Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

The snow was still heavy in the early spring of the Northern Territory. The convoy moved slowly, the wooden wheels crunching dully over the frozen ground.

Southern merchant Solton pulled his cloak tighter, yet still felt the bone-chilling cold.

He frowned, looking at the vast, white Northern Territory ahead, his tone full of disdain.

Along the way, he had heard people mention more than once that Lord Louis, the Red Tide Lord, was building the “most luxurious main castle in the Northern Territory,” something even more exaggerated than Silver Fortress or Holy Dragon Cathedral.

Every time Solton heard it, he felt like he was listening to a joke.

How could a Northern Territory upstart, no matter how much effort he put in, pile stones into a miracle?

"Old John, I truly don't understand how you tolerate this wretched place. The winter in the Imperial Capital is a hundred, a thousand times better than here." He snorted, speaking as if deliberately showing off his knowledge.

"I've attended banquets at the Silver Fortress and listened to sacred music at the Holy Dragon Cathedral. I hear your Red Tide Territory has built some new main castle, tsk. In my opinion, it's just some country bumpkins stacking stones a bit higher, putting on airs."

He raised his hand, gesturing toward the distance. "Isn't the most luxurious place here the old fortress of Duke Edmund? That thing is nothing more than a large stone cage. Even if your Lord Louis is rich... can he turn stone into gold?"

Old John just smiled and didn't refute him. "My lord, wake up! We've arrived at Red Tide City!"

Solton had been dozing in the carriage, feeling groggy from the jolting.

Hearing that, he frowned and groggily opened his eyes. Before he could complain, he reached out and pulled back the curtain.

A blinding light poured in, and he felt as if he'd been splashed with cold water, his mind instantly clearing up significantly.

The complaints he had been ready to spout were caught in his throat, and he couldn't utter a single word.

The lights of the outer district were spread out neatly, as if measured by a ruler.

But what truly silenced him was the main castle standing in the deepest part of the city.

It was not the Northern Territory fortress he had pictured—rough, gloomy, and full of gray stone seams.

Solton froze in the carriage, head raised, completely still.

The first thing that caught his eye about the main castle was its overly flawless shape.

There were none of the cracked stone seams common in the Northern Territory, nor any moss grown from years of wind and frost.

The entire structure looked like a block of iron violently stripped from a mountain, polished until not a single flaw could be found.

The outer walls had an oppressive inward curve, and looking up from below, it felt like being overlooked by a sleeping behemoth.

The feeling of being enveloped made Solton's knees tremble slightly in the wind.

Four towers rose from the spine-like structure of the main castle, their red copper domes emitting a faint red glow under the gloomy sky, like embers buried in iron.

The most striking was the West Tower, standing on the high slope.

Its silhouette was sharp, like a giant steel eagle with folded wings, quietly resting on the edge of the snow line.

Solton had originally expected Red Tide City to be like other territories in the Northern Territory, filled with rough stones and simple wooden beams.

But the closer he got, the more details he could see hidden behind the massive silhouette.

Between the towers, runic light flickered gently, steady as breathing. White steam sprayed from the seams, winding around the blizzard with the wind, forming a thin layer of warm mist around the castle perimeter.

And the giant devices wrapped atop the walls, revealing only slight metallic curves, looked like lurking skeletons.

These things made no sound, yet Solton inexplicably felt that they were watching him.

For the first time, he had the absurd thought that this place did not belong to mortals.

Not out of piety, but out of an instinctive sense of surrender.

He almost wanted to kneel, like a mouse facing the shadow of a giant beast, afraid to look up.

"This... is this a castle?" His throat was dry. "No... it looks like some kind of..."

He couldn't describe it. His gaze fell upon the Brass Scorching Sun Totem above the main gate; it hung silently, yet seemed to look down upon all who approached.

"Old John..." Solton managed to speak. "Who exactly... is Lord Louis?"

Old John didn't answer immediately; he simply looked at the city, his expression solemn.

"He is our Sun," he whispered... It was late spring. The snow line in the Northern Territory had just receded, but the sky had not truly cleared.

The air carried the musty smell of moss and a damp, cold mist. This dampness was harder to bear than the dry, cold winds of winter, seeming to deliberately penetrate one's joints.

