Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

The afternoon of the day after the meeting, Louis sent people to knock on the doors of every attending lord and representative.

Leaving behind a light sentence: “Gather at the North City Wall. I have something I want you all to see with your own eyes.”

He offered no explanation, merely instructing his attendants to prepare cloaks and portable warmers.

Thus, these nobles, who had been drinking tea and discussing cooperation and dividends in velvet chairs just yesterday, were forced to ascend the newly repaired city walls of Frost Halberd City in the biting wind and snow.

They thought Louis was merely putting on airs, or perhaps holding a so-called lord’s inspection ceremony.

However, when they stood on the city wall and saw the black torrent gathering outside the city, all their hopes and conjectures were instantly crushed.

Louis had called them here not for a ceremony, but to let them witness with their own eyes the approaching danger and the might of the Red Tide.

Only true fear could make these individuals, still clinging to old noble traditions, understand why military power had to be handed over to the Red Tide.

And only by standing on these wind-swept city walls, facing the encroaching regular army,

could they truly realize that the old Northern Territory was dead, and a new Northern Territory could only be reborn in fire and iron... The wind of the Northern Territory howled on the North City Wall of Frost Halberd City, like an entire ice plain roaring.

The sky pressed extremely low, and the blizzard was torn by the wind into white whip-like shadows, lashing against the battlements and flags, making dull slapping sounds.

However, even more bone-chilling than the wind and snow was the gradually approaching tremor that made the very air tremble.

At first, it wasn't hooves—but a low rumbling thunder, as if rolling from deep underground, its lingering sound long and oppressive.

The nobles on the city wall stopped breathing one by one.

“Is...is that an earthquake?” someone stammered.

“No,” another noble said hoarsely. “That’s a cavalry tide.”

Their gaze stretched into the distance, and on the previously pale horizon, a black line, as thin as a strand of hair, suddenly appeared.

The wind and snow could not conceal its spread; the black line thickened and widened rapidly like a rising tide, then swallowed the color of the entire snowy plain.

Someone cried out, “Is that...a legion? An entire legion?!”

No one could count how many knights there were.

The black torrent stretched to the horizon, without end.

Even from several miles away, one could feel the discipline of their movement.

There were no shouts, no roars, only the “thump—thump—thump—” of countless iron hooves crushing the snow.

This silence was more suffocating than any war drum.

This was the march of a regular army, the Empire’s most terrifying war machine.

On the command platform of Frost Halberd City's North City Wall, all the participating nobles were almost scared pale.

At this moment, they truly understood that Louis’s words at the meeting were no joke.

Three legions, seven thousand knights, were heading this way.

The cold wind pushed at their thick fur cloaks, and some even knelt on the ground: “We’re finished... We can’t stop them... Who can stop a force of this scale?!”

Several timid barons had already begun to quietly retreat, trying to find the stairs down the city wall, as if by moving away from this scene, the end of the world would be a little further from them.

Count Albert, however, stood at the very front.

He was an old minister of the late Duke Edmund, a veteran who had weathered decades of wind and snow.

Even in this almost suffocatingly oppressive situation, he still stood tall, though his brows were heavier and more worried than usual.

He did not panic like the others, lowering his voice to speak: “Lord Louis, the 17th Legion and the other two legions moving south simultaneously is an extremely unusual development. Are your...pre-arranged defenses truly sufficient to cope?”

This was an old general's concern and responsibility for the safety of the Northern Territory.

He wasn't doubting Louis, but confirming whether the young lord was truly confident in this doomsday-like scenario.

Louis glanced at him, his expression as calm as a lamp in a snowy night: “Don’t worry, Count Albert. I am ready.”

Albert was silent for a moment, then looked at the distant black torrent again, his tense fingers slowly relaxing.

He sighed softly, only able to shake his head: “...If that’s the case, I will watch.”

As the cavalry drew closer, everyone looked at the young lord sitting in the central chair.

Louis sat calmly in his chair, one hand gently holding a steaming cup of red tea, as if enjoying a peaceful afternoon tea in a warm hall, rather than on a city wall about to be crushed by a cavalry tide.

The fierce wind whipped his cloak, yet he didn't even twitch an eyelid.

He merely turned his head to look at Isaac, who was so nervous his palms were sweating.

The child’s shoulders were stiff as stone, and he instinctively clutched Louis’s cloak.

But when Louis looked at him, he quickly lifted his chin, trying to appear brave.

