Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 219 Return
When Louis rode his warhorse across the southern section of the snow-capped mountains and saw the Red Tide flag fluttering in the cold wind ahead, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.

It's been seventeen days...

He led the fire-breathing team and the knights through the snowstorm for seventeen days.

They set off from Crimson Cloud Territory to rescue Veris;

Then, blockade the Mother Nest Rift Valley in the northwest border of Xuefeng County;

They cut off seven insect swarm routes and established nine temporary firing outposts.
They deployed explosive bombs overnight and manually reinforced the mountain pass;
He personally led five operations and orchestrated more than ten strategic rescue missions.

Now, at least we've managed to keep them out.

Although the insect carcasses are still active day and night, a fire blockade has been established from the Western Ridge to the tundra, and Louis has deployed flamethrower troops and knight garrisons in various fortresses and natural terrains.

Amidst the turbulent currents, a border front that is "defensible, retrenchable, and maneuverable" has been initially outlined.

On the iron-cast pass, the Red Tide flag fluttered in the wind, and the Fire-Breathing Knights and knights took turns patrolling. Every few hundred meters, there was a sentry post, equipped with oil cans, magic bombs, and vibration sensors.

"The Northwest Canyon has been sealed off."

"The fourth firebreak at Snow Ridge has been completed."

"The insect corpses have not made any further progress in the main storyline in the past three days."

The adjutant reported the details one by one, and Louis simply nodded.

"Finally, it looks like a defensive line." He murmured to himself, his voice so low it was almost carried away by the wind.

In the past few days, faint black spots have appeared under his eyes.

But he maintained a calm and composed expression.

He wore a cloak, his armor was already covered with mottled scorch marks, and his hair was wet with snow and stuck to his cheeks. He looked more like a seasoned general than the young nobleman who had been questioned before.

"We've only temporarily blocked the first wave. The real disaster... hasn't even begun yet."

And that's precisely why he had to go back and take a look.

Chichao Territory is currently the only central hub in the entire Xuefeng Army that can still effectively manage food supplies, provisions, and combat readiness—if we cannot take advantage of this gap to deploy, coordinate, and strengthen our defenses…

Then the next insect swarm breakthrough will not only lead to the annihilation of a single family, but the collapse of the entire defense line.

"Return to Red Tide Territory." After saying this, the cavalry began to adjust their marching direction.

…………

On the highlands of the southern border of Red Tide Territory, the continuous temporary dwellings rose and fell like waves in the cold wind, stretching as far as the eye could see.

Those were the common people and nobles who escaped with their lives after their homes were torn apart by the Mother Nest.

Their clothes were tattered and their faces were pale. Some were holding children's hands, some were helping the elderly, some were supporting sick family members, and some were carrying still warm urns of ashes. They knelt at the temporary passage set up by the Red Tide Army, waiting for a registration list.

When they heard "he's here," a low murmur of commotion broke out in the crowd.

It wasn't the legendary general, nor the high-ranking nobleman, but Louis Calvin, who had saved them, riding slowly through the central avenue between the tents.

He wore no fine clothes, his armor was still stained with blood, and he had no entourage, only a flamethrower team and logistics soldiers accompanying him.

Yet it was this very figure that brought tears to the eyes of countless people.

"It was him, it was him... who saved us."

"He pulled me out of the rubble... If my brother had arrived three days earlier, perhaps..."

"Lord Louis... Lord of the Crimson Tide..."

A child broke free from his mother's embrace and ran towards him.

An elderly noblewoman burst into tears, kneeling in the snow and sobbing uncontrollably.

Louis rode slowly between the tents, looking into the pairs of tired but hopeful eyes.

"Thank you... really, thank you..." A woman stood by the roadside, trembling, holding her child's hand. She lowered her head, her voice hoarse. "If it weren't for you, my little daughter would have... would have..."

She didn't finish speaking; she simply wiped away her tears.

Louis slowly dismounted, knelt down, and personally patted the little girl's head with a gentle smile on his lips.

“This is not your place of exile,” Louis said with a smile, “but a new beginning.”

His words were calm as water, yet as warm as a flame, touching everyone's heart.

At that moment, someone in the forest of tents shouted: "Long live the Red Tide! Long live Lord Louis!"

Then came an overwhelming response; cries and shouts mingled with the wind and snow, as if the entire disaster camp had come alive.

The temporary noble camp was established under his personal order before his departure, and he issued various policies accordingly.
Tents were zoned and numbered, and residents were registered according to their place of origin.

Each person was provided with porridge and charcoal, and a greenhouse and a simple wooden hut were set up.
Orphans were cared for in groups, with soldiers guiding patrols, and noble districts were staffed with sergeants serving as "guardians."

