Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 312 Aftermath and Conspiracy

On the morning of the first day after Duke Frosthalberd's death.

Emily solemnly handed him a document sealed with red wax and addressed to "Louis Calvin".

"This was written by my father himself. He said he would give it to you after his death."

Louis slowly pulled out the thick letter.

The document, spanning over ten pages and meticulously formatted like a military document, was entirely written in the Duke's own handwriting.
The opening section discusses how to cope with the seasonal disasters in the North.

The second page contains the deployment process of the Frost Halberd Army and brief evaluations of the generals' personalities.

Page three details the intricate strategies for maintaining stability rather than balance among the nobility.

Page four directly points out the weaknesses and flaws of several noble families in the North.

……

It consists of more than ten pages, all of which contain his political and military experience. At the end, there are even tables of warhorse rations and drafts of military ration inspection systems within his territory.

On the last page, no formatting language was used.

It was just a few lines of writing, but clearly written very slowly, stroke by stroke:
"These are just my personal experiences, they may be outdated or pedantic, you can do as you see fit... Also, please take good care of Emily and Isaac for me."

Louis remained silent for a long time, turning the pages of the letter one by one, and then reading it again.

The methods of governance are outdated, conservative, bloated, and bear the deep imprint of the old imperial aristocracy.

There was even a page that said "how to distribute stew during festivals to appease the people," which Louis found both amusing and absurd.

But regarding military affairs, he admitted he had never thought about them in such detail; they were perhaps the very essence of the Duke's life.

Battlefield deployment, supply rhythm, command hierarchy, crisis response trigger points...

Louis learned a lot of key lessons from this.

But whether it was useful or not, Louis could see the Duke's expectations of him and his sincere feelings.

He carefully closed the letter, pressed it flat, and placed it in his personal letter box.

…………

The news of Duke Edmund's death did not shake the earth like a thunderbolt, but rather fell silently like the first snow of the season, quietly settling in every northern territory.

This old duke, who had guarded the frontier for more than 30 years, ultimately could not survive the winter.

The news was first released discreetly by the Frostspear City government, with no public square set up for mourning or any memorial ceremonies or music.

Yet, this very low-key nature, like a dull old sword, pierced the heart of every nobleman and knight in the North.

Their silence was not out of fear, but out of respect.

"He held on for too long."

"No one understands the ice and snow of the North better than him."

"The Frost Halberd Wall was built by him, brick by brick."

Everyone had received favors from this duke and knew what a great man he was.

In the markets of the North, in farmhouses, at the entrance to the mines, that obituary was nothing more than a worthless piece of paper turned by the wind.

Most of the commoners in tattered robes glanced at it and then turned away indifferently to continue shouting, chopping wood, and driving carts.

"His Excellency the Duke has passed away."

"is it?"

In their eyes, the "Shield of the Empire" was too far away, so far that it only existed in the minds of those high and mighty people.

It's just that another official has died, and another person will take that chair and continue to issue tax orders.

…………

Meanwhile, in various parts of the empire, several black envelopes from the North quietly arrived.

The Swiftbirds traveled thousands of miles to personally deliver them to several long-dormant branches of the Edmund family.

Earl Edmund of Brightrock, Viscount Edmund of the Northwest Wastes, a distant relative who serves as an intelligence officer in the Southern Legion, and several young men who have not yet inherited their titles but are eager to try.

They opened the letter and found only a few short, cold lines: "The Duke hereby bequeaths his title to his youngest son, Isaac."

Effective immediately, all military and political affairs in the North shall be handled by Lord Louis Calvin of the Red Tide.

There were no pleasantries, no room for discussion, and no contingency plans.

At that moment, many restless thoughts seemed to have been doused with a bucket of cold water.

They certainly had the idea.

Who wouldn't want to be the "new Duke Edmund"?
Especially now that the Knights of the North still exist, with vast fiefdoms, their real power is in vain.

But it is precisely because we are clear about this that we dare not act rashly.

These branches are quite clear: they have no army in the North, no granaries or gold to keep Frostspears running.

If they forcefully take over, they will only sink into the deep sea like a stone thrown into an icy lake.

So they held back, observed, and waited, but their hearts were filled with sarcasm:

"A mere brat dares to challenge the Northern Border?"

"He thinks he can control the empire's frontiers by winning a few battles? Ridiculous."

