Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 235 Solving the problem
Having finished out the plan for addressing the food problem, the pen fell again with a soft click.

"Insufficient housing."

Louis said in a low voice, the tip of his pen drawing four heavy words on the parchment.

He leaned back in his chair, his temples slightly tense. The Red Tide Territory originally had 13,000 inhabitants, planned to accommodate nearly 30,000, thanks to Louis's meticulously designed city plan.

Those were precisely calculated figures—roads, well water, housing, sewage, heating pipes, and even the direction of every wisp of smoke were all within a controllable range.

But now...

“Fifty-seven thousand,” Bradley said, flipping through the latest census book across from him. His voice was low, but it cut through reality like a dull knife. “These are the updated figures from this morning. As you instructed, the refugee camps over at the North Gate are still registering.”

"There are too many people." Louis rubbed his temples.

"The current migrants are still crammed into temporary greenhouses outside residential areas."

Bradley opened the notebook in his hand, his brows furrowing slightly. "The residual heat from the geothermal veins can still support the daytime temperature, but for winter... it clearly won't hold up."

Louis did not answer immediately.

He stood by the window, gazing at the distant fields gradually turning white with frost. The Red Tide Territory, shrouded in mist, remained peaceful, yet a sense of impending crisis was undeniable.

“We’re going to build houses,” he said. “It’s not just about getting by; it’s about truly getting through the winter.”

He turned around, his gaze falling on the giant tabletop covering the map of the North: "Use the same method we originally built, a semi-underground communal dwelling. Simple, sturdy, not picky about materials, and warm."

Bradley nodded, a slight smile of approval on his face: "You mean, the original semi-underground structures of Red Tide City?"

"Yes, the bottom is buried in frozen soil by one-third, the structural retaining layer is double-layered, and it has a wooden frame and mud walls. It can be erected in as little as three days."

“I’ll go and gather the craftsmen and those idle refugees right away.” Bradley closed the book, his eyes filled with more certainty. “They worry about the temperature and food every day, so working will actually help them sleep more soundly.”

“Don’t forget to train some people in batches.” Louis wrote in his notebook. “This time, the craftsmen team can’t rely entirely on veterans; we need to get the refugees involved as well.”

He then wrote down another item: "Private shelter".

"Issue a call for volunteers. Those original residents who are willing to take in refugees will be given priority in rations and beds." He said this calmly, but added at the end, "Establish a written record, clearly define rewards and punishments, and prohibit coercion."

Bradley hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Do you think they'll accept it?"

“Yes, they will.” Louis’s voice was low and slow, but firm. “In the past two years, the good life that our Red Tide people have lived has not been a gift from heaven, but something they have built brick by brick. They know what disaster means, and they know how much someone has shielded them from. Although… there are complaints.”

“Then let them see that I personally signed this document. Those who are willing to weather the storm together should be compensated and respected.” His tone, however, did not sound like an order.

After a moment of silence, Bradley spoke softly: "They will believe you, sir. Because you have never let them down."

Louis ignored Bradley's flattery.

He simply lowered his head and continued to write down, categorize, and organize the pressing issues before him, as if stitching up the wounded northern frontier.

“The heating problem,” he murmured.

"The Fireback Turtle system continues to be promoted. Thirty individuals have been trained, each capable of maintaining indoor heating in the subordinate territory for 3-5 days, rotating back to the main Red Tide territory to recharge..."

Bradley nodded in confirmation: "As you arranged, they have been distributed to the sub-territories of Deer Territory, Ice Ridge Territory, Snowfield Territory, and Fir Territory, with six in each territory. The geothermal recharge pool built in Red Rock Warehouse has been put into use, and the small turtle-back heating array has also been successfully tested. As long as the operating mechanism is stable, no one will freeze to death this winter."

“Very good.” Louis marked the symbol, then turned the page, his brow furrowing slightly: “Medical system.”

"There are still more than 3,000 survivors of the insect plague," he read briefly. "Those who can be saved should be saved to the fullest extent, and those who cannot be saved should not be abandoned... They should be centrally resettled, cremated, and their bodies cleaned in designated areas to prevent the spread of disease."

“The camp has set up three makeshift clinics, but there is a severe shortage of doctors,” Bradley added, flipping through a brochure. “I have recruited doctors from other noble families who have taken refuge to join us, but it is still far from enough.”

Louis wrote: "Expand the medical team and deploy women of appropriate age to assist; establish standard procedures—cleaning, isolation, ventilation, and disinfection."

He paused, put down his pen, and said in a low voice, "We have more than 50,000 people now. If they get infected, it's not just a few we'll lose; the entire Xuefeng County could be destroyed."

“I understand,” the old butler replied meticulously.

"Add one more thing: psychological counseling. Arrange weekly visits by priests from the Dragon Ancestor Church, hold prayer meetings, and conduct requiem ceremonies. Let them know that they are not wandering ghosts."

Bradley nodded: "Yes, my lord."

Louis put down his pen, rubbed his temples, and turned to a new page: "Transportation".

