tone tinged with relief. "Your progress in taming him is faster than I expected.

However, more practice is still needed for Cold Fang to be completely obedient. After all, Icefield Wolves are different from ordinary fierce beasts; trust and obedience must be built little by little."

"Yes, I know," Louis responded.

Sif looked at the Icefield Wolf in the training ground, her expression gradually dimming.

Back in the tribe, she also had an Icefield Wolf.

Lonely Moon.

That was an Icefield Wolf she had raised from a cub; they hunted together, ran together through blizzards, and warmed each other on cold nights...

But now, it was probably already...

Sif's hand unconsciously tightened, her fingertips digging into her palm.

Killed, most likely.

In the days since waking from her coma, Sif had deliberately tried not to dwell on these tragedies, but she still couldn't help it.

Louis glanced at her, seemingly noticing her unease, and softly asked, "What's wrong?"

Sif was silent for a moment, but in the end, she couldn't help but say, "I used to raise an Icefield Wolf too, but it died."

Her tone was calm, as if stating something unrelated to herself.

Louis pondered for a moment, then pointed to a group of Icefield Wolf cubs in a distant enclosure: "Then do you want to pick another one to raise?"

Sif froze, as if she hadn't reacted.

She looked at the fluffy little wolf cubs, some sitting, some lying, softly huddled together.

Her gaze slowly swept over each one, finally stopping on a little wolf cub in the corner.

Its fur was a faint silver-grey, and its pupils were ice-blue, somewhat similar to Lonely Moon in her memory.

She walked forward and gently extended her hand.

The cub timidly sniffed her fingertips, then cautiously extended its tongue and licked her palm.

In that instant, it was as if she was pulled back from the labyrinth of her memories.

Sif's eyes reddened slightly, and her fingertips slowly stroked the cub's soft fur: "Then from now on, you'll be called Lonely Moon."

The cub whimpered softly, as if responding to her.

Sif's throat tightened slightly.

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but no sound came out.

The next moment, warm tears silently fell, landing on the cub's soft fur.

... 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

Thus, during the training, the night deepened.

Louis stood at the edge of the training ground, casually stretching, and turned his head to Sif: "Today's work is finished. Remember to record my schedule for today when you go back."

Sif nodded, turned, and returned to her small room.

As one of the only three literate special talents in the territory, Louis had specifically arranged a private room for her.

The cub hadn't been brought back yet because it hadn't fully recognized her as its master.

Sif sighed softly, cast aside her distractions, walked to the desk, and lit the oil lamp.

She opened the notebook and began to write down the day's records line by line.

In the morning, the Lord personally trained the soldiers, and they held him in high regard.

The Lord inspected the farmland and fisheries, offering development suggestions.

He showed concern for the injured knights and promised to provide better medicine.

He discovered the potential of birch sugar and tried to promote the development of the sugar industry.

...

Sif finished writing Louis's schedule for the day, staring at the lines of text for a long while, complex emotions rising in her heart.

He # Nоvеlight # was clearly a Lord, yet he showed no noble arrogance whatsoever.

No matter where he went, he was highly respected.

Her pen tip tapped lightly, and she wrote four words on another piece of paper—He's a good person.

After writing it, she looked at the sentence and suddenly felt a bit defiant, muttering haughtily, "Most likely, it's an act."

But in her heart, she no longer believed that.

She casually popped a piece of birch sugar into her mouth.

The sweetness melted in her mouth, carrying a unique, subtle woody fragrance.

Sif leaned back in her chair, softly murmuring, "Mmm, so sweet."】}