Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

Above the Royal Palace tower, wind and rain lashed against the glazed windows, creating a fine “crackling” sound.

The entire Imperial Capital trembled in the night, and the figure of the new Regent, Rhine, reflected in the alchemical copper wall behind the window, appearing increasingly gaunt and sinister.

He held a delicate alchemical telescope in his hand, and the sight reflected in the lens chilled his soul—

That dark golden Dragon Flag, soaked in blood and rain, was slowly being planted atop the main city wall.

Flapping fiercely in the wind.

That was the Flag of the Empire's Military Soul—and at this moment, it represented the return of the Second Prince.

Rhine’s breathing became erratic.

He watched with his own eyes as the elite knights he had heavily armed retreated like a tide.

He watched the monstrous Dragon-blooded Youths slaughter in the bloody mist, tearing apart the defense line piece by piece.

The porcelain teacup in his hand shattered with a “crack.”

Glass shards pierced his palm, and blood slowly trickled down between his fingers.

Yet he seemed oblivious, his eyes filled only with uncontrollable fury and an unacceptable reality.

“Madman—” Rhine gritted his teeth and whispered, “They are all madmen—Kalian is mad—how dare he deploy the Border Army to the Imperial Capital—he doesn’t think of the Empire at all—Traitor! Rebel! Villain!”

The curses poured out as his emotions surged.

Nearby guards knelt down in terror: “Your Highness—what should we do now? The Second Prince has already breached the city wall—”

Rhine took a deep breath.

When he looked up again, his anger had transformed into the chilling malice of a viper.

“What should we do?” he repeated softly.

“Since Second Brother chose to become a monster—” His fingertip rubbed the cold metal of the telescope, “—then don’t blame me for abandoning brotherly affection.”

He suddenly stood up and roared: “Order all knight squads in the Inner City to press forward! The Fifth Legion, Eleventh Legion, Eighteenth Legion—deploy all forces!

Tell the Legion Commanders that if they hold out tonight! I will grant them Earls! Grant them Dukes!! One by one! Open the National Treasury, move the gold bricks to the battlefield—”

He raised his bloodstained finger, pointing toward the dark battlefield outside the city.

“Immediate payment for kills!!”

The guard gasped.

Rhine was completely immersed in his own logic, still believing: Under heavy rewards, there must be brave men.

With three Imperial Formal Knight Regiments pushing forward, the advantage in human wall and equipment could grind down the Second Prince.

He had the numerical advantage; as ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) long as he held out—he could wait for the Outer City Legions to arrive as reinforcement. If they could just endure for another half month, the situation would be reversed.

The alarm bells rang continuously inside the city, but the three defense lines were already like dying flames, briefly bright and quickly extinguished.

In the Inner Plaza, three heavy armored phalanxes were hastily mobilized: the Eighth Legion, the Eleventh Legion, and the Fifth Legion.

Their armor was neat, their formations disciplined, but their temperaments were distinct—

The Eighth Legion, strictly disciplined and excellently equipped, had been loyal to the Fourth Prince from the start.

The Eleventh Legion, a veteran legion, many officers of which had followed the Second Prince in the bloody wars in the Southern Territory.

The Fifth Legion, having just earned military merits on the city wall, their pockets were bulging with the gold coins rewarded by Rhine.

The three armies formed an iron wall, attempting to plug the breach.

However, in the next instant, the ground shook.

The Second Prince Kalian rode his warhorse, stepping into the plaza from the dust and bloody mist.

His armor was broken, his cloak stained nearly black with blood, and his face was covered in scars.

Rainwater slid down the bloodstains, making him look like a god of slaughter who had walked out of a butcher shop.

Behind him were the ferocious Dragon-blooded Youths and the Border Guard Knight Regiment.

That image was like a moving high wall of hell, causing the chest of everyone standing in front of it to tighten.

A Knight Commander of the Eighth Legion suppressed his fear and raised his longsword: “By order of the Regent, suppress the rebels!

All forces—charge!”

However, his voice only carried halfway, because the phalanxes on the other two sides remained motionless.

Kalian raised the Dragon Flag, and crimson blood drops slid down the flagpole, slowly sweeping toward the formation of the Eleventh Legion.

He raised his arm, his voice tearing through the rain curtain like a roar: “Eleventh Legion!! I personally bestowed your regimental flag, broken sword, and sincere heart twenty years ago in the Southern Territory!! Are you now going to plunge that sword into this flag?”

The Commander of the Eleventh Legion’s hand trembled slightly on his sword hilt.

He looked at Kalian’s near-mad face, washed by blood and fire, but another image surfaced in his mind.

Back on the Southern Territory battlefield, he had followed this man, carving a path of survival out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.

And now—he turned his head and looked toward the Royal Palace.

Rhine was hiding deep inside the tower, only daring to command through a telescope, only capable of scattering gold coins and shouting slogans.

