Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

A crisp, cold wind poured in from outside the assembly hall, yet what made the nobles tremble more than the chill was the speech Louis had just delivered at the table.

Every sentence felt like ice water splashed onto their hearts.

"Civil war in the Imperial Capital... severed grain routes... no one buying ore... forced taxation..."

These words, which had previously been distant and only appeared in Imperial Capital political gossip, had suddenly become a noose around their necks.

The Northern Region—this bitter, cold land that had barely survived freezing for hundreds of years by relying on grain transfusions from the south—what if it were forgotten by the Empire?

It would be no different from an elderly person abandoned in a snow pit.

The conference hall instantly descended into chaos, the noise growing louder and more frantic, as if the collapse of the Empire had already reached the gates of Frost Halberd City.

Louis merely watched silently. When the clamor was about to drown out the roof, he slowly raised his hand and tapped the table twice.

The crisp tapping instantly silenced the entire hall.

Louis stood up, bracing his hands on the long table, his posture as steady as a monument: “Lords who have joined the Red Tide System, there is no need to fear. Dividends will continue, and we will face the subsequent difficulties together.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the nobles belonging to the Red Tide faction collectively sighed in relief.

Some even had flushed faces, as if they had been dragged ashore from drowning.

After all, the Red Tide's profit dividends were enormous; even if they were cut to a third of the current amount, it would still be a heaven-sent bounty of grain for them.

"If we get less, we get less. It's a special time, a special situation... we all understand."

"To be able to continue receiving dividends is a huge blessing."

"Lord Louis's grace is unforgettable."

Some were even moved to the point of having a stinging sensation in their nose.

Meanwhile, the faces of the minor lords who had not joined the Red Tide System immediately turned a stewed, chaotic gray.

Some people were already living beyond their means and had intended to use this Northern Region Reconstruction Assembly to brazenly beg Louis to let them join the Red Tide System and partake in the profits.

If the Empire fell into disorder, they would be even more clueless about what to do.

This included some nobles who survived solely by relying on trade routes from southern merchant caravans or procurement orders from the Imperial Capital.

Once the Empire was in turmoil, their territories would immediately be strangled, making even basic survival difficult.

Just like that, the atmosphere of the meeting was torn in half. One side, though still harboring lingering worries, was reassured by the Red Tide and even carried a hint of schadenfreude.

The other side was completely thrown into disarray, panicking as if they were about to freeze to death in the snow, practically crawling toward Louis on their knees, murmuring pleas and desperate attempts at self-salvation.

Louis did not respond immediately.

He simply looked around at them quietly; his gaze carried no anger, yet it made their hearts fiercely clench.

Then, he smiled faintly: "I am not a great philanthropist."

This opening statement sent a chill down the spines of many nobles.

But the next sentence was like the sun rising on a winter day: "But I am willing to give you one last chance."

Everyone held their breath.

"After the meeting, you can register your territory's resources with Bradley. If they possess value... you may join the Red Tide System.

However, the terms will be worse than before. After all, I previously stated that the sooner you join, the better the terms."

Then he changed the subject, his tone cold as a frost blade on a winter night: "As for those who lack resources... then you must seriously consider what value you yourselves possess.

You don't have much time left. You can choose to die alongside the silent Empire... or you can follow me and live like proper human beings in this chaotic era."

Instantly, the great hall fell silent.

The nobles lowered their heads one after another.

But they were all thinking the exact same thing: "How can we curry favor with this new Master of the Northern Region?"

After so much groundwork, all intelligent people knew that as long as they flew the Red Tide banner now, even if half the Empire collapsed, they could at least eat their fill and survive.

But following the Empire? That was just waiting for death.

In the vast conference hall, there was only one person who showed no fear or panic.

Louis leaned back in the main seat, like a chess player who had just cleaned up the endgame, a slight curve on his lips.

The progression of this meeting, from the opening chaos to the current silence... was exactly the rhythm he wanted.

Taking advantage of the atmosphere being firmly under his control, Louis stood up and straightened his sleeves.

This single subtle movement caused the hearts of the dozens of nobles below the dais to clench, and they unconsciously straightened their backs.

