Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

Night mist drifted from the sea, creeping up the tower, and the slightly salty humidity condensed into fine water in the window cracks.

The air in the study was somewhat cool, and candlelight flickered, casting constantly shifting shadows on the walls.

Duke Calvin sat behind his desk, which was covered with secret letters from the Imperial Capital and various parts of the Southeast Province.

He opened them one by one, replying to each, and this was how the Southeast Province operated.

The next letter was from Vero Port. He broke the wax seal; the ink on the letter was still not dry.

“The Dawn Fleet, consisting of nine warships, successfully arrived at Vero Port. The cargo includes qi-vein stones, ember ash iron, and magic marrow mine, with a total value equivalent to half of the province's annual income...”

Duke Calvin's gaze stopped there.

Warships symbolized the power of circulation, and nine capital ships meant an independent shipping route was being opened.

“Nine...” Duke Calvin repeated softly, “In just a few short years, even the barbarians’ frozen lands can have a port built.”

He knew Louis was building a port in the North, and the Calvin Family had also funded artisans to assist in its construction.

But he hadn't expected Louis to achieve such a large scale, and he was clearly hiding his true strength.

Duke Calvin leaned back in his chair, his gaze sweeping over the sea mist outside the window.

He then took out a map of the North from a drawer, on which he had personally marked the three locations: Red Tide, Wheatwave, and Dawn Harbor.

Although none of his spies had infiltrated the Red Tide's high ranks, there were some lower-level officials, so he still knew some basic information about Red Tide.

Centered around Red Tide, Louis's influence had truly expanded rapidly in recent years, to the point where he could be called the true new generation King of the North.

Duke Calvin's mind flashed through the intelligence from the past few months.

Prince Asta died in Frost Plain, and the banner of Frost Dragon Territory was replaced with that of Red Tide. He even suspected that Louis was manipulating all of this from behind the scenes.

The reason was that after this incident, the Red Tide Knights took over the Northern defense line, and no noble dared to resist Louis, completely suppressing the chaos in the North.

“If one asks who benefited from this matter...” He lightly tapped the letter with his fingertip, “Besides him, who else could it be?”

Duke Calvin retrieved an old dossier, a document from four years ago, an authorization letter sent to the North, which read:

Louis Calvin, leading forty knights to the North, allocated eight hundred gold coins, and two carts of provisions.

The Duke looked at the line of text, a faint, humorless smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.

“I was truly generous back then,” he murmured, the candlelight illuminating his face, revealing a hint of fatigue.

“The North is now under Calvin, which is a good thing. It just doesn’t obey me.”

He looked at the family tree on the wall, his finger pausing between the names of Gaius and Louis.

One disappeared with the Emperor in the Imperial Capital, the other established a kingdom in the North.

“Ironic.” Duke Calvin's sigh spread through the room. “Since he's out of my control, I must find another way to cooperate with him.”

He stood up and walked to the cabinet, taking out several account ledgers.

The transactions between Red Tide and the Calvin Merchant Guild appeared prosperous on the surface, but in reality, the proportions were imbalanced.

Red Tide almost no longer needed the Calvin Family's merchant guild for distribution, while the Calvin Family's merchant guild relied on Red Tide's supply of goods to maintain operations.

He had tried time and again to regain control of Louis, to interfere in Northern affairs, but each time he was gently refused, politely but firmly.

He sent a financial officer to inspect the accounts of the Calvin Merchant Guild in the North, only to be informed by return letter that “Red Tide's accounts are only disclosed to the Lord of the North himself.”

He tried to restrict shipments under the pretext of adhering to the family's merchant guild's arrangements, but the other party switched to their own shipping lines... After several attempts, he finally understood that Louis was not betraying him, but rather seeking independence, to break free from the control of the Calvin Family.

Compared to the Calvin Family, he was closer to the Edmund Family.

Duke Calvin closed the ledgers, his voice low: “This time, I will make him choose himself.

Either he re-enters the family system and accepts Calvin's command, or he is completely excluded.

I can no longer let him freely use merchant taxes, otherwise he will gradually slip out of control.”

Duke Calvin picked up his pen and wrote a directive: Redraft the Red Tide trade terms, using a partnership framework, not to be included in the direct family lineage.

He put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, his gaze falling on the Empire's map on the wall.

The Regent was gravely ill, and factions within the court were stirring.

The Ministry of Finance had already split into two factions, the Ministry of Military Affairs' orders changed three times a day, and even the border garrisons were testing the authenticity of commands.

