Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 247 In the Cold Winter

Outside the window, snow was falling heavily and the wind was howling; the North had truly entered the coldest time of the year.

The wind and snow swirled through the towering windows of the Chichao Tulou, forming layers of white frost.

The streets were deserted, except for knights in crimson cloaks patrolling through the wind and snow, their battle aura surging and transforming into a crimson light to ward off the cold.

In the distance, a fire-backed tortoise was being held still to sleep, its shell spewing out billowing steam that barely created a patch of warmth amidst the blizzard.

This is winter in the North, colder than enemies, more brutal than battlefields.

Inside the Red Tide Castle, however, the temperature felt like springtime.

Inside the thick stone walls, geothermal pipes that have been buried for many years are still in operation.

The castle floor was warm, and layers of insulating fabric hung on the walls, while the gray-red copper core of the furnace emitted a faint glow.

The teapot on the conference table was steaming, and the aroma of the tea carried a faint bittersweet taste of frosty medicinal herbs.

In the center of the room, Louis, wearing a military-style black cloak, sat quietly in the main seat, his elbows propped on the table, staring at a stack of densely packed reports in front of him, his brows furrowed.

Medical casualty statistics, frostbite cases among displaced people, hot spring station operation records, and remaining inventory of frost-covered medicinal herbs...

He looked solemn and remained silent.

Just as he was staring at the medical report in deep thought, a series of light footsteps suddenly came from outside the door.

Emily, wrapped in a thick cloak, strode in, a rare, barely suppressed smile on her face, her eyes gleaming with a light uncommon in winter.

"Louis!" she exclaimed quickly as she took off her gloves, "Great news! Just got here, Mrs. Elena has given birth safely! I have a little brother!"

She stood in front of the table, her breath steaming in the air, her eyes filled with joy.

Louis looked up, his gaze pausing slightly, but he didn't seem too surprised.

Given Elenaf's physical condition and the size of the medical staff in Frostspear City, a smooth delivery is only a matter of time.

But he didn't spoil Emily's fun.

"Is that so?" He smiled faintly and nodded. "Then I must congratulate your father."

After he finished speaking, he put down the report in his hand and his tone softened a bit, "Once winter is over, we can go and see them."

Emily's smile deepened, like a warm lamp rising in the snowy night.

"I knew you'd say that." She sat down lightly next to him, her eyes sweeping over the densely packed files on the table, her smile fading slightly. "But judging from your expression... are you carrying some trouble you haven't told me about again?"

Louis did not answer immediately, but simply picked up his teacup, blew away the foam, and drank a sip of slightly bitter warm tea.

“Just a little trouble in winter,” he replied softly, his tone calm.

Emily casually picked up a folded piece of paper from the table, quickly flipped through it, her fingers moving between the paragraphs.

Her warm expression quickly faded.

"...The number of frostbite patients has exceeded 3,000, with varying degrees of severity; the disease is spreading, with 432 suspected cases and 62 confirmed cases; the death toll... was 107 yesterday."

She silently closed the paper.

A cold wind swept past the window, causing it to tremble slightly.

Emily did not say anything comforting such as "It's already very good".

She knew, of course, that such a number was almost miraculous for the winter in the North.

In other territories, where resources are scarce, lords have fled, and people are left to fend for themselves, tens of thousands of deaths would not even be recorded.

She had personally witnessed refugees in other places freeze to death on the roadside, their bodies left unburied in the snow to be exposed to the wind and rain.

But she knew even better that Louis wasn't comparing himself to others.

What he cared about was never "doing better than others", but "why I can't save more people".

After a moment of silence, Emily walked to his side, lowered her head to close the report, and said in a gentle but firm voice, "Since it's a small problem, let's solve it together."

Louis turned and glanced at her, the heaviness in his eyes seeming to have lessened somewhat.

He didn't say thank you, nor did he exchange any further pleasantries. He simply nodded, a faint but genuine smile appearing on his lips.

"Yeah." He responded.

He liked this about Emily: she was straightforward, unpretentious, didn't use sweet talk to appease people, and wasn't afraid to face the harsh realities of life.

The two stood side by side at the conference table, facing maps and lists, revising a response plan for the winter crisis.

…………

This winter came earlier, was harsher, and was more unreasonable than in previous years.

Outside the Red Tide Territory, wind and snow fell from the sky like a raging tide, ceaselessly day and night.

In the refugee area outside the residential area, the temperature has plummeted to below minus twenty degrees Celsius, the permafrost has cracked into ice patterns, and even the sound of horses' hooves landing is crisp.

