Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 294 The Capital Shakes
At the Blue Jade Flower Pavilion at the end of the aristocratic district, Eleanor Calvin leaned back in a chaise lounge behind a sandalwood screen, gently swirling the wine glass in her hand.

The amber-colored Imperial Pear Wine shimmered in the crystal glass, reflecting the cold, indifferent eyes.

She was listening to people talking about the North.

"Is it said that the young lord of the Calvin family has gone to Burial Valley?"

"Will he lead the troops personally, or will he send a knightly order? Can he really turn the tide of battle in that situation?"

"Ha, who knows? News from the North is always like a frozen river—slow and unreliable."

She didn't interrupt, but her lips twitched, revealing a faint smile.

That was her nephew, Duke Calvin's least favored eighth son, who was exiled to the North, carved out a territory, and now seemed to have accomplished something great.

Recently, however, he has even become a frequent topic of discussion among the elite circles of the capital.
This Louis Calvin is quite a...troublesome yet interesting character.

Eleanor looked down at the unsealed letter on the table.

She had already written half of it, carefully drafting the wording, intending to send it to the North as soon as possible after the war to remind her brother, Duke Calvin.

It was time to persuade her "glorious" son to achieve another great feat for the family, even if it was just to share in some of the military merits and honors. She had to contribute to the Noble Council.

Just then, a series of hurried and uneasy footsteps broke her reverie.

"Madam... News has come from the Ministry of Military Affairs that... His Majesty has been out of contact for five days since leaving the capital."

Eleanor's mind went blank: "...What?"

"Furthermore, the three legions that His Majesty led on his inspection tour have also vanished into thin air."

She stood up, but her movements were extremely slow: "Is this an official announcement?"

"No...it was the Ministry of Military Affairs that leaked the information, and the whole capital has heard about it."

Eleanor took a slow breath.

The war situation, family matters, the nephew's military achievements, the fate of the North, the next round of seats at the Dragon Throne Conference, the empire's impending fiscal reform bill...

All of this seemed to be blown away by this hurricane at this moment.

The emperor has disappeared.

A figure who held power at the pinnacle of the empire for decades has disappeared.

Worse still, it wasn't just one person who left; he also took his three sharpest spears with him.

The First Legion is the local garrison of the capital, a force directly under the Imperial City, permanently stationed on the outer ring of the capital, and is the fastest-responding elite legion in the entire empire.

Its commander and deputy commander were both directly subordinate to the royal family, holding the last line of defense for the capital.

The Imperial Guard, the emperor's private bodyguard, may be small in number, but it has the most extraordinary knights.

It is the legendary blade that can "defeat ten thousand soldiers with a thousand men".

And the soul of the empire—the Dragon Blood Legion—has extremely strict selection criteria. Only the scions of the eight great families of the capital are qualified to enter, while others must have a bloodline with at least three generations of military merit.

It was not only a symbol of military power, but also a political hostage, which the emperor used to control the hearts of all the nobles.

They have all disappeared.

It wasn't just one or two knights, but the emperor and his powerful ally who could rule the empire vanished into thin air.

In the next few hours, the core of the empire seemed to fall silent.

The ministers remained silent behind closed doors, and the only people they could see were the knights who kept leaving the city and the ever-growing swiftbirds that delivered messages.

Meanwhile, in the various aristocratic mansions of the capital, candles burned all night long.

Eleanor Calvin, draped in a long black satin robe, stood on the veranda outside the Blue Jade Flower Pavilion, gazing at the rare moonless night in the capital, a chill creeping down her spine.

She no longer cared about her original plans for today.

After all, no matter how fierce the battle in the North was, it couldn't compare to the fear of His Majesty losing contact with the three legions at the same time.

Eleanor ordered a carriage to be prepared and rushed back to the Iris Tower mansion in the Seventh District, which was the Calvin family's core intelligence hub in the capital.

…………

The night rain in the capital was like a curtain.

Eleanor stood before the candlelit desk, took a deep breath, and suppressed the subtle anxiety that had been building while writing the letter.

She had finished compiling all the intelligence; the secret letter contained not a single superfluous word, only three short pages, which gathered the most important truths currently facing the capital.

"His Majesty's disappearance is not just an event of upheaval; it is a harbinger of the collapse of the empire's core."

She narrowed her eyes slightly, looking back over the past three days as her subordinates laid out stacks of secret letters on the table.

There were no fancy methods, only the most traditional means of surveillance.

All of them were spies, informants, and servants from the mansions of various nobles and government offices in the capital.

