Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 159 Aftermath of the Meeting
The large window of the study was open, and the wind blew in from the melting snow-covered mountains, carrying the scent of earth and remaining snow.

Louis, wearing a dark blue cloak, sat on a wooden chair in the center of the drawing room.

There was no high-backed throne in front of him, only a round table covered with a linen tablecloth, and the firelight cast a soft glow on his profile.

This is the seventh visitor to apply for a grant in the past two days.

An old lord with gray hair and a hunched back.

He was originally a steward in Frostspear City, but because a distant relative of his froze to death in the winter, he was brought in to become a so-called baron.

But he knew absolutely nothing about it, and seeing the plight of the remaining people, he had no choice but to come to Louis for help.

Trembling, he took the map, soaked with sweat, from his attendant's hands, presented it with both, and whispered:
“Our land… as long as you… can send someone to take a look, I’m willing… willing to hand over the management rights…”

As he spoke, his pace quickened and his voice grew softer, as if he were afraid of being rejected.

Louis took the map, his fingertips gently tracing the damp edges, as if he could feel the weight and helplessness in those trembling hands.

He didn't speak immediately, but instead took a few careful glances at the rivers and lakes marked on the map.

"Does this tributary in your territory freeze late in winter?"

The old lord paused for a moment, then quickly nodded: "Yes...yes, hunters used to fish there, but later there weren't enough people, so no one went anymore..."

Louis nodded slightly and said in a low voice, "Although the conditions for farming are poor, this water system is still there. The cold-water fish raised in the winter stream can live a long time and have enough fat."

"You don't have many people, so it's not suitable for large-scale farming, but you can organize a few people to try fishing first."

He looked up and said in a gentle tone, "I will have the supplies team provide you with some basic fishing gear—ice picks, net cages, salt buckets, and thermal tarpaulins."

Fish can't be eaten as food in the same year, but they can sustain us through the toughest months and can be exchanged for some grain. Let's decide what industry to develop after we've scouted the territory."

As the old lord listened, his eyes reddened.

He had prepared himself for rejection or even being driven away, but to his surprise, the other party not only did not reprimand him, but was also willing to take a practical approach and find him a way to make a living, however narrow it may be.

He opened his mouth as if to say something to express his gratitude, but then choked up.

Louis stood up and gently handed the map back. "Don't rush to hand over this land. Go and prepare for fishing first, and we'll see the results in three months."

The old nobleman took the map, bowing his head repeatedly, his shoulders trembling as if he were trying his best to suppress his emotions.

Before leaving, he hesitated for a moment, then suddenly knelt down with a thud, choking back tears as he said:
"Thank you for your kindness... In this winter, there are still people... who are willing to help us... these little nobles who are almost rotten..."

Louis did not help him up, nor did he avoid kneeling; he simply watched him quietly.

News of the Red Tide Aid Fund stirred up a silent frenzy in the still snowy northern border.

After Mrs. Grant received her funding, within two or three days, seven or eight minor nobles hurried to Louis's office.

They looked haggard, their clothes were shabby, and they held their family crests and maps, pleading softly for help.

Inside the council chamber of the prefectural governor's residence, the charcoal fire was warm and the lights were bright.

Louis sat in the main seat, surrounded by his secretariat and advisors.

Each person who seeks help has their statement recorded, archived, and analyzed by a designated person.

He listened quietly, subtly fiddling with his quill pen, occasionally offering a few gentle words of advice.

Like the Godfather.

Of course, this is not charity; it is a thorough selection of resources and a strategic penetration.

“Submit a detailed development plan,” he said calmly. “Land use map, existing resources, and manpower list—not a single one can be omitted.”

Once approved, Red Tide sends its own technicians and financial observers into the territory to assist in the construction of so-called "infrastructure".

In reality, it means thoroughly mastering every aspect of the industry.

More importantly, all products must be collected and resold through red tides.

The distribution channels were determined by Louis, and the prices were set by Louis.

The real purpose of this aid fund is to integrate these dying little territories into the economic network of the red tide.

By using three chains—materials, technology, and markets—a dependent yet controllable "semi-colonial entity" can be created.

Saving someone? That was just an unexpected bonus.

Louis's goal was to control territory, seize control of land, expand logistics hubs, processing facilities, and export markets.