Although the makeshift tents are no longer exposed, the rows of communal, semi-underground houses still feel oppressive and somber.

These are winter shelters hastily built by Red Tide's leading craftsmen before the first snowfall.

The sunken walls are constructed from compacted frozen soil and stones, and the roof is covered with charcoal ash and straw mats to maintain a certain temperature.

They are not a comfortable home, but in this snow-ravaged northern land, they are a miracle.

People slept close together, sharing blankets, relying on geothermal heat, exchanging body heat and the hope of survival.

The room was crowded, and the air was often filled with the smell of sweat, but it was still better than freezing to death in the wind.

Even so, when winter truly arrives, all precautions seem insignificant.

On the coldest nights, the temperature plummeted to minus twenty degrees Celsius, and wind and snow poured into the ventilation gaps, condensing and frosting, with the cold seeping into the bones.

Some children, even when wrapped in their mother's arms, wake up in the morning with purple lips and stiff hands and feet.

At the edge of the Red Residential Area, the fixed fire-backed tortoise furnace stands firmly, with the gurgling sound of steam rising from beneath its heavy iron shell.

The top of the tortoise shell is inlaid with several heat-gathering rings that continuously radiate heat to the ground day and night, ensuring that the surrounding buildings will not be damaged by freezing.

Even with such a sophisticated heating system, it was only enough to cover the city center and a limited number of collective housing units.

In some of the most remote settlements for fireback turtles, the extreme cold has finally begun to reap lives.

It targets the most vulnerable—the frail elderly, children with weak lungs, and malnourished workers.

The first to collapse was a bricklayer in his sixties who suddenly experienced chest tightness while inspecting water pipes on a cold night and never woke up again that night.

Immediately afterwards, frostbite, necrosis, influenza... like a silent poisonous fog, penetrated the cracks in the stone and the cotton quilt, sweeping out.

The winter nights during the red tide have never felt so heavy.

The Chichao Medical Station was brightly lit, and the room was crowded with frostbite patients and weeping mothers.

Their coarse cloth clothes were already soaked through, and the child was curled up in their arms, his hands and feet turning blue.

Some children were already on the verge of death as soon as they arrived, their lips were black, and their chests were heaving almost imperceptibly.

Is there any hope for him?

"My youngest child has had a high fever for three days. Can he hold on?"

"Please, sir... could you give her some herbs?"

These sounds, mixed with coughs and groans, seemed to weigh heavily on the hearts of every doctor.

On the other side of the corridor, several corpses hastily wrapped in burlap mats were carried out.

Frail children, hunched old people, and even mothers who died beside their children, still tightly holding the lifeless little bodies in their arms.

Even worse, there was an outbreak of acute hypothermic influenza.

Overnight, multiple refugee camps experienced outbreaks of high fever and difficulty breathing, with some people dying and others causing entire camps to become infected.

The medicine was far from enough, and the Chiyan warehouse had been mostly emptied in a short period of time.

Just then, the great lord Louis's order was swiftly issued, preventing the death trap from being set.

"Drive the spare Fireback Turtle to the refugee camp shelter, fill it with lava moss fuel, and keep it burning all day." His finger fell like a sharp blade slicing through snow.

The high-temperature circulating medical room, centered around the Fireback Turtle, was immediately activated, with lava moss as a fuel, continuously maintaining the room temperature at 15 degrees Celsius, making it one of the warmest places in the North.

However, resources are limited and must be rotated.

He ordered: "Each person may take turns entering once a day, with priority given to sick children, craftsmen, transport soldiers, and new mothers. No one is allowed to forcibly occupy the place."

Meanwhile, the workshops in the Red Tide Territory were kept brightly lit all night.

Mike led the craftsmen in an emergency development of the seventh-generation cold-proof cloak, using bitter frost animal hide mixed with refined cotton and coated with heat-conducting grease on the outside.

The hem of the cape also has a small steam pack connector that can be connected to a portable thermos.

More importantly, these cloaks were sewn by the refugees themselves.

"The work-for-relief program ensures that whoever does the most gets the clothes first."

Those mothers, who were already in despair, threw themselves into cutting and sewing with red eyes, no longer just refugees waiting to die.

Within half a month, 20,000 cloaks were delivered to various shelters in batches. Each one was regarded as a continuation of life.

On the medical front, Emily's medical support team was also fully mobilized.

The pharmacist collected all the frost-covered vines, processed them, and formulated them into a highly effective soothing medicine, specifically for those suffering from high fever due to the flu.

