Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 314 Rough Waves
Just as Eleanor was casually assessing the victory in her mind.

One of the usually taciturn representatives quietly rose to his feet: "Due to the sudden death of Duke Edmund and the unsettled situation in the North, the defenses are as thin as ice."

I propose that His Highness, Prince Asta Augustus, the sixth prince, succeed as Governor of the North to oversee the aftermath and restore order.

Everyone turned to look; it was Duke Simmons's representative.

The old man rose from the side of the long table, his tone seemingly concerned about the safety of the empire, but in reality, it was as sharp as a knife.

This proposal was like throwing a stone into a still pond, creating ripples.

Immediately, another nobleman stood up to second the motion, followed by a third, a fourth...

These people were mostly from the central aristocratic faction, with a few from the capital's military system, and even some former members of the Censorate.

Their expressions varied, but their tones were uniform:

"This proposal is very sound."

"The Sixth Prince has pure blood and already has a nominal territory in the Northern Border..."

"The position of governor remains vacant, and the people's hearts are adrift..."

"The Sixth Prince is of royal blood, symbolizing stability..."

……

It wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision; it seemed like a pre-planned encirclement operation.

Eleanor's gaze swept casually over the folds of clothing and badges of the speakers, and she made a judgment in an instant.

They came from different factions, yet responded to Simmons with astonishing tacit understanding, clearly indicating a well-planned joint attack.

What's even more alarming is that those who should have immediately refuted the claims... remained silent.

Chief of the Overwatch Council, Mays, slightly adjusted his thin-rimmed glasses, his expression as cold and restrained as ever.

General Yoda, who had previously expressed many objections to matters in the North, now seemed deaf to them, fiddling with the bronze seal in his hand as if calculating the pros and cons.

The Imperial Finance Director, the gray-haired, overweight man known for his stinginess and caution, fell completely silent.

Eleanor's brow twitched almost imperceptibly, but a silent, cold smile curled at the corner of her lips.

Underestimating the enemy.

The Simmons family and these people did not intend for the sixth prince, who had long been exiled to the North, to truly take control of the North.

On the contrary, this attack struck at the heart of the matter, precisely targeting the Calvin family and Louis.

Having a prince nominally appointed as governor may seem respectable, but it is in reality a hollow gesture, and it is enough to nominally block Louis's legitimacy in ruling the North and his path to advancement.

Even if most of the nobles in the North supported Louis, he would still be unable to truly rule the North.

More importantly, this step could thwart Calvin's attempt to expand his power through the North.

Eleanor knew exactly where she had gone wrong.

It went too smoothly, so smoothly that we forgot we were under the dragon throne.

The situation went smoothly from the start; Louise was promoted to noble rank without any opposition, and her air superiority in the North was firmly established. Moreover, there were no obstacles in her efforts to win over supporters.

Eleanor even thought the meeting would end in her usual routine.

But now she realized that the other families were not without ambitions for the Northern Territory; rather, they had already laid out their plans, waiting for her to let her guard down before launching their attack.

“…Damn it.” She cursed under her breath.

Duke Calvin's letter seemed to float before my eyes: "The interests of the North are worth fighting for, but not worth the high price to pay."

She did save on the cost of exchanging benefits, but she also ended up at a disadvantage.

But Eleanor wasn't the type to get stuck on the chessboard and give up immediately.

She served as a special envoy in the capital for more than ten years, representing the Calvin family in negotiations with various parties, laying the groundwork for her brother, and securing profits for the family.

I have witnessed countless falls from high positions, the deaths of powerful ministers, and the grand entrances and quiet exits of nobles from the throne.

Based on her years of experience, Eleanor immediately thought of a solution to avoid the worst-case scenario.

She did not intend to directly refute the proposal to make the sixth prince the governor.

That's incredibly foolish, as if the Calvin family were rushing to refute the royal family and seize power for personal gain.

She intends to delve into the front lines of human relationships, etiquette, and tradition—an angle that everyone can accept.

Of course, this time Eleanor did not prepare a backup spokesperson, nor did she arrange for any noble allies to provide covert assistance.

Therefore, she had to go on stage herself.

Eleanor slowly rose, her movements so steady it seemed as if she had planned it all along. She glanced around, paused, lowered her eyes as if in sorrow, and spoke with a slightly hoarse tone:

"Duke Edmund defended the North for more than ten years until the last battle, and his body is still warm."

His youngest son had just inherited the title and should have inherited the position of Lord of the North, as the position of Lord of the North had always been held by Patriarch Edmund.

