Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 244 Red Tide Type II Greenhouse
The morning sunlight pierced through the thin clouds high in the sky, casting a whitish halo on the edge of the Red Tide Territory.

Geothermal steam rose quietly along the cracks, mingling in the air and making the whole land seem shrouded in a hazy mist.

More than ten semi-circular wooden structures, covered with a glossy stone coating, are arranged in a row of low hills, stretching endlessly.

This is the location of the greenhouse complex, one of the foundations of this winter's red tide self-rescue system.

Louis strode steadily into the bustling greenhouse area.

A royal guard followed closely behind, while Emily walked alongside him, her light armor and cloak fluttering gently in the breeze.

The air was filled with a warm, humid scent of earth, wood, and moisture—a scent unlike the cold of winter, nor warm, but rather close to the scent of life itself.

The craftsmen building the new greenhouse noticed the lord's arrival and stopped hammering, chiseling, and hoeing, rising to bow in respect.

The displaced people who were conscripted to participate in the reconstruction also looked back from the ridges of the fields and the irrigation ditches, not daring to approach, but their eyes showed a complex expression, with gratitude and a kind of indescribable awe.

Most of them were refugees who had been on the run two months earlier, dressed in rags.

Now, however, people can work here, eat their fill, and have a piece of land to live on.

“It’s Lord Louis,” an older woman said softly, tugging at the sleeve of the child beside her.

The little boy stared wide-eyed at the dark-haired youth, his eyes shining.

Emily felt the surge of gazes from the crowd and slightly turned her head to look at Louis beside her.

He remained calm and walked with his usual pace, as if he had long been accustomed to the weight of those gazes. He did not say much, but simply nodded slightly in response to the respect and expectation in those eyes.

Approaching the greenhouse complex, a thick layer of moisture rose from the gaps in the roof.

The air grew increasingly humid and warm, as if this were not the icy, snowy north, but rather the southern part of the empire.

“The walls of the shed are made of thick linen, animal hides, and compacted mud,” Emily whispered, her fingers tracing the mottled surface of the animal hides.

Louis nodded; the outer layer of the greenhouse used the multi-layered composite structure he had proposed.

It is not about aesthetics, but about practicality, capable of withstanding the fiercest winter winds and snow in the Red Tide Territory.

The greenhouse entrance is equipped with double-layered windproof doors, separated by a thick woolen curtain to prevent cold air from directly entering.

The entrance is also equipped with rails and logs to facilitate the transport of fertilizer and harvested crops, so that even if a blizzard blocks the road, it will not be paralyzed.

An elderly man wearing a coarse cloth cloak and carrying a tool bag at his waist hurried up to greet us. His face still bore traces of mud and moisture. He was none other than the agricultural officer, Mick.

"Lord Louis...!" His voice was filled with barely suppressed excitement, and the wrinkles on his face were gathered together with his smile.
"This...this is a modified version of the design you left last year. We call it the 'Red Tide Type II Greenhouse,' an upgraded version of last year's design!"

“Okay, show me.” Louis smiled, his attitude not serious.

Mick immediately turned around and led the way, his steps quick but somewhat hesitant.

As he walked, he eagerly explained, "This time we added a double-layer support structure and used those... the geothermal pipes you mentioned, which are less likely to collapse and can maintain a constant temperature and humidity. The roof is made of newly polished stone slabs, which reflect light and are also warmer."

“Speak slowly,” Louis interrupted him with a smile.

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry, sir."

Louis walked to the side wall of a greenhouse, tapped it lightly a few times, then squatted down and touched the lower edge of the wall.

Beneath the thick layers of linen and animal hide lies a compacted layer of grass and mud, rough yet sturdy. You can feel the solid density and dryness with your fingertips, with no moisture seeping out.

“Hmm…thickness and density both meet the standards,” Louis said in a low voice.

They then passed through a buffer passage and entered the greenhouse, where they were greeted by the pungent aroma of damp earth and warm steam.

What comes into view is a lush green landscape.

A light mist floated in the humid air, and stone lamps hung high up, their soft white light reflecting off the specially made reflective coating on the walls, illuminating the entire greenhouse brightly.