The dried herb storehouse in Akaiwa Warehouse was also fully opened, releasing the precious herbs that had been stored away for a long time.

"I'll give you anything as long as you can survive." These were the first words Emily said to the pharmacists.

A "hot soup station" was quickly set up in the city square, operated with the assistance of the Red Tide Army, providing salted vegetable stew and bone broth day and night, so that everyone could have at least one bowl of hot soup every day.

…………

Norn is eleven years old.

When the insect plague struck, he was still catching a rabbit in the ditch outside the village, as he had promised his younger brother that he would make him a hot meat soup if he caught it. But when he returned home, the entire street was gone.

The insect corpses devoured everything.

He didn't even have a chance to cry; he could only pull his younger brother and hide in the forest. Fortunately, the insect corpses didn't find them, and they were eventually rescued by the knights of the Crimson Tide Territory.

After arriving in the Red Tide Territory, someone assigned him a job.

He was assigned to the construction team, where he worked with a group of old craftsmen named Cole, carrying bricks, scaffolding, and building walls.

These arduous tasks were too much for an eleven-year-old boy, but he already felt fortunate compared to freezing to death in the snow or starving to death.

There's food to eat, bedding to wear, and even occasional soup with minced meat.

He thought things were finally going to get better.

But the real winter still came.

Overnight, my younger brother developed a high fever that wouldn't go down, and he curled up in a tattered blanket, shivering.

Norn panicked and carried him to the medical station, where they waited in line for a whole day before being admitted.

He collapsed in less than two days.

My whole body was burning up, my teeth were chattering, and I felt so light that I felt like I might float away at any moment.

He heard Cole sigh: "Sigh, what a pity... They came this far, how could they not have made it through?"

He wanted to argue, but he didn't even have the strength to open his eyes.

Then, that day came.

He heard a rumbling sound, the sound of the Fireback Turtle in motion, its thick iron shell radiating intense heat.

The once cold medical station began to warm up, with steam pipes connected and a small stove burning black fuel installed next to each bed.

For the first time, Norn didn't shiver in the cold night, but slept soundly.

He didn't know what was burning in those stoves, only that they saved his and his brother's lives.

That day, an "angel" he would never forget came to his ward, as well as a real "sun".

The wind and snow were kept out of the door, and only the soft sound of the stove burning inside could be heard.

The moment the door opened, it was as if light and heat rushed in at the same time.

Leading the way was a girl wearing a white cloak, carrying bundles of thick blankets in her arms, her blue hair flowing down her shoulders like a river in the night.

Her eyes were gentle, yet like the only light shining in a snowy night.

She is Miss Emily.

Beside her, a young man wearing a black cloak entered the ward.

He didn't speak, but nodded slightly to signal the soldiers behind him to carry in a large box of medicine and a new fire-back stove.

This is Louis, the Lord of the Red Tide.

Two noblemen walked side by side into the ward, which reeked of mold and blood, without the slightest hesitation or disgust.

They didn't appear in their dreams, nor did they stand on a tower overlooking their fate; they personally stepped into their despair.

Emily knelt down and walked over each bed, personally covering the children with blankets.

She asked softly, "Are you cold?" "Just hang in there a little longer, it will be over soon."

Each sentence is small, yet they are like flames that can pierce through wind and snow, gentle and real.

Louis stood between the beds, not looking down at them, but rolling up his sleeves, personally unscrewing the medicine bottle, bending down to check the temperature of the stove, and confirming that every corner met the standard.

His expression remained calm, but not with the indifference and coldness often seen in noblemen.

When he walked up to a little girl shivering with a high fever, and saw the instinctive fear in her eyes, he simply bent down slightly and whispered, "Don't be afraid, I'm here."

His tone was gentle and his voice was soft, yet the little girl unconsciously reached out her hand and tightly grasped his fingertips.

He didn't pull away, but simply squatted down and sat with her for a while.

When it was Norn's turn, Emily knelt down and covered him with a new blanket, still warm to the touch and smelling of herbs.

Someone whispered in his ear, "She is Miss Emily, the mistress of Red Tide Territory."

In an instant, he recalled his mother's appearance, and then his younger brother's hand that clung to his sleeve when he had a fever...

But now, someone has caught him.

She wasn't a god, nor a legend; she was a young woman who smiled, knelt down, and personally brought medicine and a blanket.

She had no wings, yet she shone brighter than any holy statue in the snowy night.

Emily patted his hand and said with a smile, "Hang in there until spring, things will get better."

