Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 318 Roads and Return to Town

On the morning after the festival, the remaining bonfires in the valley of Wheat Wave Territory still emitted faint smoke.

After the autumn harvest, there are a few days off. At this time, most people are still asleep. Occasionally, a few cleaners pick up the scattered decorations and move the festival utensils in the square, gently restoring the square to its original state.

Green was already standing by the road leading to the mountain path, his posture upright, waiting for the lord's arrival.

Louis sat astride his warhorse, his sword hanging at his waist, his cloak swaying gently in the breeze.

His gaze swept across the valley. Although he felt a pang of reluctance to leave this bountiful harvest, he had to set off today.

Because he had promised Emily that he would return to Red Tide City as soon as possible.

After all, she had been pregnant for a long time and her father had just passed away, so she needed someone by her side more than ever.

Now that the most important thing, the autumn harvest, has been resolved, other less important matters on the territory can be put aside, and we can focus on spending time with Emily.

Secondly, according to the daily intelligence system, an envoy from the capital is about to arrive in Red Tide City to convey the contents of the Dragon Throne Conference and the promotion of rank.

Therefore, he had to go back to ensure that he was taken seriously by the Empire, even though he already knew the gist of the messenger's report from the intelligence system.

Of course, before leaving, Louis still had to personally give instructions on a few things to do after the autumn harvest.

He trusted Green, but for such an important territory as Wheatfield, it was better to give him a few more instructions than to have any problems later.

So he summoned Green to his side: "Within three days, you must complete the distribution of rewards to the top ten villages and towns on the 'Cultivation Ranking'."

The maps of privately allocated land must be delivered to every village, and tools and livestock must be distributed according to the list, without any omissions.

Exemption certificates and exemptions for children of citizens must be fully documented and displayed on notice boards in village and town centers to ensure transparency in rewards and punishments.

The credit shouldn't be delayed. Everyone needs to know that I remember every drop of sweat shed by the workers.

Green nodded, the tip of the pen in his notebook glowing faintly.

Louis thought for a moment and continued, "Winter preparations should also begin."

Organize a canal repair team to inspect and repair spring irrigation canals, fertilizer pools, and geothermal pipelines, and clean up the silt.

In addition, the wear and tear on tools and livestock must be accurately tallied, and a winter supply plan must be made in advance.

The entire autumn harvest process needs to be documented and transcribed into three copies of the "Wheat Waves Autumn Harvest Document".

One copy was sent to the Agriculture Department in the main city of Red Tide, one was archived in Wheat Wave Territory, and one was for subsequent institutionalization and replication of the Wheat Wave model to other territories.

Green silently memorized each instruction, secretly admiring the lord's meticulousness.

Louis paused, his gaze falling on the refugees who were finishing up in the distance:
"Those who join the migrants after the autumn harvest should be screened and reassigned. Priority should be given to ensuring that people from the harvest villages stay in their original locations, while the remaining people can gradually develop a second batch of wasteland."

There is also a preliminary list of participants for the winter agricultural training course, and a selection of farmers' children who are willing to switch careers as craftsmen or technicians…

Green took a deep breath and wrote down each one in his notebook.

These are the key factors that allow the Wheatfield Territory to continue operating even without the lord's presence.

Louis patted him on the shoulder: "Green, that's all I asked for. The rest is up to you, and I trust you with the Wheatfield Pass."

Green immediately bowed and replied, "Your subordinate understands and will certainly not fail your trust."

Ferran stood on his horse on one side of the valley, holding the reins, quietly watching Greene record and check each entry like a notebook.

Although he had never served as a civil servant, he had spent many years by the Duke of Edmund's side and, through observation and experience, had come to understand the logic of administrative operations to some extent.

Seeing Louis give each instruction one by one.

Food, rewards, straw, supplies, training courses...

Every step is clear and interconnected.

As expected, the smooth operation here is not due to chance, but to Lord Louis's planning and execution.

This young lord is steady and unassuming, and his allocation and instructions are just right. He is truly a good lord.

"Let's go back to Red Tide City."

As he was lost in thought, Louis's voice came from beside him.

Ferran turned his head slightly and saw Louis already mounted on his horse, his cloak fluttering gently in the morning breeze.

He responded softly, gathered his thoughts, then mounted his horse and followed behind Louis.

The journey to Red Tide City would take several more days, but Ferran felt a slight sense of excitement.

It is said that the city is even more magnificent and spectacular, a wonder of the North.

Having witnessed the miracle of the wheat fields, he couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for the miracle of the red tide.