It's not that His Highness the Sixth Prince is unsuitable... but right now, even the nobles in the northern border region don't know the attitude of the capital.

"To bestow the title of governorship upon a prince who has only been in the North for a little over a year is far too hasty. It might even alienate the old nobles of the North. In such turbulent times, we should be even more cautious."

As soon as he finished speaking, the Imperial Hall fell silent.

Some people gently put down their teacups with solemn expressions, while others exchanged glances with their neighbors in hushed tones, but no one readily agreed with Simmons' proposal.

Eleanor did not say that the sixth prince was incompetent, did not mention the Calvin family, and did not vie for power.

But with the statement, "Those old nobles of the North may become estranged...", she turned the entire North into a minefield that the imperial faction could not easily touch.

The most ingenious part was that she also used the phrase "the body is not yet cold" to subtly evoke a sense of shared sorrow among the nobles present.

Today, a royal family can strip a deceased ducal family of a century of achievements with just a word; tomorrow, they can strip any family of its territory and glory.

Thus, whether they were those whose interests were intertwined with those of the Calvin family, nobles who had been favored by Edmund, or other noble representatives who were worried about the fate of the family, they were all affected.

After weighing their options in their minds, they chose to remain silent or nod in agreement.

Most of them may not actually support Eleanor herself; they are simply supporting the self-preservation behind that statement.

Just when the tide had turned, the Simmons family representative, whose eyes were usually filled with smiles, looked rather grim.

His eye twitched slightly as he glanced discreetly at the notebook scroll on the table, seemingly considering whether to forcefully push forward with the original plan.

But before he could figure it out, Eleanor had already slowly delivered her sharpest blow.

"If His Highness the Regent wishes to secure the Northern Border, it would be better to grant the Sixth Prince the title of 'Special Envoy for the Reconstruction of the Northern Border Royal Army' to temporarily handle some administrative powers. Once the situation becomes clearer, the succession to the Governor-General can be determined."

She spoke casually, as if it were truly out of consideration for the prince, without any intention of attack or defense.

But this is a masterpiece of concealing the blade within etiquette and decorum.

Giving the seemingly prestigious title of "Royal Reconstruction Envoy" was actually:

The sixth prince was given a "respectable position" but without any real power of command.

The position of governor will remain vacant for the time being, leaving room for future competition.

If it becomes necessary to eliminate the influence of the Sixth Prince in the future, it will not become a major case for dismissing the governor.

This move, taking a step back, blocks three moves, and uses one move to resolve the overall situation.

A glint of light flashed in Simmons' eyes.

He certainly understood what Eleanor's strategy meant. It wasn't that they had lost, but that Eleanor had timely closed the gaps, no longer leaving an opening for a decisive strike.

If he were to forcefully refute this now, it would appear as if he were coercing the emperor and disrupting the meeting order.

If we retreat arbitrarily, it would be tantamount to confirming the charge of reckless and rash advance.

froze.

Inside the Imperial Hall, many nobles nodded slightly, and even General Yoda on the military side quietly put away the bronze medal in his hand.

The regent did not speak, but turned to look at Lin Ze, the old chief steward beside him.

Lin Ze lowered his head slightly and whispered a few words in the Regent's ear.

After a moment, the frail regent spoke, his voice low and hoarse, yet undeniably authoritative:

"The position of Governor-General of the Northern Territory will remain vacant for the time being. The Sixth Prince will be appointed as the 'Special Envoy for the Reconstruction of the Northern Territory' to assist in all matters, and will be jointly supervised by the Oversight Council."

Everyone in the Imperial Hall stood up and bowed their heads in greeting.

Eleanor bowed her head slightly, her face calm, but she breathed a sigh of relief.

She won, though not a complete victory, but it was enough.

But from now on, it seems Louis will have to rely on himself.

The title of Royal Reconstruction Envoy may be light, but in reality, it is the eyes and hands of the imperial factions planted in the North.

How Louis will deal with the intrigue, checks and balances, and compromises between them in the future will depend on his own skills.

That was all the Calvin family could do for him.

To strive for even greater heights would come at too high a price, as her brother wrote in his letter: "There's no need to exert yourself too much."

But she wasn't worried. She reasoned that Louis must have exceptional political acumen to have risen from a pioneer in the southeastern corner of the empire to the de facto ruler of the North in just four years.

The meeting was not yet over. The subsequent proposals, though numerous, failed to evoke the same intense debate as before.

Most of the issues are related to the reconstruction of the North.

This includes how to repair Frostspear's defenses, whether to restart funding for the Northern Granary, and whether minor nobles who have contributed to the war should be rewarded.

