Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 303 Changes in the Red Tide Territory
Louis has barely slept since rushing back to Red Tide City from Wheatfield yesterday.

Last night, I made up for the night's expenses by staying in Sif's room, and before dawn, I went straight to the government office.

He arrived at the government affairs center, pushed open the heavy office door, and a familiar scent wafted towards him.

Bookshelves surround the entire room, reaching all the way to the ceiling.

The parchment scrolls, household registers, and tax ledgers were neatly arranged, categorized by different colors and numbers, and stacked up in an orderly fashion. Government decrees and maps were filed daily and placed in the most easily accessible spot on the bookshelf, so that anyone could find the information they needed in an instant.

Even though he hadn't been back for almost a month, his office was spotless, clearly indicating that a specialist cleaned it every day.

This is the heart of Red Tide Territory, and the future heart of the North.

The moment Louis sat down in that high-backed chair, a cringeworthy line came to mind—Red Tide Territory, your king has returned.

Hanging in front of his seat was a huge map of the southeastern North, which took up almost an entire wall.

The map is covered with countless wooden sticks, each representing a reclaimed area, newly cultivated land, mining area, or river.

Red flags indicate important storage locations, blue flags indicate residential areas, and gold flags represent newly established territory boundaries.

Now it is filled with brightly colored flags, which gives Louis a great sense of accomplishment.

“You’re back.” Bradley had been waiting for a long time.

The old man was the same as always, but there was a hint of weariness in his eyes that he couldn't hide.

Louis nodded slightly: "Long time no see, Bradley. You've had a long time of work."

The old man gave a butler's salute: "I am not as grateful as you have worked, sir."

The two exchanged a smile the instant their eyes met, as if all small talk was superfluous.

They all understood that Red Tide Territory was no longer the small territory it once was, and every decision it made affected the lives of countless people, so there was no need to spend too much time exchanging pleasantries.

Bradley brought out a neat stack of documents and placed them in front of Louis.

"This is a complete summary of the Red Tide Territory during the time you were away."

Louis looked at the mountain of documents and felt a headache coming on, unsure where to begin.

Seeing this, Bradley pulled out a file and pushed it in front of Louis: "Let's start with the city's construction, sir."

Louis opened the first page, which contained drawings of city gates and walls.

Bradley explained from the side, "The east and west gates of Red Tide City have been reinforced."

The door was reinforced with newly made ironwood and cold iron, and the latches were completely replaced. Now, it can withstand two rounds of bombardment, even from large magic explosion bombs.

"What about the South Gate?"

“Construction is still ongoing.” Bradley ran his fingers across the parchment. “It is expected to be completed in half a month. We have prioritized the use of the best cold iron ore to ensure that the reinforcement materials are not compromised.”

Louis turned to the next page and unfolded a drawing depicting the southwest corner of the city.

That was the planning blueprint for the fourth batch of domed housing communities in Red Tide City.

The map shows rows of small domes in shades of dark red and dark gray radiating outwards, with the locations of geothermal pipes marked by thin lines on the semi-buried foundations.

Each community has a small assembly square in the center, next to which are public water wells and storage rooms.

"The fourth batch of red tide-style domed houses has started construction." The old man said, his tone revealing a hint of satisfaction. "A total of 600 units, of which 300 are expected to be completed by early autumn."

Louis glanced at the file, raising an eyebrow slightly: "What about the allocation plan?"

"We will still prioritize contributions," Bradley replied calmly. "Regardless of background or origin, we will only consider their contributions to the Red Tide. Craftsmen, military dependents, and officials among the long-term residents will be given priority in moving in."

"What about the refugees? There are so many of them, where are we going to put them?"

"The longhouse area that we planned in advance has already been put into use."

Bradley flipped to another, thicker book, revealing a brand new hand-drawn sketch.

The lines on the paper are clean, and the three long strips of wooden houses are meticulously outlined, like the pattern of a chessboard.

“The longhouse area we planned in advance is under rapid construction, and some parts are already in use.”

Bradley explained, "The refugee crisis was anticipated before the war, so land and locations for geothermal wells were reserved. That's why it was built so quickly."

He pointed to several ventilation symbol lines marked on the diagram with his fingertip:
“Each longhouse is a two-story wooden structure. The ground floor has a stove and a communal kitchen, and the roof is fitted with simple geothermal pipes to maintain the room temperature at no less than 15 degrees Celsius.”

