Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 340 The Beacon of Civilization

In the early morning of Red Tide City, the main castle was not yet fully awake, but the lights were already lit in the city lord's study.

Bradley stood before the desk, waiting for his lord, whom he had not seen for a long time.

Louis walked into the study and nodded slightly when he saw Bradley: "You got up earlier than me."

Bradley smiled and bowed: "It's the proper thing to do, sir."

“Hmm.” Louis said after settling down, “How has the Red Tide been doing while I was away?”

Bradley opened his notebook and began his report:
"There were no major upheavals overall, and all departments operated as usual. The city defense department has completed the filing and troop deployment in the Chichao Fourth Ring Road residential area, and the relocation of new residents has been smooth."

The sewage discharge system in the main urban area has been fully renovated, and the newly installed diversion system is now in operation and running smoothly.

In terms of road construction, the main road leading to Mailangling has been fully opened and can carry large grain trucks.

The mountain road towards Xingduan is one-third complete, but construction has been slightly delayed due to the complex terrain. The road to Shuguang Port has completed its initial paving, and the construction team is currently working on it.

As Louis listened, he flipped through the documents Bradley handed him.

The paper was filled with neat handwriting and densely packed content, along with several reports and personnel allocation rosters.

He glanced at the key points a few times, but mostly just nodded.

Occasionally, when asked a question, Bradley would be able to give a specific number without even turning the page.

"The Education and Culture Department's literacy program has been extended to 37 neighborhoods. The street evening classes have been well received, especially in the workshop area."

The first phase of the performance evaluation conducted by the Internal Affairs Department has been completed, with 42 qualified officials selected and assigned to various administrative positions.

"Regarding public security..." Bradley turned to the next page, "There have been no major cases in the past two months, and theft and street fights are on the decline."

The report goes far beyond that.

From the Knights' training progress to the city's medicine reserves, from the recent inventory of the granaries...

Bradley proceeded calmly, going through each item one by one, able to give a general overview without needing to turn the page.

Louis continued to listen, his brow furrowing occasionally before relaxing again; overall, the situation in Red Tide Territory was still improving.

“There’s one more thing.” Bradley took out a briefing page with a red stamp and handed it over.

"Over in Hamilton, the loom has been finalized and entered the small-batch production stage. It has been named Loom Type 1, with a steam turbine as the main drive, and its efficiency is six to seven times higher than that of manual looms."

"Eight units have been put into trial production and are now fully assembled. The southwest area of ​​the workshop has been vacated and will be used as the site for the first weaving factory. The recruitment roster has been drafted, and we are preparing to start the first round of recruitment of skilled workers."

Louis took the page and said with a hint of certainty, "It seems he didn't disappoint me."

Bradley smiled. "He also said that the adults gave him enough time and trust, and this is his way of repaying them."

“Okay.” Louis put the paper on the table. “I won’t announce this yet. I’ll go back when the factory starts operating.”

“Understood.” Brad Lidley paused, then continued, “In addition, coordination between the various departments is gradually stabilizing, and the tax revenue from each city gate and the material input from the workshops are all clearly documented, with no signs of chaos.”

"The overall situation is stable, and the new policies are progressing smoothly." The old butler spoke calmly, but his expression was filled with pride.

Louis gently closed the document about the mass production of the loom, pushed it aside, and leaned back in his chair.

“Bradley, I have a question.” His tone softened slightly. “I’d like to hear your thoughts.”

The old steward immediately straightened up: "Please speak, sir."

"You know about what happened in Bianwei Village, right? Even if the new law is implemented smoothly, it will only suppress the surface in the end."

The cost of transforming adults into barbarians is too high... so let's start with the next generation.

Louis's words carried an idea that was out of step with this era:
“I want to send those loyal barbarian boys to Red Tide, not just to train their hands, but to teach them to be civilized.”

“If the children of the barbarians learn this, they will teach the next generation in turn, and the next generation after that will no longer feel like barbarians.”

Bradley paused for a few seconds, his brow furrowing slightly, his tone gentle yet hesitant:

"You mean to train them to obey the red tide? To fundamentally change their wild nature?"

Louis shook his head, neither denying nor agreeing: "Bradley, this isn't about taming them."

I want to try to see if I can completely reshape the future of an ethnic group using a system and an educational approach.