The Supervising Officer noticed the troops wavering and roared: “Eleventh Legion! Are you defying orders?! How much gold did His Highness Rhine spend on you?!”

“Gold?” The Commander of the Eleventh Legion’s mouth twitched, as if he had heard an absurd joke.

The next second, he drew his sword, not pointing it at the Second Prince—

But savagely hacking the Supervising Officer’s shoulder and neck!

Blood splattered, and the Supervising Officer fell to the ground, convulsing.

The Commander wheeled his horse around, raised his longsword, and his roar shattered the chaotic air currents of the Inner Plaza: “Eleventh Legion!! Welcome the Marshal back to the Palace!! Whoever dares to obstruct—kill without mercy!!”

Thousands of knights simultaneously turned, raising their spears in perfect unison, instantly becoming allies of the Second Prince.

This sudden reversal made the Knight Commander of the Eighth Legion’s face turn pale.

He abruptly looked toward the Fifth Legion on his right.

The Commander of the Fifth Legion looked down at the heavy gold coins in his pocket.

He closed his eyes—the money was abundant, but life was singular.

Rhine—was probably already a dead man.

He slowly raised his head, revealing a relieved smile: “My apologies, old friend.”

His sword light passed through the Supervising Officer’s back, spraying blood onto his armor.

“Fifth Legion, heed my command, full retreat!! Protect His Highness the Second Prince!!”

However, their direction of retreat was not to support the Second Prince, but to charge toward the Noble District to plunder and loot, utilizing the unstable situation to the extreme.

The Eighth Legion’s front line was instantly isolated and helpless.

In front was Kalian’s vengeful army and the Dragon-blooded Youths, the left flank was the defecting Eleventh Legion, and the right flank was the Fifth Legion, who were robbing under the guise of retreat.

The Commander of the Eighth Legion slowly turned back, looking at the Royal Palace tower, his eyes revealing despair.

“Your Highness—please grant us a miracle—”

But the tower was empty. There wasn't even a shadow of a person.

Duke Remont rode up through the rain, his armor gleaming cold silver under the lightning.

His words were merciless, like a judgment: “Leave none alive. Let everyone see the consequence of serving Rhine.”

The slaughter began.

The Dragon-blooded Youths tore open the heavy armor of the Eighteenth Legion like ripping paper.

The long spears of the Eleventh Legion pierced the chests of those who had just been their comrades from the flank.

The Second Prince charged on horseback, his sword severing the foreleg of the Commander of the Eighteenth Legion’s warhorse. The horse whinnied and knelt, and Kalian leaped forward, crushing the commander’s sternum with a stomp.

Blood flowed across the plaza, gathering into small streams along the cracks in the stone bricks.

In less than an hour.

The Iron Triangle on which Rhine had placed his hopes—the Eighth Legion, the Eleventh Legion, and the Eighteenth Legion—completely collapsed.

The Eighteenth Legion was annihilated, and the blood-misted Inner Plaza was stained red like a pool of blood after a dragon was slain.

Blood flowed down the steps, winding until it pooled at the foot of the Royal Palace tower.

The top floor of the tower was still covered with that expensive red and gold carpet, only now the carpet had lost all symbolic meaning.

Red tea spilled from the overturned porcelain cup, mixing with fruit pulp on the floor, and was trampled into a mess.

The color was murky, like a puddle of darkening blood.

A single gold coin continued to roll slowly, finally hitting the wall and emitting a clear but jarring clink.

The tower was utterly silent.

Outside the window, however, the sounds of killing, screaming, shattering armor, and the pounding of hooves shook the ground, like dozens of storms tearing in from all directions.

The Captain of the Personal Guards stumbled toward Rhine, and when he knelt, his knee hit the scattered gold coins, producing a continuous metallic clatter.

He grabbed Rhine’s trousers, his voice fractured and trembling.

“Your Highness—it’s over—it’s all over—” He pointed out the window: “The Fifth Legion, they took your money and retreated—”

Rhine blinked, as if he thought he had misheard: “Retreat—?”

“They said—” The guard choked, “The contract only covered defending the city, not dying. They are currently looting the commercial street—saying they need to recoup their investment.”

Rhine’s throat felt constricted; he squeezed out a dry sound: “Tell—tell them I’ll add another hundred thousand—no, two hundred thousand! Tell the Commander to come see me!”

“It’s no use, Your Highness,” the guard trembled.

Rhine’s eye twitched, as if pricked by a sharp needle.

The guard, his tongue seemingly twisted by malice, continued to utter the most fatal words: “And—the Eleventh Legion—”

Rhine closed his eyes, using all his strength to maintain composure: “What about them—I gave them double pay—”

“Your Highness—” The guard’s voice was close to breaking, “The Second Prince shouted once, and they defected—they threw their military pay on the ground, saying it was blood money—then they took the lead in hacking our Supervising Officer into a bloody pulp—”

Rhine’s gaze was dull, as if he hadn’t understood at all: “What about the Eighteenth Legion? Tell them to hold on. They are the Imperial Capital’s—last line of defense—”

The Captain of the Guards shook like a sieve: “Your Highness—the Eighteenth Legion—was completely wiped out, surrounded on two sides and cut down! No one held out! No one survived!”