The earthen mounds were neat and the ditches were clear. Several women dressed in coarse clothes were weeding and transplanting seedlings, while a few teenagers were watering the plants with wooden buckets on their backs. The elders sat aside, counting the seeds and fertilizer.

All of this is almost a miracle in the wintery North.

Emily stood at the entrance of the greenhouse, a rare look of amazement in her eyes.

Inside the greenhouse, steam rose in the air. Mick carefully wiped the sweat from his brow, glancing back at Louis with a hint of smugness.

"Sir, do you remember... the time last winter when three greenhouses collapsed?"

“I remember,” Louis said calmly, looking at the arched ceiling.

“Well, this time, it’s changed.” Mick tried to suppress his excitement as he led the way, pointing to the arched structure above him. “We used to use a single arch structure, but back then, when the wind blew and the snow pressed down…crack, it collapsed.”

Emily also looked up and saw that the vaulted ceiling was divided into two layers, with a rough outer layer and a soft inner layer, clearly distinguishing the different levels.

"This is a new design, based on your suggestion... and we also discussed it with the craftsman Mike. We're using a double-arched, partitioned frame, with the outer layer supporting the snow and the inner layer providing cushioning, so it won't collapse even in heavy snow."

As Mick spoke, he held up a thick finger to demonstrate: "The load-bearing capacity is increased threefold! It also allows for ventilation, so it won't feel stuffy."

“It’s definitely higher than last year.” Louis glanced around and saw that there was plenty of headroom, unlike last year when it felt cramped.

Then, Mick led them through a central wooden walkway and pointed to their feet: "This is our biggest improvement this year! Before, each shed drew its own spring water, and the efficiency was... well, like burning a castle down with a match."

He patted the thick iron pipe embedded in the ground at his feet, his eyes filled with pride.

"Now it's all good! This is a connected heat corridor. We'll connect the entire greenhouse complex, with hot water running through the main pipe all the way down. We'll also add a heat recovery outlet to direct excess heat to the adjacent storage rooms and workshops, while also keeping them warm. And..."

Emily raised an eyebrow slightly: "You've even considered heat recovery? Very professional."

“It was all Lord Louis’s suggestion! ‘Heat is a scarce resource, and not a single bit should be wasted,’ I remember it very clearly!” Mick smiled so much that the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were all twisted together.

Then Mick pointed to the pipe embedded in the corner not far away and spoke a few steps faster: "Double-layer exhaust valve! No more fear of the pipe exploding, really, I was so scared last year that I couldn't sleep!"

Louis squatted on the ground and skillfully turned a set of brass regulating valves. With a gentle twist, a stream of warm steam hissed out and then quickly and steadily stopped.

"The pressure is stable, and the valve responds quickly," he muttered to himself.

The group continued forward, and the sunlight became increasingly bright.

“And then there’s… the lighting!” Mick pointed to the ceiling, where the fabric was no longer the heavy linen of the past, but a semi-transparent oilcloth woven with silver reflective mesh.

The walls on both sides are also inlaid with smooth stone slabs, which, like natural mirrors, repeatedly refract the light emitted by the stones, making the entire greenhouse so bright that there are almost no shadows.

“Even on a very cloudy day now, we don’t have to worry about insufficient sunlight. Even if it snows, there will be enough sunlight all day long,” Mick said, while gesturing for the knight to watch his step.

"This time we also used ceramic pots and nets to regulate the humidity. The geothermal heat is too intense and the humidity is too high. If water vapor drips down and freezes the seedlings to death, all our previous efforts will be wasted."

He then pointed to the top, "The top has a 'downstream landslide structure,' you see... the snow slides down by itself when it falls, so there's no need for manual sweeping. It's convenient and safe."

Louis nodded silently: "That's more like a shelter that can withstand the winter."

“Uh, and, and…” Mick added somewhat eagerly, “There are already interfaces reserved between the greenhouses, so if we want to expand in the future, we can just connect them together. Heat pipes can also be connected, so we don’t need to open gaps in the ground anymore.”

Emily whispered, "Like building blocks?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean!"

