Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 149 Two Different Territories

A northerly wind blew from the direction of the Cold Mist River, sweeping past the row of makeshift wooden stakes outside the camp, sending chills down one's spine.

Pal Calvin stood atop a snow-covered rocky hill, wearing a long silver-trimmed cloak, his expression stern.

He looked into the distance at the undeveloped iron mine, covered by snow, where a prosperous mining town should have sprung up.

But reality was far from his original plans.

The frozen ground beneath our feet remained as hard as iron. The tent had been torn apart three times by the gale. The firewood pile had long since burned to ashes, and we even had to conserve charcoal at night.

Two days ago, a craftsman froze to death in the night because he didn't have enough fuel, with a smile on his face as if he had seen an old lady.

Of course, the worst was the hunt a month ago.

That night, the silence of the snow-covered forest on the southern edge of the camp was ripped apart by some kind of deep roar.

Several warhorses neighed and fled, and the sentry on night duty only had time to shout "Something's there!" before he was torn into a bloody mist.

Pal donned his armor and personally led his men to hunt down the wolf king. He didn't think much of it at the time, assuming it was just a common snow wolf king in the North. But as soon as he stepped into the forest, a dark shadow shrouded in icy air swept across the snow-covered ridge.

"Quick, form a formation!" he shouted, but the thing was faster than the wind.

The snow-covered forest floor was torn into deep furrows, and some soldiers were whipped away by tails, their bodies shattering when they crashed into dead trees.

The torch flickered in the gale, illuminating half of the monster's face, revealing it to be an adult "Splitter-Toothed Snow Lizard".

It shouldn't have appeared in spring, nor in this densely populated area.

But it did appear, and it was exceptionally cunning.

Pal ordered an encirclement and personally rushed forward to strike with his sword. Red battle aura swirled around him, but he only managed to sever one of the monster's side scales. The monster roared and leaped into the air.

Its tail swept away two soldiers, leaped into the icy ravine in the mountain valley, and disappeared in an instant.

Although he had many powerful knights under his command, the monster was simply too fast.

The entire chase lasted less than fifteen minutes. When everyone relit the torches, the corpses lay scattered among the blood-stained snow, and the air was filled with the pungent smell of charred blood.

Twenty-seven men were killed, three were seriously wounded, and five warhorses crashed into a rock wall while fleeing, breaking their necks in the process.

Pal remained silent for a moment.

He stood by the icy ditch, gazing for a long time at the direction the lizard beast had fled, his eyes bloodshot.

"It's just a lizard... how could it tear my knight apart like this?"

That night, after returning to the camp, he did not go back to his tent, but sat alone by the fire until dawn, repeatedly stroking the cracked scale in his hand all night long.

He didn't close his eyes until dawn.

Back in reality, Pal gripped the parchment manuscript tightly, its rustling sound in the wind pulling him out of his memories.

He frowned and carefully tucked the manuscript inside his cloak.

That was a letter he wrote to the Duke of Calvin.

It was not a report of difficulties, but a victory document stating that "the Cold Mist Territory has taken shape, and only a small amount of supplies are needed to advance the overall situation."

"A mere gust of cold wind, can it stop my ambition, Pal Calvin?" he scoffed. "It's just the North, nothing more."

A steward rushed up the hillside, panting heavily, his face filled with panic: "Your Highness! The south side of the camp has been attacked by monsters again... We've lost three horses and a bag of flour."

Pal's eye twitched slightly, then he slowly nodded: "Really? That's... that's because they weren't keeping good watch. It's not a problem."

"But that monster crawled up from under the ice ditch, and the camp walls didn't stop it at all."

“That’s not a problem.” He interrupted, his voice colder than the wind. “It just means the terrain is complex. I chose this place because it has enough ‘variability.’ Variety means potential.”

The butler lowered his head with a strange expression and silently left, leaving Pal alone standing atop the rocky hill.

He looked at the rows of crooked tents in the camp, some of which hadn't even been put up before the wind overturned them, like corpses lying on the ground.

The Frosty River, which should have thawed by now, remains frozen.

His dream of becoming a "trade hub" was also frozen outside of spring.

“Once my second brother brings the supplies… things will be different.” He muttered to himself, as if to confirm something, or perhaps to comfort himself.

But somewhere deep inside, the image of that person involuntarily surfaced—Louis Calvin.

"Hmph, he was just lucky." Pal suddenly waved his hand to shake off the snow. "I, on the other hand, am the one who is truly conquering new territories in the North."

He told himself this over and over again.

But every night when the wind and snow come, wild beasts roar, and the tent shakes.

He huddled in front of the brazier, wrapped in a cloak, and the chill of "reality" would always creep into his heart.

Perhaps the North is a little more difficult to deal with than I thought.

“No, it’s not my fault,” he repeated in a low voice.

…………

As spring begins to melt, the remaining snow still bears a thin layer of frost deep in the pine forest, but the sunlight is already shining into the central square of the Veris fiefdom.

Unlike the frozen wasteland of Pal, which was "ambitious but barren," Veris's territory was completely different.