For the old Northern Territory nobles, this was still a disagreeable season.

Cloaks were always muddy, shoe soles always slipped, and if one wasn't careful, rheumatism would settle in the knees and back.

Madam Elena stood on the carriage steps, habitually lifting her skirt. Although the steps had long been wiped clean, she remained subconsciously cautious.

She had not come alone.

Not far ahead, Louis was holding his two-year-old youngest daughter, while his other hand held five-year-old Olthers, quietly reassuring the little one not to run off.

Emily was holding his arm, and with her other hand, she held her eight-year-old brother Isaac, looking like she was taking two children out for a stroll.

Sif wore her fitted leather armor routine clothing, walking slightly behind, her gaze casual yet habitually scanning the surroundings, occasionally exchanging a knowing look with Louis.

The family lined up, appearing particularly warm amidst the muddy Northern Territory spring.

Time had been relatively kind to Madam Elena.

A few silver threads had appeared at her temples, but she didn't show much fatigue.

It was just that the hardships of the Northern Territory always made her think one step ahead of others, whether about the mud or the castle standing not far in front of her.

It was a castle she had witnessed being built for over four years.

From the initial sketches Louis spread out on the table, where he mentioned they could all live in the castle together since it was being built so large.

To the first Cold Iron beam standing in the mud, and then to today, with all the scaffolding removed, the main castle stood complete before her eyes.

Construction took four years and three months.

During this period, Red Tide transformed from a nascent territory into a name unavoidable throughout the entire Northern Territory.

And this city, too, evolved from what others saw as a vanity project into the greatest architectural wonder of the Northern Territory.

Weil stepped forward to operate the gate. He took a deep breath, and with a forceful pull of both hands, the sound of gears meshing immediately echoed throughout the gatehouse.

Click, clack, click... The sound was heavy but not jarring, more like a sleeping behemoth slowly turning over.

The half-meter thick, double-layered city gate closed under the traction of gears and chains.

The outer layer was Cold Iron, the inner layer sandwiched soft wood and insulation panels. The entire door was like a black wall, shutting out all the outside wind and dampness.

The moment the last sliver of light was swallowed by the gate seam, the noise outside was cut off.

The world fell silent.

Only the faint echoes beneath their feet remained, along with the low murmur of water slowly passing through a pipe deep within the wall structure.

Elena subconsciously relaxed her fingers. Before entering, she had tightly grasped her skirt, afraid of accidentally getting mud on it. Now, she realized she had let go at some point.

She looked down at her feet. The ground paved with obsidian was spotless—no mud spots, no standing water, not even the dampness marks common in late spring.

The ground was slightly warm, and she could feel an indescribable comfort even through the soles of her shoes.

"The geothermal pipes run all day, using shallow underground heat veins for circulation," Mike, who was walking ahead, explained. He added, "As long as the heat veins don't dry up, the entire city will be warm."

The Director of the Artisan Department and Chief Designer of the city stood ramrod straight, as if he wasn't just walking, but presenting the entire city to his Lord.

Although he already held a high position in Red Tide, and even the entire Northern Territory, at this moment, his expression still held unconcealable nervousness and excitement.

"My Lord, Madam, please follow me."

Mike rushed ahead to lead the way, his steps light like an elementary school student about to receive an award.

Elena took a deep breath, forcing her attention away from the ground.

Her sense of smell recovered first.

The sticky, earthy smell from outside the gate had completely vanished, replaced by dry, warm air carrying a hint [N O V E L I G H T] of pine incense and the clean scent of tea.

For a moment, she even had the illusion that she hadn't walked into a Northern Territory main castle, but into a small, temperate city in the South.

Elena looked at Louis's back, her emotions very complicated.

She recalled the nights six years ago when she first arrived at Red Tide.

She had only recently been widowed, holding young Isaac, and spent restless nights in the unfamiliar earthen castle of Red Tide.

She was afraid that this abandoned son, tossed to the Northern Territory by his family, would turn hostile, afraid that he would use the guise of protection to swallow up the Edmund survivors, and afraid that she, the Duke's widow, was merely a pawn that could be sacrificed at any time.