Louis looked into the distance and saw dozens of greenhouses neatly arranged with connecting corridors. Hot steam rose and intertwined on the rooftops like mist, resembling an underground village emitting heat.

He patted Mick on the shoulder: "Well done."

"Hehehe..." Mick grinned.

He wiped the mud off his hands and pointed towards the depths of the greenhouse: "Uh... sir, this way. We're not growing rye and potatoes anymore."

He quickly led Louis and Emily through a low corridor to a damp, warm shed.

On the neatly arranged paddy fields, newly sprouted rice seedlings were densely spread out.

The leaves have an unusual pale greenish-white color with a slight purple tinge at the tips, giving off a strange, cold light when illuminated by the light stone.

The sign next to it reads: Snow Bone Wheat Trial Planting Area.

“This is… Snow Bone Wheat.” Mick’s voice was filled with barely suppressed pride. “It was cultivated from the seed you gave me, and after we tried planting it, we found that it truly is a crop naturally prepared for this kind of winter!”

He crouched down, carefully plucked a straw sample, and handed it to Louis.

Louis knew, of course, that he had learned about the seed from the daily intelligence system and had the knight retrieve it for Mick to cultivate.

It is said to be an ancient crop with a very poor taste, but it is very suitable for growing in colder places and has a huge yield.

"Look, this stuff... it only takes thirty-five days to mature a batch, and it's very high in calories, one bowl is equivalent to three bowls of rye rice. The texture is indeed rough... and a bit bitter, but it can save lives. It can be eaten after minimal processing."

Emily gently stroked the stalk of wheat and whispered, "Its veins... are different from those of ordinary wheat."

"Yes, and even the stalks are exceptionally sturdy, suitable for use as livestock feed. Not a single grain is wasted."

"This crop... would be looked down upon by southerners, but now it has become the lifeblood of our northern border," Louis said calmly.

Mike paused for a moment, then led them to the other side.

"and this."

They arrived at another low shed, where the smell was more humid, with a faint earthy smell wafting through the air, carrying a slightly bitter aroma.

Large, lumpy tubers peek out from the half-buried soil, their skin dark brown and rough, their leaves drooping, making them look quite unremarkable.

“Frosty sweet potato,” Mick explained. “It’s extremely cold-resistant. It contains a natural toxin called narcotic toxin, which isn’t fatal, but it tastes terrible.”

“High in starch, and crucially, with huge yields.” He emphasized this point deliberately. “Do you understand? When there’s a food shortage, this stuff can save lives.”

"Well, it is indeed very bitter, and eating too much will numb your tongue, but in a year of famine... even this is a luxury."

He shrugged. "Compared to starving to death, what's a little bit of numbness?"

Louis said slowly, "The taste and variety of these crops... don't matter."

His voice was soft: "As long as we can survive the winter."

Emily looked at him, a hint of indescribable respect unconsciously appearing in her eyes.

Mick seemed to have finally released the greatest pressure from his heart, rubbing his hands together and chuckling twice, then carefully added, "We're still trying to improve it...maybe we can make a less bitter variety in the future. But this year...getting through this is the most important thing." Louis looked around; in the steaming sunlight, the refugees were busy in the fields.

The old man bent over, clearing away the weeds between the wheat rows one by one, while the women carefully watered the wheat with earthenware pots.

Several children, dressed in tattered clothes, tried their best to imitate the adults' actions, forcefully plunging their small shovels into the soil.

Further away, there were several people with amputations. A strong man with one leg was leaning on a wooden crutch, turning over the soil while panting heavily.

An elderly woman was using one hand to hold an iron rake and laboriously loosening the soil in a small patch of seedlings.

Their bodies were mutilated, but their eyes burned with an almost stubborn light.

It is the will to live, and even more so, the cherishing of what can remain.

If these people were in other noble territories, they would have been banished as a burden and left to die in the snow.

However, in the Red Tide Territory, Louis not only did not drive them away, but instead gave them a way to survive.

As long as you can still move, you can work and receive a pancake and hot soup.

They understood that this was a gift from Louis.

What's even more remarkable is that this grace is not charity, but rather the ability to live with dignity.

They don't rely on begging or pity, but on their own hands to earn every bite of food.