"There is one more matter," he said flatly, yet it was like tossing a stone into the air of the conference hall, stirring up layers of ripples.

"As I just mentioned, the Empire is falling into the vortex of civil war. The Northern Region absolutely cannot remain aloof."

As soon as these words were spoken, the faces of the nobles who had just relaxed slightly tightened again.

Louis braced his hands on the table, his tone growing stronger: "To prevent the flames of war from the south from spreading here, and to prevent the appearance of more Ackermans, I propose the establishment of the Northern Region Joint Defense Corps."

His gaze, sharp as a blade, swept over every noble: "I will guarantee the safety and interests of all your territories."

When this sentence fell, the conference hall immediately plunged into absolute silence.

Everyone understood that Louis wanted more than just cooperation; he wanted military authority over the entire Northern Region.

Including every family's Knight Order... all of them must be placed under his command.

For the Northern Region, such a thing had never happened in a thousand years.

Knights were the dignity of the nobles, symbols of their status, and their final trump card.

If they handed them over, they would feel like toothless tigers, mere empty shells.

Many nobles turned pale, yet dared not voice opposition, remaining stiffly seated with shifty eyes.

Louis, of course, understood, and smiled lightly: "I know your concerns. But think carefully about the current situation—who can survive relying on just a few hundred knights?"

He raised his hand and pointed toward the winter snow outside the window.

"Imperial civil unrest means grain prices will skyrocket. Armor, warhorses, feed, weapons... every single item will be ridiculously expensive. Furthermore, if your Knight Orders face organized legions alone, they will be crushed like Ackerman was."

This sentence fiercely struck the deepest pain point in the nobles' hearts.

Louis continued: "But if you hand over your Knight Orders to the Joint Defense Corps, their salaries, equipment, and supply consumption... will all be borne by the Red Tide Territory."

The nobles' expressions began to change, and they even started whispering amongst themselves.

"If I don't have to support those prohibitively expensive knights anymore, my territory can last at least three more years."

"The money saved could be used to expand trade routes, improve the manor, or even buy more artisans..."

"...Louis is willing to raise our troops for us? Then why wouldn't we hand them over?"

These were all words of self-consolation uttered out of sheer necessity.

Seeing the atmosphere soften, Louis smiled gently again: "Of course, I will not act arbitrarily. All actions of the Joint Defense Corps, except in emergencies, must be approved by a vote of the fifteen councilors you elect."

This arrangement greatly reassured the nobles' pride.

And Louis's final sentence caused all hesitation to completely collapse: "The Red Tide will pay high compensation for every knight lost in battle."

The nobles were no longer silent.

Their dignity was preserved, their interests were protected, and the risk, conversely, vanished.

With such benefits, who could refuse?

What Louis did not explicitly state, of course, was that once these transferred ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) knights entered the Joint Defense Corps, they would immediately be disbanded, mixed with the Red Tide Knights, and commanded by officers trained by the Red Tide.

They would be sent to the Red Tide Military Academy to relearn tactics, law, and discipline, and accept the training and lifestyle of the Red Tide System.

Their treatment would also increase severalfold, with food, lodging, and equipment far exceeding what their original territories could provide.

Under such a system, it would be impossible for the old nobles to regain the loyalty of these knights.

After a few months, these men would no longer be knights belonging to a specific family, but Red Tide soldiers.

At this moment, the vast majority of them hadn't considered this point; they simply felt that Louis's proposal was indeed the optimal solution, but due to saving face, no one wanted to be the first to speak.

Until Louis's most loyal follower—Yoen—stepped forward.

Unlike the rash youth he was a few years ago, the current Yoen carried the demeanor of a high-ranking official in his every gesture.

The young Viscount thumped his chest, his voice deafeningly loud: "I am willing to hand over all my military authority to Lord Louis! From today forward, my knights will only obey his command!"

Several old nobles nearly choked on their own saliva.

Your men have long been drawing imperial paychecks in the Red Tide System; what military authority are you handing over?!

But precisely because of this, his words carried no risk and were perfectly suited to break the ice.

Sure enough, a chorus of voices gradually rose in the conference hall:

"Me too, for the greater good of the Northern Region!"