…………

As the sound of horses' hooves entered the mountain bend, a sudden roar and knocking sound came from ahead.

The crisp sound of hammers smashing stones, the creaking of wheelbarrows rolling, and the deep rumble of steam blowers mingled together, creating a somewhat chaotic yet lively atmosphere.

A road repair team of several hundred people was seen working busily at the mouth of the valley.

The craftsmen wielded their hammers, breaking the rocks into pieces and filling the pits.

The laborers pushed wheelbarrows back and forth, transporting stones and sand, sweat dripping down their backs.

The steam blower roared to life, the blower box spewing out hot air, melting the viscous substance and pouring it into the cracks in the stones, gradually sealing the road surface.

Meanwhile, at a stone table nearby, civil officials were engrossed in writing, recording working hours and material consumption, with accounts so neat and clear that they were easy to understand.

A small flag of the Red Tide Trade Office stood in front of the roadblock, and a notice board was hung on a wooden stake.

"The construction of this road will allow workers to exchange labor for food, with room and board provided, and the construction period will be six months."

As soon as Louis and his entourage appeared, the workers immediately stirred.

Many of the newly surrendered refugees were particularly excited. They originally had no skills and would have been treated as unpaid slaves in other territories.

However, in the Red Tide, they were incorporated into the road construction team: they were given food every day, work points to offset their earnings, and even a small amount of iron and copper coins.

"It's the lord!" someone recognized him and whispered.

“This is… Lord Louis!” A young man gripped the hammer tightly, his eyes filled with both nervousness and curiosity.

They had heard many old craftsmen boast: for example, the great Red Tide Lord could defeat a hundred barbarians by himself.

It makes people curious about what he looks like.
Could it really be as rumored, majestic and powerful, with three heads and six arms?
But when they saw it with their own eyes, they found that the man was simply riding quietly on his horse.

He has delicate features, a tall and slender figure, and a cool and composed expression.

There were no miraculous signs as described in legends, nor any overwhelming pressure.

But when Louis walked by, he nodded slightly to them and smiled.

At that moment, it was as if the sun, a rare sight in winter, shone through the thick clouds, warmly shining into their hearts.

Everyone felt that the lord was smiling at them.

So the refugees who had been expecting a spectacle were not disappointed.

Instead, a deeper sense of emotion and belonging arose from this unexpected ordinariness.

Looking at the half-finished road, Louis didn't exchange many pleasantries, but instead asked, "How's the progress on this section?"

A foreman quickly responded, "Lord Louis will be able to completely pave the mountain road in another half month, at which time the convoy can travel directly from Red Tide to the entrance of Wheat Wave Valley."

Louis nodded, said nothing more, and continued riding forward. At this moment, Ferran, standing beside him, couldn't help but frown: "This mountain path... it's clearly passable, why go through all this trouble to repair it?"

Louis turned his head and answered without hesitation, "Being able to walk and walking well are two different things. If it's just a horse, a person can manage, but walking in the snow..."

However, caravans would be stuck halfway if they encountered rain, snow, or mud, and since most of the northern lands were snowy, roads were the lifeblood of the territory. If goods and food could not arrive on time, everything would be in vain.

His gaze fell upon the displaced people ahead who were hauling stones in carts: "So it must be repaired."

Ferran paused, looking at the stone path taking shape before him with a complicated expression.

After passing through the mountain path, and continuing downhill, the dust and gravel gradually leveled out.

In less than half a day, a newly built post station came into view.

This post station was built at the confluence of the river valleys, with blue bricks and gray tiles, and the words "Chichao Post Station" hanging under the eaves.

A dozen or so caravan wagons were parked in the courtyard, and horses were leisurely drinking water from the long trough.

It was a caravan from the south, with rainproof tarpaulins covering the carriages, the shapes of wine barrels vaguely visible through them.

Smoke curled from the stove, and the cart drivers sat around the fire, drinking thin porridge, with bursts of laughter occasionally drifting through the air.

When Louis and his entourage stepped into the post station, they immediately attracted a lot of attention.

"It's Lord Louis!" some whispered, but there was no commotion; they simply watched from afar with respectful eyes.

Upon seeing Louis, the middle-aged merchant leading the group mustered his courage and stepped forward to bow: "Sir, we have met before. This time, we have come from the south to sell red wine in Red Tide City."

After a few pleasantries, the businessman couldn't help but exclaim, "I've never had such a smooth journey north."

In the old North, it was common for wheels to get stuck in the snow, but now the roads were clear. The roads through the Red Tide region were even smoother than those in the South.

