Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 242 The Meeting in the Capital (Part 2)
"Your Majesty, I have a few points to make regarding this calamity in the North."

The speaker rose from one corner of the long table; he was a slender, middle-aged nobleman dressed in a low-key yet neat manner.

He wore neither the coat of arms of an old noble family nor the dragon-patterned shoulder insignia of a military general; instead, he wore a newly cast gold rose emblem, a symbol shared by a group of newly appointed political nobles in the capital over the past decade.

He was the Marquis of Collins, of humble origins, yet he frequently appeared in the affairs of various departments of the Empire, known for his "compromise, moderation, and rationality," and was regarded by many council elders as a harmless newcomer.

But at this most sensitive juncture, he stepped forward.

Eleanor, sitting on the left side of the long table, slowly lowered her head.

This was actually a spy planted by the Calvin family over several years, and what he said next was a draft written by Duke Calvin.

Of course, if Collins cannot win this initial battle for control of the narrative, she will lose most of her tools.

The people in the hall looked at the thin marquis with eyes that were either inquisitive, contemptuous, or indifferent, as if they didn't care much about what important things he might say next.

Collins bowed slightly, his voice not loud, but it was made exceptionally clear by the reverberation array in the Imperial Hall:
"First of all, I believe that the nature of this war has long since deviated from the scope of normal warfare. Neither the mutation of the insect swarm nor the so-called 'End Nest' are things that mortals can predict or control."

The Marquis of Collins pierced through the unspoken concerns of many.

"Attributing this disaster to a general's tactical mistake would only miss the point. We were using human flesh and blood to stop an inhuman disaster. This was not a mistake, but a sacrifice, the limit after doing our best."

He paused, then continued, "Secondly, although Duke Edmund failed to defend the entire North, he used his private army to defend the Red Tide defense line and kept the Mother Nest within the North, thus preventing the disaster from reaching the interior."

He suffered heavy losses, but withstood the pressure. If such a general is ultimately held accountable, who will dare to guard the borders in the future? Who will dare to risk their lives for the empire?

Upon hearing this, several nobles in the hall who had been flipping through scrolls looked up.

Seeing this, Collins changed the subject:
"Therefore, I propose the third point—to establish a 'Northern Reconstruction Administration'."

He glanced at Mace, then at General Brutus, and finally fixed his gaze on the high throne.

"Let the remaining local nobles of the North organize the reconstruction. They know the land, the people, the resources, and their relatives are buried in that land. They know where to start."

Of course, the capital can send inspectors to oversee the accounts and ensure fairness, but they should not interfere with the fundamental powers held by the officials.

He lowered his voice, his tone becoming steady:
"In this way, we can prevent anyone from taking advantage of the chaos to expand their power and act recklessly, while also preventing the North from being completely turned into a pile of corpses and starting over. At least we can preserve some of the original Northern nobles' foundation and leave a way for reconstruction."

A moment of silence fell over the Imperial Hall, as people pondered their own thoughts, deciding whether to refute or support the idea.

And the next instant: "Buzz."

A dull thud came from behind the throne.

It wasn't a human knocking, but rather the throne of the Radiant King that emitted a barely perceptible rhythm.

The emperor made a move.

Even a slight shift in body size is enough to shake the entire atmosphere.

Everyone instinctively held their breath.

Collins remained standing ramrod straight, his expression unchanged.

Eleanor, sitting to the side, had a slight tremor in her eyes, a barely perceptible hint of joy flashing across them.

That sound meant that the emperor was not offended.

Perhaps... I'm even interested.

And this was the beginning of the reversal of the situation.

Of course, the other nobles weren't fools either. Representatives from several established families exchanged glances, perhaps indicating the direction the emperor was trying to guide them in.

As usual, the emperor never made a direct statement during this event.

He only threw out a hint, and the rest was up to them to fight, discuss, and test the limits.

He always sat in the highest position, leaving them to speculate about each other in his shadow, and in the end, they gradually approached His Majesty's will with trepidation.

However, once there is a direction, things become easier to discuss.

On one side of the table, some nobles who had been silent began to waver.

Several great lords from the West and South nodded slightly and spoke in hushed tones, showing some support for the idea of ​​"local nobles taking charge."

They may not care about the fate of the North, but if the power to rebuild is entirely controlled by the capital, then what is the North today could be their home tomorrow.

However, some people's eyes flashed with doubt, clearly sensing that Collins was not as simple as he seemed.