Back then, she was wary everywhere, observing his every meeting and every decision, terrified that one wrong judgment would leave her with no way back.

But now, Louis, through his actual deeds, had long since buried those old fears and suspicions deep in her heart.

It had been a long time since she had woken up startled in the middle of the night.

Isaac excitedly told her, “Look what my brother-in-law taught me today.”

The group turned the corner and continued forward, where the castle's usually dark inner corridor suddenly opened up to a wide view.

An entire exterior wall had been completely knocked out, replaced by a transparent panel that stretched from the floor all the way to the vaulted ceiling, shining brightly.

When Elena rounded the corner, her steps visibly halted for half a second.

This was not the Northern Territory architecture she knew; it felt like walking onto a suspended sky bridge.

Although there was clearly ground beneath her feet, she felt an unsettling illusion of standing mid-air.

“This is...” Elena whispered, taking a soft breath.

Looking out from this long corridor, the entirety of Red Tide City spread out below, from the distant snow line to the nearby street lights, all falling into view without obstruction.

The wind was isolated outside, and only light quietly adhered to the glass, making even breathing feel lighter.

Hearing Elena's words, Mac finally couldn't hold back, becoming excited as if ignited: “Madam, this... this is the Glass Workshop's greatest achievement this year!”

His voice trembled, “According to the rules of old castles, this should have been embrasures and battlements. We made it look like this, ensuring no castle in the entire world can replicate it.”

Elena continued staring at the enormous glass panel, her eyes reflecting pure shock. She rarely lost her composure like this, but the sight was enough to make one speechless.

“What about protection?” she finally asked.

This question wasn't meant to criticize, but was the instinct of a noble who had lived through years of snowstorms and warfare in the Northern Territory.

Mac puffed out his chest as if asked his favorite subject: “Triple structure! The outermost layer is supported by Cold Iron, ensuring even a Snow Beast can't crack it.

The middle layer is newly refined crystal composite material, capable of blocking crossbow bolts, and the innermost layer is our own Red Tide glass, which resists frost, vibration, and temperature changes.

Madam, you don't need to worry, this is the Inner Tower. The real defenses are on the outer ring's Cold Iron towers, which have the best defensive measures in the entire Northern Territory...”

The more he spoke, the brighter his voice became, as if he couldn't wait to express all the pride he had bottled up over the years.

Elena gently let out a breath, and the surprise in her heart finally settled down.

Louis did not interrupt, simply standing behind Mac, casual and gentle, letting Mac talk endlessly.

There were two small figures in front of the glass.

Olthers and Isaac.

Five-year-old Olthers was trying hard to stand on his tiptoes and fog up the glass with his breath.

Eight-year-old Isaac stretched out his arms, attempting to draw a circle larger than himself.

Their fingertips traced arcs on the glass, leaving temporary foggy marks that were quickly smoothed away by the temperature.

After finishing his drawing, Isaac habitually glanced back at Louis.

There was no fear in his eyes, nor cautious flattery, only a pure expectation, as if waiting for a critique: “Is my drawing okay?”

Louis neither scolded them to “stop dirtying it” nor displayed the sternness of an elder.

He casually took the infant daughter handed to him by Sif, holding the two-year-old girl single-handedly in his arms, and walked up to the glass.

The children's fog hadn't completely dissipated. He raised his hand, took out a handkerchief, and first gently wiped off a bit of moisture clinging to Isaac's nose, then followed the motion to wipe away the handprints on the glass.

His movements were casual, like tidying his own household table.

“Don't crowd together to look; be careful not to bump your heads,” he merely reminded them.

Isaac stuck out his tongue and obediently stepped back half a pace.

After the brief interlude, as everyone continued touring the inner hall, Mac finally seized the opportunity and led the group to the washroom near the master bedroom.

“Lord, there's another small clever detail here,” he couldn't help but say, glancing at Louis's expression.

Louis chuckled, reaching up to rub his temple: “Today isn't the Artisans' Convention. Just keep it brief.”

Mac relaxed slightly, walked over to the dark wooden door, and pushed it open.

Inside was a spacious washroom, with light-colored flagstones on the walls, and the floor was still warm. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

He walked to the corner, gripped the exquisitely crafted brass handle, and gave it a gentle twist.