“The main road in the North is interrupted in three places, Bridge No. 2 is completely destroyed, and the South Passage is interrupted by an avalanche in the Frostridge Mountain section.” “Emergency repair of Road No. 3 is needed as the main line for winter.” He wrote as he spoke, “Let’s not talk about full restoration for now, just ensure that the route for supplies from the South to and from the North is unobstructed during the winter, otherwise everything will be in vain.”

Bradley: "I have sent a team of 100 men to repair the damage and set up three temporary stations, which can be used for manpower transfer and rest should a blizzard block the mountain.

Louis nodded and looked again at the title on his paper.

Heating, medical care, transportation, epidemics, mental health counseling...

The candlelight flickered, illuminating the rows of densely written pages on the long table.

“These problems may not be the optimal solutions, but these are the preliminary plans I can think of.” Louis put down his quill, let out a soft breath, leaned back in his high-backed chair, and looked up at the old butler opposite him. “Is there anything else I’ve missed?”

Bradley closed the ledger, his tone as respectful and steady as ever: "Sir, you have considered everything very thoroughly. But... I have found two minor issues."

"Go ahead."

“Firstly,” Bradley hesitated slightly, then said in a low voice, “not all refugees are good people.”

“Of course,” Louis nodded. “A flood of over forty thousand people is bound to have muddy waters.”

"Several clashes occurred the day before yesterday. Some outsiders tried to seize food and water, which led to armed fights, and some indigenous people were even injured."

Louis's brow twitched slightly: "Didn't I tell you to send knights to patrol and suppress the disturbances? Anyone causing trouble should be beheaded."

“We did send knights to suppress them and arrested a few leaders. But there were too many people, we couldn’t arrest them all, and we couldn’t kill them all… They would change their leaders and start causing trouble again every few days.” Bradley smiled wryly. “We can’t just surround a group of people and beat them up every time.”

“The method is wrong.” Louis narrowed his eyes, his voice turning colder.

He put down his writing brush, stood up from the table, and said in a calm tone, yet with a chilling edge like the north wind: "If you're going to kill, you have to kill them so badly that they dare not move again."

"Arrest all the troublemakers and prepare for a public trial," he said softly, but his eyes flashed with a cold, razor-sharp light.

"In full view of everyone, list out his crimes, from how he started by gathering crowds, instigating refugees, inciting violence, and looting military rations, to how he caused a wounded soldier's wound to become infected and two children to be trampled to death during the looting of rations... Write it all down for me."

"The more detailed the better. The more heinous the better." He said each word slowly and deliberately. "For minor matters, judge them as major offenses; for major offenses... behead them directly."

Bradley was taken aback: "...Decapitation?"

“Erect a wooden platform in Red Tide Square and ring the bell to summon the crowd.” Louis’s tone was calm. “Not only the people need to see this, but the refugees also need to see it. They need to know that this is Red Tide, not the swamp where they cause trouble. If necessary, you can call me over.”

Louis added, “This isn’t my preferred approach. But in the absence of order, fear is far more effective than mercy. Only swift and decisive action can quell the chaos of the postwar period.”

Bradley hesitated for a moment, then finally bowed his head and replied, "Understood, sir."

Bradley turned to the last page of the record in his hand, coughed lightly, and added, "...There's one more thing."

“Speak,” Louis said, rubbing his temples, his voice sounding slightly tired.

“It’s those ‘nobles’,” Brad emphasized with an almost sarcastic tone. “As you know, many minor nobles, broken families, and exiled descendants from Snowpeak County and the surrounding area have come to Red Tide for refuge. They claim to be seeking refuge, but they all have their own ulterior motives.”

Louis remained silent, only glancing sideways to signal him to continue.

“Some of them have been talking about it a lot in private lately. They say that ‘the treatment of Red Tide is too shabby’ and that ‘making nobles and commoners eat the same food and live in the same huts is an insult to the nobles’.”

“And someone else… mentioned military power,” Bradley said in a low voice, “saying ‘it was originally a knight of our family,’ and ‘Lord Louis only seized it during the chaos.’ They also said that you, sir, ‘don’t know the rules of the nobility.’”

"They want to go back? Let them go back one by one to face the crevices of the insect corpses." Louis sneered, his tone mocking. "If it weren't for my 'unruly' methods, they would have died long ago and their ashes would have been lost."

He stood up, walked to the French windows, and looked through the morning light shining in from the window at the wooden houses in the distance that were set up in Red Tide City, where many "self-proclaimed noble" refugee nobles lived.

“The war has barely ended, the bodies are barely cold, and they’re already thinking about ‘face,’ ‘territory,’ and ‘who’s superior,’” Louis said in a low voice.

“But they forgot, this isn’t their manor, this isn’t their castle.” He turned around, his gaze returning to Bradley. “This is Red Tide Territory.”

Bradley nodded slightly: "What arrangements do you need me to make?"

Louis's voice was calm, each word like a nail: "Summon them. In the Red Tide City Council Hall, summon all the nobles currently taking refuge in Red Tide. It's time to teach them a lesson."

Bradley smiled. "Understood, sir."

He bowed slightly and stepped out the door.

(End of this chapter)