Louis put down his teacup and raised a hand to smooth his wind-blown blue hair, his tone as if asking what he wanted for dinner: “Are you scared?”

Isaac’s breath hitched, his earlobes red from the cold, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to shake his head: “No...not scared.”

Louis’s lips curved slightly, not in mockery, but in a reassuring affirmation.

“Very good,” he said softly. “Then open your eyes wide and see clearly. This is the last curtain call of the old era.”

...The biting Northern Territory wind echoed through the Birchwood Pass, as if the entire ice plain was groaning softly.

Ackerman reined in his warhorse, standing at the very front of the formation.

He looked at the three-hundred-meter-wide pass leading to Frost Halberd City, with frozen cliffs on both sides so smooth they reflected shadows, and a white plain covered in wind and snow directly ahead.

Any general would recognize this as an excellent ambush location.

But Ackerman smiled; he had long anticipated Louis would play this trick.

He stared at the eerily quiet snow, his eyes gleaming with a hunter’s coldness: “Louis Calvin, do you think I’ll step into your magic blast trap? With those explosive alchemical toys, who can you kill?”

The Black Steel Knights of the 17th Legion stood solemnly behind him; three thousand fully armored heavy knights were like an iron-colored tsunami bearing down.

Snow fell on their armor, but upon contact, it was baked into white mist by their fighting qi, evaporating instantly.

“All troops, listen! Slave cavalry scout ahead!” Ackerman cracked his whip.

A hundred barbarian light cavalry, like unleashed wild dogs, roared and charged into the pass.

A few breaths later... “Boom! Boom, boom!”

The accumulated snow exploded, fire and blood mist mixing into a cloud, sending more than a dozen barbarians and their horses flying.

But the explosion stopped there; there was no chain reaction, no large-scale demolition that would have shaken Ackerman.

Ackerman sneered: “As expected, a minefield... but with limited power. Heavy knights won’t die at all.”

Then, he ordered without hesitation: “Disperse formation! All knights maintain a five-meter interval! Advance in squads!”

Three thousand Black Knights spread out into a net-like advancing formation at the sound of the horn; though the torrent was sparse, it carried an unstoppable aura of destruction as it rolled into the pass.

Until almost all of them had entered the designated area... there was no second round of explosions.

At the end of Birchwood Pass, on the North Wall of Frost Halberd City, Louis slowly raised his hand, as if signaling an elegant beginning.

The next second, the earth let out a muffled, thunderous heartbeat.

“Buzz—Boom!!”

There was no dazzling fire, no scattering iron fragments. Only a terrifying tremor, paralyzing the nerves instantly, came from deep underground.

Ackerman’s black-scaled warhorse suddenly sank. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

He reacted extremely quickly, but still widened his eyes: “This... isn’t an explosion?”

This was not a high-explosive minefield; these were deep-seated Vibration Magic Blast Packs buried five meters down.

The shockwave first shattered the frozen soil layer, then agitated the groundwater, turning the entire iron-hard foundation into a fluid in an instant.

The snowy plain collapsed instantly.

The entire three-hundred-meter-wide passage transformed into a swamp-like muddy hell in a few breaths.

The warhorses’ hooves sank first, getting deeper with every struggle.

The heavy plate armor, along with the knights, was half-swallowed by the viscous mud.

No one died, no casualties, but the entire army was immobilized.

Ackerman’s pupils contracted sharply; he wanted to curse but his throat was choked: “This kid... he doesn’t want to blow me up. He’s trying to capture me alive like livestock?!”

The mud churned continuously, knights fell from their horses, one by one plunging into the muddy water, struggling to stand up, but couldn't even draw their weapons smoothly. Chains, plate armor, horse armor, all became restraints.

“Legion Commander! We’re... stuck!”

“The rear guard is crashing into us! The formation is jammed together!”

The three thousand Black Knights’ formation, originally spread out like a vast net, was now forced into a narrow “corridor of flesh and mud” by the terrain.

The front stopped, the rear crashed, the flanks sank, squeezed together like sardines.

Ackerman roared, his fighting qi erupting, shaking off the mud, and leaping onto his horse.

“Get up, all of you! Charge through! As long as we leave this muddy ground, we win!”

Under Ackerman’s almost frantic roar and intimidation, the heavy cavalry forcibly pulled their legs from the mud.

Some abandoned their horses, others stumbled forward.

They finally struggled out of the muddy area, only eight hundred meters from Frost Halberd City.

But Ackerman didn't notice any of this.