It was a neatly compacted piece of land, surrounded by newly erected fences and semi-subterranean houses with gray wooden tiles covering the eaves, and wisps of smoke rising from the chimneys.

"Good morning, Lord!" A burly craftsman carrying firewood wiped his forehead and grinned at Veris.

"Yes, keep up the good work, and don't forget to check the water tank at the outpost again this evening." Veris nodded, his tone gentle.

Who would have thought that just a month and a half ago, he was standing in the snow, bewildered, unsure of which layer of "permafrost" to start digging from? He had brought family officials and craftsmen, as well as some supplies.

But if we rely solely on those...

They're probably at a loss right now, still arguing about the thickness of the wooden beams, or bickering about where to nail the tent.

But now, not only has the foundation of the main house been erected.

It adopts the semi-subterranean collective structure commonly used in Chichao areas, with a subsidence foundation, mud-covered walls, and soil-covered top, which is warm in winter and cool in summer and extremely energy-efficient.

A communal canteen and a sentry post were set up, and even a few dwarf pine seedlings brought from the Red Tide Territory were planted next to the small "square".

The children would chase each other below, their laughter sounding especially clear in the early morning when the snow had not yet melted.

He knew better than anyone that all these changes were due to the aid sent by his brother Louis.

The twenty craftsmen were almost all capable of working independently; three medical personnel were stationed there, solving the problem of accompanying elderly and infirm people.
Ten logistics officers managed everything better than the family mansion itself;

The young clerk sent by the Red Tide leader was like a teacher, explaining the Red Tide Organization Manual to him page by page, teaching him everything from local regulations and rations to patrol schedules until he understood.

He remembered all the help he received.

As night deepened, the campsite returned to tranquility.

The brazier in the main room was slightly warm, reflecting a warm glow onto an unsealed letter on the desk.

Veris sat at the wooden table built by the Red Tide craftsmen, his pen pausing briefly on the paper before finally falling again.

He originally thought the letter was meant for his father.

He carefully crafted many beautiful phrases in the draft: how the terrain was uniquely advantageous, how the planning was well-organized, and how the people were initially at peace and without worries.

But when I actually started writing, I found that what I really wanted to write was another letter.

It's for my younger brother, that familiar stranger.

"What is the purpose of this aid?" Veris had asked himself this question repeatedly.

But now, sitting in the warm house, listening to the children's laughter outside the camp, he suddenly realized that the problem was not important at all.

Regardless of his motives, Louise truly gave him the strength to live.

That's not charity.

Rather, it is skill, judgment, and overall planning; it is the breadth of mind and spirit that a true nobleman should possess.

“A truly awe-inspiring nobleman.”

This is how he described Louis in a letter to his father.

The letter to his younger brother was even more personal. He didn't use many fancy words, only carefully writing at the end:

"I cannot repay your kindness for the time being. But please believe me, I will repay it one day, whether in my own name or in the name of the territory."

Veris gently blew the ink dry, sealed the envelope, and placed it in the supply truck that would be heading to Red Tide Territory the next day.

…………

In the main castle of Red Tide Territory at night, Louis sat at his desk, flipping through a thick war preparation atlas, with a stack of newly delivered official documents piled up beside him.

The crackling of the charcoal in the fire made his profile appear even more stern.

"This is from Lord Veris," Sif said, handing over a letter.
Louis nodded slightly, his expression unchanged as he took the letter, except for a moment when his fingertips paused.

He picked up the small knife next to him and cut open the seal.

It was a very short letter, not mentioning family or achievements, but only one thing:

gratitude.

He read slowly, carefully choosing each word, as if searching between the lines for the emotions Veris felt when he wrote those words.

His writing wasn't ornate; it even carried a touch of the awkwardness of a young aristocrat. But the underlying sincerity within it couldn't be hidden from him.

“As expected…” he said in a low voice, “I wasn’t mistaken.”

Louis's gaze fell on the last sentence, "I will pay for it someday."

A faint smile appeared between her brows and eyes.

It wasn't gratification, nor joy, but the calm satisfaction a chess player feels when a crucial piece is placed securely.

Veris Calvin should be a good lord and a grateful man.

that's enough.

For him, this letter was far more than just an emotional affirmation; it was also a validation of the success of his three-pronged strategy.
Firstly, politically, Veris's rapid stabilization represented the first successful export of the "pro-red tide faction".

If a meeting of prefects is held in the future, Xuefeng Prefecture will no longer be solely his advocate, but will have an ally with tangible "governance achievements."
Second, militarily, the Veris territory is located on the northern outer edge of the snow-capped peaks, next to the river valley passage, making it a natural defensive node.

Now that the camp has taken shape, it is as if a "wedge" has been quietly driven into the buffer zone between the north and the Snowsworn.

If war breaks out again in the North in the future, this place can serve as a supply relay point, a sentry post, or even the first node of the retreat corridor.

Third, in terms of systems, he quietly exported the construction template of the Red Tide Territory through support: from underground collective housing to "Simplified Civil Regulations", from material coordination to account registration.

All the aid was, in fact, a complete rehearsal and pilot replication of the red tide governance system.

If the governance model needs to be promoted to other places in the future, that will be the best word-of-mouth.

(End of this chapter)