Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 158 Mrs. Grant

The council chamber of the prefectural governor's mansion had just been empty, and the chilly wind had not yet dissipated the lingering warmth inside.

A timid figure quietly appeared at the door of the study.

That's Mrs. Grant.

She stood with her head down, like a withered leaf that might be blown away by the wind at any moment. She hesitated for a moment in front of the heavy oak door before raising her hand and gently knocking twice.

“Lord Louis…may I…speak with you?” Her voice was as soft as a feather falling to the ground, with a slight tremor.

The door opened, and Louis was sitting behind his desk, looking through documents.

Louis looked up and saw the doorway, not surprised, as the servant had already informed him. He smiled gently.

"Of course, please come in."

Mrs. Grant's dress was clearly out of season; the tight waistline left some red marks, and the tulle skirt looked somewhat worn.

When she came in, she was clutching a crumpled handkerchief in her hand, as if it were the only thing that could bring her peace.

She hesitated for a moment by the chair before gently sitting down, her legs together, looking as nervous as a maid who had just entered the palace.

Grant spoke in a low voice, as if afraid of disturbing something: "I really... don't know what to do."

She then talked about her family's predicament, about the barren land that couldn't grow wheat, and how she tried to manage the accounts by imitating the ledgers left by her father, but couldn't even figure out the most basic income and expenditure.

Her voice was intermittent, her gaze shifty, and she never looked up at Louis.

“I tried to ask the previous lord and my husband’s family for advice, but no one was willing to talk to me.”

Those men… they thought I was just a… temporary replacement, a useless piece of trash, and that territory wasn’t worth anything.”

By the end, Grant was almost sobbing, biting his lip to keep the tears from falling.

Louis listened quietly, his fingers tapping lightly on the table, like a conductor controlling the entire rhythm.

After Grant finished speaking, he finally spoke, his tone steady: "I can see that, madam. You have been working hard for your territory, but you lack direction and resources."

These words were like a drop of water falling on the frozen earth in early spring, gently seeping in, yet they instantly brought tears to her eyes.

"Would you be willing to help me?" Grant's voice was barely a whisper, as if asking this question had already exhausted all his courage.

Louis smiled, as if responding to a long-awaited plea for help: "Of course, I'm willing."

Louis leaned slightly forward behind the table, his gaze fixed intently on her, his voice carrying no hint of intimidation, yet possessing an undeniable power.

"Do you believe there are any resources or industries worth developing in your territory?"

Grant paused, as if struck by a revelation. She opened her mouth, intending to deny it, but then, as if having made a firm decision, slowly nodded.

"Actually... I did some research." Her voice no longer trembled, but a hint of unease shone in her eyes.

“I had people try several crops… We have a piece of land near the old riverbed. Although it has always been considered wasteland, several crops survived when we tried planting them.”

As she said this, she quietly clenched her handkerchief, but continued, "And there are foxes and minks in the mountains."

In the past, nobody cared, and no one systematically hunted them... hunters only occasionally shot a few. Their pelts were practically worthless.

She paused, as if recalling something, "Over there by the stream, the ice freezes late in winter, and the old folks in the village say that water used to be used to raise fish. Not many, though... but I think, maybe it's possible..."

She lowered her head as she spoke, as if afraid that she had said too much or that she was being silly.

“Very good.” Louis’s two words came out softly, yet they seemed to ignite a fire in the quiet night.

He pulled out his notes from a pile of documents, quickly wrote down the three directions she mentioned, then looked up, his eyes filled with more certainty.

Specialty crop cultivation, cold-water fish farming in winter streams, plus small-scale fur fishing...

While these three elements are not large in scale individually, if they are combined, designed, and operated in a coordinated manner, they will form a stable, small-scale, integrated economic system suitable for your territory.

He paused, then smiled slightly. "Moreover, and most importantly, it doesn't rely on any external aristocratic network."

Grant was stunned to see Louis so earnestly planning for him.

Over the years, she had become accustomed to being ignored, excluded, and treated coldly. But this man in front of her not only listened to her, but also genuinely analyzed and planned for her future.

"You mean I can really do it?"

“It’s not about ‘whether it can be done,’ but ‘how to do it.’” Louis changed the subject and drew a few sketches. “The Foundation will allocate suitable seeds for you, and agricultural officials from the Red Tide Territory will be stationed there to assist in the initial stages.”

“I will send a group of experienced farmers over there. As for the furs, we will provide basic processing equipment and curing facilities, and the Red Tide Territory will handle the unified collection to prevent you from being pressured by the caravan to lower the price.”

He pointed to three points on the blueprint and summarized softly: "Farming is the foundation, fish farming is a supplement, and fur is for circulation. If we proceed steadily, this should be enough for your territory to eat."

Grant stared blankly at the sketch at first, as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard.

"Can... really do it?" Her voice trembled, as if she couldn't believe it herself.

Louis simply nodded, his tone gentle: "Sure, but I will also send people to investigate in person."

He paused, his voice steady and clear: "Don't worry, once the conditions are confirmed, the foundation will make all the arrangements."

"We'll handle everything you can't manage on your own, including seeds, technology, distribution channels, and exchange points."

Grant's eyes widened, and he bowed deeply, his voice choked with emotion: "...Thank you...really...thank you so much...I don't know how..."

Her eyes were already red, and tears wet her eyelashes.

At that moment, she was no longer a marginal figure in aristocratic circles who had no voice, no longer a helpless woman who worried about debts every day and couldn't sleep at night.

It was as if, for the first time, she was being treated as a true noblewoman.

Owning land means owning responsibility, and also the right to be trusted.

He watched Grant's expression, a mixture of gratitude and shame, with a calm mind.

She is indeed not strong enough, has a weak personality, and has almost no experience in governance.

But that's precisely why she is the most ideal role model.

A noblewoman from the lower class, despised, marginalized, and deprived, regains her life with the support of the Red Tide Territory.

As long as she can stand up, even if she can only stand with difficulty, it will be enough to sway those marginal nobles who are still watching from the sidelines, those who have weak financial resources but are unwilling to bow their heads.

They will begin to think:
"Maybe... I can be like her."

"Perhaps... I can also relinquish some power in exchange for a way to survive."

This is the first nail in the "resources for control" exchange.

Grant was also the first "person willing to be changed" that Louis wanted to establish in this land.

(End of this chapter)