They had expected a life of exile filled with mud, hunger, and strife, but when the porridge was cooked, the makeshift shelters were erected, and the red tide campfires rose, many refugees finally realized...
This place is even better than their former fiefdom.

"He actually prepared food in advance..."

"They even cleared out a small hut for my elderly mother to rest in. My God, we never dreamed of this."

Behind this orderly miracle lies the abundant harvest of food in the Red Tide Territory this year, supplies that I ordered to be transported through the Calvin family's trading company after learning of the great disaster earlier this year...

It was the "post-war relocation plan" that he had personally prepared in advance.

…………

After leaving the refugees, Louis entered the Red Tide main fortress.

He had been traveling for more than ten days, and the battlefield built of blood and fire had never made him bow his head. But now, as the corridor of the Red Tide Castle came into view, exhaustion finally surged into his heart like a tide.

As soon as he stepped into the main hall, before he could even take off his cloak, he heard hurried footsteps like the tinkling of wind chimes approaching.

"Louis!"

"You're finally back!"

The former is Emily, with a snow-white shawl and red-rimmed eyes, yet she still maintains the elegant demeanor of a noble lady.

However, her hands were still trembling slightly when she threw herself into his arms.

The latter was Sif, her short, silver-white hair still tinged with gray. She stood to the side, frowning, and said coldly, "You've actually decided to come back."

Before she could finish speaking, she lowered her head and hugged him, but turned her face away, not wanting him to see her eyes welling up with tears.

"I've only been gone a few days, and you two are already acting like you've lost your souls," Louis chuckled, pulling the two of them into his arms, one on each side.

This warmth seemed to melt away the dust and grime that covered Louis.

“More than ten days…” Emily said with a slight reproach, tilting her head back with undisguised longing in her eyes, “You promised to reply in three days, but we can only hear about your situation from the wounded soldiers.”

"And you were on the front lines... personally charging into battle?!" Sif gritted her teeth and punched him. "Don't you know what the word 'lord' means?"

“I understand, I understand.” Louis smiled helplessly and ruffled their hair. “If you had seen those people on that battlefield, you would understand…”

He wanted to say something more, but then he saw the weariness on their faces—the kind of weariness that comes from the pressure that sustains the entire order from within the Red Tide.

Even outside of the battlefield, they were never truly "safe".

He sighed and led them into the house. After they sat down, Emily took out a stack of documents of varying thickness from the side and placed them on the table.

"This is our list of administrative tasks for this period of time: the expansion of refugee camps, food rationing, verification of noble status, and some supplies sent by southern families. Red Tide's reserves are indeed tight, but at this rate, we can last for another two months."

She spoke at a steady pace, and the confidence of a "future duchess" was evident at that moment.

Sif then pulled out several neatly folded letters: "These are the letters I dealt with from several noble families, big and small, in the Southern Territory, especially that Viscount Martin. He originally wanted to form cliques and take advantage of the situation, but I had the knights cut off his head."

Louis felt a surge of warmth as he looked at the two figures, each with their own unique charm.

On the battlefield, he forged a defensive line with flames; but within this territory, it was they who used their wisdom to maintain the order behind the city walls.

“You two,” Louis said softly, his voice like a small fire quietly burning in the cold night, “are my true source of confidence.”

As soon as she finished speaking, Emily gently raised her chin, her eyes smiling, making no attempt to hide her joy, as if she had accepted a reward that was both natural and precious.

“I always have,” she answered softly.

Sif seemed caught off guard by these words; her ears quickly turned red, her gaze darted around, and finally she gave a soft hum and turned to pour tea.

"Hmph, don't you find it cheesy to say such things?"

Louis smiled, about to make another joke.

Then Emily suddenly became serious and took out a series of letters with the wax seal still on from her sleeve.

"This is a letter my father just sent." She hesitated, "...it doesn't seem good."

Louis took the letter, his fingertips pausing slightly.

That was a personal letter from the Governor of the North, the Iron Wall of the Empire—Duke Edmund.

The heavy wax seal and the hasty handwriting—every detail suggests that this is no ordinary family letter.

Emily looked at him without saying a word, but silently pressed the letter into his palm.

Louis took a deep breath, then sat down, putting one arm around Emily and gently tearing open the seal with the other.

The handwriting was still strong and powerful, but it revealed an undeniable weariness.

The letter was not lengthy, but every word weighed heavily on my heart.

The Duke of Edmund did not use much emotional language; instead, he assessed the overall layout and results of Snowpeak County in an extremely calm tone.

