Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 283 The War Begins

The night was not yet over, and the snow continued to fall. The outer walls of New Frostspear City stood like a silent behemoth in the wind and snow, cold and gloomy.

Before dawn, Rudolf arrived at the city gate with a well-organized guard that resembled a royal procession.

Their armor was spotless, and the cavalry formation moved like arrows from a bow, never faltering.

If it weren't for the weariness and fear in their eyes, this team would almost look like they had returned in triumph.

Rudolf sat high on his horse, his expression stern.

After his defeat in Windflame Valley, in order to make a respectable entry into the city, he even wiped his armor with strong liquor to cover up the burn marks and bloodstains on it.

This is not for the sake of appearances, but for the sake of credibility.

If even his own demeanor reveals despair, then no one will believe a single word he utters.

Upon arriving at New Frostspear City, he dismounted, his cloak billowing in the wind, and said in a deep voice, "Commander Rudolf of the Sixth Army of the Empire has an urgent report on the situation on the northern front and requests an immediate audience with His Excellency the Duke."

The city gate guard stepped forward, and seeing that it was Rudolf, he dared not delay and immediately went to report.

The Duke's study is located in the west tower of the main castle, perched high on a cliff.

At this moment, the fire in the stove inside the room flickered, unable to warm the stone walls that were permeated with cold.

The Duke of Edmund sat alone before the fireplace, dressed in an unadorned military uniform, a stark contrast to the walls covered with honors.

The diagonal scar running from the cheekbone to the jawline seemed to still be bleeding in the firelight.

His fingers traced the rim of the glass, slowly rotating it.

On the table in front of him lay a map of Windflame Valley, clearly marked and still fresh in ink.

The adjutant behind him whispered, "General Rudolf requests an audience."

He paused for a moment, then said coldly, "Let him in."

Rudolf stood in front of the study door, took off his gloves, and gently shook off the snow.

In just a few steps, he tidied his appearance, straightened his cloak and breastplate, and suppressed the slightly tired look in his eyes.

The adjutant pushed the door open, and a dry, cold wind carrying snowflakes rushed in from the corridor, only to be melted away by the low glow of the fireplace.

He stepped into the study, which was as silent as a tomb, his steps unhurried.

"Rudolf greets His Highness the Duke." His military salute was impeccable, almost like a model from an Imperial Military Academy textbook.

Duke Edmund remained seated, only glancing up briefly at Rudolf.

His knuckles were still resting on the rim of the half-full silver cup, as if he had just pulled himself out of his thoughts, his gaze revealing a restrained composure.

"I have received the briefing on the fall of Windflame Valley. Is there anything else you wish to add, General?"

The voice wasn't loud, but it sounded like striking cold iron, each word hitting Rudolf's ears.

Rudolf stood firm, unwavering; he had anticipated this.

He maintained a respectable officer's demeanor, as stated in the battle report: "On the northern front, a fundamental alienation has occurred."

The enemy's combat force structure no longer follows the traditional characteristics of barbarian tribes, and its tactical system and resource allocation show a high degree of systematization and directionality.

Its vanguard is equipped with multi-headed, heavily armored monsters, some of which have natural anti-magic structures, making them almost like mobile fortresses.

Our army deployed according to the Imperial standard, first using magic explosions to suppress and fuel attacks, and then supplementing with knight assaults to harass the enemy, achieving some initial breakthroughs.

Moreover, the enemy possesses an extremely rare death-enhancing mechanism. The more enemies our forces kill, the more ferocious the enemy becomes, which is extremely bizarre.

Duke Edmund did not interrupt, only his gaze narrowed slightly when he heard "death enhancement".

Rudolf continued: "In addition, the terrain is rapidly altered. Enemy vine structures can erode the surface, causing localized battlefield collapses, disrupted magic fields, and delayed mobilization."

Some soldiers are suspected of being psychologically corrupted, experiencing hallucinations, mania, and even voluntarily breaking away from the chain of command.

But then he hesitated slightly: "So I judged that the enemy situation was unclear, reinforcements were far away, and the troops were exhausted... If we forcibly defended the position, the whole army would be wiped out."

Therefore, it was decided to preserve the core military force and withdraw from the front lines, thus preserving a glimmer of hope for the northern border.

The study fell into a long silence.

The fire in the stove crackled and popped, sending sparks flying.

Rudolf knew that every word he uttered was like walking on thin ice; the slightest mistake would be a crime against the entire army and a disgrace to the entire clan.

Edmund remained motionless; he simply placed his silver cup gently on the windowsill and listened quietly.

The firelight reflected on the scars on his face, making the wounds from his early years seem to reopen and bleed again.

He already knew it.

He knew something was wrong a month ago when his spies in the Northern Barbarian territory started disappearing one after another.

These people weren't venturing into the wilderness for the first time; they wouldn't expose themselves so easily.