If successful, not only the barbarians, but I can also use this method to teach elite young people in other parts of the North, the entire empire, and even other nations.

"I want to make the red tide a beacon of civilization."

After these words were spoken, the study fell into a brief silence.

Bradley's expression changed slightly. He could certainly hear the weight behind those words, but for a moment he couldn't find a way to respond.

He lived in this era after all and understood the power struggles among nobles.

But ideas like "beacon of civilization," "reconstruction of ethnic groups," and "education system rewriting the world" were too complicated for him.

He finally asked in a soft voice, "Sir... is it really possible to do something like that? Can we bear... such a burden?"

Louis did not refute, but simply smiled and said, "Just because others can't do it doesn't mean I can't."

Bradley lowered his head and asked no more questions.

He couldn't understand what kind of future the young lord wanted to build, but he obeyed him completely.

Because over the past few years, it has been proven that Louis's decisions were 90% correct.

Bradley then changed his tone and slowly suggested, "If that's the case, perhaps we could establish some ceremonial rewards, such as honorary titles like 'Son of a Red Tide Citizen'..."

Let them themselves believe that it is the right path.

Louis nodded: "The North has always had no hope because no one has told them what the future is. So this time... we'll give them a path to move forward."

Bradley bowed silently.

…………

The convoy moved slowly through the morning mist.

The wheels of the carriage rolled over the dirt road, making a low, creaking sound.

The wooden planks vibrated, and a cold wind blew in through the gaps in the tarpaulin, making the boys in the carriage shiver.

Kosa sat at the front of the carriage, hugging his knees, without saying a word.

His gaze remained impassive as he watched the scenery ahead of the car until the gray-white outline slowly emerged from the fog.

Red Tide City.

It wasn't that he hadn't heard of the city.

From my father's words, from the words of the Red Tide officials, from those books...

But he never imagined that the city would be like this.

It was a winding, undulating stone wall, its gray-white base covered with frost, its cold light shimmering in the morning mist, like a polished battle axe.

Countless cold iron beams traverse the wall, deeply embedded in the stone crevices, as if the city wall itself were made of cast iron.

Arrow towers have been completed, piercing the sky, with smoking braziers burning atop them.

The flickering firelight illuminated the red flag, which fluttered in the wind, its sun emblem seemingly gazing coldly at him.

Looking further ahead, the tall wooden city gate is heavy and solid, with countless cold iron nails embedded in the door panels.

Kosa's eyes flickered slightly as he gripped his knees tightly.

In an instant, he pictured his tribe's simple tent, the hearth with its still-smoldering embers, and the faded cloth flag on the wall.

The rough wooden pillars and mud walls, the frozen, crumbling stones, are a stark contrast to the neat and orderly city before us, whose walls alone can shield us from the cold wind…

It's like two different worlds.

Sakho lowered his head instinctively, his mind a jumble of thoughts.

He couldn't quite describe what that feeling was like.

Anger? Shame? Fear? Or...?

Envy? "We've arrived," someone whispered behind him.

Kosa raised his head and looked at the high wall again.

Over there are the rooftops and towers of the city, and the ever-rising white steam.

There was no commotion in front of the Red Tide City gate.

There were no shouts of vendors, no pushing and shoving, and even coughing was restrained.

The moment Kosa jumped out of the car, the first thing he saw was the patrol team of knights.

Six men stood in a row, clad in crimson capes, their gray steel plate armor sharp and impeccable, each bearing the city emblem on their left shoulder, their steps perfectly synchronized.
They shouted commands in unison every three steps, as if they were practicing in a drill field.

He stopped subconsciously.

He had never seen such a team before; it exuded something indescribable, something that could be described as order.

Unlike tribal cavalry who draped themselves in animal skins and roared, or imperial border cavalry who haphazardly planted their flags...

The Crimson Tide Knight's head movements followed a certain pattern, making everyone hold their breath involuntarily.

What shocked Kosa even more was that when the knights passed right in front of him, he instinctively held his breath and tried to sense the flow of fighting spirit in one of them.

As a result, he couldn't sense it.

No, I sensed it—that calm, restrained, deeply suppressed power.

Like a knife whose edges have been completely smoothed out, it lies coldly hidden in its sheath, waiting only to reveal its sharpness when it is drawn.