The Second Prince controlled the Ministry of Military Affairs, eager to establish an alliance of nobles and legions.

The Fourth Prince secretly communicated with the Censorate, attempting to centralize power within the cabinet.

And the Prince favored by the Holy See was quietly placing his pieces in the Eastern Territory.

The entire Empire was like a net being pulled by several hidden strings simultaneously, with cracks threatening to tear open at any moment.

The Southeast Province was relatively stable, yet it too was beginning to be drawn into the struggle.

Port nobles guarded against each other, and gold and grain prices were in disarray.

The Calvin Family's merchant ships were subjected to various taxes externally and audited internally under pretexts, and even their own Knight Regiment had to be dispatched to support the Imperial Capital.

The Duke looked at the map, his fingertip lightly tapping the mark for the Imperial Capital.

“How many more days can the Regent hold on?” he whispered. “When he falls, the Empire's sky will likely collapse.”

He knew that the order the Calvin Family relied upon was in peril.

If the Second Prince succeeded, military power would devour commercial power; if the Fourth Prince gained power, the Censorate would flatten the nobility... No matter which path, the Calvin Family would be pushed into a corner.

“The Empire's sky is about to collapse,” Duke Calvin murmured. “And Calvin must find solid ground before the rubble falls.”

He was about to reach out to extinguish the lamp when two knocks came from outside the door.

“Come in.”

A person entered, bowed, and whispered, “Your Excellency, Young Master Eduardo has returned to the manor with his men.”

The Duke looked up, the candlelight reflecting a faint glow in his pupils.

He quietly watched the shadow at the doorway, his voice steady: “Is that so... I’ll go over now.”

...Seldon Calvin sat at his desk in the Vero Port cabinet hall, clutching the secret letter.

The paper was slightly crumpled from his sweat, and he stared at the line: “Nine warships arrived, bearing the Red Tide banner...”

Candlelight illuminated his face, his eyes dark.

Nine warships, nine capital ships.

Seldon understood very well what this meant: Louis's Red Tide was no longer just a political appendage, but an economic powerhouse.

“The frozen lands of the North... have become a gold mine,” he murmured softly.

At that moment, Seldon felt anxiety for the first time.

His father's attention was shifting.

Louis, a younger brother once considered a discarded piece, now wielded a power that could make even the Empire's nobles uneasy.

Goods from the North flowed continuously into the South, and the Calvin Family's merchant fleet needed to rely on Red Tide's goods.

“If this drags on, father will only remember that good-for-nothing Louis's name.”

Seldon sneered, his father's indifferent face appearing in his mind.

“Ever since Gaius disappeared, I thought that chair was mine for sure, but now...”

He looked up, his gaze sweeping over the mirror on the wall, his own shadow stretched long by the candlelight.

“Louis... a discarded good-for-nothing, yet he somehow rose up.”

Seldon recalled investing eight thousand gold coins, five trade routes, and thirty knights to support Pal, only for them all to become insect corpses.

Meanwhile, Louis, with only eight hundred gold coins, brought back an entire North.

That disparity made his chest feel heavy.

“The Empire's political situation is in such disarray, yet he can still build a fleet in the wasteland... And me? I don’t even dare to let father see a single ship running at a loss.”

Seldon admitted for the first time that he was afraid.

“Perhaps... father is already considering bringing him back.”

His thoughts returned to four years ago. That night, Louis set off for the North.

Seldon still remembered standing on the tower, watching the carriage disappear into the mist.

The knights he had embedded carried a bottle of colorless poison, with orders to cause an 'accident' along the way.

Unfortunately, it failed, but at the time, he thought nothing of it, just a casual move.

“I should have acted directly then,” he mumbled, shaking his head with a bitter smile. “I thought I was playing chess, but I had already made a huge mistake.”

In the following years, Seldon successively sent out scouts, merchants, apprentices, knights... Each time, there was no reply.

It was as if those people were completely swallowed by Red Tide.

The family map on the wall hung silently, the area of the North personally outlined by him in deep red, marked as “Red Tide Territory.”

Seldon looked up, staring at that color, his breathing heavy: “Impenetrable... That place has become his kingdom.”

“I must reclaim the position of family head,” he gritted his teeth, his voice almost inaudible.

He forced himself to calm down and reassess the situation.

Gaius was missing, his father was aging, and he controlled thirty percent of the trade and port network, while Louis, though a count, was in the North.

As long as his father didn't publicly accept him, he was still the most qualified heir of the family.

“He can have the North, but Calvin’s throne can only be mine, but I need to find a way...” He chuckled softly, but there was no warmth in his smile... The night settled over the Imperial Capital, shrouded in cold mist.