This way of life brought them peace of mind, and it also made them feel a sense of gratitude and reverence for the young lord.

A little girl, about seven or eight years old, squatted by the edge of the field, staring at a newly sprouted snow-bone wheat seedling. The seedling's stem was like a bone spur in the snow, thin yet resilient.

The girl clasped her hands together and prayed softly and devoutly in her heart: "Please, grow up quickly."

Mick stood beside Louis, his eyes slightly red, his voice low but sincere:

"My lord... if it weren't for the greenhouses you designed, and the materials, manpower, and blueprints you gathered in advance... I'm afraid half of the refugees would have starved to death this winter."

His gaze drifted to the distant cluster of greenhouses shrouded in mist, where the last hope of this winter was being nurtured beneath their low, arched roofs.

Louis looked at the crowd before him, his tone as calm as ice: "This is not a miracle."

He paused, glancing at the crowd still working in the mud.

“This is the result of everyone’s joint efforts.”

Emily stood beside him, silent for a long time.

She gazed at the people busy in the fields, at their weary yet indomitable figures ravaged by war, and then at the young lord before her who had saved the northern border.

Emily spoke softly, her voice as gentle as if melted by the heat: "They... will thank you."

She turned her head slightly and looked at Louis.

Sunlight streamed through the mist, falling directly on his shoulders, casting a faint glow on his greyish-white cloak.

His expression was calm, his gaze sharp, but the shadow beneath his eyes spoke volumes of his weariness.

But it was this very boy who, amidst the despair of countless others, managed to maintain a semblance of order.

Louis stepped forward, his tone regaining its usual crispness: "Continue expanding all the greenhouses. Start the second planting as soon as possible..."

As soon as an order was given, the accompanying civil servant immediately recorded it, and Mick responded repeatedly, turning around to urge people to make arrangements.

As Louis turned to leave, he couldn't help but glance back at the cluster of greenhouses.

Rows of greenhouses stand quietly in the fields where the morning mist has not yet dissipated, like low hills.

Like silent warriors, they stand guard on the front lines of this cold winter.

"Hopefully these... will allow for a better harvest in winter." He remained silent for a long time, then shifted his gaze from the greenhouse to the sky.

Dark clouds continued to gather, and the chill continued to intensify.

Louis and his party left the greenhouse area, walked through the snow, and headed north along the main road.

The wind grew increasingly fierce, the sky darkened slightly, and the distant mountains were capped with thick snow, making even the outlines of the forests indistinct.

The shadow of winter is slowly but irreversibly pressing down.

Akaiwa Warehouse is right in front of me.

It was a giant warehouse complex carved into the mountainside, with warehouse gates standing like iron castles in the rock face, and layers of stone steps and ramps extending into it, naturally possessing the advantages of wind and snow protection.

Upon arrival, we saw two teams working in front of the warehouse.

One of them was a grain transport caravan from the Calvin Merchant Guild in the south, and the caravan leader, wearing a heavy cloak, was loudly directing his men.

Boxes of salted meat and high-calorie dry rations wrapped in coarse linen were unloaded from the wooden cart and neatly stacked beside the warehouse slide rails.

The salty aroma of the meat, mixed with the cool breeze, wafted over, making Emily unconsciously swallow.

At almost the same moment, another Northern Grain Return Team, led by Red Tide Knights, arrived from the other side.

They were laden with surplus grain recovered from abandoned villages and the warehouses of fallen nobles.

The truck contained moldy, sifted rye, dried-up carrots, and even some wild beans that had been stored for too long, which could be used to make animal feed.

The two teams passed each other in front of the Chiyan Warehouse, one bringing "hope" and the other collecting "residue".

At that moment, Louis stood on the high ground at the warehouse entrance, looking down at this scene as if he were watching a supply artery that was operating at full capacity.

The red tide supply line is shifting.

Bradley happened to be there, wearing a thick black cloak, and was looking down at a detailed ledger, his expression as serious as ever.

“You’ve come at the right time, sir.” He looked up and saw Louis, and stepped forward to greet him. His tone was as calm as ever, but he couldn’t hide the relief he felt after waiting for so long. “This is the consolidation list of the granaries. I was just about to send it to you.”

