Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 321 The Conferment Ceremony
As early as two weeks ago, Louis had gleaned a crucial piece of information from the daily intelligence system.

Anthony, the northern leader of the Silver Plate Guild, will personally come to Red Tide City for his first meeting with Camille, the Imperial Inspector.

This intelligence is a double surprise.

Firstly, Anthony's personal appearance means that the Silver Disc's power in the North will be exposed to the world without any cover.

The second layer is that the connection between Camille and the silver plate is no longer a superficial exchange, but a deep-seated penetration.

It can be almost concluded that this special envoy sent from the capital has become a spy bought off by the Federation.

What's even more interesting is that the two actually chose to meet in Red Tide City.

After reading the intelligence, Louis couldn't help but chuckle: "That's really... convenient."

He didn't even need to cross borders to search for him; he walked right into the trap.

…………

When Anthony awoke in his secret cell, his limbs were firmly chained with heavy iron chains, and the stone chair beneath him was icy cold.

He slowly opened his eyes, his gaze clear and calm, without any panic.

Facing the cold glint of the police officer's eyes, he simply said calmly, "If you want to kill me, just do it."

Upon hearing his words, Louis simply smiled faintly and said, "It's up to you."

Then he turned and left, after all, Mr. Calvin was kind-hearted and couldn't bear to see people suffer.

The torture began.

The interrogators of the Cold Iron Legion had long since learned various methods from the tortures inflicted by the Snowsworn, the barbarians, and even the Imperial military.

The bucket of cold water was poured over Anthony again and again, making his jaw chatter in the bone-chilling cold.

The pliers slowly pressed down on the knuckles, the bones making a slight cracking sound.

The powdered poison was mixed into the drinking water, causing the nerves to be torn between numbness and burning, making it difficult to distinguish between a dream and reality.

At first, Anthony remained calm, gritting his teeth: "...You will get nothing."

But as time passed day by day, the stone chamber could never distinguish between day and night.

The alternation between cold water and flames intensified the pain in the bones and nerves.

Anthony's eyes finally began to cloud over, and the coldness on his lips was no longer a sneer, but a slight tremor.

Under the relentless onslaught of pain and the effects of the medication, Anthony, the extraordinary knight, finally cried out in the darkness, "Stop...stop! I'll talk! I'll tell you everything!"

His voice was hoarse, yet it carried the suppressed despair of a long time.

“Red Tide City…market…spies…they disguised themselves as merchant caravans from the south, stationed themselves in the market, using smuggling as a cover…”

The interrogator coldly noted it down, then flicked his finger, and his assistant poured cold water on him again: "Don't stop, keep talking."

Anthony shuddered, his teeth chattering: "Several nobles who have established settlements in the North... have been bribed... they are secretly transporting grain and ore for us..."

At this point, he still harbored a glimmer of hope: what if he revealed a few pieces of information and the other side let him go?
But as the branding iron pressed against his skin again, he finally cried out in a tearing voice, "There are supply depots on the southeastern border! ...They can serve as a springboard once the war starts!"

The interrogator, unsatisfied, coldly stated, "Details."

Anthony cried out, revealing the coordinates, the type of supplies, and even the name of the person in charge.

By the eighth night, his voice was almost broken, yet he was still pressed for answers.

In a complete breakdown, he finally cried out:
“A secret room inside the city…and a file folder!…Inside are communication codes, methods of transmission…and…Camille’s files and accounts…He…that’s…ironclad evidence…”

As soon as he finished speaking, he seemed to be completely drained, his eyes glazed over, and blood kept flowing from the corner of his mouth.

But the interrogators did not stop because of his breakdown.

"And then there's more, and ...

They repeated their questions over and over again, trying to extract the last bit of information from Anthony, even though he was already insane.

But such a tragic approach does come at a price.

Less than two weeks later, Anthony finally succumbed to his injuries and died on the torture chair.

Covered in wounds, he slumped on the torture chair, his eyes unfocused, still muttering the codes and names under his breath.

Everything he revealed has been compiled into several thick volumes of files and placed on Louis's desk.

Of course, his body was not wasted; his head was placed in an exquisite lunchbox.

Therefore, when Camille and his party arrived in Red Tide City in a grand procession, they were met with only a few days of polite delays.

The stated reason was that the autumn harvest was in full swing and the lord was preoccupied with official duties, but this was merely a high-sounding excuse.

The real reason was that Anthony's screams had not yet completely stopped in the underground prison cell of Red Tide City.