Without hesitation, he offered a suggestion to those impoverished territories that had no development value or were geographically worthless.

Then, with a smile, he declined, saying, "I suggest you try to save yourself first. If there are any tangible results, we can then conduct an evaluation."

Among these lords, there were, of course, quite a few arrogant individuals.

That afternoon, a nobleman wearing a white fox fur cloak strode confidently into the prefectural governor's mansion.

He didn't remove his hat in greeting, but simply tossed an application form aside: "I'm here because I'm willing to give you some face."

The secretariat's expression changed.

Louis glanced at him, his tone icy: "Face? You won't even call me 'Governor'."

The man seemed to want to say something more, but was silently "invited" out by the two knights, who even left the application letter untouched at the door.

Silence returned to the hall.

Louis turned to the next document and said casually, "Next."

He wasn't in a hurry. Once the first batch of successful cases achieved results, others would eventually line up to offer land and resources, just to join the Red Tide system.

Just as the Red Tide Aid Fund was progressing rapidly, the Snow Peak Council was also quietly established.

"Elected by representatives of all parties within the county, ensuring the interests of the people and the autonomy of the nobility."

The official announcement was written in a grand and impressive manner, sounding as if it were a major leap forward in the political civilization of the North.

But Louis had already meticulously laid out a chessboard on the long table in the council chamber.

As a representative, not just anyone can come.

Most seats were filled by nominees who were "reputable and capable".

To put it another way, it can be roughly understood as: Louis's confidants can rise, those who obey can stay, and those who don't? Sorry, the door is over there.

Jon and Veris sat near the head of the table, their smiles composed.

Although Edward, Roland, and others were not close to Louis, they were included in the group because they were "reliable and easy to control".

As for those old-fashioned nobles who still uphold "noble dignity"?

After several private banquets and exchanges of agreements, one or two were barely managed to be crammed in as "decorative vases".

Parliament ostensibly possesses the "power of advice," but in reality, it is a voting mechanism that implicitly grants veto power.

True control lies not in rejecting a proposal, but in deciding which proposals can leave the room alive.

The atmosphere on the first day of parliament was both mild and enthusiastic.

A grassroots representative proposed using part of the road repair budget for epidemic prevention in border villages.

Louis listened and smiled, nodding. "Good suggestion. We can try adjusting a small part."

Jon led the applause, and the others joined in.

To create a festive atmosphere for the first day of parliamentary proceedings, we need to offer some incentives.

The next proposal, put forward by a figurehead nobleman, suggested that the council have the right to consult on the troop movements of the various territories. A moment of silence fell over the room.

Louis remained impassive as he subtly raised his hand to pick up his water glass, while his secretariat had already been quietly passing notes behind his back.

Yorn yawned: "The timing isn't quite right."

Veris was blunt: "Military matters are not to be touched."

Edward's lips twitched slightly, then he shook his head nonchalantly.

Seconds later, the bill was shelved due to a "majority against" vote.

Louis put down his water glass and gave a polite smile: "Since everyone has different opinions, let's respect the majority voice and discuss the next item."

He spoke slowly and gently.

But the nobleman who had proposed the motion had already lowered his head, sweat beading on his forehead, as if he understood what a "taboo" he had committed by speaking out.

At this moment, his "non-close circle" also fell silent, like a frozen forest on a snowy night.

The Xuefeng Council continues to operate, like a clock with perfectly meshed gears, a flawless white dial, and precise, clear hands.

Louis can adjust his time as he pleases.

The county governor's meeting, which lasted for a whole week, finally came to an end on the night of the seventh day.

Nobles from various regions left Snowpeak City with different feelings, returning to their fiefdoms.

Some remained silent, some looked worried, and some smiled broadly, as if they had just left the casino with a considerable amount of chips.

When they left, no one dared to call him "kid," "lucky guy," or "that post-war prodigy" behind his back anymore.

They knew that the person sitting in the main seat of the prefectural governor's mansion was the true "Lord of Snow Peak".

Control the snow-capped peaks, integrate resources, and enforce orders strictly.

They thought the meeting was over and everything had returned to normal.

Little did they know that the real "aftermath of the meeting" was only just beginning.

Just as these nobles stepped into their territory...

Just as they were about to take a sip of long-awaited red wine and lie in front of the warm fireplace humming a tune, they saw those figures.

