Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 124 A Different Territory
The north wind, carrying snow and dust, blew all the way from the distant mountains, like a piercing blade, sweeping through the streets and alleys of the Crimson Tide Territory.

Even though Red Tide Territory is located in the southern part of the North, it has finally felt the chill of deep winter.

As soon as you step outside, the white mist you exhale becomes so thick it seems to freeze in the air.

The thin ice on the river began to spread quietly.

Occasionally, low growls could be heard from the forest; these were wild animals beginning their southward migration.

The hunters of the Red Tide Territory seized this brief opportunity and hunted a lot of wild game.

All of this indicates that the harsh winter in the North has truly arrived.

However, the arrival of winter did not disrupt the order of the Red Tide Territory in the slightest.

Every household stuffed the distributed cotton cloth into the cracks of their doors to prevent cold air from getting into the house.

A layer of straw was also laid at the entrance, which was soft to the touch and not slippery.

"Come on, put this on quickly!" The mother draped the new cotton-padded jacket distributed by the Red Tide Collar over the child's body and carefully tightened the belt.

Inside, the stove was glowing red, and hot soup was bubbling away. Children were laughing and playing around the stove.

No matter how much snow falls outside, it can't keep out of this semi-basement house.

"I'm not afraid of the cold anymore!" a child shouted excitedly, rushing into the snow with his friends and throwing themselves into the white expanse for a snowball fight.

In a street corner, several elderly people, wrapped in thick clothes and blankets, sat down to rest against the wall, looking up at the street scene with deep emotion.

“Originally… we just had to tough it out every year.” An old hunter sighed, his eyes darkening. “But quite a few people still froze to death. Unlike now… we have food and clothing, all thanks to Lord Louis.”

A refugee clutched his new cotton-padded coat tightly, his eyes slightly red: "If it weren't for Lord Louis taking me in... I'm afraid I would have frozen to death on the snowfield long ago."

The slaves shoveling snow in the distance stopped what they were doing, looked up and exchanged glances.

“Yes,” one of them said in a low voice, “We are too… no longer afraid of being discarded like materials.”

There was a sense of belonging and hope in everyone's eyes, something that had never been seen in previous winters.

In every corner of Chichao Territory—on the streets, at the dinner table, and by the fire—people are giving thanks to the person who brought about this change.

"Lord Louis... is our sun."

"Yes, it's the only winter in this snowy plain where you won't freeze to death."

…………

In the small square at the entrance of the village, the people's cheeks were red from the cold, and the white mist they exhaled slowly drifted into the air.

They stood in a cluster, looking at the stage.

A territorial official, dressed in a thick cloak, stepped onto a high platform, unfolded an official document, and read it aloud, his voice echoing clearly in the cold wind:
"Fellow villagers, please note that Chichao Territory is about to enter an extremely cold period! This will be a winter of unprecedented severity, and we must unite as one to overcome these difficult times."

He raised the parchment in his hand, his tone solemn and somewhat impassioned: "The great Lord Louis is benevolent and cannot bear to see anyone suffer!"
He has decreed that whoever is, whether poor, slave, or refugee, as long as they are in the Red Tide Territory, they are all citizens of the Red Tide!
If you encounter any difficulties, please report them immediately. The Red Tide Territory will never leave anyone isolated and helpless!

Among the crowd, some were already whispering in admiration: "What a benevolent and great lord..."

The official's tone grew increasingly enthusiastic, and he continued reading with genuine emotion: "Our lord always keeps everyone's safety in mind! In other places, when disasters and cold are approaching, and hunger and cold are rampant..."

In Chichao Territory, we have smoked fish, granaries, winter clothes, and stoves!
We will be the only land in the Empire's north where people won't freeze to death!

Upon hearing this, a low cheer and murmur erupted from the crowd, their faces filled with pride and gratitude.

"Long live the Red Tide Territory!" someone couldn't help but shout.

"Long live Lord Louis!" The shouts quickly rose and fell, stirring up a sense of excitement even in the dead of winter.

The official raised his hand to signal for silence, saying, "Remember, this is not a miracle, but the result of our unity and hard work! As long as we follow the Lord's lead, we will surely overcome this harsh winter and usher in a new spring!"

The crowd erupted in another round of applause and cheers.

Their eyes shone with a light, filled with hope and unwavering conviction; they believed that Lord Louis would keep his word.

Just like the advertorial I wrote, under Louis's rule, the Red Tide Territory was cold in winter, but orderly and stable.

Every household had a bright fire burning in their stove, and children could still chase and play in the snow.

Smoke rose slowly from the chimneys, and the warehouse was filled with smoked fish, rye, potatoes, and other grains.

However, other northern territories outside of Red Tide Territory were not so fortunate to have a lord like Louis.

…………

The wind blew in from the north, carrying snowflakes that pelted the eaves.

This is the territory of Baron McKinney.

Also in the North, but a territory further south than Red Tide Territory.

The streets were deserted, eerily quiet, with not a single person in sight, not even a single animal.

Several dilapidated houses, with large holes in the door cracks, let the wind and snow blow freely into the houses.