“Buzz—”

Accompanied by a barely perceptible vibration, a stream of steaming clear water gushed from the faucet, splashing into the stone basin and creating small ripples.

Steam slowly rose in the room, carrying a relaxing warmth.

“We use geothermal heat from underground layers to warm the groundwater, then pump it up using a pressure valve,” Mac controlled himself from speaking too excitedly. “Lord, it's available 24 hours a day, whenever you turn it on.”

Elena stepped forward and put her hand into the stream of water.

The water temperature was perfect—neither too hot nor too cold—like flagstones that had been sun-drenched all day. In the Northern Territory, this was almost a luxury.

She couldn't help but think of the old castle in Frost Halberd City.

Even after renovation, mold would appear in the corners every season. Water for washing had to be carried up bucket by bucket by servants, and by the time it reached your hands, before it could even warm up, it was already freezing cold.

But now, with a simple twist, the underground systems of an entire city were operating for this single stream of water.

The group then followed the spiral staircase all the way up to the highest floor of the Main Keep.

The maidservants were already waiting at the door. Soft lights illuminated the room, and freshly baked pastries and warm berry tea were laid out on the long table.

The air carried a faint sweetness, allowing one to shed most of the day's fatigue upon entering.

Olthers was rubbing his eyes sleepily, held in Sif's arms. Emily sat on the couch, casually picking up a pastry and putting it in her mouth, looking genuinely hungry.

Louis placed the little daughter in his arms onto a soft cushion, entrusted her to a maidservant, and handed hot tea to everyone else.

The children chattered around the pastry plate, looking relaxed for the first time in a while.

Only Isaac did not join the excitement.

He stood before the massive glass window, hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the crisscrossing streetlights and the constantly moving carriage convoys below. A faint sense of superiority, befitting a person of high status, unconsciously surfaced on his young face.

Louis walked over and stood behind him: “Isaac.”

“Hmm?”

“What do you think of this wall?”

Isaac was stunned for a moment, subconsciously reached out to touch the glass, then immediately withdrew his hand: “It's very hard, very transparent, and... probably very expensive.”

Louis chuckled: “Many lords like to confine themselves within thick stone walls. It's safe, they can't see outside, nor can they hear.”

He reached out and tapped the carpet by his feet, then pointed toward the lights outside the glass.

“Stone walls can block assassins, but they can also block the hungry. Those inside can't see the cold outside, and those outside can't see what the people inside are eating.”

Isaac frowned thoughtfully: “We must be different?”

Louis lowered his head, meeting his gaze: “You must learn to be this piece of glass.”

Isaac was stunned: “Be... glass?”

“Yes.”

Louis lightly tapped the glass with his knuckle: “It must be hard enough to block the cold and malice from outside. And it must be transparent enough so that the lives of every person below can be reflected in your eyes at any moment.”

He paused, his tone calm but carrying an undeniable power: "Lords who cannot see the masses will ultimately be overthrown by the masses. Remember what I said today."

Isaac looked up at him and nodded heavily: “I've remembered it.”

Elena watched this scene, her heart trembling slightly.

It wasn't the first time she had seen Louis teaching Isaac. She understood that Louis was instructing the future Lord on how to protect a city and its people.

“When the Duke died back then, I thought Edmund had made a mistake, handing power to this young man. I believed he would reveal his true nature eventually.

But six years passed. He rebuilt Frost Halberd City, and instead of treating Isaac as a puppet, he treated him as true family, teaching him how to be a person and a lord, like an older brother."

She picked up her teacup, the tension in her fingertips quietly easing.

Outside the window, snow and wind churned beyond the city walls, and dark clouds pressed down on the horizon. Yet, inside, it was warm like another world, filled with the fragrance of tea and the lingering echoes of children's laughter in the corner.

“The nobles outside call him the Winter Tyrant,” she whispered inwardly. “That's because they aren't qualified to sit beside the warm sun.”

“He is a good Lord, a reliable husband...” She paused, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly. “More importantly, to me, he is Isaac's best brother-in-law, and my best son-in-law.”

Elena finally showed a completely relaxed smile.