Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 293 Make the North Great Again

The meeting hall of Frostspear City, like the heart of a wounded behemoth, beats slowly amidst the embers of war.

The hall, which served as the political center of the North, had a dark gray dome, resembling a thick cloud pressing down.

The Edmund family's silver eagle curtain hangs high on the wall, alongside the empire's golden dragon curtain, symbolizing that order still exists, yet also revealing a hint of impending doom.

The Duke of Edmund, dressed in a grey robe, leaned back in his chair, his pale fingers gripping his cane tightly.

He remained dignified, but his physical appearance could no longer conceal the signs of death.

Sitting to his right was Louis Calvin, who was wearing a Crimson Tide cloak.

He wore a smile, and his gaze fell on each attendee with kindness, as if he wanted to use that peace to dispel any unease in the room.

The meeting had not yet started, but the air was already heavy as lead.

Everyone knew that today was a crucial moment for the major changes in the North.

Edmund slowly rose, leaning on his cane, and said in a low voice, but everyone listened carefully: "Gentlemen, thank you for still being here."

His gaze swept across those seated below: there were representatives of the old nobles of the North with their graying hair, Gareth, who looked exhausted from the military affairs department, Mays, the inspector who was secretly observing, the reserved and silent nobles of the Southern settlers, and the sixth prince Asta with his thick dark circles under his eyes...

"This war... nearly wiped out the North. Titus's monstrous army was an unprecedented calamity."

We have lost so much, more than thirty families wiped forever from the annals of the North; our warriors have died in blood, and civilians lie dead in the streets.

Edmund lowered his head and sighed softly: "As for the capital... the disaster relief support promised earlier will arrive one after another, but more resources and reinforcements still need to be decided by His Majesty the Emperor."

He then shifted his tone, revealing a somber truth: "But the emperor has been missing for several days now."

Upon hearing this, the entire Frosthalberd Conference Hall seemed to be swept away by a chill, falling into a moment of deathly silence.

After this period of time, most of these high-ranking officials also learned of the news. They were already uneasy, and now that Edmund had pointed it out to them personally, they couldn't help but hold their breath.

The reaction of the representatives of the four ministries in the capital was particularly noticeable, because they knew that if the emperor really disappeared, they, as "power parasites," might fall to the bottom overnight.

In contrast, the native nobles of the North reacted much more calmly.

After all, the North has always been far from the capital, and they are more concerned about whether the land in front of them can be restored, whether their people can survive, and whether their fiefdom can be continued.

The sixth prince, Asta, who sat at the head of the left seat, was deathly pale.

He was not a key figure in the power struggles within the royal family; on the contrary, he was the kind of marginal prince who was sent to the frontier and then forgotten.

He was only made lord of the North because His Majesty wanted him to set an example and silence the critics.

He knew that his strength was not enough to contend for supremacy in the chaotic world, but if the emperor was still alive, he could at least rely on his "royal bloodline" to obtain a lot of resources and barely gain a foothold.

If the new emperor who truly holds power dislikes him, or even resents him, then what he will get next is not just falling out of favor, but possibly being purged.

Even a simple government decree to abolish his pioneer title would be enough to make him lose all his resources, military power, and foothold overnight.

Moreover, they are now isolated and helpless in the North, and if they get caught up in a political vortex...

He lowered his eyelashes, trying to suppress his unease, but his pale face betrayed his inner turmoil.

“Of course.” Edmund smiled, trying to ease the tension, “Perhaps His Majesty is simply away on a trip and hasn’t returned yet. There’s no need to worry too much.”

He didn't elaborate further, but tilted his head slightly: "Now, let's have our young hero preside over this meeting. He knows the specific situation in various places after the war better than I do."

When Louis was called upon, he immediately rose from his seat, calmly cupping his hands in greeting: "Yes, Your Grace."

On one side of the conference table, several former nobles exchanged a glance.

They didn't hear the word "successor," but they all understood the ceremonial gesture that symbolized the transfer of power.

The young lord has already begun to try to take the reins.

Louis did not return to his seat; with a wave of his hand, his attendant immediately unfurled a simplified map covering the northern border.

“First,” he said, his voice carrying a convincing calm, “is the food problem.”

The gray-white map shows more than seventy locations marked with red symbols for granaries.

"Currently, there are 76 usable granaries in the northern border region. After verification, it was found that the total amount of winter grain reserves is less than 20% of the pre-disaster level."