In his eyes, the mud was just a temporary obstacle; he even showed a hint of excited laughter, roaring loudly: “See?! Not even traps can stop us! Just «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» charge through! Victory is ours!”

Ackerman had no time to observe the collapse of his formation, only staring at the seemingly passable flat ground ahead, fiercely spurring his warhorse. With mud splashing everywhere, he was the first to charge out.

Behind him, this massive legion, shattered, dragged by the mud, and squeezed together, was forced to follow his rhythm, surging forward.

They thought they still maintained their momentum, believing that by continuing to charge forward, they could smash open the gates of Frost Halberd City in one fell swoop.

And on the city wall, Louis quietly gazed down at their almost comical efforts, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Louis never intended to kill them with traps.

What he wanted was to strip them of their fighting spirit, to strip the 17th Legion of its meaning as a legion, and to break their fearless momentum.

To make them lose the qualification for war before they even reached the city, as a prelude to the grand feast that was to come... The flank highlands of Birchwood Pass.

The wind here was extremely strong, but it was also the best vantage point to overlook the entire pass.

White snow swirled in the cold wind, like fine silver dust, tapping out subtle and urgent sounds on the armor of the two knight orders hidden behind the snow-covered slopes.

Ferran, the Commander of the Frost Iron Knights, stood at the very front, looking as if he had been forged from Cold Iron.

His heavy armor was deep black, almost swallowing the light in the wind and snow, leaving only a cold, hard silhouette.

He said nothing, only staring at the pass below, which had already turned into a sea of mud.

Oser, the Commander of the Silverfang Knights, stood half a step behind him and to his side, his silver-gray light armor rustling softly in the wind.

Compared to Ferran’s composure, his emotions were noticeably much more tense.

Through his telescope, he could see Ackerman's heavy cavalry struggling and tumbling miserably in the mud, a scene almost like a doomsday disaster.

“Ferran! Look down there!” Oser couldn’t help but growl, his hand already gripping his sword hilt. “Ackerman’s formation is broken! Completely broken! This is a godsend opportunity!”

He pointed towards the distant, majestic Frost Halberd City, his voice very low, yet still betraying his anxiety:

“If they get out, the city walls will have to withstand a full impact! The civilians inside the city will panic! Our duty as the Silverfang Knights is to protect Frost Halberd City! If we charge down now, we can cut them to pieces from the flank!”

Ferran raised his hand, blocking Oser like an insurmountable iron gate: “Lord Louis’s red signal flare hasn’t gone up yet. Without orders, the Frost Iron Knights will not move a step.”

“You’re too blindly obedient!” Oser’s anger was irrepressible; he pushed Ferran’s hand away, even forcing the nearby Frost Iron Knights to step forward half a pace.

“Louis is only temporarily in charge of military power! Frost Halberd City is Young Master Isaac’s foundation! If Frost Halberd City suffers because of his hesitation, how can you and I face the Old Duke after we die?!”

He gritted his teeth and angrily rebuked: “What is that young man thinking? The battlefield changes in an instant, yet he wants to clash head-on with heavy cavalry on an open plain? Does he think war is a child’s game?!”

Ferran slowly turned his head: “Oser, do you remember my vow before the spirit tablet?”

He enunciated each word: “We vow not to disgrace his will. Since the Duke entrusted command to Lord Louis, his orders are the Duke’s will.

You are too far from Lord Louis. You only see his gentleness in Frost Halberd City, but you have not seen how he turned the impossible into reality with the Red Tide. He understands better than us how to protect Young Master Isaac’s future.”

Oser still wanted to retort, but he froze the moment the words reached his lips.

Because the earth... trembled.

At first, it was just a faint tremor, then it gradually intensified, as if some colossal creature was awakening deep underground.

Ferran raised his chin, pointing towards Frost Halberd City: “Do you think Lord Louis set up this trap just to trap them in a mud pit?”

“Listen.”

Oser held his breath.

Amidst the howling wind, an unfamiliar, low rumble gradually became clear, like the heartbeat of a metallic behemoth.

Thump—Thump—Thump—

The power of that sound even drowned out the thundering hooves of thousands of warhorses, making the snow on the slopes slide down with a rustle.

Oser’s pupils constricted slightly: “What... is this?”

“The Red Tide’s monsters.”

Carried on the wind was the breathing of mechanical pistons, the roar of steam and steel.

The sound grew louder and wilder.

On the snowy ridge, everyone from both knight orders instinctively straightened their backs.

The power of the new era was about to make its debut.