Rhine seemed to have had his spine extracted, collapsing onto the carpet.

He then crawled to the window, his hands trembling as he braced himself on the window ledge, pulling himself weakly upright.

In the night of the Imperial Capital, where rain mist and blood light overlapped, he saw that scene.

The Second Prince Kalian, covered in blood, stood in the center of the Inner Plaza, a mountain of corpses.

His warhorse exhaled white mist, its hooves trampling the shattered corpse of the Commander of the Eighth Legion.

He held up a broken Imperial longsword and roared toward the sky: “Charge in!”

That roar was simultaneously answered by the rebellious Eleventh Legion, the Border Knight Regiment, and even the Dragon-blooded Monsters, their killing intent and fanaticism merging into an overwhelming black tide.

The sound shook the entire Imperial City.

Rhine’s eyes lost focus.

There was no shine of gold coins, no pretense of authority, no promises, contracts, or bargaining chips he had painstakingly managed.

There was only a Prince possessing military genius, Imperial bloodline, and genuine prestige.

And Rhine—had never possessed such things.

Never been trusted by any legion like that. Never been entrusted with life by any knight.

He suddenly laughed.

The sound, when squeezed out of his throat, was uglier than crying.

The Avenue of Triumph, once symbolizing the Empire’s wealth and glory, was now swallowed by night and blood fire.

Rain could not wash away the stench of blood; firelight could not illuminate the despair.

Without the obstruction of the city walls, the order Rhine had constructed was crushed by violence as if it were made of paper.

The loyalties maintained by contracts, bounties, and diplomatic rhetoric were vulnerable before steel and bloodlust.

The heart of the entire Imperial Capital turned into a purgatory within a few quarters of an hour.

The Border Legion did not rush toward the Royal Palace immediately.

They were like wolves released into a field full of meat, heading straight for the wealthy districts and commercial streets on both sides of the Avenue of Triumph.

“Smash it open!”

The iron door of the jewelry store was dented and deformed by war hammers, then collapsed.

Knights with broken armor and bloodstains rushed into the shop, scrambling like mad dogs.

Expensive oil paintings were torn apart, just to scrape off the gold foil decorating the frames.

A noblewoman fled from a side alley, falling to the ground and begging for mercy, diamonds and gems glimmering faintly in the darkness.

A knight bent down and grabbed her hand: “Pretty.”

A flash of steel, and four fingers fell to the ground.

The blood was quickly diluted in the rain. The knight stepped on the fingers, pulled the ruby ring off the severed digits, and casually stuffed it into his pocket.

“Keep looting!” he roared back, “The Duke said, tonight the Imperial Capital is our hunting ground!”

Constantly tormented by potions, the Dragon-blooded Youths could no longer distinguish friend from foe, command from purpose.

They were left only with the most primal predatory desire.

In the center of the Avenue of Triumph, three Dragon-blooded Youths surrounded an injured warhorse.

The first youth lunged at the horse’s leg, his fangs tearing directly through the flesh.

Another youth grabbed the tail, ripping off a large piece of bloody horsehide.

The third youth knelt in the blood, digging out the horse’s abdominal organs with his claws like a wild beast, blood constantly dripping from his chin.

Passing civilians were terrified, kneeling, vomiting, and convulsing, their very instinct to flee overwhelmed by fear.

The next second, the eyes of the Dragon-blooded Youths turned toward them. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Their vertical pupils contracted, and red light flickered in their depths.

In that instant, they found new prey.

Amidst such chaos, only two units maintained their purpose: the Second Prince’s fiercely loyal personal guards, and Remont’s Grayrock Iron Cavalry.

They held rolls of parchment covered in densely written names.

Every name signified a family that had stood behind Rhine during his ascension.

“Next up, Castor Manor.”

The Grayrock Iron Cavalry smashed open the gate with iron hammers; the door shattered.

The nobles inside didn't even have time to hide before they were dragged to the stone pillars outside.

“Mercy! My—my family was only forced to attend the ceremony, we didn't sincerely support him!”

No one listened.

A knight snatched up a barbed spike and drove it into the noble’s shoulder blade.

Blood flowed down the stone pillar, mixing with the rainwater on the steps into a dark stream.

There was no trial. No superfluous accusations or explanations.

Only naked vengeance. The other essence of war.

Kalian’s order was simple: “Arrest all collaborators.”

Thus, the once expensive and respectable lives of these nobles collapsed completely tonight, blood flowing down the stone steps, staining the doorframes red.

The most prosperous street in the Imperial Capital was decorated with death, resembling a sacrificial passage.