This means that relying solely on existing grain reserves, spring planting will be difficult to begin, and the disaster victims will likely not survive.

These words immediately sparked murmurs among the members of the council.

"Of the grain aid promised by the capital, only 30% has arrived so far. Whether the rest can be delivered on time and in full remains to be seen." Louis paused slightly, glancing at the finance officer and logistics officer sitting at the very end of the table. "I'm not optimistic."

"Therefore, I suggest that the surplus grain from Red Tide and Frostspear should be allocated first to provide relief to the seventeen former vassal states that have suffered the most severe disaster."

No sooner had the words been spoken than another uproar erupted, since no one knew who had been hit the hardest by the disaster.

Louis then added, his tone becoming more humble: "I am also willing to take the lead in Red Tide Territory and allocate an additional 8,000 tons of grain for the entire territory to use."

As Louis finished speaking, the conference room fell silent for a moment.

"The Red Tide Commander has provided 8,000 tons of surplus grain for distribution throughout the territory." These words struck the hearts of every attendee like a heavy hammer.

They knew that Red Tide Territory had a decent food supply, after all, it was one of the few areas in the North that had not been swallowed up by the disaster, but they did not expect Louis to be so generous as to take out such a large amount of stored food.

Eight thousand tons, that's no small amount.

Even the wealthiest former vassals in the North now have just over a thousand tons in their granaries, and some of their fiefdoms are even empty.

After explaining the grain allocation plan, Louis, seemingly afraid that everyone might misunderstand, added: "These eight thousand tons are two-thirds of the grain reserves currently held in our Red Tide Territory."

His tone carried a hint of helplessness, as if he were truly forcing himself to pull out the last vestiges of his strength.

Of course, he knew better than anyone else present that this so-called "concession" of eight thousand tons was just the tip of the iceberg.

The reason why the Red Tide region is so rich in food is actually rooted in the Wheat Wave Territory.

That miraculous grain field had almost monopolized the Red Tide Territory's grain supply for two years by last autumn's harvest.

Moreover, in order to maintain the sense of thrift within the Red Tide, he had long ago issued an order to promote "food conservation" and "prohibit extravagant eating," so there was basically more than enough food.

Releasing a little now can win people's hearts, stabilize the overall situation, and also facilitate the transfer of power.

Most importantly, it doesn't cause any serious damage.

However, the other lords did not disagree with Louis's words.

The people of the North know that this land has never been suitable for cultivation. The climate is harsh and the soil is barren. Even the slightest change in weather or snowfall can result in a complete crop failure.

After the disaster, the land was even more devastated, so no one doubted Louis's claim that "this is two-thirds of the grain reserves."

“I’m not trying to take credit,” Louis added, “I just want everyone to understand that we’re all doing our best.” He squeezed out a tear, like a young man truly fighting tooth and nail for the North, even with a hint of being on fire.

But those who are actually sitting on the chessboard of power struggles have already been churning with thoughts.

They knew this was not only a plea for poverty, but also a way of setting prices.

This young lord used his limited grain reserves to create the impression of making extreme concessions, which won him popular support and suppressed any doubts.

Even the cunning nobles who saw through his intentions could only remain silent.

Because he was so accurate.

The North is currently facing a severe shortage of food, and he has control over it.

Whether they like it or not, they have to show loyalty or compromise in exchange for even the slightest seed of hope.

An old nobleman from the North was the first to applaud, and said in a deep voice, "In such times, it is truly a blessing for the North that His Highness Louis is still willing to generously contribute."

Then more applause rang out.

In fact, even before the meeting, Louis had secretly coordinated the grain distribution plan and power commitments with several key nobles.

They knew they would receive preferential treatment on the "food line," and the applause they were receiving was just part of the script.

A chorus of praise erupted in the arena, and the situation instantly turned around.

Even Duke Edmund nodded slowly, a hint of relief in his eyes; it seemed they had bet on the right person.

With this indication of public support, the subsequent meetings went much more smoothly.

Although the members of Congress each had their own agendas, the overall situation was already set, and no one wanted to be seen as the one disrupting order.

The following topics, though numerous, were quickly advanced:
Regarding the allocation of resources after the war, each vassal was allocated resources according to the degree of disaster suffered and their contributions to the army.

The medical staff of Frostspear City jointly established the Northern Disaster Health Affairs Bureau, responsible for suppressing the epidemic and managing the disaster victims.

Red Tide Leaders are willing to open their borders first and establish seven settlements to prioritize the intake of refugees.