Candlelight flickered, illuminating stacks of ledgers and letters on the desk.

The Fourth Prince Rhine was bent over, reviewing financial reports from his territories.

He wrote the final line of annotation, and just as he put down his quill, a light knock came from outside the door.

“Come in.”

A servant entered, presenting a letter with both hands: “A personal letter from Lord Mace, the Head of the Censorate.”

Rhine broke the wax seal; the letter contained only one sentence:

“The proposal your Highness put forward, I will present it at the meeting when the time is right.”

The candlelight revealed a hint of a cold smile in Rhine’s eyes.

“Indeed, the sound of gold coins is more effective than any oath.”

Rhine murmured, “Mace... what a greedy old rat.”

“Karen, what do you think?” He turned his head to look at the silent old man behind him.

That was Karen Sol, the former commander of the Empire's Third Legion.

He was now Rhine's mentor and guard, a system established by the Emperor back then, where every prince had to have an important imperial official as a mentor, such as Asta's Seifer.

“Mace is an opportunist,” the old man said calmly. “Give him benefits, and he will draw closer. But such a person also changes sides quickly.”

Karen looked up at Rhine, “Your Highness must act quickly, before the Regent falls, to secure your people first.”

Rhine leaned back in his chair, his eyes calm: “I understand. It's just...”

He reached out and unfolded the Empire's map on the table.

Candlelight reflected on the densely packed faction map, marked with the insignias of the Eight Great Families and the leanings of various departments.

“The Imperial Capital in this state,” he said softly, “is like a silently collapsing tower.”

Several lines of text were annotated on the map's edge:

Ministry of Finance: Two opposing factions, one still loyal to the Regent, one leaning towards himself;

Ministry of Military Affairs: Completely controlled by the Second Prince;

Censorate: Originally neutral, now leaning towards Rhine;

Dragon Ancestor Papacy: A hollow shell under the suppression of successive emperors.

Rhine withdrew his gaze, his tone light: “The Empire always has to pretend to be dignified before it rots. And as long as the Regent lives for one more day, I have time to plan.”

He did not live in the Royal Palace, nor did he often visit his gravely ill elder brother.

The Regent was his full brother, his greatest obstacle and also his greatest aid to the throne.

He hoped that his brother could hold on for a while longer, allowing the Empire's order to continue its pretense of stability, and allowing him to continue accumulating strength.

“Among the Eight Great Families, how many stand on our side now?” Rhine asked.

Karen replied: “Three openly, possibly more secretly.”

He listed them one by one: “The Diaz Family, through the Censorate, has clearly supported Your Highness.

The Simmons Family has temporarily submitted, and the Kaladi Family, harboring resentment towards military power, will also be on our side.”

He paused, then continued: “The Calvin Family outwardly leans towards the Second Prince, but their stance is ambiguous; the old Duke always backs the ultimate winner.

The Remont Family is hardline, always siding with the Ministry of Military Affairs.

The Holden Family is on the verge of collapse, and the Beres Family remains on the fence.

The Edmund Family is practically defunct; all power in the North is in the hands of that Calvin Count.”

Rhine lightly tapped the table with his fingertip, silent for a moment.

“That young Count...” he said slowly, “In his twenties, he already controls the Empire's largest province.”

Karen nodded slightly: “Red Tide's system is indeed efficient. Everything that can move has moved, not relying on noble prestige to get by.”

Rhine chuckled softly: “Winning him over might also bring in the Calvin Family. However... that’s just talk.”

Karen responded calmly: “Don't forget, he is Calvin’s son. A fox in a fox den won't easily recognize a new master.”

Rhine refolded Mace's letter and sealed it with wax.

“A fox?” His tone was faint. “Then we'll deal with him like a hawk.”

Rhine stood up and instructed Karen: “Reply to Mace, tell him the funds will be deposited tomorrow. Also, have the Intelligence Division investigate the movements of that Northern Count.”

Karen nodded slightly, turned, and left, the room returning to quiet.

Rhine sat back in his chair, gazing at °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° the map illuminated by candlelight.

The Imperial Capital, the North, the Southeast Harbors, the border fortresses—all were connected by lines, like a sprawling web.

He murmured softly: “If the Regent can live for three more years, I might be able to ascend to that position.”

“If he doesn't live for three years...” He paused, his expression calm. “Then we'll see who makes the first move.”

Wind seeped through the cracks, and the Empire's map trembled slightly in the breeze, as if foreshadowing the beginning of its collapse.