The palace and council hall, which still appear as prosperous as ever, are in reality like a frozen lake in the depths of winter, calm and still, yet capable of collapsing completely at any moment due to a single pebble.

Her judgment in a letter to her brother, the Duke of Calvin:
The emperor's disappearance this time is most likely not the work of "foreign enemies", but rather caused by some kind of forbidden magic.

The collective loss of contact of the three legions symbolizes the complete loss of the "iron fist" left by the emperor, and the upper echelons of the capital have lost their last link of fear.

In other words, nobody can control anyone else anymore.

If a regent cannot be appointed soon, the empire will inevitably fall into disintegration.

Based on the intelligence network of the Calvin family, she concluded that a clear "four-faction division" had emerged among the upper echelons of the empire:
Those who are worried, such as the Naven family, have begun to secretly transfer their assets to the Emerald Federation and transport them to their direct descendants by sea.

The conservative faction and the newly elected political elite came forward to call for "the emperor's power is not yet vacated, and we should wait for his judgment," but in reality, they were just stalling for time to prevent conflict from erupting.

The restless faction, such as the remnants of the Carradine family and the Roland family, were secretly meeting and recruiting soldiers; they had waited too long for this moment.

The detached observers—the chambers of commerce, the Ministry of Finance, the Imperial Foreign Trade Bureau—who control the economic lifeline, remain silent, but they are watching to see who will be the next center.

In her letter, she wrote in meticulous handwriting:

They are all waiting for that person who will be the first to stand on the high platform, to present a new emperor, or to appoint himself regent.

This is a gamble that will change the fate of the entire empire.

At the end of the letter, she wrote down specific action suggestions: ask the Duke to immediately inform all of Calvin’s distant relatives privately to be wary of the sweeping impact of the “royal succession dispute” among the old nobility.

After finishing writing the secret letter, she lit the sealing wax and pressed down the family crest seal firmly.

The rain stopped.

She looked up at the palace rooftops peeking out of the window in the first light of dawn. A drop of cold dew landed on her fingertip, like some mysterious omen.

“The Emperor…” she whispered, “If you have truly vanished, then it is our turn to take the stage.”

…………

The night was deep, and the wind blew through the iron cypress grove, lifting a corner of the study curtains and bringing with it a few wisps of frosty evening breeze.

The Duke of Calvin sat behind his desk, his expression grave.

Before him was a letter from the capital.

"Emperor Ernst has been missing since his return from his northern tour. The three legions that accompanied him have also disappeared without a trace..." The entire study fell into an eerie silence, with only the occasional crackling of the embers in the fireplace.

"A godsend, or a annihilation..." Calvin looked up, calmly muttered to himself, then folded the letter again and sealed it in a cloth bag.

Duke Calvin stood before the fireplace, staring at the flames for a long time, before slowly walking to the map.

He gazed at the wall-mounted map covering the entire empire, his eyes lingering on the red dot over the capital region, and gave a mocking smile: "If it's true... ha."

Then his finger moved toward the border of the Southeast Province: "But if it's fake, then any action would be treason and extermination."

At that moment, he made up his mind.

"Do not show your face, make any statements, or contact anyone. Order the Knights' families to defend their borders, both internally and externally. The Southeast Province must protect itself, even if it loses the capital."

He sat down, picked up his pen, wrote the first letter of command, and affixed the Calvin family seal.

“Even if the empire’s ship is about to sink, I will have to choose which mast it is.” He pondered for a long time, then called for someone again: “Draft a proposal to appoint the eldest prince as regent.”

"This prince is mild-mannered, without military power or authority, making him the perfect puppet. I will take the initiative and send a message into the Imperial Palace to demonstrate the loyalty of the Calvin family to the political circles."

He paused for a moment, then instructed, "But it must not be sent out immediately. Wait until the capital is in complete turmoil before sending it out, so that people's hearts can be calmed down."

Almost simultaneously, a swift bird carrying the Crimson Tide Seal landed on the letter table in the main hall.

When the letter was delivered to the study by the Chief of the Guard, Duke Calvin was still looking at the secret letter from the capital.

"...A letter from the North?"

He frowned slightly, took the letter, and the candlelight reflected the red tide sun pattern on the wax seal.

I opened the envelope and glanced at it.

Burial Valley... Reinforcements counterattacked... Defeated the barbarian army... The main force returned completely.

His fingers tightened, causing the paper to wrinkle slightly. A few breaths later, he tilted his head back, his eyes unreadable.

Finally, my gaze settled on the familiar yet emotionless signature: "Louis Calvin, Lord of the Red Tide."