At first, he told himself that it might just be a delay in communication, a problem with the snowstorm, or perhaps the barbarian tribe had integrated its counter-espionage system...

But he knew in his heart that it was just self-deception.

The real fear comes not from the enemy, but from ignorance.

He watched helplessly as the northern route became unfamiliar, yet he could neither see nor touch anything.

Right now, the "truth" Rudolf brought... is less a judgment on his own self-deception.

Vines eroded the battlefield, death strengthened the enemy, soldiers' spirits were corrupted, and the Third Army suffered a complete rout.

That last glimmer of hope finally collapsed just now.

He closed his eyes, almost losing all strength in an instant, recalling the 30,000 knights he could directly mobilize five years ago to charge against the barbarians.

And now? After plagues, rebellions, and insect swarms...

The only remaining fighting force is a mere ten thousand men that can be barely mustered.

He doesn't need to wait for a complete collapse in the North; he can already see the future.

Regardless of victory or defeat, the control of the North and the power of House Edmund will inevitably decline.

Even if you win, you can't win back the lost territory.

Duke Edmund opened his eyes and looked at Rudolf's monocle.

He really wanted to punch his glasses and smash his inherent arrogance.

But the clenched fist slowly loosened in the next second.

He even showed a hint of extremely restrained gentleness on his face: "The general did not forget to maintain military discipline on the way back to the city. It is truly not easy for his subordinates to maintain military discipline."

His tone was so light it sounded like praise, and everything seemed normal.

He nodded slightly and then instructed, "You have worked hard for many days. Go to the VIP building to rest first. Tomorrow, we will organize the detailed battle report and submit it to the capital."

Not a word was mentioned about the defeat, the retreat, or the responsibility.

Rudolf finally exhaled slowly from his chest; he had barely passed this hurdle.

But he knew very well that this did not mean the Duke of Edmund would really let him go.

Those indifferent, icy eyes merely moved the knife away from his neck by half an inch, ready to strike again at any moment.

He had to act immediately and contact his relatives and friends in the capital as soon as possible to create a safety net to protect his life.

He tried to package any retreat, abandonment, or even desertion as a decision to "safely preserve his forces." With that in mind, he lowered his head, gave the Duke a deep military salute, and then turned to follow the butler up the corridor leading to the VIP building.

Rudolf's footsteps faded into the distance, and the door was gently closed.

Edmund leaned against the window and whispered, "He has the strength of a high-level extraordinary knight, we can't be careless. Get a few more to take action immediately, and make sure it's clean and efficient."

The guard immediately obeyed, responded in a deep voice, and hurriedly left.

Edmund slowly exhaled a breath of stale air and stood up from his chair.

He reached for the map box and spread the heavy scrolls out one by one on the long table.

The candlelight illuminated the edges of the battle map, its worn corners frayed, like the shattered defenses of the North.

He wouldn't allow himself a moment's hesitation, even after confirming the worst-case scenario.

"Calm down," he muttered to himself.

Thirty thousand men is all the troops he can currently mobilize.

If the mobilization of the entire territory can be completed within three days, and pressure and coercion can be applied to various noble families and forces in the northern territory, a total of 70,000 might be raised.

There is still a great chance of winning, and as long as he can hold out... the capital will make a move, and he must buy time for the entire empire.

He deployed resources with lightning speed, dividing the response into four levels of objectives:
Level 1 mobilization objective: The Cold Iron Legion, Silver Fang Legion, and Broken Edge Legion, all directly subordinate to the Central Army, must complete their assembly within three days and be stationed around New Frost Spear.

He ordered his deputy to take the lead in deploying defenses, repairing river defenses, setting up oil pits, and clearing out cover forests.

Level 2 Response Objective: Send an "urgent call to arms" to border generals with high loyalty, such as Earl Hutton and the Sel family.

The third level of objectives is to secure control over military forces with limited control, such as the pioneering nobles from the south and the Sixth and Twelfth Legions of the Empire, allowing them to remain stationed in their own territories, but this cannot be relied upon for the time being.

Level 4 Target Denial: Some families who have had private contact with the barbarians have secretly drafted a "kill list." If they still refuse to respond once the mobilization order is issued, shadow guards will be dispatched to carry out the purge.

At the same time, he issued a decree: the mobilization of administrative resources should be given full wartime priority, including food, iron ore, armor, livestock, and transport horses.

The craftsmen worked day and night, producing weapons, shields, and siege equipment at three times the speed.

Local grain depots were frozen, and the entire region adopted a wartime rationing system, with priority given to distribution according to the front-line level.

Anyone who obstructs the deployment will be punished for "endangering military orders".

Anyone who refuses to answer the call will be arrested, have their home searched, and have their territory confiscated.

He knew this would offend many nobles, but he had no time to compromise at the moment.