Norn opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a single word. He just gripped the corner of the blanket tightly, as if it weren't a piece of cloth, but a light that could pull him out of the darkness.

He choked up, his gaze sweeping over Emily and then over Louis, who was standing not far from her.

At that moment, he finally understood: she was a saint in the winter night, and he was the sun that ignited this darkness.

They truly treated him as a human being, regarding his life, which was as insignificant as weeds, as a life worth saving.

At that moment, he etched the faces of those two people deep into his heart.

That night, Norn dreamt that he was wearing the Crimson Tide Cloak, holding his brother's hand, walking in the snowy night.

He said in his dream, "We will survive. When I grow up, I will become a Crimson Tide Knight."

He was not a nobleman, nor did he have any bloodline, and he was not particularly intelligent.

But on this winter night, he gained true human dignity and hope.

Not only Norn, but in this frozen winter, the names of the two masters of the Crimson Tide Territory have become more than just names; they have become hope itself.

Some refugees knelt down in the snow to pray, whispering, "Red Tide Sun, grant us a warm night."

Louis Calvin was known as the Sun of the North.

It is not a king, nor a god, but the sun, a sun that cannot be extinguished in the darkness and can burn in the ice and snow.

The most widely circulated saying about Emily is: "She is a saint who sheds tears on snowy nights, and a second mother to her children."

The women secretly wove a white cloak for her, saying they would give it to the Snow Saint.

The children drew her likeness on the wall of the shelter: a woman gently bending over, holding a blanket in her arms, with a halo behind her.

Someone was telling a story to a child by the fire: "A beautiful saint came out of the snow, unafraid of dirt, cold, or sick. She brought medicine and the taste of spring."

The old people said, "They are the saviors of the North."

However, not all people in the North are so fortunate.

Not everyone has a lord named Louis Calvin, and not every city is like Red Tide Territory, with its warm geothermal energy and ever-burning fire-backed turtles...

Beyond the red tide lies true hell.

Food was in dire need. Many minor nobles began slaughtering the sick, weak, and prisoners, and it was said that some were drying "human flesh" in their basements.

In the streets and alleys, crowds gathered around burning corpses for warmth, quietly gnawing on bones, afraid of waking the nobles' guards.

The heating system collapsed, and everything was thrown into the fire. Some elderly people even set themselves on fire, just to give their families a night of light.

Medical care? That's a foreign concept to us now.

The epidemic spiraled out of control, with no doctors or medicine available. Corpses piled up in alleyways, wellheads, and in front of churches, emitting a foul stench.

However, some refugees deliberately approached the piles of corpses to keep warm.

Nobles and armies were no longer protectors, but became plunderers of food.

The relief grain provided by the governor's office was confiscated. Inside the castle's high walls, the lights were bright, but outside the walls lay an icy abyss, like a ghostly realm.

The most terrifying thing is the collapse of humanity.

Many nobles simply sealed off their gates and abandoned the people, even directly expelling all the city's residents to migrate south, leaving only an empty city and snow.

Some people led their families to abscond with the last batch of grain, abandoning their posts in the dead of night. When the people woke up the next day, they only saw footprints left in the snow, without even hearing a shout.

The most despairing news came from those "extreme places".

A nobleman personally led a group to massacre refugees, just to save on firewood and medicine.

In a certain city, the people have begun to cannibalize each other, and what burns in the bonfires are not wood, but family banners printed with gold patterns.

This is a true reflection of the situation in most of the northern territories this winter.

The death rate from freezing was as high as 40%, riots spread, plagues raged, and order collapsed.

In contrast, the Red Tide Territory is like a lone flame rising in the snow; it is not very bright, but it is the only one that has not been extinguished.

The gates of Red Tide have never been closed, the canteens of Red Tide have never been without fire, and the medical tents of Red Tide have never stopped operating.

Even on the coldest winter nights, when the wind and snow were fiercest, there was still smoke rising from the "Wentang Station" in the sky.

Knights on night patrol, draped in red cloaks, passed by the refugee camp, while in the distance, atop the tower, the red flag with a golden sun still fluttered.

But in any case, as time slowly passed, this cold and long winter finally came to an end.

The snow began to melt, cracks appeared in the frozen soil, and new buds sprouted on the withered branches.

When the first rays of sunlight shone into the North, no one cheered; they simply watched quietly for a very long time.

Some people knelt down on the snow, their heads gently touching the ground, as if bidding farewell to the dead, or as if welcoming some long-lost hope.

In this most desperate year in the North, they thought spring would never come again.

But it still came.

(End of this chapter)