“Each longhouse can accommodate 30 to 40 people and is equipped with uniform wooden storage boxes that are fireproof, moisture-proof, and theft-proof. The first batch of 600 longhouses were built, enough to house more than 20,000 people.”

Bradley turned to another page, pointing to the detailed annotations beside it: "These are the locations of the soup kitchens, herbal medicine stations, communal wells, and drainage ditches. The plan is for the three longhouse areas to be separate entities that will not interfere with each other."

Louis's brow slowly relaxed: "At least they won't be sleeping in the snow anymore."

He then turned to the next page, where the map depicted a wheat field.

A hint of admiration flashed in Bradley's eyes. "As the core of Red Tide's granary, Wheatfield Territory has begun to expand with two new granary complexes, with a total capacity of 75,000 tons of grain."

Louis slowly unfolded the drawing in the file, the depiction of the wheat-strewn collar being exceptionally clear:
To the north is the No. 1 Grain Depot, which is already in use, with its thick stone walls and underground insulation layer meticulously painted.

On two vacant plots of land in the southwest, the locations of two new semi-underground grain silos were marked, with symbols for double-sealed valves and ventilation shafts drawn next to the foundations.

Bradley continued his report with pride: "We use a double-layered cellar-style grain silo. The outer layer is ventilated and heat-dissipating, while the inner layer is reinforced and sealed. We use geothermal energy and ventilation wells to maintain a stable temperature, which can effectively prevent moisture and mold."

Louis laughed and said, "That's a good thing. This winter... I hope to see these granaries filled up."

Upon hearing this, Bradley laughed and said, "Yes, I'm afraid it won't be enough."

Louis then opened a new report.

A survey map sent from Starforge was pinned to the booklet, with several dark mineral veins running through the earth like blood vessels, extending deep into the northwest.

“This is the situation in Starforge Territory,” Bradley said in a low voice. “The geological workshop’s exploration team has confirmed the discovery of a magic marrow vein in the Ninth Mining District. The reserves… may far exceed those of Red Tide Territory.”

Louis lightly traced the dark vein marker with his fingertips; he wasn't actually that surprised.

After all, they had already learned of the existence of this mine through the daily intelligence system.

However, at that time, the population was insufficient and the number of miners was limited, so rashly mining would only increase the burden on themselves and their people.

Now that refugees are flocking in and there are more people available, he can naturally take advantage of the situation.

"The expansion has already begun?"

"Yes. The workshops, smelting furnaces, and artisan dormitories have all been approved. The mining town is also in the planning stages."

“Notify Starforge.” Louis leaned back in his high-backed chair. “Mining is possible, but be careful. Start from the outside, safety first, avoid landslides.” Bradley acknowledged and made a note.

"In addition, they should send more refugees there. The dormitories in the mining area should be expanded first to prevent workers from sleeping in the mountains."

"Yes, my lord."

After reading the last page of the file, Louis leaned back in his chair, his fingertips lightly tracing the edge of the paper.

He paused, then looked up and stared at Bradley: "Bradley, we don't have enough construction workers, do we?"

Bradley replied in a low voice, “Yes, sir. The scale of Red Tide’s construction has far exceeded initial expectations. We are now continuously selecting young and strong men from the refugees we have taken in and training them into a new generation of construction craftsmen through an apprenticeship system.”

Louis nodded slightly, his voice carrying a suppressed strength: "Very good. Remember to let them know that effort and reward are equal. As long as they are willing to learn and work, Red Tide will give them a future."

Bradley smiled slightly and said in a low voice, "Yes, sir."

Louis gently closed the dossier with his fingertips, opened the next thin booklet that Bradley pushed over, and quickly scanned the four large characters "Spring Farming Mobilization" on the first page.

“The next book is about spring planting.” Bradley understood and bowed slightly. “You know about the situation in Wheatfield; you just came back from there.”

In other areas southeast of the Red Tide region, a total of 3,200 mu of farmland were newly reclaimed. Most of this was done by the labor of displaced people.

Louis's eyes lit up slightly as he looked up at the large map on the wall. It wasn't as large as Wheatfield Territory, but three thousand acres in the desolate North still meant the survival of countless lives.

"Has the experience and technology of wheat fields been dispatched to various villages and settlements?"

“The deployment order has already been issued.” Bradley’s voice carried a hint of pride. “The farming methods, cold-resistant wheat, and geothermal greenhouses of Wheatfield are being replicated. Increased grain production this year is expected.”

Louis lowered his head, looking at the "estimated harvest" figures on the booklet, his fingertips slowly stroking the paper, and for the first time, his brow, which had not been relaxed for a long time, relaxed slightly.

