Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

The early morning fog was slowly dissipating from the stone paths of the Imperial Capital.

Eleanor Calvin sat upright inside her carriage, her fingertips resting on the wooden frame of the window, tapping lightly with the gentle jolting of the wheels.

She had been stationed in the Imperial Capital for over a decade, and was intimately familiar with the turbulent undercurrents here.

Yet, the Dragon Throne Council scheduled for today brought forth a long-lost sense of calm within her.

It was more like the ease of knowing that no matter how the storm raged, it wouldn't land upon her.

Last night, the Iris Tower residence received a confidential letter from the Southeast coast.

It was a personal directive from her brother. The content remained brief, roughly stating: "Do not take the lead, do not state a position, watch how others move."

There was not a single word of support for anyone, nor a single word about striving for anything.

There wasn't even a cautionary note, as if the entire struggle in the Imperial Capital was completely unrelated to the Calvin Family.

Eleanor folded the letter. As the family's long-time representative, she understood her brother's true meaning after reading it.

The Southeast Province was far from the Imperial Capital, connected to the Theocracy and external sea trade routes, and had long ceased to prioritize the central conflicts.

Regardless of who occupied the throne, they would ultimately rely on the Southeast's port authority and merchant fleets to maintain the empire's vital operations.

Therefore, they didn't need to take sides, didn't need to compete for influence, and certainly didn't need to take the lead.

The Southeast Calvin Family had always operated this way: never fighting for momentary glory, maintaining contact with all sides, and only backing the winner at the final moment.

They might not win big, but they never failed.

Relying on this stance—always standing in the eye of the storm but never being swept away—they were called 'fence-sitters' and 'old foxes' among the Eight Great Families.

But for the Calvin Family, if it meant the family could endure for millennia, any title was irrelevant; it could even be considered a compliment.

Of course, in reality, the stability of the Southeast was never passively achieved; it was always backed by meticulous, preemptive planning.

For instance, even though they currently maintained a public antagonism with the Theocracy, they had already quietly discussed several viable fallback plans with the Theocracy through the Fifth Prince.

That was not an alliance, merely an option to leave the family with an extra direction and more room for maneuver.

Thus, with the Emperor missing, the Imperial Capital in disarray, the Ministry of Military Affairs and the Civil Service Hall at loggerheads, and nobles across the land stirring restlessly.

the Southeast Calvin Family remained as secure as a harbor far from a tsunami, untouched even by the spray.

The carriage continued toward Yuchen Hall. Eleanor leaned against the wall of the carriage, breathing softly, her mindset becoming increasingly relaxed.

The topics of today's meeting included: whether the Regent could continue to preside over state affairs, whether the Ministry of Military Affairs could expand its military authority, and whether the order of succession should be reopened for discussion.

Any one of these three points was enough to shake the Imperial Capital until castles crumbled.

Eleanor even knew that Fourth Prince Rhein would make his move today; his actions were too obvious, and virtually the entire Imperial Capital knew what he was planning.

The fact that all the princes would be present, however, made her slightly wary.

It meant that succession was tacitly acknowledged as an open issue; the Regent needed the princes to stabilize the situation; the Ministry of Military Affairs wanted to use the princes to build momentum; and the civil faction wanted to use the princes to force a confrontation.

This would be a meeting violently forced into the open.

When the carriage stopped, Eleanor looked up. The twelve slabs of relic crests on either side of the steps cast long shadows in the morning light, as if these ancient emblems were secretly witnessing today's division.

The attendant opened the carriage door. Eleanor adjusted her cloak, stepped out, and entered Yuchen Hall.

The Eternal Flame still burned quietly deep within the dome, but it lacked the commanding presence it usually held over the entire hall.

Eleanor's gaze fell around the room, quickly sweeping over the representatives of the various factions.

The Western Frontier nobles sat too close together, as if confirming their final bargaining chips; the Southern Frontier representatives incessantly rubbed their sleeves, their anxiety impossible to hide; and the New Nobles huddled together in a small cluster.

Unlike three years ago when the Emperor was present, the nobles were still sitting straight—though this was merely due to noble etiquette.

But they no longer feigned obedience. Their voices were clearer than usual, as if the array used to control the hall's acoustics had been deliberately weakened.

Whispers scattered throughout the hall, the sound broken like gravel rolling across stone.

Then, Yuchen Hall suddenly fell silent for a moment, as a steady, military-specific aura entered the room.

Kalian Augustus stepped into his seat.