Inside the house, several villagers huddled in a corner, wrapped in thin, almost transparent tattered blankets, their faces ashen from the cold.

The child was so thin that you couldn't even hear him cry; he just stared blankly with his dry eyes.

"...Just hold on for a few more days, maybe the snow will stop, maybe we can go out and find some tree bark." Someone murmured softly, their eyes showing both numbness and a glimmer of hope.

But no one responded to his words; everyone was too cold, so cold that even nodding was difficult.

A broken wooden bucket was piled high with snow; this was their drinking water and food. An old man huddled in a corner, breathing weakly, his eyelids drooping.

Suddenly a gust of wind blew the door open, his body trembled, and then he remained still.

"Dead, dead..." someone whispered, their voice trembling, it was impossible to tell whether it was from cold or fear.

But nobody paid any attention, because it was all too common.

These were still free people, but the cellars of slaves were even more inhumane.

In the corner, several emaciated figures, reduced to mere skeletons, lay slumped, wrapped in tattered burlap sacks, like withered branches that might crumble at any moment.

The air was thick with the smells of mildew and decay, a heavy weight pressing down on everyone's chest.

The smell carried not only the scent of death, but also a suffocating despair.

Several corpses lay by the wall, their faces covered with a thin layer of frost, their wide-open eyes staring intently at the ceiling, as if they were still waiting for a glimmer of salvation before they died.

But this is a place where the sun doesn't shine on the Red Tide Territory.

No one cried, and no one panicked.

They just stared silently with empty eyes, too lazy to even move.

One person dies? Dozens die?

It doesn't matter.

The dead slaves were thrown into the snow without even a proper pit, and the strong winds piled snow on their bodies.

This is their "final destination".

In the corner, a middle-aged man leaned against the cold earthen wall, holding his dying wife in his arms.

His lips were frozen purple, and his voice was barely audible as he spoke: "Just endure it, take it one day at a time. Do you expect that master to save your life?"

He didn't finish speaking, and let out a cold laugh.

The laughter was low and dry, like firewood cracking from the cold, sending chills down one's spine.

No one responded; only a gust of wind swept by, causing the tattered curtains to flutter violently, as if mourning the deathly silence of the place.

However, the scene shifts.

The nearby Baron McKinney mansion was like another world.

The hall was brightly lit, and the crackling firewood burning in the fireplace dispelled all the chill.

The long banquet table was piled high with food: whole roasted lamb, freshly roasted suckling pig, glistening sausage skewers, and baskets of fruit haphazardly stacked.

Many were only bitten a few times and then discarded, rotting and turning black.

Large pieces of bread crumbs were scattered on the ground, mixed with spilled wine, and trampled to pieces by someone.

Baron McKinney was slumped in his chair, drunk, with a young maid in his arms, his breath reeking of alcohol.

His fingers absentmindedly pinched the maid's snow-white breasts, and he laughed unrestrainedly: "Come on, give me a kiss, and bring me some good luck!"

The knights around him were also flushed from drinking, and the cards on the gambling table were scattered everywhere, with copper and silver coins piled high.

"Haha, Lord McKinney, your hand is terrible!" A knight laughed as he threw down his cards, grabbed a wine cup, and drank it all in one gulp.

"Enough with the nonsense!" McKinney cursed as he threw down the wine jar and kicked it to the ground, splashing the strong aroma of the wine all over the floor and slowly spreading along the stone bricks.

Nobody cares.

Anyway, there's plenty of wine and meat, plenty of women, and an inexhaustible supply in this house.

The world inside the house is completely different from the world outside.

McKinney was actually just a newly appointed, temporary baron.

His elder brother died in the battle of Snow Eagle City, and he took the position of baron by virtue of his family status.

Although McKinney had just experienced a war, his territory had not actually suffered any real attacks from the Snowsworn.

On the contrary, the temporary stability he enjoyed due to his remote location in the mountains became a breeding ground for his pleasures.

For him, war and famine were nothing more than topics of conversation at the gambling table.

"Hey, come on, keep going! Bring that bottle of good wine over here too!" McKinney laughed loudly, his eyes sweeping lewdly over the maids on the other side. "Come on, come closer!"

Amidst the commotion and chaos, the butler, head bowed and back bent, cautiously approached: "Ahem, sir..."

McKinney was drinking with his maid, and glanced at him with hazy eyes, frowning slightly. "What is it? Can't you see I'm having a good time?"

The butler's forehead was beaded with cold sweat as he whispered, "It's...it's about the granary...we just did an inventory check and found...uh, the reserves...the reserves might not be enough for the entire winter..."

"Hmph, so what if it's not enough? Let those slaves starve to death. We'll just buy new ones next spring. What does it matter who starves to death?"

The steward's face turned pale, his eyes darted around, and he finally gritted his teeth and whispered a reminder: "But... not only the slaves... even the baron's grain reserves... are probably insufficient."

As soon as he said that, the previously laughing and joking hall fell silent for a moment.

McKinney slowly turned his head, a chilling glint in his drunkenness: "...What did you say?"

(End of this chapter)