Knight Lords: Infinite Simulation and the Path of Light

Chapter 238 A Snow-Covered Journey and an Iron Barrier
The biting north wind, like countless ice blades, cut through the ranks of the struggling caravan across the wasteland.

Haven wrapped his thick wolf-skin cloak even tighter, his breath instantly freezing into frost on his eyebrows and scarf. The black-scaled horse beneath him, also a gift from Fiona and mixed with the blood of magical beasts, puffed out heavy white breaths as its hooves sank deep into the knee-deep snow, each step heavy and resolute.

Behind them followed a elite 100-man White Lion Guard, all dressed in the standard White Lion personal guard uniforms, silently trudging through the wind and snow.

This is the fifth day since leaving Whiterun. Far from the relatively warm inland, the closer we get to the Arma Frontier in the north of the Empire, the harsher the weather becomes. The sky is a perpetual leaden gray, the earth is a glaring white, and only the howling wind is the constant background music.

"Young Master, once we cross that ice ridge ahead, we should be able to see Ama's defense line!"

The voice of Captain Kubassi, the former commander of the Free Rangers, pierced through the howling wind. Now one of Havent's most trusted bodyguards, he knew the terrain of the North like the back of his hand. A newly formed frostbite on his face had scabbed over, adding to his rugged appearance.

"Damn it!!! There's never been this much snow in previous years~~~"

After uttering a curse, Havent perked up and urged his mount to accelerate.

When the Blackscale Horse finally stepped onto the top of the ice ridge, the sudden open view before him made Havel gasp, even though he was mentally prepared. The frigid air went straight to his lungs.

Imperial Shield: Arma Front

Stretching across the vast snowfields and rolling mountains is a colossal dragon forged from steel and rock, defying description. This is the backbone of the Ingis Empire, the defense line against the northern orcish empires—the Amar Line.

It is not a single wall, but a massive defensive system consisting of five continuous, undulating, and interwoven lines, like the five fingers of a giant god, firmly guarding the vital passage to the heart of the empire.

The first line of defense, the outposts closest to the north, consisted of numerous low but exceptionally sturdy stone bunkers and a dense array of trenches, barricades, and trap zones.

This place, like the fangs of a behemoth, is a flesh-and-blood millstone that wears down the orcs' first wave of attack and slows their progress. Looking into the distance, one can see charred remnants and patches of dark red, not yet completely covered by snow, silently recounting the battle that erupted not long ago.

The second and third lines of defense are the true core of the Amarr defense line. Two towering, mountain-like walls rise abruptly from the ground, their height estimated to exceed 150 meters! The walls are constructed entirely of hard obsidian, a specialty of the North, and massive stone blocks mixed with special metallic powder, their surfaces bearing the mottled marks of time and war. The tops of the walls are wide enough for several carriages to travel side by side, and at this moment, tiny figures, no bigger than ants, can be seen patrolling and moving about on them.

The fourth line of defense is located between and behind the two main city walls. It consists of a more complex barbican structure, barracks, large warehouses, and most importantly, a magical defense node.

Haven could see the enormous, eerily blue magical crystals embedded in key sections of the city walls, as well as the pedestals of massive ballistae and catapults with grotesque shapes and their muzzles pointing north. Some towers shimmered with runic light, clearly maintaining the protective barrier.

The fifth line of defense, located at the very back and built against the mountainside, is the most precipitous and majestic. Atop it stands a massive tower, flying the Imperial Golden Lion Banner and the Roaring White Lion Banner—the Hall of Glory, the command heart of the entire defense line, equipped with the most powerful long-range firepower, the 'Imperial Sword' mage tower.

The city walls were covered with a dense array of magical defensive equipment.
The crossbow, its runes shimmering with magical energy, held its bolts, as thick as bowls, poised to fire in a cold gleam.

The catapult, covered with antifreeze grease, had its counterweights suspended high, like the fangs of a sleeping behemoth.

Dense rows of arrows: rows of archers can be vaguely seen in the background.

Elemental magic circles: In some areas, complex magical runes are faintly visible on the ground and walls, which can obviously trigger area damage such as frost, fire or lightning.

Protective Barrier Generator: The top of the giant crystal pillar is filled with energy, ready to erect a shield against ranged attacks and flying units at any time.

This is a cold, efficient, and awe-inspiring steel fortress built solely for war.

It stands silently in the wind and snow, exuding an aura of iron and death, yet giving people an unparalleled sense of security—as long as it stands, the gates to the northern border of the empire will remain tightly closed.

After a series of tedious but efficient checks and briefings, Haven's squad finally passed through the heavy, mountain-like gate of the second line of defense and entered the relatively safe interior of the defense zone. The air was filled with the smells of rust, sweat, pine resin, cheap ale, and a unique odor that belonged to a military camp.

Led by his guards, they were led to a command node fortress on the second line of defense.

As soon as I stepped into the relatively warm but still simple stone castle hall, a strong wind suddenly hit me in the face!

