Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

At this moment, Fourth Prince Rhein finally closed the dossier gently.

This was the signal; it was time for him to make his move.

Censorate Head Mace stood up almost immediately: “The source of your dispute is simply the Emperor's disappearance and the suspended Imperial Authority.”

He immediately threw out a statement potent enough to ignite the entire hall: “I propose restoring the Elector System, where the Eight Great Families jointly nominate a Guardian of Imperial Authority.”

Mace's voice was steady, yet it seemed to freeze the air in the Yuchen Hall instantly.

Mace's gaze swept over every noble representative and Prince in the hall, his tone unchanged: “This system once maintained the balance of power during the Empire’s most perilous years.

It can also, today, while the Emperor has not returned and the Regent is frail, establish a Guardian jointly nominated by the Eight Families to temporarily exercise Imperial Authority, stabilize the states, coordinate regions, and ensure the Empire is not fractured.”

His pace was not fast, but it struck the heart of everyone present like an iron hammer.

Superficially, this speech seemed extremely gentle, like a suggestion for a rational compromise.

But everyone inside the Yuchen Hall understood.

This was not temporarily replacing Imperial Authority; it was establishing a legitimate substitute in advance of the Emperor's non-return.

It was not mediating factions; it was pulling the Eight Great Families back to the core of the Empire's power.

It was not an expedient measure; it was a systemic reboot.

This was a highly offensive proposal, but the reason Mace dared to stand up at this moment was not due to his position alone, but because he held sufficient leverage.

Rhine had offered him benefits before the meeting that were extremely difficult to refuse: the Censorate's future independent review authority over Imperial officials, preliminary adjudication rights over provincial autonomy cases, and a secret fund allocated from the Subsidiary Ledger of the Treasury.

But these were only surface level chips. What truly made him agree was the other part of the future promised to his family, whispered by Rhine.

Mace was nearing old age, and his body had been unable to sustain long journeys and prolonged official duties for years. He knew better than anyone present that he did not have many years left.

What he sought was no longer power itself, but assurance that his family would not be swallowed up in the next round of power reshuffling in the Imperial Capital.

Rhine gave him this, promising to preserve the Mace Family's noble title in the future systemic restructuring and allow his descendants into the core of the Censorate.

In the potential future reshaping of the Empire's civil service system, two inheritable positions would be reserved for the Mace Family.

These promises were carefully designed not to alert any faction, yet were enough to ensure a family could still stand on the Imperial Capital's stone steps after the chaos subsided.

For a man approaching his twilight years, this was the last legacy he could leave behind.

It was precisely for this reason that he was willing to propose a motion capable of shaking the Empire's foundations at this moment.

The air inside the hall completely solidified. Every pair of eyes in the entire hall was waiting.

They were not waiting for Mace to say more, but for everyone else to state their position.

The first sounds to emerge were nobles drawing close to each other, exchanging cautious whispers.

This sound was not panic, but the technique experienced nobles used when facing massive upheaval.

They were not arguing, but rapidly assessing the risks:

“Restoring the old system... does this mean we will again be constrained by the Eight Great Families?”

“If Imperial Authority is jointly nominated by the Eight Families, how much say will our provinces still have?”

“Is this a setup prepared by the Eight Families in advance?”

They were not afraid of Imperial Authority being redistributed, but afraid that once the old system was restored, the autonomy painstakingly gained by the local provinces over the past century would be swiftly swallowed up.

The negotiation power of the emerging territories would be suppressed to the lowest point, and the entire balance of power would once again tip toward the Eight Great Families.

This fear was a clear calculation of future interests.

The silence of the Eight Great Families was not hesitation, but the typical "wait-and-see suppression" tactic of the power elite.

Any stance taken by one family would be interpreted by the others as a declaration of interest.

Therefore, they had to remain composed and cautious, indicating their position with the smallest possible actions.

Eleanor maintained a vague smile, neither supporting nor opposing, keeping herself within the safe boundaries of all options.

The Remont Representative and the Simmons Representative exchanged glances—a signal of "interest."

The Diaz Representative and the Calrad Representative remained silent, maintaining a diplomatic posture.

The Holden Representative and the Beres Representative frowned deeply; old nobles instinctively resisted systemic rewrites.

As for the Edmund Family Representative, he was dozing off; the old man had not received any instructions from Louis and could not state a position.

Their silence itself constituted the heaviest pressure in the Imperial Capital.

As these silent attitudes accumulated, they were enough to cause the balance of the entire Yuchen Hall to begin tilting.

The tension in the air was not emotion, but the sound of the structure of interests beginning to fracture.

Just as this pressure extended to the end of the noble seating, someone finally couldn't help but test the limit.