Kosa's pupils contracted slightly.

Even if these people are just on ordinary patrol, they are at least at the level of elite warriors.

"How is this possible?" he muttered to himself, "They use these kinds of soldiers to guard a city gate?"

He used to be known as the most talented boy in the tribe, but he was no match for these people.

He looked around and saw that all the barbarian boys were bowing their heads, just like him, and were extremely quiet.

Several Red Tide Knights were checking the entry records against the list and registering each person.

No one shouted slogans, and no one whipped or urged them on.

But the line moved forward on its own, and everyone obediently showed their ID cards and had their bags checked at the door before heading to the distribution point with their numbered slips.

Kosa stood before this orderly process and suddenly felt an inexplicable sense of unease.

He glanced down at his worn-out boots, then at a merchant who had just dismounted.

The man's shoes were so polished that you could see your reflection in them.

And those Red Tide Knights on guard duty, their chins under their helmets were sharply defined, like stone sculptures.

They looked so clean, so tidy...

Kosa instinctively took a half step back and tightened his grip on the cloak his mother had mended.

But he quickly scoffed to himself, "Tch...it's just about dressing smartly, what's so great about that?"

There weren't many people in line, and it was their turn soon.

The knight leading the group handed the scroll to the gatekeeper knight to confirm his identity.

Then a registrar came over.

He looked to be in his thirties, with neatly combed hair and a gentle, relaxing demeanor.

He glanced at the boys in front of him and said, "Don't be nervous. Come closer, one at a time. First, tell us your name and your parents' names."

The registrar smiled, as if reassuring children who had just arrived in the city: "From today onwards, you are Chichao people, understand?"

A barbarian boy standing in the front row was not used to this Red Tide-style procedure and was speechless for a moment.

But the registrar didn't rush her; she just said gently, "Take your time, it's okay."

It was finally Kosa's turn.

"Name?"

"Khosa".

"Full name?"

“Khosa Han…” he said halfway through, biting his tongue, then whispered, “Khosa.”

The registrar showed no sign of surprise, simply nodded, and wrote down the name.

"age?"

"fifteen."

"Former Bianwei Village No.: Seventeen. Recommended by Village Chief Tuolan."

Upon hearing the name, the registrar paused, looked up at him, and smiled slightly.

“You are Toran’s son? I’ve dealt with your father a few times.”

The registrar spoke unhurriedly, as if chatting casually between old acquaintances, and then casually added:
“I am from the Old Bone Tribe, just like you. I used to be a Snowfield person.”

When he said this, he neither lowered his voice nor avoided eye contact.

He spoke candidly about his barbarian origins.

Kosa was stunned.

He never imagined that the officials in the Red Tide would so openly and unabashedly mention their tribal origins.

And no one frowned, no one avoided it, and no one even thought there was a problem with it.

This scene instantly triggered a chaotic stream of thoughts in his mind.

He had thought he had been sent there as a hostage.

They are the defeated party, the chips that are ceded, the lambs chosen to enter the pen.

But now, he saw another barbarian who was not only not oppressed, but was openly and legitimately becoming an official.

He even said, "I've dealt with your father."

This was completely different from everything he had heard and imagined in the village.

In that instant, he realized for the first time that perhaps... this place wasn't specifically designed to humiliate barbarians.

"Toran is a smart man, and his son won't be any worse."

The registrar's tone softened: "Your father wrote that you learn quickly and write well."

"Don't worry, Lord Bradley personally instructed that we will give special attention to children like you."

He even patted Kosa on the shoulder, as naturally as if he were treating his own nephew, without the slightest suspicion or distance.

All of the registrar's background, tone of voice, and even the tact of every word conveyed a just-right sense of warmth.

This was specially arranged by Bradley so that these barbarian youths, who were entering Red Tide City for the first time, would not feel like outsiders from the very beginning.

Kosa suddenly didn't know how to respond.

He never imagined that he would be accepted in this way, even as one of his own kind.

He knew perfectly well that this was likely a strategy, a way to appease, a gentle means of taming people.

But when the person handed over the temporary bronze plaque with the "Red Tide Internship Student" stamp...

He was still taken aback for a moment.

The bronze plaque was heavy, not large, yet it inexplicably weighed on his heart.

Since when did he become unaccustomed to being treated kindly?
(End of this chapter)