Lord of the Frozen Winter: Starting with Daily Intelligence Reports

When Louis woke up, even though it was just dawn, it was already a late start for him.

He opened his eyes, his gaze landing on the beam at the edge of the dome.

The beam was covered in polished dark wood trim, with narrow copper strips embedded at the joints to stabilize the structure and serve as decoration; relief patterns from the old aristocratic era could still be seen at the corners.

This had once been the primary residence of the Count of the Black Iron Fief, an old castle that had been taken over in its entirety.

Of course, compared to the Red Tide Castle, a wonder of northern architecture, it was naturally a thousand times inferior, but it was sufficient.

Louis used this place as a temporary office and residence.

He didn't choose Grey Rock Castle because the smell of blood there had already seeped into the stone crevices, something that couldn't be cleared away with just a few cleanings.

Louis didn't think much of it and simply turned onto his side.

Long white hair was spread across the pillow beside him; Sif was still sleeping.

Her hair fanned out on the pillow with a hint of natural cold luster, and her closed eyelashes were long, casting shallow shadows beneath her eyes.

Louis raised his hand and tucked the corner of the quilt around her shoulder; his movements were very light, and though Sif's brow twitched slightly, she didn't wake up.

Emily and the Old Butler Bradley remained in Red Tide City to oversee the North, which was already operating under the Red Tide System and could function without him.

Meanwhile, Sif had come to the Grey Rock Province to help him handle affairs, both official and personal.

Louis sat up, grabbed his outer robe from the back of the chair to put it on, and stood before the window, his finger resting for a moment on the old wood grain of the window frame.

Mornings in Grey Rock always carried a bit of chill, as if it were seeping out from the cracks in the stones.

This was the Black Iron Fief, the core city of the Grey Rock Province; iron ore and coal veins had nourished this place into something robust, and now the city gates, granaries, workshops, and military camps all hung new banners.

Louis exhaled softly, suppressing his stray thoughts: "Let's see today's luck."

He extended his right hand and waved it in the air.

A translucent interface emerged before his eyes, spreading out like thin ice; text skipped by rapidly before finally settling.

【Daily Intelligence Update Complete】

【1: Kalian has detained Adrian Kress, the Legion Commander of the Thirty-third Legion, and is expected to publicly dispose of him in the Imperial Capital within three days to demonstrate the purging of his military power and the cutting of the old chain of command.】

After Louis finished reading the first item, his expression didn't change.

Kalian had indeed made his move.

Detaining the Legion Commander of the Thirty-third Legion and doing it publicly wasn't just a simple purge.

At this time, Duke Remont shouldn't have returned to the Imperial Capital yet; this timing itself explained everything.

This meant Kalian had already given up on the plan to maneuver around Duke Remont and wanted to deal with as many people as possible as quickly as he could.

This person was just the first bone; afterwards, whether it was the legions watching from the sidelines, the hesitating nobles, or those still loyal to Remont, they would all be forced to make a choice.

Either stand on Kalian's side or be named in the next public disposal, until Duke Remont returned to the Imperial Capital.

Once this blow landed, things would inevitably spiral out of control in the short term; internal suspicion, private networking, and even premature rebellions would surface.

The Imperial Capital would only become more chaotic next, which was a good thing for Louis.

It exposed Kalian's lack of trust in the military's morale and also revealed that the old imperial system could no longer be maintained by rules and could only be suppressed by blood.

When Duke Remont returned to the Imperial Capital, there would certainly be undercurrents surging, perhaps even a bloodbath.

Louis even felt a bit of pleasure in his heart because the dogs had started biting each other.

He didn't need to intervene; he only needed to stand aside and watch them tear each other apart as much as possible.

What Red Tide needed to do was simply pave the roads, deliver the grain, and guard the city gates while they were brawling.

Louis thought that perhaps he could poach some talent. He ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) made a mental note of it.

【2: The surface volcanic ash at Red Clay Slope in the eastern part of Grey Rock Province is harvestable; the deep layer is a highly active pozzolanic deposit with hydraulic material characteristics, which can be test-fired in a ratio with limestone.】

Louis's gaze stopped at the second item.

Red Clay Slope; he remembered that area on the map, where the color was dark and the soil looked as if it had been baked by fire.

In the past, those nobles only treated it as a byproduct for fertilizing fields, digging up some ash to scatter on the ground in exchange for a small harvest.

But the value mentioned in this intelligence was of another kind.

In his mind, he quickly matched the materials with their uses.

Limestone was everywhere in Grey Rock Province.

