Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 232 After the War
Three days after the battle ended, there was not a single insect left in the area a thousand miles north of Frostspear City.

All the nests seemed to wither, dissolve, and collapse overnight.

The Kuroshio Current, which once covered the mountains, was like some decapitated creature, its nerves twitching uncontrollably a few times before falling silent forever.

The surviving knights, fully armed and wearing gas masks, stepped into the dead land, each step accompanied by the sound of rotting flesh collapsing and splattering spores.

The air was thick with the nauseating stench of blood and decay, as if the entire earth were slowly rotting away.

The final nest has been destroyed, and that colossal figure, who once dominated the world like a god, has finally perished in the flames.

And collapsing along with it was all the "will" that controlled the swarm; those monsters that once dominated the nightmares of the North were now nothing but a pool of filth.

Although the war is over, everyone can breathe a sigh of relief.

Looking around at the burned ruins, the collapsed city, and the terrain eroded by insect eggs, people cannot ignore the cruelest reality.

This war... was won, but the cost was horribly high.

According to rough estimates, the total population of the North has plummeted by more than four-fifths.

Millions of lives vanished like a tide in just a few weeks, without even a chance to be etched into tombstones.

Dozens of once-prosperous towns have become breeding grounds for insects, littered with corpses and ruins.

One by one, the ancient families of the North were completely wiped out, their bloodlines severed, and their banners lost.

The terrain is no longer what it used to be. The hollows left by the destroyed insect nests have become new rift valleys, rivers have changed course, plains have risen, roads have been abandoned and turned into wild forests, and fortresses have sunk into mud pits.

The North is no longer the North of yesterday.

The reconstruction in the future... will certainly be extremely difficult.

The one most affected was naturally Lord Edmund, Governor of the North, who exhausted everything in this war known as "The End".

This was not just a physical decline, but also a collapse of his political empire.

The North is his home.

But now, four-fifths of the population of this land has turned to corpses, the nobility that once supported his rule has declined, towns have been destroyed, and knights have disappeared.

Most of the subordinate vassals who had spoken so eloquently in the council chambers disappeared completely from the empire's territory after the disaster and were all written into the missing persons list.

His meticulously constructed aristocratic northern defense system has become virtually useless.

The real crisis was his body. After the final battle, his internal organs were almost half destroyed, and his fighting spirit was severely depleted.

To make matters worse, his only heir was still in Duchess Elena's womb.

An unborn baby faces a future lacking protection.

Without a turnaround, the Edmund family, one of the eight great families since the founding of the empire, might have quickly fallen into obscurity.

Without the Duke, the Edmund family was nothing more than an empty shell, waiting to be sold.

The impact of this war will not only change the landscape of the North, but will also inevitably affect the entire empire.

The Dragonblood Legion, the legion representing the empire's sharpest will, paid a terrible price in the final battle.

Captain Arthur lost an arm. Although he can still fight, his combat power is greatly reduced.

Vice Commander Gaius is currently exhausted of his fighting spirit, unconscious, and his fate is unknown.

Of the more than one hundred top combatants under their command, elites from various families of the empire, only forty-two returned after the war.

The various powerful families would not let this opportunity pass and would challenge the powerful emperor.

The future of the empire's core aristocratic circle is about to be turbulent.

Louis, who had made great contributions in this war, was already in the eye of the storm.

…………

The wind in Frostspear City still carries a chill and a fishy stench.

Arthur walked slowly, wearing a black cloak, his right arm consisting only of a torn sleeve tightly wrapped in bandages.

"I'm leaving." His voice was as low as ever, but warmer than usual. After a moment of silence, he spoke softly, "Gaius... will survive."

I will personally escort him to the capital to receive the best possible treatment. No matter the cost, we will make sure he wakes up.

He paused, then his gaze fell on Louis.

"And you. I will personally report your contributions in this battle to His Majesty in detail."

At this point, the usually taciturn man hesitated for the first time, but finally spoke:

“You did a great job, your older brother is really proud of you. He… has talked to me about you, more than once.”

Louis lowered his head slightly, as if to conceal his emotions.

Then Arthur turned and left, leading the shattered Dragonblood Legion back to the capital.

…………

After bidding farewell to Arthur, Louis was also leaving Frostspear City to return to Crimson Tide Territory. Of course, he had to say goodbye to Duke Edmund before leaving.

On that stone wall, which had been washed with blood dozens of times, he saw Duke Edmund again.

He stood beside the ruined battlements, wearing an imperial-style black and gold cloak, his face as pale as snow.

Louis knew that the Duke of Edmund was in a very bad situation.

It's not just the apparent fatigue and aging, but a pathological collapse that's truly tearing you apart from the inside.

The daily intelligence system had already sent a message: he had already overdrawn his heart meridian once before the final battle of the Mother Nest, and now his fighting spirit was turbulent, his internal injuries were backfiring violently, he could not sleep at night, and the pain was like a knife burning his heart and lungs.

The Duke is still alive, purely by willpower. If it weren't for the many things he still needed to hold on to, he might have died two days ago.

Without a stroke of luck... he probably wouldn't last more than a few years.

Louis was still very saddened; the Duke was a great man who had always stood behind him.

Without his support, trust, and resource mobilization, my Red Tide Territory probably wouldn't have developed so smoothly.

If one day the intelligence system provides some miraculous cure, I will send it to the Duke.

With that thought in mind, he had already arrived in front of the Duke.

"You've come." The Duke's voice remained as firm as iron, despite the many wounds that had long since appeared in his chest.

He turned around, his tone as if he were handling government affairs, or perhaps entrusting his only son with important matters.

"You have done a great service this time, and the entire Northern Territory... owes you a debt of gratitude."

“But you should go back. Go back to Red Tide and properly settle those who survived. The reward that is due will come soon—His Majesty will personally issue the order.”

He coughed lightly, covered his mouth with a handkerchief, and a little blood quietly seeped out.

“And another thing,” he added, his voice lowering slightly, “if there are any refugees or orphans… take them in if you can. The North is gone, but people can’t be without roots.”

The air was thick with the smell of blood.

Louis did not answer immediately; his gaze remained fixed on the man who had once been a formidable figure in the North.

This figure, who once single-handedly suppressed the entire Northern Territory and quelled the rebellion, now appears incredibly frail in the setting sun.

"...Take good care of Emily for me."

This instruction was more like entrusting an orphan to someone than a command.

Louis looked at him with a complex expression, a heaviness he had never felt before in his chest.

The empire's strongest shield is quietly cracking.

“…I will do it.” He nodded solemnly.

The Duke waved his hand, as if giving an order: "Let's go."

Louis turned and headed down the town, his shadow stretched long by the setting sun.

(End of this chapter)