What he wanted was not their hearts, but their soldiers.

After that, he picked up his pen and wrote several more letters.

The first letter was written to the capital, proactively reporting the defeat at Fengyan Valley and requesting intelligence support.

Regarding Rudolf, he changed the subject and wrote lightly: "General Rudolf of the Sixth Army fought to the last moment in Windfire Valley and died a heroic death."

The second letter was written to his son-in-law, Louis.

Louis is one of his most trusted relatives now.

His rule was orderly, commercially prosperous, and the people were stable, making it almost the only miracle in the North that had not been ravaged by war and disease.

However, they had only been in the North for three years, their foundation was unstable, and their military was weak.

Edmund expressed his concerns tactfully in the letter and reminded him to defend the southeastern part of the North and that the eastern flank must be held firm.

……

He wrote dozens of letters by hand, sealed them, stamped them, waxed them, and handed them one by one to the waiting swiftbirds, so that they could immediately rush to various places.

…………

The mist swirls in the valley like a slowly receding tide.

The morning at Qingyu Ridge was chilly, with a damp, cold wind carrying fine snowflakes that pelted the leather armor and cloak, leaving icy, damp marks.

Louis stood on a platform halfway up the cliff, his cloak fluttering in the wind.

His gaze swept over the cliff beyond the platform, looking down at the defensive fortifications taking shape below.

The folding wooden and iron barricades winding along the valley, combined with the nozzles for burning oil and the traps for trapping horses, resemble a giant steel serpent covered in barbs snaking across the snow.

Occasionally, a craftsman would lift the snow-covered cloth, revealing the cold gleam of the barbed iron chains.

The ballistae and cannons were pushed onto the newly erected supports, their wooden wheels creaking dully on the ice.

“Raise the angle of that chute by another half a foot,” Louis said, pointing to the rock wall above.

A group of knights draped in snow-white cloaks immediately responded, dragging thick wooden beams and oil canisters, and climbed up the treacherous mountain path toward the designated location.

Although the suggestion was insignificant, the main point was for Louis to make his presence known.

On the other side, soldiers were using crowbars and iron wedges to wed the boulder into the trough.

Once the dam is released, these hundreds of kilograms of rocks will cascade down the slide, turning into a deadly landslide torrent.

He looked up into the depths of the valley entrance, the only route the enemy could take.

If they dare to venture into this snow-shrouded canyon, they will be trapped in a purgatory of crossfire and falling rocks, part of a deadly web woven by Louis himself.

At that moment, a knight arrived on a warhorse covered in frost and handed over a letter bearing the seal of Frostspear City.

Louis took it, brushed it over the crack in the wax seal, and unfolded the parchment.

The handwriting was hasty, the ink was not yet dry, and the lines conveyed a cold and urgent feeling.

Duke Edmund reported that the main force of the northern barbarians had crossed the northwest defense line and described the horrific phenomena that occurred after the enemy soldiers were killed in battle.

He ordered Louis to guard the key southeastern routes strictly and not to be transferred.

Louis folded the letter, which was sealed with three layers of wax by the Military Affairs Department, and stuffed it into a hidden compartment on his desk, as if he were casually putting away a bill.

In fact, he already knew most of the contents of the letter, or even more, before it arrived, since he had a cheat code.

The closer the intelligence system gets to war, the more urgent and dense the information becomes, and the more unsettling it becomes.

That strange Northern Barbarian army was like a frost shell being peeled away layer by layer, revealing the flesh and barbs inside.

Of these pieces of intelligence, two are the most important.

Article 1: [When a Northern Barbarian soldier dies in battle, his corpse instantly bursts into twisted sparks of plant flesh and blood, releasing a scorching red mist that envelops nearby Northern Barbarian warriors, causing their anger and power to surge. Only by interrupting their anger can this buff be stopped.]

This made Louis frown. Anger is the cheapest and most turbulent fuel on the battlefield, yet the enemy had turned it into a contagious force.

So he summoned Hilko and ordered him to develop a secret weapon in the shortest possible time to deal with this thing, but since it had never been used in actual combat, it was hard to say how effective it would be.

Article 2: [A northern barbarian army of over five thousand men crossed the Qingyu Ridge from Binghai County seven days later, heading straight for the heart of Chichao Territory.]

This intelligence sent a cold glint through his eyes.

Qingyu Ridge was where he made his name.

A canyon sculpted by blades and snow, so narrow that an army could be turned into a mound of corpses in a single day.

It was there that he cut off the Snowsworn's reinforcements.

So several days before this letter arrived, he had quietly left the main city and led the Vanguard to Qingyu Ridge, where he set a trap in the canyon that the barbarian army was bound to pass through.

When the enemy appears at the valley entrance, what awaits them is not a skirmish, but a meticulously planned ambush destined to leave the northern barbarians bloodied and battered.

(End of this chapter)