If the pozzolanic deposits were truly active and the ratio and firing temperature were found, a water-resistant binder could be fired.

Not a fragile mortar, but something that could harden in damp conditions.

He didn't need to think much about what this meant.

Docks, embankments, bridge piers, warehouse foundations, military camp walls... once Grey Rock Province could fire this material itself, the entire speed of construction would change.

And not just Grey Rock Province—the roads and storage in all the northern territories, once spread out, would save effort for the next ten years.

Louis picked up the intelligence notebook on the desk, and his pen tip descended.

"Designate Red Clay Slope as a provincial strategic construction material site; send craftsmen and alchemy furnace teams to test-fire and determine the ratio."

In Louis's eyes, Grey Rock Province was a land of treasures.

On the surface, it seemed to be just a piece of land repeatedly mined and squeezed by the old empire, but after the continuous reports from the Daily Intelligence System, one would discover that the things buried here were far more than what was on the ledgers.

Blind spots left by the old nobility, neglected geological layers, and marginal resources that no one cared about anymore were all slowly surfacing one by one.

Since he had been staying in the province, he could see one or two discoveries picked up in passing from the intelligence almost every day; some weren't astonishing but were practical enough.

Some, once used in the right place, could directly leverage an entire construction line.

This piece of intelligence was precisely one of those things that could directly turn into city walls and roads.

【3: Eduardo Calvin has been completely implanted with the golden thorn feather crown; his consciousness has entered a state of synchronization, and he will serve as its next-generation vessel.】

Louis's finger paused in mid-air.

He stared at that line of text and only exhaled slowly after two breaths.

Eduardo.

What first surfaced in his mind wasn't the family's chess game or the power of the Imperial Capital.

But a person who was very comfortable to be around.

When they first met, the other party had left a very good impression on him.

On the surface, he was mild-mannered and spoke in a soft tone, yet he always managed the boundaries perfectly.

Furthermore, during the Broodmother investigation, he chose to be honest about his abilities; at that moment, Louis truly confirmed that this was a good person with a bottom line in his heart who was willing to take risks for others.

But now such a person had been chosen to become a puppet; Louis's heart was very conflicted.

As for the golden thorn feather crown, he was actually not familiar with it; this was the first time he had seen such a thing in the Daily Intelligence System.

But based on this single piece of intelligence alone, he could deduce some things.

That crown wasn't a symbol; the person who sat upon it would have their will replaced and their judgment overridden, leaving only the function of execution.

The Pope was one of the most powerful people on the continent, one could even say one of the strongest existences in this world.

If even such a person could only exist as a puppet, then it meant the thing controlling all of this was at a level far above the Empire and the Holy See.

This thought caused a trace of chill to rise in Louis's heart.

He thought back along this line and deduced a thought that made him break out in a cold sweat.

The Broodmother, the Rage-Burning Thorns Garden, the dragon remains... perhaps this golden thorn feather crown shared the same source as them.

They were distributed across the continent in different forms and for different uses, yet they all shared one common point: the ability to carry, amplify, and transmit a certain will.

Over the years, he had looked through many history books, from the founding history of the Empire to the secret records of various churches, even including fragments and legend collections judged as pseudo-history, yet he could never find records of these existences or the memory fragments they had instilled in him.

They seemed to have been deliberately erased, or perhaps they were born in an unrecorded era.

Perhaps there was a fault line here, a period of history forgotten by the entire world.

And that primal heart inside him was likely a thing of the same source, perhaps even the most core link among them.

This thought gave Louis a rare sense of powerlessness.

He wanted to investigate but had no way to start; at least for now, the only thing he could rely on was the Daily Intelligence System.

"Give me some strength, System Father..." Louis was silent for a moment and finally wrote two lines in the intelligence notebook; it was the only thing he could do now.

"Dispatch two groups of merchant convoy disguises to enter the Golden Feather Flower Port. Establish a three-layered network of eyes and ears: the docks, the monastery, and the grain market. Only investigate anomalies, do not seek core contact."

He closed the notebook, and the interface dissipated with it; only the chill of the unlit fire remained in the room.

A soft intake of breath came from behind him.

Sif woke up; she didn't sit up immediately but buried her face in the pillow, her voice still a bit raspy: "You stood by the window for quite a while just now."

"Thinking about some things." Louis tightened his outer robe and looked back at her.

Sif opened her eyes, which were still a bit blurry, but said very clearly: "There's a mobilization meeting this morning. The Black Iron Territory garrison, the workshop teams, and the newly formed Provincial Night Watch will all be present. Don't forget."