"...How dare a newly appointed marquis act on his own initiative at the Dragon Throne Conference?"

"Isn't it some old fox whispering behind the scenes? Could it be one of Edmund's men?"

"But since the emperor has given his approval... we can't oppose this direction too openly."

Just then, Mays stood up.

The chief envoy of the Overwatch Council remained calm and adjusted his glasses: "What the Marquis of Collins said is indeed reasonable. Local cooperation is needed after a disaster; this is common sense."

He paused, his tone shifting slightly: "But it must be clarified that post-disaster financial allocation, reconstruction resource distribution, and priority ranking..."

These must be overseen by the capital. The Ministry of Supervision and the Ministry of Finance must hold key positions in the 'Reconstruction Administration,' possessing the power of auditing and vetoing.

What appears to be a supplement is actually another power demarcation. The North can participate, but the lead still belongs to the three ministries in the capital.

No one in the room uttered a sound.

No one wanted to confront the Censorate head-on, especially when the emperor had not made any statement.

Collins coughed lightly but did not stand up. He had already completed his task and did not need to show off.

General Yoda, who had been mocked, spoke again. This time, his tone was much calmer, and his eyes were less arrogant: "The Imperial military is willing to cooperate with the reconstruction headquarters' operations."

Upon hearing this, some nobles' expressions changed slightly, not expecting him to change his tune so quickly.

"I suggest that a portion of the Imperial Capital Legion, in conjunction with the remaining garrison in the North, form a 'Reconstruction Security Line.' 'Temporary Security Zones' should be established outside Frostspear, Snowpeak, and Red Tide to address the remaining threats from the insect hive and ecological anomalies."

However, the military must retain 'zone command' and 'frontline intelligence priority.' Security is a prerequisite for reconstruction.

This is already a sign of concession, and it's also a bit of power that the military wants to gain.

Several representatives from the military system nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, representatives from the North, specifically from House Edmund, finally spoke out.

An elderly nobleman, draped in a gray-silver cloak, slowly rose, bowed, and spoke in a deep voice: "We agree to establish a general office and are willing to cooperate with the capital's dispatch."

However, we request that the rights of fiefdom inheritance, the right to govern the people, and civil traditions be preserved. Although the North is ravaged by war, its culture should not be lost.

If even these are stripped away, the North will no longer be the empire's bulwark, but a cold, indifferent colony.

His words were not harsh; in fact, there was a sense of desolation in his tone.

Many of the nobles present remained noncommittal.

After this disaster, the old nobles of the North no longer had the right to speak or make a statement, but they could not be completely ignored.

After everyone had finished speaking, the Imperial Hall fell silent once again.

No one spoke again. Everyone knew that the true arbiter sat in that unseen shadow.

The emperor remained unmoved, but Lin Ze once again slowly emerged from the shadows.

He remained indifferent as he walked to the foot of the imperial steps and unfurled a scroll of mithril script with gold-edged edges.

"His Majesty has listened to your suggestions."

He spoke softly, his tone steady, like cool water slowly poured into the heated meeting room.

"The Empire will establish the 'Northern Reconstruction Administration,' which will be directly under the Iron Emperor Ernst August and headed by Duke Edmund. It will organize local nobles in the North to participate in reconstruction efforts, with representatives from the Imperial Ministry of Supervision, Finance, and Military Affairs overseeing the work."

A stone stirred up a thousand waves.

The nobles exchanged glances, secretly alarmed: this was a scheme to bind the imperial capital and the northern nobles together.

Rather than completely sidelining them, they granted the local area an extremely high status.

Some people vaguely sensed that this was happening to Edmund.

But Lin Ze didn't stop. He gently lifted the Chinese scroll in his hand and changed the subject:
"To encourage unity and cooperation within the Empire, His Majesty has decreed that all vassal families, nobles, and high-ranking officials must dispatch their core members and direct descendants to lead knights to the Northern Territory to participate in the post-disaster reconstruction and expansion plan."

As soon as he finished speaking, the atmosphere in the room tensed up, and many nobles' expressions changed slightly.

But Lin Ze continued reading: “Participants will be subject to dual supervision by the Imperial Inspectorate and the Reconstruction Administration. Those who make contributions will be granted new fiefdoms, titles, and permission to expand their clans, and will be allowed to settle in the northern border, pass on their lineage, build forts, and establish offices.”

On the surface, this appears to be the emperor showing favor and bestowing an opportunity upon the nobles.