The Western Territory Representative stood up, his tone still polite, but pushing the question precisely to the core: “Lord Mace, does this mean that the major provinces will once again be subject to the control of the Eight Great Families?”

This was not anger, but a boundary test, confirming whether the Eight Families intended to make a comeback using the old system.

Then the Commander of the Third Legion followed up: “If the old system is revived, will the military expenditures and grain taxes of the local provinces still be decided by the Eight Families?”

This was the second test, sharper and closer to the pain point.

These two challenges, stacked together, caused the center of gravity in the Yuchen Hall to truly begin to shift.

Finally, a certain noble from the Western Territory could not hold back, slamming his palm onto the stone table: “The era of the Eight Great Families is over!”

This table slam was the true explosion point of the Yuchen Hall.

The sound wave rolled out beneath the dome, the echoes shattering into chaotic reverberations. That was not a roar, but the shared nightmare of the entire provincial system.

This single sentence made every local noble recall one thing simultaneously: if the old system returned, they would revert from negotiable territorial power holders back into mere blood-supplying components within the Eight Great Families' structure.

This was a death premonition regarding their vested interests. They knew if they did not speak up now, they would not get another chance.

Consequently, nobles from outside the Eight Great Families continuously rose to speak.

A New Noble from the Southern Territory half-rose, his voice raised: “The local provinces cannot support your Imperial Capital games!”

The Border Marquis's voice immediately pressed down: “Whoever dares touch the Northern Line military budget, we will declare autonomy first!”

The local nobles were no longer whispering; they were standing up in rows: “The provinces are not vassals of the Eight Families!” “We demand true autonomy!” “Don’t let the old system crush the emerging territories!”

Order began to tear apart. The Yuchen Hall seemed to be ripped open from the inside by immense force.

The fear of the New Nobles subsequently joined the chaos, starting with trembling voices: “If the old system revives... we will all die...”

Then came shouts that shattered decorum: “Your era is over!” “The Empire needs reform, not regression!”

Almost the entire assembly stood up, every face marked by genuine, naked fear.

The Eternal Flame flickered in the dome, blue light dancing across their faces, illuminating a crowd waiting to see how the Empire would fracture.

The noise became a roar of shattering, clashing, and suppressed chaos, as if the entire Empire had prematurely stepped onto the edge of the abyss at this moment.

Just then, one action caused all sounds to suddenly quiet down.

The Second Prince stood up, his voice not loud, yet sounding like an anvil dropping: “Imperial Authority is borne by the Imperial Family.”

There was no rhetoric, no explanation, and no struggle; this sentence directly shattered the foundation of the Elector System.

The civil officials understood that this was a warning that Imperial Authority was not a tool. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

The old nobles understood that the Ministry of Military Affairs and the Legions would not permit the Eight Families to touch the throne.

The Eight Great Families also understood—that was the boundary line.

He followed up with an even colder sentence: “The Emperor's disappearance does not mean you can carve up the spoils.”

When this sentence landed, the Yuchen Hall felt crushed by a massive stone.

The local nobles choked, the New Nobles fell silent, and the Eight Great Families paused for half a beat.

There was no anger, only sheer dominance, but even that failed to suppress them entirely. After a brief silence, the arguments resumed.

Lin Ze tried to regain control of the situation. He shouted: “Silence—!”

His voice exploded within the echo array, like a heavy bell striking a stone wall.

But this time, no one paid attention. The local nobles continued to roar, the New Nobles tore through decorum, and the old nobles lost all sense of propriety.

This was the first time since the Emperor’s disappearance that even superficial order could not be maintained.

“Quiet down.” A weak voice came through.

In front of the Obsidian Throne, Arrens leaned on the armrest, the noise making it difficult for him to breathe.

His movements were slow, but he still stood up.

The light of the Eternal Flame shone on his face, making him look like a candle that could be extinguished at any moment, yet stubbornly remained lit.

It was this figure that silenced the entire hall.

That moment of stillness was the lingering shadow of Imperial Authority.

Arrens spoke, his voice not loud, but amplified clearly by the array: “The Emperor... is not dead.”

The hall seemed to be forcefully repressed. Some gasped, others froze.

He raised his head, his eyes abnormally bright due to the Spiritual Essence Fruit: “Imperial Authority remains within the line of succession. If the Emperor has not passed away, any election of an Emperor... is an act of usurpation.”

Mace's proposal instantly transformed from an “option” into a taboo.

Arrens' voice was weak, yet no one dared ignore it: “The Empire... will not tolerate today’s chaos, nor the Eight Families vying for power, nor the military establishment asserting independence, nor the provinces crossing the line, nor the New Nobles going mad.”

Every sentence was like a knife, plunged into the chest of the faction that had shouted the loudest moments before.