"Our territory is willing to surrender authority!"

"Lord Louis commands with certainty; we are willing to follow!"

Especially those minor nobles who hadn't joined the Red Tide System previously shouted louder than anyone else, afraid that a moment's delay would mean being excluded.

Thus, the dust settled, and military authority was easily seized by Louis without a single drop of blood being shed.

The subsequent meeting progressed naturally, with all topics—regarding trade route restoration, resource allocation, winter supplies, and territorial reconstruction—being swiftly finalized under the guidance of the Red Tide System.

The reconstruction meeting finally concluded perfectly. Although shocking events had transpired, the peaceful conclusion was almost unbelievable.

The nobles dispersed, each with their own thoughts. Some rushed to register resources with Bradley, eager to join the Red Tide System, while others pondered what gifts to send Louis.

Still others bowed their heads in silence, a single thought remaining in their hearts: “The times have changed. We must cling to Louis, the largest ship.”

...After the reconstruction meeting adjourned, Louis stepped into the secret strategy room on the top floor of the Lord's Manor.

This place was completely different from the clamor that had just ended below, so quiet that the air seemed frozen.

There were only a dozen people in the room, yet they represented the most substantial power in the entire Northern Territory:

Territorial Lords with vast lands, powerful nobles who controlled organized Knight Orders, and wealthy families who had owned mines and workshops for generations... every single one was a figure capable of determining the fate of the Northern Territory.

Deep red flames danced in the fireplace, stretching their shadows long.

On the surface, they all appeared composed, but in reality, they carried suppressed caution.

They all understood that Louis had kept them back not to harshly reprimand them like he had the minor nobles just now.

The people in this room were the true “pillars and beams” of the Northern Territory.

To smoothly consolidate military power and legitimately establish the United Defense Corps, Louis first had to appease them and make them understand that their authority was not being curtailed.

Viscount Yoen and Viscount Willis were also among them.

One was Louis's most loyal follower, and the other was Louis's half-brother.

Just a few years ago, they were merely minor nobles on the fringes of the Northern Territory.

But with Louis's rise, through opportunity, effort, and Louis's support, they now ranked among the top twenty influential figures in the Northern Territory.

Louis offered no greeting or preamble, cutting straight to the point: “I know what you are worried about. You think I want to turn you into toothless tigers.”

He raised his hand and pointed out the window, where three heads, stiffened by the cold wind, hung silently beneath the setting sun.

“But think about it: in the face of absolute power, do your so-called teeth truly still hold any meaning?”

Louis's voice was not loud, yet it sent a chill down everyone's spine: “The Knight Orders of those three legion commanders were stronger than any of your families. Now their heads hang at the gates of Frost Halberd City.”

No one dared to refute him; Louis possessing absolute military power was an undeniable fact, but that did not mean they fully agreed with his words.

Their silence expressed their opposition. The air was so quiet that the crackling of wood in the fireplace could almost be heard.

Just as the oppressive atmosphere was becoming so heavy it felt like it might drip, Viscount Yoen made his entrance once again.

He surveyed all the nobles present: “In all these years in the Northern Territory, which territory represented here hasn't received assistance from Lord Louis? Grain, artisans, weapons, military supplies, trade routes... which of these hasn't he supported?”

Many of the older nobles' eyelids twitched, but they remained silent.

Yoen was neither hurried nor anxious, yet every word struck a vital point: “Think about it, all these years, what have you gained by following the Empire? What has it brought you?”

He stretched out his hand, pointing to Louis on the main seat: “But following Lord Louis has allowed every one of you to eat more meat than you have in the past decade.”

The crowd was speechless.

Yoen's voice grew firmer: “Every decision made by Lord Louis has been clearer than any of ours.

The reconstruction of Frost Halberd City, opening the southern trade routes, developing winter granaries, unifying Northern Territory security, eliminating Ackerman's three legions... which time was he not absolutely correct?”

Once Yoen finished speaking, the eyes of all the old nobles of the Northern Territory focused almost simultaneously on Count Albay.

This silent old man was the scale weight of the entire Northern Territory, Duke Edmund's right-hand man, and a symbol of the old Northern Territory.