Louis closed the parchment scroll, a cold smile playing on his lips.

He already had all the evidence; he didn't even need to make any threats, show anger, or adopt an aggressive stance.

Simply place that still-wet head, stained with blood, quietly in the lunchbox on the dining table.

That was enough to make Camille, the high and mighty imperial inspector, instantly understand:
In this northern region, there is neither the Overwatch Council nor the Regent.

Louis truly held the power of life and death.

…………

Back at the table, Camille still maintained the airs of a special envoy, trying hard to keep that condescending expression.

He swirled his wine glass, his tone indifferent: "The cutting of these gems... is acceptable. However, it's still somewhat inferior to the craftsmanship of the capital."

Then, as if casually mentioning the secrets of a countess from the capital, his laughter was forced, and his rambling was incoherent.

His voice still carried a hint of pride, but his fingers trembled slightly from tension, and the wine almost spilled.

Louis smiled but remained silent, chatting casually with him as if nothing was amiss, even displaying a hint of junior-like politeness, as if he hadn't seen through anything.

But the more this happened, the colder Camille felt inside.

He understood that he was able to sit there safely only because the other party did not intend to make a move for the time being.

As the banquet drew to a close, Louis casually brought up the important matter of bestowing honors: "The ceremony will begin tomorrow; keep it simple."

Camille nodded hastily, her smile stiff: "Perfect, perfect."

His tone was as eager as a beast of burden longing to get off work early.

When he left the table, he inexplicably forgot about the lunchbox on the table.

Bradley reminded him, "Your Excellency, this is your gift."

Camille froze for a moment before turning around abruptly, her face flushed, and hurriedly picked up the box.

When he first entered the banquet hall, he put on an arrogant expression, as if the mountains and rivers of the North were at his feet.

But just two hours later, his back was slightly hunched and his steps were trembling, as if he were walking on ice, afraid that he would fall into the abyss at the next step.

It's ridiculous.

His initial arrogance turned into obsequiousness in just one night.

Louis watched Camille hurriedly leave with the lunchbox, a slight smile playing on his lips.

He certainly wouldn't expose Camille's identity as a spy right now.

That would only push the other party to their wits' end, causing them to break off relations on the spot, which would bring no benefit whatsoever.

Anyway, there was no rush. He already had all the evidence provided by Anthony, and it was irrefutable.

At this moment, Camille was nothing more than meat on a chopping board, completely at his mercy.

What we should really do is not destroy him, but make use of him.

For example, at the Dragon Throne Conference, he endorsed Red Tide as a special envoy for oversight.

Right under the regent's nose, he personally embellished his own political achievements.

In the reconstruction of the North, he transformed himself into a vassal of his own policies.

The more afraid he was of death, the more obedient Camille became. The more he wanted to live, the more he would risk his life.

Louis took a small sip of his drink, his smile deepening.

…………

Crimson Tide City, Crimson Tide Square, atop a high platform. The ceremonial platform was not particularly ornate, with only two flags hanging from it.

One side was the empire's golden dragon flag, and the other side was the Crimson Tide flag.

Compared to the elaborate ceremonies in the capital, it appeared quite simple.

Bradley stood in the corner of the platform, his brow furrowed deeply.

What should an investiture ceremony look like in the eyes of this old-fashioned steward?
Colorful ribbons were hung, horns sounded in unison, poems and songs were recited one after another, and the booming of drums and music reverberated through the streets.

That is worthy of the glory of a nobleman.

But now, only two flags flutter in the wind on the high platform, and only people stand in the square.

Louis simply replied, "Just go through the motions."

As a result, most of the process was abruptly cut.

Bradley sighed inwardly.

This is a complete waste of Louis's grand celebration.

In just four years, this young lord transformed himself from a pioneering baron who was almost abandoned by his family into a powerful figure who carved out his own territory.

Now, he has been recognized by the Regent and the Dragon Throne Council and promoted to Earl.

If this ceremony were held in the capital, what kind of grand spectacle would it be?

Poets will sing his praises in history, and nobles will vie to present him with congratulatory gifts.

But in this frigid northern region, all he saw was simplicity and haste.

Bradley couldn't help but feel sorry for Louis, but then he thought that perhaps this "indifference to pomp and circumstance" was precisely what made his young lord so convincing.

The square was packed with people.

As soon as the news of the title was announced, all the citizens of Crimson Tide City flocked to the area, crowding the Crimson Tide Square.

Fortunately, the Crimson Tide Knights lined up on both sides of the road, barely maintaining order.