He clearly already had a good grasp of Louis's command and effectiveness, seemingly because Emily had told him.

But even the most stern governor couldn't hide a hint of pride in his letter:
"You have defended Xuefeng County, which is one of the few counties in the northern border that can still allocate food supplies, accommodate refugees, and supply combat power to other regions."

I am proud of you, not only because you are my son-in-law, but because you have accomplished what most nobles could not.

However, the tone subtly shifts in the second half of the letter; although the wording remains calm, a sense of solemnity permeates the lines:
The entire western defense line of the North has been breached, most counties have fallen silent, and the city lights went out overnight.

Meanwhile, the Imperial reinforcements, the Dragonblood Legion, are already on their way to the North. As long as Frostspear City holds out, the Empire will have the opportunity to rebuild its northern defenses.

The last sentence sounded like a command, or perhaps a request: "Take good care of Emily."

Louis quietly finished reading the letter, folded the parchment, and gently placed it on the table beside him.

His expression remained largely unchanged, his brows and eyes still calm and composed, as if the letter contained nothing more than a routine military intelligence report.

The Duke of Edmund wrote his letter skillfully: his words were calm and well-founded, affirming the Snowpeak County's steadfast defense while also mentioning that imperial support was "being mobilized."

But what he didn't write about was the true devastation and abyss facing the North.

However, Louis already knew the answer, after all, he possessed a more comprehensive intelligence network than anyone else—the Daily Intelligence System.

The truth he saw was even deeper than Edmund's.

The population of the North is less than one-fifth of what it was before. Of the once glorious twenty-seven counties, only six can barely maintain their autonomy, while the majority have fallen to the Mother Nest, turning into a "desolate wasteland of corpses" on the pale snowfield.

Even many once-illustrious families—the Rowan family, the Crest family, the Grant family…

They were all erased from public view in silence, and no one even knows when or how they became extinct.

Now, the shadow of the End Nest has heavily surrounded Frostspear City.

That was the last heart of the North.

Fortunately, the Duke of Edmund was no ordinary man.

Before the catastrophe truly arrived, he initiated the war preparations for the entire Frostspear City.

Seventeen magically infused fortresses were deployed by the Cold Iron Legion to various passes throughout the city. With steel as their walls and willpower as their furnace, they forcefully withstood the overwhelming onslaught of the Mother Nest.

What's even more remarkable is that they didn't fight in a sorry state.

The Cold Iron Legion fought back against the Snow Oath of the Insect Corpse with a tenacious defense, gradually figuring out the rhythm of the nest and breaking the structure of its swarm attack.

The "Cold Iron Legion" of that city is now engaged in a fierce tug-of-war with the insect corpses. Although they have suffered heavy losses, they still stand firm.

But time is wearing everyone down, and they probably won't last more than a few months.

The real turning point, however, lies in the South.

The Empire's strongest legion—the Dragonblood Legion—is ready to set off.

That behemoth whose lowest-ranking knights were all high-ranking knights.

The two legion commanders are among the Empire's top combat forces: one is his elder brother, Gaius Calvin.

The other is the current emperor's nephew, the noble and sharp "Royal Blade"—Arthur Garrain.

Both are top-tier knights. Once they arrive on the battlefield, together with Duke Edmund, a surprise attack might... actually shatter the Mother Nest of the End.

Louis rested one hand on his forehead, deep in thought and silent.

His gaze was fixed on the map on the table, yet it seemed as if he could see through the pages and see every crumbling snow wall in the North.

Just then, a gentle, breeze-like touch landed on my shoulder.

He turned his head and met Emily's slightly red eyes.

Her fingertips pressed lightly on his shoulder, trying to read something from his face, but she dared not get too close, for fear that saying the wrong thing would cause this weary young lord to collapse completely.

“Is Father…very worried?” she asked.

Louis smiled. "Of course your father is worried, he just won't say it out loud. But he's very strong, so strong that people think he's never afraid."

“Just like you,” Sif added, looking at him with a complicated expression.

“I’m not as strong as you all say,” he said softly. “It’s just that I’m more afraid of failure than of being afraid of being afraid.”

He looked out the window, towards the outskirts of Red Tide City, where distant campfires, like scattered stars, illuminated the tents of the civilians and nobles who had just escaped.

“Those people are still waiting for food, waiting for their homes to be rebuilt,” Louis muttered to himself. “But I don’t even know when the next snow will come.”

“You can’t control the weather, but you’ve restored order,” Emily said softly.

“You’re not a god, but you saved them,” Sif added.

At that moment, the heavy winter night seemed to be gently dispelled by these two women.

(End of this chapter)