These issues, which might have required careful consideration when the emperor was alive, were now being glossed over.

Some neutral nobles proposed a detailed breakdown of the funding for the construction of the northern defense line, while some members of parliament suggested increasing the proportion of troops stationed in the north, citing the remaining remnants of barbarian tribes.

But in the end, it was just recorded and left to be reviewed by the finance department.

Only those families who were allowed to submit petitions to claim credit showed a hint of smugness on their faces.

Although everyone knows that those so-called war achievements are mostly elaborate and beautified figures.

But the real challenges are only just beginning to emerge.

As the reconstruction of the North entered the practical stage, the meeting inevitably touched upon the issue of arranging material assistance.

The scene instantly became delicate, but the nobles' expressions revealed a hint of indifference.

The real problem is not a lack of resources, but that the emperor is no longer here.

If the emperor were still alive in the past, even if the nobles were dissatisfied, they would still try their best to respond out of respect for the emperor's authority.

And now, which of these important figures sitting around the long table isn't harboring their own agendas and secretly testing us?
"Where will the grain be allocated from?" A marquis frowned slightly.

"Transport it to the North? Even if they allocate 100%, getting 30% would be a miracle." On the other side, a ducal representative scoffed and shook his head, his arrogance barely concealed in his whisper.

If there were an emperor, perhaps these people would still be obedient, but without an emperor, the capital would not truly "lean northward".

The slogan of "Supporting the North" still hangs solemnly, but the actual mobilization of resources is far less forceful and command-driven than when the emperor was alive.

After all, the regent is not the true ruler. Even though he sits on the throne now, listlessly directing the vast machinery of the empire, he cannot rule with absolute power like the previous emperors.

And there is also an extremely awkward possibility.

The empire did respond to the call and send provisions and equipment, but these resources were embezzled and exploited at every level during transport.

Some were local officials taking advantage of the chaos to manipulate things, while others were the military corps' usual practice of "subsidizing military supplies."

Even worse, some simply obey orders to start shipping but turn back halfway, making the accounts look good while in reality not touching a single penny.

Moreover, the northern border is currently leaderless, and no one has the authority to hold anyone accountable for these losses.

These people become even more unscrupulous when it comes to embezzling resources.

"What percentage of the supplies will actually reach the northern border?"

Eleanor watched coldly as the nobles discussed ways to rescue the North with smiles on their lips.

In his mind, however, he could already see truckloads of empty containers and rotten grain piled up in front of the broken docks and charred fortresses, turning into ashes in the wind.

"Anyway, the barbarians are almost wiped out. I heard that the snowfields were quiet for months after the war..."

"Besides, even if they attack, the Imperial Legion will be watching. Our reinforcements in the southwest will only be symbolic support."

"The empire is so vast, surely it won't really fall to the North?"

Whispers from some noble representatives drifted over, tinged with a half-serious, half-joking tone.

This is the true political atmosphere of the empire at this moment; in reality, everyone is weighing their own gains and losses.

…………

From the tower not far from the window came the low whispers of soldiers changing guard, like an echo from a dream.

On the bed, Louis slowly opened his eyes.

This was not the domed bedroom he was familiar with in Crimson Tide City, but the inner chamber of the tower in Frostspear City. It was cold and hard, and even the thick carpet could not hide the chill.

Today marks the twelfth day since Duke Edmund's death, and they should prepare to return to Red Tide.

Emily rested quietly on Louis's left arm, her snow-white skin making her lips appear even paler.

The once proud and aloof daughter of the governor was nothing more than a tired and sleeping girl beside him.

Her brows were no longer furrowed, and her breathing was even, as if she had temporarily withdrawn from the grief of losing her father and the political strife.

Louis gazed at her for a long time, his fingertips gently stroking her loose hair.

“...I’m strong enough already,” he thought to himself.

She is the daughter of Duke Edmund, a true descendant of the Shield of the North, and had long been prepared for her father's departure.

But when the night is quiet, she would occasionally hold his hand tightly, as if searching for the last remaining support on the verge of collapse.

Louis gently reached out and brushed a stray hair from her forehead.

Emily's brow twitched slightly, but she didn't wake up; she was too tired.
Louis then slowly raised his other hand and gently made a sweeping motion in the air.

A semi-transparent light curtain quietly appeared before my eyes and unfolded silently.

The pale blue interface shimmered with a subtle glow, a few wisps of deep blue flashing by, accompanied by a faint hum.

The familiar interface has finished loading.

[Daily intelligence update complete]

(End of this chapter)