He resembled a battle blade newly drawn from its sheath—not overtly sharp, yet capable of forcing others back with its cold gleam.

Furthermore, his left arm moved naturally, showing no signs of old injuries.

Judging by his appearance, he was whole, calm, and powerful, looking even more like the Empire's heir than usual.

Eleanor keenly observed the reactions of the surrounding nobles: the shoulders of the Ministry of Military Affairs representatives and the legion representatives visibly relaxed, the expressions of the civil faction darkened, several local nobles hastily composed their faces, and the New Nobles even displayed unconscious reverence.

The Imperial Capital's habitual judgment resurfaced: as long as the Second Prince could stand this steadily, he remained the banner of the Empire's Ministry of Military Affairs.

But Eleanor saw deeper: the Second Prince was overly rigid; it wasn't composure, it was strain.

Not long after the Second Prince took his seat, Rhine Augustus, the Fourth Prince, also entered the princes' section.

His entrance was silent, carrying no sense of oppression, yet it caused the civil officials to subconsciously adjust their seats, gathering around him as their center.

As soon as he sat down, he began reviewing documents, his movements unhurried, as if the pace of the entire meeting would be dictated by him.

He did not look at the Second Prince, Kalian, which visibly tightened the anger Kalian was suppressing.

The two were like a cold knife and a hard hammer; they were certain to clash today, Eleanor thought silently.

At the very edge of the princes' section, a third person sat upright—Lampard Vestrion.

He was unremarkable in appearance, neither resembling the banner of the Ministry of Military Affairs nor the core of the civil faction.

He was simply quiet, natural, and steady; even the various ministers did not spare him a second glance.

Others didn't know, but Eleanor saw clearly that he was the most dangerous of the three princes.

Lampard did not need to speak during the meeting, because his plans were not even confined to this hall.

More crucially, only Eleanor herself knew about the invisible thread connecting the Calvin Family and him.

As Eleanor adjusted her cuff, she deliberately avoided looking at him.

After all, in this place, any glance could expose the Calvin Family's true plans.

Eleanor let her gaze sweep past, but calmly made her judgment internally: "This round is the simultaneous appearance of three fissures."

"And today, the Calvin Family will not speak. We only need to observe who moves first, and who falls first."

The Eternal Flame flickered in the dome, casting a blue light on her cheek, making it impossible for others to discern her thoughts.

Just after everyone was seated, faint, unsteady footsteps sounded from the deepest part of Yuchen Hall.

The Eternal Flame on the chandelier gently swayed, and the faint blue light fell onto the lines of the stairs, drawing all eyes in the hall toward the same direction.

The Regent Arrens walked into the hall.

The air subtly tightened, as if Yuchen Hall had momentarily remembered the order it should possess.

The first thing Eleanor noticed was his gait.

It was upright and steady, without tremor or unsteadiness.

His shoulders were level, his breathing even, and his expression was so calm that he seemed untouched by illness or frailty.

Had she not possessed prior intelligence, she might have almost believed the Regent's condition had improved recently.

It seemed the effect of the ochre leaf spirit nectar fruit was manifesting almost perfectly on him.

The nobles, unaware of the truth, reacted: "The Regent is in good condition today."

"It looks like he can last through the entire meeting."

These whispers quickly spread among the seats, causing the faces that had been restless to soften slightly.

Half a step behind the Regent, Chief Steward Lin Ze walked quietly alongside him.

His stride was precisely matched to the Regent's, his posture correct, and his expression normal, like a straight line supporting all the Empire's etiquette and dignity on his own shoulders.

These two were like beams barely holding up the broken house that was the Empire, but a slight touch would reveal the cracks.

The Regent slowly sat down before the Obsidian Throne.

At this moment, the hall finally fell completely silent; everyone was waiting for him to speak.

However, Arrens did not immediately speak. He simply sat down heavily, his hand resting on the side of the seat, his breathing steady, almost restrained.

This brief period of silence caused more unease than any command could.

At this point, Lin Ze stepped forward, standing before the Obsidian Throne.

Yuchen Hall's acoustic array was still functioning, but its suppressive power was far less than when the Emperor was present.

The blue light of the Eternal Flame poured down from the dome, making every face colder and clearer; no one could completely hide their expression.

Lin Ze unrolled a scroll, his movements steady, as if maintaining an order that could collapse at any moment.