This is what he cares about most.

The North can do without armor and city walls, but it absolutely cannot do without food.

“There is still not enough food,” Louis murmured. “If the people go hungry, all order will collapse.”

Bradley nodded respectfully: "Therefore, we must expand the granaries in advance to prevent problems before they arise."

Louis had just closed the spring planting report and rubbed his temples, wanting to rest for a while, but Bradley had already switched to a thick booklet with the title "Population and Resettlement Report" on the cover.

"So far, we have taken in more than 18,000 refugees since the war," Bradley said. "Currently, food is being distributed daily from the granaries, which is able to maintain the most basic stability."

Louis turned the pages, his gaze sweeping over the densely packed names.

Eighteen thousand people—this is both a treasure and a burden.

“What about the epidemic?” he asked.

“The cold wave that hit late winter is largely under control,” Bradley replied. “The clinics and apothecaries are operating around the clock, distributing herbs in fixed daily amounts. However, the North is damp and cold, so we still need to be wary of a second outbreak.”

Louis nodded.

A population boom presents an opportunity, but if things go wrong, famine and plague can destroy everything faster than war.

Bradley continued, “To resettle the displaced people, the government is implementing a household registration contract system. We provide them with farmland, cattle, tools, and temporary shelter. After signing the contract, they officially become Red Tide citizens and can enjoy the protection of territorial laws, reasonable taxes, education, and the opportunity to redeem themselves.”

This contract, seemingly a favor, is in fact the bond that binds the Red Tide.

After all, what he wanted was not just population, but the Red Tide people, subjects who could be mobilized, educated, and trusted.

"In addition, the first batch of three thousand skilled slaves purchased through the Calvin Merchant Guild is already on its way. We will only select valuable slaves such as artisans, shepherds, blacksmiths, and apothecaries to be used in infrastructure construction."

Louis didn't look up, but said softly, "Don't buy too much at once. Try it out first, integrate it gradually, and avoid any unexpected problems."

"clear."

Turning to the second half of the booklet, several hand-drawn red lines appeared on the paper, marking the edge of the Chichao Southeast New City.

“This is a pilot project in Border Village.” Bradley tapped a few small dots with his fingertips. “We are taking in the remnants of barbarian tribes who are willing to submit. Most of them have lost their tribes, food, and shelter, so they are very willing to obey, as if they have grasped at a straw.”

Louis's gaze fell on a small name next to the label: Sif.

"Were they using her identity to appease them?"

“Yes,” Bradley answered frankly. “Although they may not believe in the princess of the Cold Moon tribe, it at least gives them a way to save face.”

Louis let out a soft breath and did not respond immediately.

This is a delicate game.

These remnants of barbarian tribes were both potential fighting force and labor force, as well as a hidden danger. Therefore, Red Tide institutionally created a "buffer zone" for them.

On the surface, it is autonomous, but in reality, power is firmly held in the hands of the Red Tide.

"The military household system, education and training, the system of collective responsibility, and the patrol battalion were all implemented simultaneously."

His voice was calm, as if he were issuing a perfectly natural command.

"On the surface, we give them the illusion of autonomy, but every lifeline, every grain of food, and every weapon must be in our hands."

Bradley's eyes lit up, and he bowed slightly: "Understood, sir."

His tone was unusually cold and sharp, as if he had absorbed a trace of iron-bloodedness from Louis:

"Let them sing their so-called tribal glory. But their food, their soldiers, their offspring all belong to the Red Tide."

At this point, the old man's eyes were calm as still water: "Don't worry, they will soon understand that there is a future only under the protection of the red tide."

Louis smiled, neither confirming nor denying.

“By the way,” Louis suddenly remembered something and asked in a low voice, “How is the overall morale of the Red Tide?”

"More enthusiastic than ever before, sir."

The old man slowly raised his eyes, looking at the young lord sitting behind the desk, his tone tinged with emotion, as if speaking on behalf of countless Red Tide people:
"Whether they are newly arrived refugees or long-time residents of the Red Tide, they all understand that they are able to survive today because of you."

He lowered his head slightly: "They call you the Sun of the North."

Louis smiled slightly, but did not respond.

Bradley, observing this, continued, "They think that as long as they work hard under your protection, they will be rewarded."

Those refugees who fled war and famine said that Red Tide Territory was the only land where they could see a future.

Just then, the morning light pierced through the thick clouds outside the window, casting a pale golden streak that landed precisely on the map.

(End of this chapter)