Havent's pupils contracted; his body reacted instinctively, faster than he could think! He slid sharply to the side, his right hand reaching instinctively for the hilt of his sword. Bang! A fist as heavy as a battering ram grazed his cheek and slammed into the stone wall behind him, sending shards of stone flying!
The attacker did not stop; his second punch, accompanied by a whooshing sound, went straight for his abdomen.

Haven sat with his back bent and arms crossed in a stiff stance!

"Boom!" There was a muffled sound.

Haven felt a sudden tingling and numbness in his arms, and the immense force pushed him back two steps.

Only then did he realize that the attacker was none other than his father, the newly appointed Marquis of Hyland, Kevin Hyland!

Kevin wasn't wearing his signature, ornate "White Lion Glory" armor; instead, he wore a sturdy leather suit that allowed for easy movement. But his battle-hardened, fierce aura, like a sword drawn from its sheath, was even more compelling.

His face wore a smile that was... well, Haven thought it was a mixture of relief, scrutiny, and a certain mischievousness.

His stubble, as sharp as steel needles, was glistening with liquor, and his eyes were as sharp as an eagle's.

"Quick-witted, brat! Looks like even the Imperial Palace couldn't soften you up!"

Kevin let out a low growl and launched another attack! Without weapons, pure fists and feet, yet each move was heavy and fierce, carrying the ruthlessness and directness of battlefield combat. It was standard Imperial military combat technique, but in Kevin's hands, its power was multiplied.

Being unilaterally defeated from the start ignited Haven's competitive spirit.

Knowing this was his father's unique way of "greeting," and also a way of testing his growth, he took a deep breath and incorporated the more refined swordsmanship techniques he had learned in the capital into close combat. His movements became more agile, no longer focusing on head-on confrontations, but rather on dodging, deflecting force, and finding openings.

The muffled thuds of fists and feet clashing and the whistling of clothes tearing through the air echoed in the hall, attracting the attention of some officers and soldiers who watched with great interest, but no one dared to approach and disturb the father and son who were "exchanging feelings".

"Ha! It's starting to look good!"

A flash of admiration crossed Kevin's eyes, but he moved even faster! A feint caused Havent to shift his center of gravity slightly, but the real killing move was below—an incredibly swift sweeping leg kick!
Havel leaped up to dodge hastily, but in mid-air, with his old strength exhausted and no new strength generated, Kevin's calloused hand grabbed his ankle like an iron clamp and pulled him away!
"not good!"

Haven let out a silent cry, his body instantly losing its balance.

Immediately afterwards, Kevin revealed a "smug" smile, exerted his strength in his waist and abdomen, and swung his arm violently!
"Go away!"

Haven felt like a catapult projectile, tracing a not-so-graceful but quite powerful arc through the air, and then…

With a "thump," it landed solidly and sprawling on its back in the corner of the hall on a relatively soft pile of hay used for wiping armor, sending hay dust flying everywhere.

The entire hall fell silent for a second, then erupted in suppressed laughter. Cubasi and his guards, wanting to laugh but unable to, were red-faced with urgency.

Haven lay in the haystack, a little dazed from the fall, the sharp pain in his buttocks making him grimace.

He shook his head, brushing the grass clippings off, then sprang to his feet with a somersault. He patted his backside, which was covered in grass and dust, and instead of embarrassment, grinned at Kevin, revealing his white teeth: "Old Deng! A sneak attack is one thing, but a kick to the butt! That's quite a 'manly' greeting! Your strength hasn't diminished, though; you almost made me throw up my breakfast!"

Kevin strode over, a gleeful smile on his face, a smile that softened the somber look between his brows caused by the war and Charlton's illness.

He stretched out his large hand and slapped Havent's shoulder hard, so hard that Havent winced.

"You brat! You still have such a sharp tongue! But..."

Kevin looked his son up and down, his eyes revealing an undisguised pride and a hint of barely perceptible tenderness.

"You've gotten stronger, and your eyesight is better too. Looks like this trip to the capital wasn't a waste! Come on, let's go talk!"

He grabbed his son's shoulder and practically dragged him along, leading him into the depths of the fortress to his temporary command post and living quarters, amidst the soldiers' smiling gazes.

The command room was much warmer than the main hall. A huge sand table depicting the northern border occupied most of the space, covered with small flags of various colors representing the enemy and friendly forces. The flames in the fireplace flickered, dispelling the chill.

Kevin tossed Havet a dry towel and a flask of warm liquor, then grabbed a water pouch from the table and gulped down a large mouthful.
He then walked to the sand table, placed his hands on the edge, stared sharply at the model representing the Arma Defense Line, and asked in a deep voice:
“Tell me, you brat. I’ve seen the list of supplies that fat kid from the Hoylund family sent; he’s really going all out. What exactly is this ‘Strengthening the Nation Plan’ you mentioned in your letter? The situation in the North right now doesn’t allow you to play around with that much money and time.”

Haven wiped his face, took a sip of warm wine, and the spicy liquid rolled down his throat, dispelling the last trace of chill and the lingering effects of the fall.

I walked to the sand table and stood side by side with my father, pointing to the location of Whiterun.