Several people nearby chimed in, "Yeah, you can sell goods here in Crimson Tide, and everyone has money to spare! I've heard fewer and fewer people are going to Frostspear City..."

A few ordinary business words made Ferran's heart tighten slightly.

Frostspear, the city he dedicated his life to defending, was once the heart of the North, yet now it is described so casually as desolate.

He turned to look at the endless stream of people in the post station, the leaders, refugees, and merchants of the Red Tide coming and going.

As the leader of the Cold Iron Knights, he should have been pleased with the prosperity of the North, but he couldn't help feeling a little melancholy.

Frostspear City, which they have guarded their entire lives, is losing its former glory.

This new territory, pioneered by Louis, is now rising to become a new commercial center in the North.

Ferran remained silent for a long time, finally only murmuring softly, "Perhaps, this is just how times change."

He was immersed in complex emotions when he suddenly heard Louis's voice in his ear.

"Don't overthink it, Ferran. Get some rest. We'll reach Red Tide City in two more days."

Louis simply said something, his eyes remaining calm, showing no sign that he had noticed his thoughts.

Ferran nodded slightly, suppressing the slight loneliness in his heart, and followed behind Louis.

…………

Two days later.

As the morning mist gradually dissipated, the silhouette of a magnificent city slowly emerged on the distant horizon.

Red Tide City, the foundation of Louis.

It is not as magnificent as the capital, but it has its own sense of weight and solidity.

The towering walls wind their way up the mountain, with towers standing tall and crimson flags fluttering in the wind, gleaming in the sunlight.

The gray-white stone city walls reflected a cold light under the thin frost, and the cold iron beams were deeply embedded in the stone layers, as if the city was wearing steel armor, exuding a unique sense of oppression.

The city gate was tall and heavy, with its wooden doors covered with cold iron nails, which, when reflected in the morning light, looked like a row of sharp blades.

From the perspective of Ferran's knights, the city's defense system was already quite complete.

Although it cannot yet compare to Frostspear City, which has stood the test of time for over a century and is as solid as a rock.

But considering that the city had taken shape in just a few years, he had to admit that it was a miracle.

The city gates of Red Tide City slowly closed behind us.

The knights and members of the Cold Iron Legion who had followed along had not yet had time to take in the prosperity and grandeur of Crimson Tide City when Louis stopped his horse.

Instead of leading the way himself as usual, he simply gave the order: "Bradley, take them to their lodgings."

After saying that, he turned and left without offering any further explanation.

Everyone looked at each other.

This was unlike Louis's usual style. In the past, he was always calm and thorough, never neglecting the proper etiquette for guests, and never leaving a knight who had just arrived at the Red Tide aside.

Just as some people were looking at each other in confusion, the old butler Bradley smiled slightly and cleared up the mystery for his master.

"Gentlemen, don't worry," he said in a low voice. "The lord is in a hurry to see his wife. After all, she is about to give birth."

"Ah..." Everyone suddenly realized, and knowing smiles immediately appeared on their faces.

"I see."

"No wonder."

"Hmm...that's true, we should go back and keep Miss Emily company."

The officers of the Cold Iron Knights, in particular, exchanged glances, their doubts immediately dissipating, replaced by a greater sense of agreement.

After all, the child in her womb was not only Louis's heir, but also the grandson of the late Duke Edmund.

This is also very important to these Cold Iron Knights.

Louis himself, however, hardly lingered.

With a flick of his cloak in the wind, he strode quickly toward the Tulou (earthen buildings) in the south of the city.

Red Tide's castle plan had already been drawn up, but due to the urgency of road construction and defense projects, all manpower and craftsmen had been transferred away.

The construction of the castle was forced to be postponed, and he and Emily and others still live in the original earthen building.

But actually, that Tulou castle wasn't simple, after all, it had only been built for two years, it just didn't look very good on the outside.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, I found the stove inside was warm.

Emily was sitting on the couch, nearly eight months pregnant, her cheeks flushed in the firelight.

The maid beside her quietly took care of her, bringing her water and laying out blankets.

Sif stayed by her side, chatting with her to keep her entertained.

Seeing Louis return, Emily's eyes lit up with relief, and she said in a soft but gentle voice, "You're back."

Louis stepped forward and gently patted her shoulder: "Yes, I'm back."

The baby is due in just one month, and winter is fast approaching.

Looking at Emily's growing belly, he made a decision: he would not travel around again until the following spring.

He will stay here with them, mother and child, at least this winter.

(End of this chapter)