But the real old foxes present felt a chill in their hearts.

Isn't this just an enhanced version of the "Imperial Northern Expansion Order" issued over the past two years?

On the surface, it was a land grant, but in reality, it was an invitation to the sons of various noble families to the distant northern border, to separate them from their homeland and bring them under control. This would both weaken their power and keep them under control.

Some people subconsciously looked at the throne, trying to read a hint of attitude from that unmoving figure.

However, even at higher levels, those eyes remained hidden in the shadows, offering no clues.

Everyone could only swallow their doubts.

Lin Ze paused again, as if to allow the command to linger in everyone's minds for a moment longer, before slowly speaking and uttering the final decision:
"His Majesty has also decided that the sixth prince of the royal family, Asta Augustus, will be the first to go to the northern border to establish a territory and set an example for reconstruction."

At that moment, every nobleman in the Imperial Hall paused for a beat.

On the surface, it appeared to be the royal family setting an example by personally venturing into the frigid northern frontier to establish authority for the people and serve as a model for the other lords. However, the nobles who truly understood the politics of the capital instantly perceived the deeper meaning behind it.

The emperor first sent his own princes over, and then the various families sent whoever was sent to the northern border, not to help, but to respond to a call to action.

Not going? Do you dare let your family appear weaker than a prince?

Send them? Fine, your eldest son, heir, and core knights have all been incorporated into the Northern system, both bound by the Reconstruction Headquarters and removed from the family's homeland power circle.

The representatives of the various families subtly shifted their gazes, secretly clenching their fists under the table.

He knew that the emperor was using the guise of "reconstruction" to openly launch a reshuffling of the nobility.

The foundations of the old aristocracy and former vassals were to be uprooted and replanted in the frozen soil under the control of imperial power.

After Lin Ze finished reading aloud, he slowly put away the document, bowed his head and said, "Your Majesty, the above is the draft resolution on post-disaster reconstruction."

The emperor remained silent.

He merely raised a single knuckle and tapped the armrest of the throne almost imperceptibly.

"Boom."

The giant chair vibrated, the sound waves deep and resonant, like a long-awaited and irreversible judgment that settled in everyone's heart.

…………

Eleanor walked slowly out of the Imperial Hall. The afternoon sun of the capital shone down, as if emerging from an ice cellar, the light so bright that it made people squint.

It was a long-lost warmth, carrying dust and the fragrance of flowers, but it couldn't truly dispel the lingering chill in my body.

She stood on the steps for a moment, took a slow, deep breath, and finally exhaled the pent-up emotions that had been building up for so long.

The back relaxes slightly, a subtle looseness that can only be felt after surviving a near-death experience.

Then she silently boarded her family's carriage.

The carriage door closed slightly, the curtain fell, and the wheels rolled over the white stone road of the imperial city, entering the imperial street.

She tilted her head slightly, gazing at the receding street scene outside the window.

The capital city remains as prosperous as ever.

The streets and alleys were bustling with noise, knights carried flags and vendors hawked their hot soups.

A noblewoman in a brocade dress strolled and chatted with a small dog in her hand, while children jumped and chased kites.

Music, fragrance, and sunlight intertwine to create a scene that almost makes one forget the war.

She simply watched without uttering a word, her mind replaying the entire meeting's strategic planning and maneuvering.

“No one mentioned the Calvin family, no one mentioned Louis’s name, and we didn’t even present the proposal ourselves… Yet, a large slice of the cake on the table still ended up in our hands.”

This is precisely the strategy that the Duke of Edmund wrote about in his letter.

Without being aggressive or flamboyant, without taking the initiative, they gradually steer the situation in their favor at the most crucial moments.

Ultimately, we let others speak for us and had the emperor personally stamp the document.

The emperor did not bestow any official title upon Louis, nor did he grant him any honors or merits.

However, he delegated the "power to allocate resources" and the "power to lead the reconstruction of the North" to the Duke of Edmund.

And who is Louis?

He was the son-in-law of the Lord of the North, one of the greatest lords to survive in the North, and the greatest contributor after the war.

This meeting naturally brought him into the Northern decision-making circle, laying a solid foundation for the Calvin family's presence in the North.

However, the reason this game was successful was not solely due to the Duke's own schemes.

She knew very well that without the emperor's "cooperation," these steps would not have been possible at all.

With this in mind, she began to calmly analyze Emperor Ernst's true intentions:
First, save the Duke of Edmund.