His voice trembled, yet it was steady: “Before I die, the Empire shall not be permitted to fracture.”

This was likely the last time the Regent would suppress the entire assembly in his life—the final roar of a dying lion.

Arrens slowly settled back onto the throne, grasping the armrest to steady his breathing: “Today's discussion is entirely postponed. The next agenda will be convened at my separate summons.”

No one objected.

The Yuchen Hall was silent not due to order or noble decorum, but a deathly stillness imposed by the lingering shadow of Imperial Authority.

The doors of the Yuchen Hall were pushed open. That layer of silence was not brutally torn apart, but merely pushed open a crack by the cool breeze from outside.

Footsteps flowed into the outer corridor, yet maintained suppressed restraint. Everyone was trying hard to keep their emotions within the bounds permitted by etiquette.

The chaos had not dissipated; it had merely changed form, shifting from open argument to covert probing.

Kalian walked at the front, his steps still steady.

His presence was thinner than when he entered, yet he concealed it deeply, like a general just dismounted from the front line, suppressing exhaustion, injury, and fury beneath his armor, not allowing outsiders to notice anything.

At this moment, Kalian had already thoroughly analyzed the situation in his mind: Rhine initiated the plan, Mace and the Eight Great Families were the driving forces, the Elector System was now the clear agenda, and the Civil Official faction was pressuring him.

If the Ministry of Military Affairs was not tightened, he would have no chance of turning the tables.

Before the next meeting, he must regain control of the Ministry of Military Affairs.

He must deploy measures faster, harder, and more directly.

His single-mindedness was not rashness, but the cold contraction one feels on the battlefield upon realizing the supply line has been severed.

On the other side, the Civil Official procession quietly dispersed.

Rhine walked out, surrounded by attendants, his gait steady, showing neither joy nor defeat.

He quietly exchanged a few words with the civil officials beside him, as if merely concluding routine afternoon duties.

Although no resolution was reached today, he successfully placed the old system within the scope of discussion.

Imperial Authority remained suspended, the division within the Eight Great Families deepened, the provinces tested the central government, and the New Nobles began to feel uneasy—all the foundations for the stalemate he needed had ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) advanced one step.

The chaos must not accelerate to the point of losing control, but it must be prolonged until no one can re-establish the center.

This was Rhine's battlefield.

He did not need to shout; as long as the situation remained in a position where no one could win, he would be the ultimate controller.

Lampard left last.

His steps were as natural as a stroll, his demeanor utterly quiet; even his attendants didn't pay him special attention.

Yet, three crucial lines were settled in his mind: Central prestige had collapsed, the provinces were starting to break away, and the rift between the Eight Families was sufficient for Religious Forces to intervene.

Moving forward, his actions would not focus on the Yuchen Hall, but among the local nobles.

The fracturing of the Empire would naturally surface during the next period of chaos, rather than being forcefully pushed today.

The Eight Great Families also dispersed from the Yuchen Hall without any clamor.

The power of these families was never expressed through shouting, but through their next actions.

Other local nobles maintained their decorum upon leaving the Yuchen Hall, only their tones were lowered, and the anxiety in their words could no longer be suppressed:

“If the old system returns, the provinces' bargaining power will certainly be cut.”

“The Imperial Capital's finances cannot sustain a long-term war.”

“The provinces must first establish communication lines among themselves.”

This was the first time the reality of the central government's potential failure was openly discussed among the nobles.

The framework for the embryonic Local Autonomy Alliance was formed at this moment, relying on the natural convergence of consensus.

The New Nobles also did not flee in disorder, but they all understood clearly that if the old system was brought up again, the New Nobles would be the first batch to be eliminated.

Eleanor stood in the outer corridor, quietly observing everything: the lowered discussions, the rapid probing, the cautious actions, the forced contraction.

There was no shouting, no fighting, and no loss of control.

But precisely because everyone was moving in the same direction under this restraint, it further indicated that the Empire was beginning to fracture.

Eleanor had already begun to formulate the start of a sentence in her mind: “The situation in the Imperial Capital requires reassessment.”

The lingering shadow of Imperial Authority still existed, the provinces were loosening, the silence of the Eight Families was diverging, the New Nobles were contracting preemptively, and the Ministry of Military Affairs could lose control at any moment.

Duke Calvin, that old fox, was best at discerning the situation ten steps ahead from a single opening line.

She only needed to organize these clues into material that would allow him to make a judgment, rather than providing a conclusion.

The actual letter, she would write back at the Iris Tower Estate, letting the family decide how to proceed with the arrangements.

Today’s meeting was merely the beginning of the chaos, and the Southeast Calvin Family had to prepare to change direction ahead of the imminent fracture.

The Empire's first crack could no longer be closed.