……

Louis's performance throughout the entire rebuilding meeting was near perfect.

He was neither arbitrary nor yielding.

Whenever it comes to major military or political matters, he relies on detailed data and uses calm and meticulous analysis as his weapon to secretly strive for the interests of his own camp.

"I suggest that the allocation of spring farming supplies should prioritize the seventeen former vassal states with higher returns in the disaster area. The first batch of seeds and iron farm tools can be allocated by Frost Halberd."

"Regarding the epidemic, we have consulted with the physicians of Frostspear City, who suggested setting up an isolation zone around the ruins and establishing three temporary medical camps."

……

Every word was perfectly crafted. Every proposal allowed the nobles to save face while subtly seizing real power into their own hands.

What's even more remarkable is that he didn't show the slightest bit of condescension or arrogance, and his tone remained calm throughout.

He is more like a tactful mediator than a dictatorial ruler.

The nobles who had received his promises also opportunely offered their support and guided public opinion in his favor.

All possible doubts and objections were dissolved in Louis's words.

Although he did not yet hold the title of governor, nor was he ever formally appointed to an official position in the North.

But everyone in the meeting room understood at that moment that he was in charge of the meeting.

The future direction of the North will also be decided by him.

Even the notoriously picky Treasury representative, Kafel, had to write in the record: "Young, steady, and capable of governing."

Duke Edmund, seated to one side of the main seat, watched all this quietly, his eyes filled with satisfaction.

He didn't need to spell it out, because in everyone's hearts at that moment, the composed young man had already become the de facto "heir to the North".

As the meeting drew to a close, the flames in the fireplace gradually died down, and the night deepened over Frostspear City.

At some point, everyone's gaze had been drawn to the young Lord of the Crimson Tide.

Louis slowly stood up and looked around.

He still wore a gentle smile and remained composed, as if unaware that the invisible flow of power in the hall had already moved towards his feet.

"I... am still young after all." He spoke, his voice not loud, but exceptionally clear in the silence, "There are many things that I still need the guidance of my seniors and elders."

His humble remark earned him nods of praise from several older nobles, while others curled their lip in disapproval.

“But since I’m chairing the meeting today,” Louis said, ignoring the others, “I’ll summarize and propose three directions, which will also set the initial tone for the reconstruction of our North.”

Louis held up one finger: "First, defend the territory. Although the North is far from the capital, this land is not to be abandoned. No matter what the future holds for the Empire, we cannot be the first to fall into chaos. Defending our territory and protecting our people is the duty of every lord."

Many people nodded subconsciously.

"Second, people's livelihood." Louis paused, his tone softening slightly: "Spring planting is approaching, but we are short of seeds and farming tools, there are too many refugees, and disease is beginning to spread... If these problems are not solved, even survival will be a problem, let alone reconstruction."
I suggest that, effective immediately, each authority formulate a plan and apply for disaster relief resources proportionally. All allocations will be jointly reviewed and approved by the reconstruction conference.

Some people whispered, but there was no objection. After all, most lords were barely able to defend their own territories, so what right did they have to question it?
“Third, unity.” Louis’s tone suddenly softened, yet carried more weight than the previous two points.

"The situation in the North is complex, the Empire's resources are unstable, and the future of the Royal Family is uncertain... My only request is that everyone cooperate with the meeting's arrangements and temporarily submit to unified coordination to avoid division and harm to the country."

Upon hearing this, everyone's expressions varied. Louis was clearly trying to seize power, but no one voiced their opposition.

Louis raised his glass and looked around at every nobleman, general, and envoy present. In his eyes, there was no longer the humility of a young nobleman, but the responsibility of a successor.

He said slowly, "The North is our shared North."

The voice wasn't loud, but it lingered in the conference hall for a long time.

"It is on the verge of collapse, but you and I are still here. From today onward, the battle flag will flutter over the ruins, the plow will tread over the scorched earth, and the vow will traverse the wind and snow."

He raised his glass, his gaze earnest and unwavering: "Let us work together to make the North great again."

The moment the sound hit the ground, there was a moment of silence.

The next second, applause erupted, layer upon layer.

Some were genuinely moved, while others were swayed by the momentum; both silently acknowledged one fact:
This young Red Tide Lord has ascended to the true core of power in the North.

Duke Edmund also gently raised his glass, looking at him as if seeing off a new captain about to set sail from the North.

(End of this chapter)