His voice was not loud, but it carried the unique authority of a long-serving Imperial attendant, as if any command spoken by him automatically possessed legitimacy:

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Dragon Throne Council is commencing. This session is particularly special; His Royal Highness the Regent has proposed that all princes attend to deliberate on important imperial matters.”

As the words fell, an unnatural silence, not solemn but tense, permeated the hall.

Because everyone understood the meaning behind those words:

All princes being present meant the succession issue had been made public.

Eleanor could almost feel the air tremble slightly at that moment, as if an old imperial rule was breaking.

Lin Ze continued to announce the agenda, his tone as steady as ever: “First item: Border Military Affairs Report. Second item: Current Imperial Financial Status. Third item: Provincial Autonomy Applications. Fourth item: Discussion on the Mode of Imperial Authority Execution.”

With each item announced, the nobles’ gazes grew sharper, as if their respective vulnerabilities were being pinpointed one by one.

Border military affairs were the Second Prince’s sphere of influence, imperial finances concerned the interests of various local families, provincial autonomy was the nobles’ final bottom line, and the discussion on the mode of imperial authority execution touched upon the core of succession... Eleanor noticed an increasingly obvious contrast: the steadier Lin Ze’s voice was, the more restless the atmosphere in the hall became.

It was as if the more he tried to contain the order, the more it revealed that this layer of order was stretched taut, ready to crack at any moment.

Just as Lin Ze was about to announce, “Let the discussion begin in order,” a sudden, soft scraping sound of a chair leg on the stone floor rang out.

The Second Prince, Kalian, stood up.

His movement was decisive, swift, without any hesitation, and no one could discern a hint of weakness in his posture.

The clamor in Yuchen Hall was stifled as if by a hand, tightening instantly.

Kalian’s voice directly overrode the procedure, like calling names before a battle line: “The Ministry of Military Affairs must immediately be granted emergency control.”

These words ignited the restlessness in the entire hall like sparks.

Kalian gave no one time to react, continuing to dominate the scene, pressing forward step by step: “Several border defenses have fallen in the past month. Discussing red tape now is digging a grave ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) for the empire.”

His tone was not impassioned, yet it pressed from the front of the hall all the way to the back.

The representatives from the Ministry of Military Affairs and the legions nodded immediately, as if someone had finally spoken for them. Several newly emerging border nobles even showed expressions of “someone finally speaking the truth”... Kalian raised his voice so everyone could hear: “The Regent’s health has not yet recovered, and military authority needs temporary custodianship. I propose that the Ministry of Military Affairs temporarily assume military command until the situation turns around.”

This was a naked power grab, and Yuchen Hall erupted at that instant.

The people from the Ministry of Military Affairs, having misjudged his recovery to be seven or eight tenths, straightened their backs in unison, as if rekindled.

The old nobles’ gazes deepened; any expansion of military power would first tread upon them.

The civilian faction’s faces tightened, their alert to “the system being forcibly bypassed” instantly reaching its peak.

Rhine raised his eyes, his movement unhurried, yet his gaze seemed to cut through the air.

His line of sight did not truly meet Kalian’s, but that instant of calm sharpness far surpassed anger.

He did not speak, but gently closed the scroll in his hand, as if he had understood something. The movement was small, yet it made the spines of the civilian faction stiffen collectively.

On the other side, Lampard remained still, his posture steady, as if he had been waiting for this moment all along.

His eyes showed no fluctuation, not even a hint of interest.

The local nobles, whose nascent thoughts of autonomy had just emerged, were immediately suppressed by the Ministry of Military Affairs’ assertiveness.

The new noble representatives’ faces turned pale; expanding military power meant they would be the first to be integrated, the first to be sacrificed.

The pressure line rose too quickly, causing all voices to cease in an instant, leaving only the tension of breathing.

Eleanor sat still, her fingers gently tapping her knee, as if marking a silent beat for the chaotic rhythm.

He brought the dispute forward to the very first moment.

Fourth Prince Rhein’s finger paused lightly on the scroll—a very slight, very subtle gesture, yet enough for anyone with insight to immediately understand its meaning.

So, as Lin Ze prepared to speak, intending to bring the proceedings back to order,

Someone from the civilian seats stood up first; it was the Vice Minister of Finance: “Military command inherently belongs to imperial authority. If it is easily delegated, then the empire will no longer be an empire.”

Immediately after, a second civilian official rose, directly targeting the core of the Ministry of Military Affairs: “The Ministry of Military Affairs has not yet cleared out traitors and Federation spies within its ranks. Under such circumstances, who will be entrusted with military command?”