Clad in black cloaks and wearing the insignia of the Snow Peak Prefect on their chests, the inspectors, with their steady, shadowy steps, seemed to have grown out of the snowy night as they silently stepped down from their carriages and crossed the city gate.

They had no prior notice, but in their hands was an appointment letter stamped with "Prefect of Xuefeng County" in wax.

With a standard professional fake smile on his face: "Don't be nervous, we're just here for a routine check. It'll be quick, won't delay your dinner."

The nobles' faces turned green on the spot, then black.

"The Control Yuan? He actually managed to pull it off?"

"Isn't this just empty talk?"

"They even sent people directly to the fiefdom... What's the difference between this and confiscating property?!"

They couldn't help but feel furious, slamming their fists on the table and stamping their feet, but in the end they could only grit their teeth and sneer, "It's just a formality."

Despite their words, the nobles still obediently handed over their fiefdom records.

Of course, hiding some false information in the accounts and some goods in the warehouse is a "traditional skill".

The Control Bureau was aware of this, but they remained silent, simply recording, summarizing, and transmitting the information back to the Prefectural Governor's Office.

Louis did not take immediate action, nor did he confront or punish anyone.

He simply smiled faintly, carefully collected the records, labeled them with dates, and placed them in a wooden box labeled "Observation Period."

These various flaws, as long as they are not matters of principle, will be brought up again when the time is right.

The nobles of Xuefeng County thought they were still on the chessboard of a game, only to realize at the end of the meeting that they were merely pawns on the board.

With his three signature moves, Louis played his trump card to control the snow-capped peaks.

The first measure: the revitalization fund.

This is a gilded carrot. Whoever obeys and cooperates will receive priority access to food, medicine, ironware, and artisan assistance.

Conversely, forget about providing support; you won't even be able to get your hands on the granary.

The second axe blow: the Snow Peak Council.

On the surface, it is a platform for brainstorming, but in reality, it is a legitimate stage for establishing rules and regulations.

The seats in the legislature are ostensibly recommended by the lords of various regions, but in reality, they have already been filtered by Louis using a "sieve of loyalty."

Most of the proposals were passed as soon as they were put forward, and those that were not passed... after several routine inspections by the Control Yuan, the truth would suddenly become clear.

The third blow came from the Control Yuan.

Cold and ruthless, independent of the aristocratic system, holding the "Prefect's Special Order".

On the surface it is a routine inspection, but in reality it is Xuefeng County's second nervous system.

At the slightest disturbance, it will send a signal to the nerve center—the Red Tide Territory—like a nerve reflex.

Thus, the Snow Peak Council and the Oversight Office became Louis's "right and left hands".

Parliament governs direction, policies, and institutional design; it is a rational mind.

The Control Yuan oversees order, enforcement, and deterrence; it is a cold, hard knife.

A whole set of resource allocation mechanisms and public opinion guidance systems were subsequently developed.

Whoever shouts the loudest slogans and cooperates with the governance will have priority in obtaining food, tools, firewood, and technical support.

At this point, Louis was no longer the "young man who parachuted in after the war and rose to power through his family background" that others described.

He was the true prefect.

He held four powers—military, political, financial, media, and supervisory—in one person, making the title and reality of the prefecture one.

He was not just "one person" sitting on the throne of the prefect, but the central figure of an entire new political power system.

A young, decisive, calm, and ambitious ruler of Snowpeak County has been born.

Of course, not all nobles were willing to submit to the emperor.

Some resentful old men secretly took a longer route, writing letters, sending gifts, and even proposing marriage alliances to the old noble families in the northern border outside the county.

They didn't believe that a young man could truly take control of Xuefeng.

"As long as foreign aid comes in, won't Louis's 'new order' collapse?"

In a short time, several established nobles from the northern border of the prefecture also began to stir, preparing to use the pretext of "peace and stability" to teach this young prefect who did not know the rules a lesson.

Two pieces of news brought everyone to a sudden calm.

The first is the fate of Joseph Carradi and the Carradi family.

The second piece of news is even more speechless:
The daughter of the Duke of Edmund, one of the most important noblewomen in the North, is formally betrothed to Louis of House Calvin.

At that moment, many of the old nobles who had been eager to try their luck put down their wine glasses.

(End of this chapter)