After reading the entire text, he did not speak immediately, but lowered his head in deep thought, as if he were immersed in the calm and unwavering letter.

After a few breaths, he let out a soft, low sigh.

"The child eventually stepped out of the chessboard I had set up."

The letter briefly mentions the "Battle of Buried Bone Canyon," the reinforcements' surprise attack, the reversal of the battle, the Northern Alliance's narrow escape, and subsequent requests for support.

It was all rational wording and a formulaic personal greeting from a son to his father, without a single trace of emotional fluctuation.

The letters exchanged over the years have become increasingly cold, as if he were merely a superior, a family patron, rather than a father.

His emotions were complex, his thoughts a jumbled mess:

As patriarch, he successfully bet on the North, and the Calvin family now holds the power to "expand into the North."

This will elevate the Calvin family's status in the northern part of the Empire.

This right belongs to Louis, not in his hands.

Moreover, Louis never showed any respect for his father throughout the entire process.

The letter was written in a cold tone, with precise logic, and consisted entirely of reports on the battle situation and requests for resource allocation, as if it were a report to a superior rather than a conversation between father and son.

Moreover, the staff he sent to Red Tide were no longer able to get involved in core affairs, and even his old servant Bradley had recently become vague in his letters, avoiding key points.

That subtle shift in loyalty made him deeply uneasy.

Red Tide is now a "blurred tower" to him; he cannot see its internal structure or know its true strength.

Moreover, he had an idea he hadn't told anyone: if they could find a way to bring him back to the Southeast and put him under the complete control of the Calvin family, they could both consolidate the North and extend the family's lifespan by a hundred years.

But he knew it wouldn't be easy.

His eldest son, Gaius, was originally the only candidate to succeed the family as patriarch. He served as the deputy commander of the Dragonblood Legion, possessing peak strength and expertise in both military and political affairs. However, he was seriously injured and fell into a coma during the battle against the Northern Insect Plague, and his fate remains unknown.

The location where the emperor arranged for him to recuperate is even more mysterious, and now that the emperor has also disappeared, Gaius is probably in grave danger.

Louis became his most illustrious offspring.

He closed his eyes and pondered for a long time before slowly opening them: "...Perhaps he does have the ability to become the clan leader, but not now."

He picked up the quill pen and began writing new orders on the letter paper.

Send a new trade envoy to the Red Tide as soon as possible, ostensibly to negotiate trade routes, but in reality to investigate the true power structure.

The technicians Louis needs can be sent to him, but intelligence agents must be planted among them.

We can inject more chips, but whether they are truly willing to pass the position of family head to him remains to be seen.

…………

The air in the capital had completely changed on the fifteenth day since Emperor Ernst August "disappeared".

It was as if an invisible hand had suddenly removed the sword of Damocles that had been hanging over the heads of all the nobles.

The once unbreakable pressure suddenly failed, leaving behind only a blank space that made one's heart race.

On the surface, the capital city was a scene of peace and prosperity, with nobles chatting and laughing in the halls, but beneath every polite greeting lay probing and a sharp edge.

The emperor's children were like beasts that smelled blood.

The second and fourth princes secretly contacted their former subordinates, and the rumor that the third prince was dead was brought up again to stir up trouble.

The princesses also contacted their maternal clans and allies to plan for their own safety.

However, everyone knows that if the emperor really returns, any small action taken today would be enough to wipe out the entire clan.

So everyone pretended to be cautious, but in secret, things were turbulent like a surging tide.

"An empire cannot be without a ruler for a single day." This is a phrase that everyone in the council hall always says.

Therefore, after a brief but intense struggle, the parties miraculously reached a tacit understanding:
The eldest prince, who was weak and sickly and had no real power, was put in the forefront as a temporary regent.

He had no military power, no political allies, and no independent will.

That is why he is the most perfect puppet.

Real power, however, quickly slipped into the "Dragon Throne Conference."

A council alliance composed of representatives from various powerful families and high-ranking officials in the capital, originally intended by the emperor to control the nobles, has now become a meeting where the nobles control the emperor.

Thus, the empire temporarily maintained a semblance of order.

The imperial edicts continued to be issued, the palace continued to hold banquets, and the people in the city still believed that "His Majesty is seriously ill and the Crown Prince will temporarily act as regent."

However, all the powerful and wealthy know that this is just a thin veil, and the waves beneath the surface are surging wildly.

Every family, every royal child, is waiting for that final answer:

Will the emperor return, or will he disappear completely?
During this delicate lull, any slight disturbance could ignite the seeds of a turbulent decade.

(End of this chapter)