"Old Deng, this isn't a game; this is laying the foundation for the North, extending its life!"

Havent's voice became serious and powerful.

“Although the North hasn’t faced much food pressure in recent years, we have to be prepared for the worst when we’re working,” Haven said, pointing to the Windhelm, Mosar, and several other large plains and valleys.

"Heyman has new, cold-resistant, high-yield seeds. We'll set up ten large pilot farms in the spring, distributing seeds and tools for free, and recruiting refugees and impoverished free men. Hendry will be in charge of buying them all, with the lion's share going to the farmers. The priority is to ensure the land produces as much food as possible; only when people are well-fed will they have the energy to do other things!"

"As for alchemical products, I probably don't need to say much. The purchase of these alchemical products accounts for one-third of our annual fiscal expenditure."

Haven's finger moved to Whiterun West, Riften, and Morningstar.

"The workshops are the core! Whiterun's lord workshops focus on research and development and high-end goods, Riften Territory utilizes local resources to mass-produce basic potions and materials, and Morningstar Territory serves as a frontline supply and maintenance point."

Master Whitney will arrive in late winter or early spring. Her bio-alchemy is crucial, and there are plenty of orc samples on the front lines! Potions and equipment produced in the workshop should be prioritized for supply here!

As he spoke, he tapped heavily on the Ama defense line on the sand table.

"This is the flesh and blood backbone of the North, and the significance of the workshop is that we have our own lifeblood!"

"As for educating talent, that's a very long-term issue."

Haven's fingers traced across Whiterun, Solitude, Windhelm, and other major cities and towns.

"The Kubans are setting up a 'Basic Education Academy'! Fifty primary schools, with the goal of enabling all children in the North, regardless of wealth, to learn to read, do arithmetic, understand the history of the North, acquire survival skills, and develop basic physical fitness."

The teaching materials were further simplified and optimized, and teachers were recruited from among graduates of the Winter War, frustrated scholars, and retired veterans. Teacher Ireles agreed to help find veteran instructors.

"Old man, only in this way can our Northern Territory slowly recover from this state of bloodshed; otherwise, destruction awaits us one day in the future."

"Of course, none of this was easy to achieve, so I brought in a lot of allies, some genuine and some only relative."

As he spoke, Haven winked playfully at Marquis Hyland.

"Henry Merchant Guild of Heiman is now the Northern Supply Deployment Team. I've had him plan three fast routes from Whiterun to the defensive hubs, and build transit warehouses. All workshop production and resource allocation must prioritize the Armagh defenses! Arrows, rolling stones, oil, medicine, food... whatever the front lines lack, Henry's caravans must deliver it as fast as the North Wind! Delaying supplies will result in execution according to military law!"

Haven's words were half-joking and half-serious, but they also signified that He-Man had been formally incorporated into the Northern nobility system.

After saying all that in one breath, Haven grabbed his water bag and gulped down several mouthfuls.

"Therefore, we should have bold ideas for the future, and then plan carefully."

Look, seeds, raw materials, workshop site selection, master invitations, academy plans, troop replenishment, logistics channels... everything is already underway! We are not just fighting a war, but also preparing for a long-term struggle after victory, or even in the worst-case scenario.

"Build a Northern Frontier that can support itself, arm itself, and train its own talent! The current investment is so that we won't have to use human lives to feed the orcish army again in the future!"

His father and Earl Morrie, who had entered at some unknown time, listened in silence. Kevin's eyes, as resolute as the frozen soil of the North, shifted from scrutiny to surprise, then to deep shock and an irrepressible admiration as Havent recounted the story.

Looking at the blueprint drawn by his son on the sand table, and then at the young man in front of him who was talking eloquently and whose eyes were burning with fire and wisdom, he realized that this was no longer the brat who caused trouble in Whiterun City half a year ago. He saw the prototype of a true lord and a strategist.

"Smelly boy..."

Kevin's voice was a little hoarse. He raised his big hand, and this time, instead of patting his shoulder, he gripped Havent's arm tightly with immense pride and approval. The force was so great that Havent felt his bones cracking.

“Great idea. I can’t even offer any more advice. What do you think, Morrie?”

At the other end, Count Maurice was carefully examining the Northern Plan written by his son, Cuban, making clicking sounds as he read it.

"Hehehe, what else can I say? I can only say that the future always belongs to the young. Go for it! We old guys all support you."

Just then, hurried footsteps and a soldier's tense report came from outside the door:

"My Lord Marquis! Urgent military intelligence! The elite of the Blade Fang Clan have appeared near the 'Skullcrusher Pass,' and their movements are unknown! Chief of Staff Quinn requests your immediate access to the operations room!"

Kevin's eyes instantly sharpened like knives, and the languidness and warmth he had just exuded were instantly replaced by the aura of a tough, ruthless man.

"Good plan, brat. But first, come with me to see what real daily life in the North is like!"

Haver took a deep breath of the air, which smelled of rust and gunpowder, his eyes becoming serious and sharp. He grabbed the sword on the table, followed closely behind his father, and strode out of the command room.

(End of this chapter)