"Is he Emily's child's husband? No wonder..."

On the surface, they respect the Duke's last wishes, but in their hearts they are like a flock of patiently waiting vultures.

Waiting for the storm to come, waiting for the avalanche to bury people, waiting for Louis to make mistakes, lose control, and collapse.

Waiting for the day when the Frost Halberd turns to ruins, so I can fly down, tear apart the remains, and get a mouthful of warm blood and bone.

…………

On his deathbed, the Duke of Edmund included a command in his will.

The title was given to Isaac, who was then taken to Red Tide to be raised by his mother, Elena, with Louis acting as his guardian. He was to return to Frostspear City when he came of age.

The arrangements on paper were uneventful, with neither a grand investiture ceremony nor a family council election process.

But it is precisely because of this that the Duke's power appears so terrifying.

So, before he was even two years old and had learned to ride a horse, Isaac was already given the title of "Duke of the North".

The role of agent fell to the young Crimson Tide Lord.

Agency and guardianship are not inheritance, but all truly intelligent people understand that real power has fallen into Louis's hands, not that of the toddler who is just learning to speak.

Of course, Louis was never officially appointed "Governor of the North" by the capital, nor was any oath-taking ceremony held.

It relies on the powerful documents handed over by the Duke on his deathbed, it receives three consecutive months of food and salt mine supplies from the Red Tide Territory, and it controls the dominant discourse at the Northern Reconstruction Conference.

Even without the crown, Louis has garnered approximately 70% political support in the North.

Louis's sharpest tool, of course, is the data collected daily by the intelligence system, which is compiled into a near-cold political map.

Those who can be won over are marked as "available" and accompanied by strategies and requirements.

Animals with weak bones or unclean tails are marked "beware".

Those who are observing should leave the "determine a plan after the situation evolves" section blank.

Louis was neither in a hurry to cleanse nor to appease.

Because he knew that with 70% support, the remaining 30% had only one option: "silence".

Of course, none of this began with the path paved by Louis himself.

But he never denied that what truly allowed him to sit in this chair was the deceased duke. It was he who, before his death, sent letters one by one, intimidating those family branches that coveted power.

It was his early handover of real power that silently filled the power vacuum in the North.

It was he who, by virtue of his name, shielded Louis from countless questioning gazes.

Louis knew that this was not just a simple inheritance, but a debt of gratitude so heavy it could break one's spine.

He was grateful.

…………

On the third day after the Duke's death, the snow in Frostspear City was still unmelted in the early morning.

Louis convened a very brief, closed-door meeting in the inner city of Frostspear.

There were no bystanders, no civil officials, only three people present—the three Grand Masters of the Knights: Broken Edge, Cold Iron, and Silver Fang.

The venue was an old stone hall with a long table and a dimly lit brazier.

Seated closest to Louis was Commander Remore of the Broken Blade Regiment.

He smiled faintly, as if he had been waiting for this moment, and nodded first: "We obey you. The Duke said so before his death, and we are already familiar with your rhythm."

This legion was personally handed over to Louis by Duke Edmund six months ago.

After six months of courtship by Louis, it has now become one of the Red Tide's most stable military allies.

Louis didn't need to repeat his thanks; he simply nodded slightly as a promise.

Seated in the middle was Ferlan, the commander of the Cold Iron Legion, clad in full armor and standing as imposing as a mountain.

His tone was calm: "The Duke told us to protect our master, and we will protect him until he can stand on his own."

This is the most "disciplined" legion, almost obsessively following Edmund's orders, and this time was no exception.

Louis tapped the map on the table, his tone softening: "Then please escort Lady Emily and young master Isaac back to the Red Tide."

Ferran had no objection, only giving a slight bow of respect: "I will obey the Duke's dying wish."

Sitting at the farthest end was Silver Fang Captain Oser.

He remained silent for a long time before finally speaking slowly: "We are willing to obey orders... but if possible, we still want to stay at Frosthalberd."

He didn't lie, but he didn't tell the whole story either.

But Louis already knew everything through the daily intelligence system:
This knightly order maintains its independent will and has its own political leanings, and the master privately has many doubts about his policies.

More realistically, given their large numbers and the large number of their families, Louis had no intention of bringing the entire legion to the Red Tide.

Housing, food rations, and morale stability are all problems.

He smiled, his tone gentle yet hitting the nail on the head: "Then Silver Fang will guard Frost Halberd."