The child was carried on his father's shoulders, craning his neck to try and see "Lord" clearly.

The old woman, leaning on her cane, said with tears in her eyes, "He really became a count..."

The young artisans and farmers had burning eyes and rapid breathing, as if they too were about to be granted a title.

Looking down from the stage, even though the ceremony was simple, it had a genuine and passionate atmosphere rarely seen even in ceremonies in the capital.

Just as the drums sounded and the ceremony was about to begin, a low gasp came from the crowd.

Emily, heavily pregnant, slowly walked up the platform with Sif's help.

The sunlight shone on her profile, making the gentle aura added by the nurturing of new life appear even more dignified.

Sif linked arms with her, a faint chill in her eyes, scanning the entire room like a guard.

She didn't like the commotion, but her eyes shone with an undeniable pride in Louis.

Emily walked to Louise's side and gently placed her hand on her abdomen.

She raised her chin, looked down at the dense crowd below the stage, and a proud smile appeared on her lips.

That smile seemed to silently proclaim: This is my husband, the Earl who guards the North.

Sif stood on the other side, her hands folded in front of her, her posture submissive.

With his two wives standing on either side, Louis's figure on the high platform instantly gained an even more unshakeable air of authority.

The crowd below the square was aroused by this scene.

Some people were moved to tears, some shouted "Lord!", and others clasped their hands together as if in prayer.

But if you listen carefully, you'll find that those calls actually contain a lot more simple joy.

"The lady is about to give birth!"

"The Red Tide needs a successor!"

"We now have a pillar of support for our future!"

For these people who had experienced war, famine, and displacement, titles were nothing more than a distant matter in the capital.

What truly puts their hearts at ease is the gentle-smiling, heavily pregnant woman at the home, and the new life that is about to be born.

The arrival of the child means that the red tide will not stop, and that this land, which has been painstakingly cultivated, will have a "real future".

Therefore, their applause and cheers, rather than the solemnity of the investiture ceremony, seemed more like a blessing for the future sons of the Red Tide.

Emily had clearly heard the shouts of the crowd.

She paused for a moment, then smiled, slowly raised her hand, and nodded slightly to the people in the square.

Her movements were not exaggerated, but they carried a natural sense of approachability.

“…Thank you.” She spoke softly. “This child is the future of the Red Tide. And your future too.”

Those few words seemed to strike a chord with everyone.

There was a moment of silence in the square, then a thunderous roar of cheers suddenly erupted.

Long live the Red Tide!

"Your Majesty is safe!"

"The child will surely bring hope to the North!"

That fervor and sincerity made the entire Liechao Square seem to tremble.

Camille's heart skipped a beat when he saw this.

He had witnessed countless investiture ceremonies and balls in the capital, and the insincere applause and hypocritical praise of the nobles.

But I have never seen any lord of a territory be surrounded by the heartfelt respect and love of the entire territory like Louis.

"This public sentiment... is terrifying."

Even though he maintained the demeanor of a special envoy on the surface, a kind of inexplicable fear welled up in his heart.

His connection with the silver plate has been exposed.

Louis did not immediately break off relations, but instead presented a warning.

This means that I still have some value to them, and at least for the time being, I won't be in any trouble.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to calm down: "Calm down, Camille. As long as we're alive, we can manage."

The drums sounded again, and the investiture ceremony officially began.

Camille slowly unfurled the edict, his voice deliberately raised, tinged with a hint of fervor:
"By order of His Majesty the Regent, Louis Calvin is hereby promoted to Earl of the Ironblood Empire, effective from this day forward!"

As soon as he finished speaking, he picked up the Imperial Longsword and lightly tapped Louis's shoulders.

The sword was cold to the touch, its light gleaming in the sunlight, symbolizing the protection of the North and the defense of the imperial authority.

Immediately, an attendant presented the imperial edict and a dragon-patterned ring.

Camille presented it to Louis, saying, "This is the imperial authority, granted to Earl of Red Tide for command of military and political affairs."

Louis knelt on one knee and solemnly swore: "I, Louis Calvin, swear to serve the Empire with my life, to guard the North, and to obey the Emperor's commands!"

A tsunami of shouts erupted both inside and outside the square.

"Lord Lord!"

Long live the Red Tide!

"Long live the Count!"

The sound waves crashed against the Liechao Square, lingering for a long time.

Camille managed a forced smile, but inside she was terrified.

He clearly sensed that this was not an imperial investiture ceremony, but a coronation.

The young man before them had become the true king of the North.

(End of this chapter)