Louis let out a chuckle: "Would I forget something like that?"

"You would." Sif glanced at him, her tone carrying a deliberate certainty, "And usually right after I've just reminded you. I don't know what's inside your head."

Louis raised an eyebrow: "Then that means your reminder wasn't formal enough."

Sif hummed, but the corners of her mouth twitched slightly: "So that's how it is. Then next time I'll confirm it a few more times."

"That's not necessary." Louis smiled and walked back to the bed, raising his hand to tuck a strand of white hair from her forehead behind her ear. "If you really watched me every day, I wouldn't be able to sleep soundly."

Sif looked up at him, her eyes clear: "Then remember it more clearly."

She sat up, pulled the blanket to her shoulders, and her tone returned to being businesslike, though a bit of warmth remained: "That's why I followed you here, to save you from scheduling your itinerary too full."

The sound of footsteps outside the window grew denser.

In the distance, a horn sounded briefly, as if reminding the entire city that it was dawn.

Since Sif had arrived yesterday, Louis woke up a bit late today; with things to do later, he could only take a day off from his morning cultivation.

Louis picked up the belt for his sword and pushed the door open... at the entrance of Black Iron Castle in the early morning, the cold wind swirled up from the stone steps, making the back of one's neck tighten.

But the crowd in front of the gate was like a pot of boiling water, with heat waves surging.

More than five hundred officials were queuing to enter.

Pete wrapped his dark Red Tide uniform coat tightly around himself, being pushed forward by the flow of people.

The lining of the coat was already soaked with sweat, sticking to his back, but he couldn't afford to care.

The accents around him were all very familiar.

They were uniformly northern accents, with a fast speaking pace and heavily stressed word endings.

They were all low-level transferred cadres selected from the Red Tide System.

On the other side, about two hundred people were wearing thick outer robes in lighter colors, forming a stark contrast with the dark colors of the Red Tide uniforms.

They stood straight, but couldn't hide the tension in their expressions; their gazes would unconsciously drift around.

Those were the old bureaucrats left over from the Black Iron Province; because they had experience, they were temporarily retained after a preliminary screening.

Pete glanced at them and didn't look further; these people would become comrades in the future, or they would be slowly screened out later.

Grey Rock Province was now a massive refugee camp being propped up. Food, housing, medical care, and order—every single one of them could crush a person.

What was needed were executors who could maintain control of the situation under conditions of insufficient resources and chaotic manpower; this was the reason Louis kept transferring people over.

Pete was one of those screened out layer by layer.

He had done the dirtiest and most easily criticized work, taking a northern territory that could have collapsed at any moment and forcefully suppressing the mortality rate to a single digit.

On the day the transfer order came down, he read it several times.

His official position was promoted, and his salary was doubled.

More importantly, in the column for the reason for transfer, the signature was Louis Calvin.

This was what truly excited Pete.

Being remembered by name by Lord Louis meant that the other party had truly seen your results and approved of the way you did things.

The work he had done before had not been in vain.

The crowd moved forward a bit, and Pete followed into the hall.

This place was originally where the Count held balls. The dome was high, and the crystal chandelier still hung in the center, though the light wasn't turned up fully.

To accommodate nearly six hundred people, all the sofas, coffee tables, and small decorative tables had been cleared out, leaving only rows of densely packed hard-wood folding chairs.

Chair against chair, shoulder to shoulder.

Although the weather was very cold, with the breaths of hundreds of people mixed together, the air quickly became murky and hot.

Pete felt the collar of his uniform soaked with sweat, yet he still kept his back straight.

He found his seat, second row on the side.

Just as he sat down, a pungent smell came from beside him.

Perfume mixed with the smell of sweat.

Pete turned his head and saw an official from the Black Iron Province; he wasn't young, his face was pale, and his fingers were constantly rubbing the hem of his clothes.

That person was clearly not used to this kind of scene; his gaze drifted between the backs of the Red Tide officials in the front row, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"A bunch of lunatics..." The man didn't speak aloud, only his lips moved.

Pete saw it clearly but didn't respond, only pulling out a charcoal pen and his personal hard-covered notebook from his chest, spreading it on his lap.

There wasn't even a table to write on here; if one wanted to take notes, they could only rely on their legs for support.

He had seen many people like this; at the beginning, they would always bring some impurities—some could be worn away, while others would eventually fall off on their own.

The noisy whispers in the hall suddenly paused.

It was as if they were suppressed by something invisible.

Pete instinctively looked up.

A figure appeared by the door; Louis had entered.

There was no announcement, but the entire hall still fell silent.