If he did not nod in agreement, this alliance could never truly be established.

Albay slowly set down his wine glass, and his cane tapped the ground, emitting a dull sound.

His eyes, weathered by years of snow and wind, lifted, sharp enough to pierce the heart: “Lord Louis, we respect your military might and are grateful that you eliminated Ackerman.”

He paused, his tone carrying the unique stubbornness of the Northern Territory: “However, the tradition of the Northern Territory is for every family to sweep the snow from their own doorstep. Binding us together... I fear this is not merely for defense, is it?”

If anyone else had said this, it would have been a provocation. But coming from Albay, it sounded more like a necessary confirmation.

The other nobles held their breath, awaiting Louis's reply.

Louis smiled.

He walked slowly toward the wall, tapping the table gently with the back of his hand.

Bradley instantly understood and pulled down the heavy velvet curtain.

The moment the curtain dropped, the great nobles collectively gasped.

What greeted their eyes was an Imperial strategic map covering the entire wall.

Louis picked up a pointer and tapped it decisively on the large area south of Greyrock Fortress.

“The Count asks a good question.” Louis turned around, his eyes momentarily burning with an uncontainable fire.

“If it were only to defend this small patch of land, I truly wouldn't need to do this.”

He raised his hand, slowly sweeping it across the map, his voice deep and authoritative: “But the Regent is dead, and the Empire is in chaos. That gate that locked the Northern Territory for hundreds of years, Greyrock Fortress, has been blasted open by me.”

He suddenly leaned forward, close to the table, his tone becoming as fervent as fire: “Gentlemen, do you really want to shrink away in the ice and snow of this wretched place for the rest of your lives?

Don't you want to seize a few vineyards in the warm southern winds? Don't you want to occupy a few ice-free ports? Don't you want your children to grow up in the sunlight instead of freezing to death in a blizzard?”

These words were highly treasonous and could not be spoken to all the nobles of the Northern Territory, but Louis was certain that no one in this secret room would spread what was said here.

These words struck the heart of everyone present like lightning.

Count Albay's cloudy old eyes suddenly shone with astonishing brightness, and he murmured, “When Duke Edmund was alive... we also considered going south.

But Duke Edmund was too... noble. He strictly adhered to the Guardian's Oath and refused to get involved in the internal conflicts of the Empire. Moreover, Greyrock Fortress was still blocking the way back then; it was an insurmountable natural barrier.”

Albay slowly stood up, his entire being like a relit torch.

He abruptly raised his wine glass: “The Albay Family's southern trade route has been choked for twenty years! I am sick of having to look at the Southern folk's faces!”

Raising his glass even higher, his voice shook the entire strategy room: “If your goal is the South, then the knights of the Albay Family are willing to be the vanguard!!”

At this moment, the air in the room seemed to tremble.

As the leading figure, Albay, sided with Louis, the lingering displeasure of the remaining nobles about losing power instantly vanished.

In its place was an infinite yearning for the fertile lands of the South, for warm winds, for wealth and glory.

Excited chatter immediately erupted inside the room:

“How much wine can the South sell in a year?”

“Ice-free ports... those are dreamed-of treasures!”

“If we can head south, it will be worth it even if we die on the way!”

Louis raised a hand to signal, and the noise gradually subsided.

His voice was clear and calm, yet filled with reassuring power: “War is not a game; advancing south requires the right timing. If you trust me, I will lead the Northern Territory to strike at the most opportune moment.”

This statement was like a stabilizing anchor, instantly calming all the restless hearts.

Because they all knew that since Louis's rise, whether against the Brood, the barbarians, or the legions, not a single campaign or decision had failed.

He excels at waiting for the perfect moment, and simultaneously excels at delivering a soul-piercing strike when that moment arrives.

Details finalized, everyone raised their crystal glasses:

“For the Northern Territory!”

“For a new future!”

“For the southern vineyards!”

The clinking of glasses echoed throughout the secret room, crisp and pleasant, as if celebrating the imminent victory in advance.

At this very moment, the Northern Territory's war machine began to operate under Louis's command, while the South was simultaneously experiencing immense chaos.