Oser then rose and bowed, accepting the bow silently.

He saved face and preserved the independence of his headquarters.

Louis, on the other hand, cleverly left this "potential variable" on the strategic periphery.

The meeting ended without any arguments or shouting.

There is only a slow reconstruction of order, with the power of a temporary guardian being consolidated.

Thus, the temporary command of the three major knightly orders—Broken Edge, Cold Iron, and Silver Fang—officially fell into Louis's hands.

Until Isaac Edmund comes of age, there are probably still more than ten years, and Louis can do a lot through these knights.

…………

Duke Simmons, the patriarch of one of the eight great families of the empire, is currently riding high and doesn't seem like an old fox at all.

Dressed in a deep purple and gold family robe, holding an ivory scepter, his smile was as sweet as honey, and even his few white hairs seemed to have turned back to green.

Six months.

Emperor Ernst August, his First Legion, the Dragonblood Legion, and the Royal Guard have all been missing for six months.

The past six months have been turbulent in the capital. While the Dragon Throne Meeting appears calm on the surface, the center of power has shifted several times in private.

He was originally the one of the eight great families who was closest to the capital and was the most suppressed by the emperor, but now he can finally catch his breath.

"How are things going with the Fourth Prince?" he asked casually.

“I have already met secretly with the three marquises, and their attitude has been positive,” Ode replied, bowing his head.

“Very good, continue recruiting people and gradually let them adapt to an empire ‘without Ernst’.”

At that moment, a young servant knocked on the door and entered, holding a secret letter: "Your Excellency, the latest intelligence from the North: Duke Edmund Frostspear has passed away."

The air seemed to freeze for a moment.

Simmons glanced back at the letter, took it, opened it, quickly scanned it, and raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Finally gone, that old tough nut to crack," he said softly, though he had known all along that Edmund was seriously ill.

His impression of Edmund was complicated.

For more than thirty years, he almost single-handedly defended the entire northern frontier, resisting barbarians, insect plagues, rebels, and even palace purges.

He admired his loyalty, but also thought he was too foolish.

"They fought to the death for the empire, and now only a few marginal figures remain in the Edmund family." Simmons shook his head and chuckled.

"So, who is the new Duke of the North?" he asked casually.

“It’s Lord Isaac’s one-and-a-half-year-old son.” Od paused, lowering his voice as he delivered the information.

“A baby? Ha.” Simmons put down the letter, glanced at it, and looked at it as if watching a farce. “Who’s really in power?”

"According to intelligence from the North, it is... Louis Calvin who currently holds de facto control of the military and political power."

“Calvin? Which Calvin branch?” Simmons frowned.

“He is the eighth son of Duke Calvin, who was sent to the North to establish a settlement. He married the daughter of Duke Edmund,” Odd answered cautiously.

Simmons slumped back in his chair, his knuckles tapping lightly on the back. "So... the Calvin family now controls both the southeast and the north?"

"In theory, the North still nominally belongs to Edmund, but real power has been entrusted to Viscount Louis."

An unusual silence hung in the air.

The Calvin family, one of the eight great families of the Empire, was already powerful, and now, through marriage alliances, it has brought the vast Northern Territory under its control.

If the emperor were still alive and the capital were stable, this would not have happened. Duke Kaven's methods are truly brilliant.

He recalled the Northern Expedition Order from a few years ago.

At that time, he also sent several members of his family to the Northern Border for training, including two nephews and his own third son.

Unfortunately, they all died mysteriously in that "insect swarm" incident. It's truly infuriating to compare oneself to others.

Simmons stood in front of the map for a long time, then slowly moved his finger from the southeast to the words "Frost Halberd," and tapped them lightly, as if confirming a certain reality.

“The Calvin family’s eighth son…” He laughed, half mocking and half astonished, “Who would have thought… that lecherous man who was obsessed with having children actually gave birth to a talented person.”

A moment later, the smile slowly faded.

"But... Louis Calvin isn't the Governor of the North yet, is he?"

“Yes.” Od nodded immediately. “Currently, he is only Prince Isaac’s ‘guardian agent’ to the outside world. Although many nobles in the North support him, he has not received a formal title from the capital.”

Simmons laughed: "That's going to be fun."

Without an appointment from the capital, everything is temporary and illegitimate, and I remember there's a prince in the North?

(End of this chapter)