Louis took the ledger, glanced at its somewhat thick contents, and then nodded.

Bradley explained from the side: "Regarding staple foods, we have 10,000 tons of rye in stock, most of which is the main staple in the Red Rock warehouse. We also have 6,000 tons of potatoes, which are planned to be consumed as a staple food in the first half of the winter."

For protein, smoked fish accounts for the largest share at 3,000 tons, and due to storage limitations, it has begun to be allocated on a priority basis. Salted meat accounts for 1,500 tons. Other food items amount to 500 tons, including pickled vegetables.

Regarding emergency grain, 1,000 tons of snow wheat and 3,000 tons of bitter sweet potato are newly harvested experimental grains, mainly for emergency use.

There were also 2,200 tons of military-grade hard biscuits and bread transported from the south, as well as 500 tons of honey and honey products, which were given priority to the wounded and young children.

Only 200 tons of dried medicinal herbs remain; a resurgence of the winter epidemic could lead to shortages.

After saying that, he added in a low voice, "The total grain output is maintained at more than 20,000 tons, which can be stable in the short term, but if the cold wave is prolonged... we still need to speed up the second batch of production in the greenhouses."

“Okay.” Louis responded calmly, his gaze sweeping over the neatly stacked grain bins, then looking at the slowly closing warehouse door in the distance, his eyes slightly somber.

On the surface, he nodded in approval, but he was not at ease inside.

While the amount of food is indeed sufficient to sustain operations, given the current population of nearly 90,000 in the Red Tide Territory and its affiliated territories, these reserves are only enough to get through the winter and prevent a few deaths.

If an unexpected snowstorm, transportation delay, or epidemic outbreak occurs, the situation will immediately become tense.

He knew he didn't need to say any of this.

Bradley has done his job, and what can change the situation is not anxiety, but the next steps in scheduling and planting strategies.

Just then, a porter dressed in coarse cloth, with a gaunt face and arms wrapped in thick burlap strips, saw Louis while unloading the goods.

He suddenly knelt down, his voice trembling with excitement: "My lord, thank you... We, the homeless, thought we would die this winter... Now we not only have food to eat, but also work to do, and... dignity."

Louis glanced at him, said nothing, just nodded, and then gestured for him to get up.

The porter wiped his eyes, his face full of earnestness and hope.

Besides the porter who knelt down in gratitude, many other workers and homeless people also gathered around.

Some bowed their heads in respect, some expressed their gratitude with tears in their eyes, and others simply stood there, looking solemnly at their lord.

"Thank you, Lord Louis, really... thank you."

"We'd be willing to do twice as much work and not complain."

"As long as I can live and have a hot meal, I'm not afraid of anything!"

Such voices rose and fell, making the atmosphere exceptionally heated and sincere in just a few breaths.

Faced with this scene, Louis simply smiled and said softly, "The food is earned through your own hard work, not from anyone's charity. Stop crowding around me, go back to work as soon as possible, that's more important than anything else."

Upon hearing this, the crowd seemed to have been ignited, responding in unison, "Yes, sir!" "Understood, sir!"

They threw themselves back into the work of moving and counting with renewed vigor. Even the porter who had been kneeling on the ground stood up with red eyes and lifted a load of grain that was even heavier than before.

Emily stood to the side, watching silently without saying a word.

This is not a chance scene, but a true daily occurrence in the Red Tide Territory.

Just as Louis was preparing to lead his team away to the next inspection site, the sound of rapid hoofbeats came from afar.

A Red Tide Knight, shrouded in snow and wind, rode up at full speed, stopped at the warehouse gate, dismounted, and quickly approached Louis, whispering a few words in his ear.

Louis paused for a moment, then raised his eyebrows slightly, a hint of unexpected joy appearing in his eyes.

"The people from the Mage Forest? They've finally arrived?" he muttered to himself, his tone revealing a hint of joy.

He then turned to the group and said, "Let's not go to the next point yet, let's go back to the castle."

Emily glanced at him curiously, but didn't ask anything, just nodded silently.

The group then regrouped and, braving the cold wind, turned back towards Red Tide Castle.

(End of this chapter)