This was an open questioning of the Ministry of Military Affairs’ stability, especially since just half a year ago, the Ministry of Military Affairs had uncovered nearly ten officials connected to the Emerald Federation.

The civilian seats fell silent for a moment, not out of fear, but to collectively express their stance.

That uniform silence, more than any shouts, seemed like a wind pressing down on the Ministry of Military Affairs.

The Ministry of Military Affairs representative couldn’t help but let out a low curse.

Kalian pressed his hand down hard on the edge of the chair, and the table emitted a dull thud, as if it was about to crack at any moment.

The third to stand up was a civilian official from the Censorate faction. Without any preamble, he directly pointed to the most painful spot: “His Royal Highness the Second Prince has only recently recovered. Is he suitable to bear such a heavy responsibility?”

This time, it directly pointed out that the one desiring military power was the Second Prince, not the Ministry of Military Affairs.

When these words fell, the entire Yuchen Hall seemed to be constricted from the middle.

The air suddenly tightened, and even the blue light of the Eternal Flame seemed to pause for half a beat.

Kalian’s expression remained unchanged—still cold, steady, and unyielding—but Eleanor could see that he was pushing himself.

Lin Ze warned: “That’s enough.”

But the civilian officials did not look at him.

For the first time in a hundred years, civilian officials publicly questioned a prince’s capability before the imperial throne.

Just as these fiery words had yet to settle, Kalian stood up again, his chair leg causing a slight tremor on the stone floor.

He suppressed his anger, but not completely, his tone deep and heavy, carrying the directness and sharpness of a veteran soldier: “I do not need you to judge whether I am suitable.”

This was a firm voice, not loud, yet it was like driving a stabilizing needle into the very center of Yuchen Hall.

Kalian continued to sweep his gaze across the civilian seats, his eyes as cold as the northern winds: “The empire is falling. The casualties of the Ministry of Military Affairs on the front lines are real. You sitting in this hall picking at words will not make the lost defenses grow back on their own.”

He pressed down with each sentence, each one like a hammer blow to the face of a certain faction.

The faces of several senior officials in the civilian seats turned cold, but they did not retort.

The Second Prince’s aura was too astonishing; this was the oppressive power of a soldier’s anger truly ignited.

Kalian’s breathing became a little faster than before, his shoulder line subtly tensing in restraint.

Anger was rising, reason was pushing it down.

This was an extremely dangerous state. His assertiveness remained, but the brink of losing control was approaching.

Kalian continued: “What I want is control over military command. Not to sit here and wait for another batch of imperial people to die.”

These words almost tore through the superficial etiquette of the meeting.

He didn’t shout, but the entire Yuchen Hall seemed to be pulled onto an even tighter string.

The Regent was silent, head bowed, lost in thought.

Rhine still kept his eyes down, his fingertips lightly tapping the edge of the scroll, unhurried, unpanicked, yet sharp as if waiting for an opportunity.

Lampard remained transparent, but his eyes seemed to be enjoying how the cracks continued to widen.

Just as this taut, humming string was about to snap, Lin Ze spoke loudly: “Silence—!”

The elder’s voice was amplified by the echoing array of Yuchen Hall, like a heavy iron spike driven forcefully into the stone wall, making even the light of the Eternal Flame tremble.

Everyone instinctively fell silent.

The murmurs from the civilian seats were abruptly cut off; the anger of the Ministry of Military Affairs was forced back into their chests; even the local nobles’ breathing paused for half a beat.

Lin Ze stood straight, his gaze steady, yet carrying a rare sharpness—a warning that “if this continues, it will instantly spiral out of control.”

He leaned forward half a step, bowing slightly towards the imperial throne, indicating apology and that he still remained within proper protocol, and then raised his voice:

“No faction shall unilaterally escalate disputes before the imperial throne. All discussions will proceed in order.”

Each word, each phrase, was like dragging Yuchen Hall forcefully back into the framework of etiquette from the turbulent flow.

Lin Ze was not protecting the civilian officials, nor was he protecting the Ministry of Military Affairs; he was protecting that crumbling, final order of the empire.

And everyone understood: one more step forward, and it would be chaos.

Lin Ze’s reprimand brought Yuchen Hall briefly back to the controllable edge, but this was not the end of the chaos.

At this moment, Fourth Prince Rhein finally gently closed his scroll.

This was the signal; it was his turn to make a move.