Although the northern border had fallen, the duke held out with his private army, buying the Dragonblood Legion some time to recover.

Moreover, Duke Edmund has been dutifully guarding the empire's borders all these years, and abandoning him would chill the hearts of the border troops.

Perhaps another reason is that the two are rumored to have a good friendship despite their age difference.

Second, the main force will not be transferred north.

For the past two years, the emperor has been planning his schemes against the southern countries, and his attention has never truly lingered on this barren, frozen land in the north.

He wouldn't transfer his elite troops for the sake of a wasteland; what he needed was a self-healing North, not a resource-devouring abyss.

Third, weaken the old aristocratic system.

He didn't say it outright, but all the nobles knew that he was using the name of "reconstruction" to send the knights and direct descendants of various families into the post-war order of the North, so that they could re-establish themselves on the frozen ground.

That's not expansion; it's pruning away the flourishing branches of the families and using the barren lands of the North to wear down their power.

At this moment, Eleanor remembered the people at the meeting; there were indeed some intelligent people among them.

Some of the older nobles had already deduced the emperor's attitude before the meeting even began.

But he didn't say a word, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

Or, like in their own organization, they could send a "proxy" to speak.

This expressed their stance while maintaining distance, without revealing the family's true calculations and position.

She chuckled softly by the car window, a self-deprecating laugh mixed with a touch of complex relief: "In the end, it all comes down to the emperor's immense power. We're so afraid of him, so terrified."

This is a sight rarely seen even in the history of the empire.

Once upon a time, the powerful families were as arrogant as wolves, but now everyone walks on thin ice.

This illustrates one thing: this emperor had become powerful enough to swallow up all the major noble families.

She leaned against the carriage wall, tapping her knees lightly with her fingers, and whispered, "Don't go back to the manor, go to the Imperial Hospital."

The driver immediately turned around.

Her nephew, Gaius Calvin, was there.

The former deputy commander of the Dragonblood Legion exerted all his fighting spirit during the Battle of the Mother Nest, but collapsed from exhaustion. He was sent back to the capital after the battle and has been in a coma for more than a month.

She goes there almost every day, even if it's just to take a look.

Firstly, they are blood relatives; secondly, they have lived together in the capital for many years, and their relationship is genuinely close.

The carriage stopped shortly afterward, and she entered the familiar ward. The room was quiet and tidy, with the curtains half-drawn, and sunlight slanting onto Gaius's pale face.

Gaius lay quietly on his sickbed, without making a sound.

His wife sat on the edge of the bed, holding a baby who was only a few months old in her arms.

The woman had a thin face, but her eyes were firm.

Upon seeing her enter, he immediately stood up and bowed.

Eleanor waved her hand, walked closer to the bed, stared at it for a moment, and sighed.

"He will wake up," she whispered reassuringly.

The woman nodded and forced a smile.

She sat down and chatted with her for a few minutes, briefly discussing the recent changes in the capital, deliberately avoiding mentioning the Dragon Throne Conference.

Although Gaius was in the legion, he never liked politics, and his wife was a gentle woman who devoted herself to taking care of her family. There was no point in saying these things.

Just then, steady footsteps came from outside the door.

"excuse me."

Leading the group was Arthur, the one-armed leader of the Dragonblood Knights and Gaius's close friend.

She was slightly surprised: "Why are you here?"

Arthur nodded to her, then looked at Gaius on the bed: "We've come to get him."

"Get him?" Gaius's wife stood up nervously and hugged the baby in her arms tightly.

“We received special orders,” Arthur said calmly, “to transfer him to a place in the Empire… somewhere he can wake up.”

Gaius's wife bit her lip, took a step closer while holding the child, and asked, "Then... can I go with him too?"

Arthur looked at her, a hint of difficulty in his eyes: "No, that's one of the Empire's highest-level secure zones... Actually, I've already broken the rules by now. But it's alright, I'll be staying there for a while anyway, to treat my hand."

The woman was silent for a moment, then looked down at her sleeping husband.

"...I believe you." Her voice trembled slightly, but it was very soft. "Take him away."

Arthur nodded and winked at the knight behind him.

Several people skillfully and carefully transferred Gaius onto a specially made stretcher, properly wrapped and secured him, and then carried him away.

Before leaving, Arthur repeated, "I will protect him."

Eleanor and Gaius's wife watched their figures disappear at the end of the corridor.

(End of this chapter)