Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 352 Draft and Alchemy

Bradley took the drafts, and before him was a prominent title: "Draft Charter of the Northern Supply Council and Joint Defense".

“Watch and listen attentively.” Louis’s tone was thoughtful and cautious. “I’ll explain the key points.”

"Bradley, you know, I'm not after power for power's sake. It's all about ensuring that the Red Tide and the North can live longer and live better."

We can no longer rely on outside aid or luck. The North is rebuilding every year; without unity, we will only repeat the same mistakes.

Bradley nodded as he flipped through the pages.

“The first item is food.” Louis walked slowly. “As we said before, the free relief ends here and will be changed to a paid, preferential system.”

Based on this, at the next Northern Reconstruction Conference, we will propose the establishment of the Northern Supply Council and the Northern Business Alliance to ensure standardized transactions and commensurate relief efforts.

"Would they agree?" Bradley asked tentatively.

“To be more precise, they had no choice,” Louis replied calmly, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips.

"There might be some resistance at first, but once they have stable trade routes, we get financial flow. No one loses out, and no one can escape the rules; that's the balance."

"I've brought all the nobles and merchant guilds of the Red Tide faction into this community of shared interests. I'm simply making it clear to them who can keep this chain running."

Bradley took a deep breath. Such a concept required not only power, but also extremely strong influence and control.

If it were anyone else, he would have thought it was arrogant, but coming from Louis, it sounded perfectly natural.

"What about the fiscal flow?" he couldn't help but ask.

Louis pointed to the second page: "Red Tide needs a continuous financial cycle. The Council is responsible for settlement, and the Business Alliance guarantees the flow of trade."

He paused for a moment, then smiled and said, "In the later stages... we can issue our own currency, Red Tide Coin."

The goal was not to replace the imperial currency, but to establish a credit system.

The goal is to convince the Northerners that they are no longer dependent on the Imperial Capital, but rather on the Northern's own production and trade, achieving an internal cycle. Furthermore, doing business with the Federation is not out of the question. This way, even if the Empire collapses, the North can remain self-sufficient.

Bradley's breath hitched slightly, almost doubting that he had misheard: "Red Tide...is going to mint coins?"

“It’s just a concept for now,” Louis explained. “But getting the North used to the Red Tide’s units of measurement is part of the control. What’s circulating isn’t gold or silver, but trust.”

Bradley's heart began to race.

The young lord before him had transformed from a pioneer who controlled a city into a architect who planned for the entire northern territory, and there were likely other ideas that the lord dared not even imagine.

He wasn't too surprised to trade with the Emerald Federation, since most of the empire's nobles did it, and the capital could only turn a blind eye.

“The second item is joint defense,” Louis continued. “Sign the Northern Border Joint Defense Treaty, establish a military academy, bind military supplies and training to the Red Tide system, and have the Council Office handle joint defense exercises and military supply approvals.”

He softened his tone: "There are too many wars in the North, Bradley. Every nobleman has his own banner, which means every misunderstanding can turn into a battle."

After a few long years of peace and quiet, I don't want to see another winter like that.

The purpose of the joint defense is to teach them to cooperate within the Red Tide's order, so they no longer fight alone, but work together to survive.

Bradley's hand trembled slightly: "That's tantamount to taking away the military power of the nobles..."

“Unified management,” Louis finished for him, his tone flat. “They’re in charge of the name, we’re in charge of the reality.”

Their military supplies, provisions, and training all came from us. Over time, their army only recognized the Red Tide seal.

Of course, this is just a future plan; the first step now is to bind them together through commerce and food.

Bradley swallowed hard, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, realizing the extent of this conquest plan.

“The third item, North Lookout Hall and Bards’ Network.” Louis turned the page. “The former is the intelligence agency, and the latter is in charge of public opinion.”

Festivals and the official historical system will all be brought under the control of the Red Tide. The songs the common people hear and the stories the nobles hear will ultimately lead them to the same person.

Louis added, "Of course, this isn't brainwashing, it's storytelling. We don't rewrite the truth, we just change who is telling it."

When people believe that red tides will provide them with a safe haven and opportunities for their children to grow up, they will naturally speak up for this order.

Bradley stared at the page of text, a chill running down his spine.

He had never seen such domestication before, nor did he know if it could succeed, but the draft alone was already so shocking and subversive.

“This…this is about reshaping the mindset of the North,” he whispered.

“Ideas, order, and interests,” Louis replied gently. “None of the three can be lacking. Order without ideas is tyranny, and faith without interests is an empty shell. We must make them both believe and benefit.”

Bradley put down his draft, took a deep breath, and asked, "And how do you plan to implement this? How do you intend to get them to accept it?"

Louis smiled slightly: "Let's start with our own allies. Implement it for a year, collect the data, and then expand."

"Data?" Bradley was taken aback.

“The most powerful political weapon.” Louis’s smile deepened. “Numbers are more persuasive than speeches. If production increases and trade improves within a year, they will come to us seeking to join.”

A sense of admiration welled up in Bradley's heart; he hadn't expected Louis to have thought of such a thing.

Louis continued, "As for the external packaging, the first phase is not called a council system, but a sustainable rationing pilot program."

At the same time, model benefits were introduced, including tax reductions, open commercial rights, and trade concessions in demonstration cities, to show the nobility the advantages.

“Yes, sir.” Bradley wrote down every word, thinking to himself that the language was so gentle it was almost an art.

“Once they taste the benefits, they will never be able to leave us.” Louis’s voice was calm, yet sharp. “Once resources, commercial rights, and military supplies are all tied to Red Tide, they will realize that opposing Red Tide is tantamount to making an enemy of the entire North.”

“If this charter is successfully implemented, there will be no more chaos in the North,” Bradley said softly.

“Not the end of chaos,” Louis corrected, his tone tinged with humility, “but a clearer choice. I hope they choose order, not me.”

He sighed again: "If I had the power of Duke Edmund, I wouldn't have to go through so much trouble to make these plans."

Bradley paused, then lowered his head, knowing that Louis was being modest again.

Louis smiled gently and said slowly, "This is just a rough idea of ​​mine. There are definitely many immature aspects that need to be improved step by step by you and the people in the government office."

“Yes, sir,” Bradley replied earnestly.

The two then had a long discussion on the details, from the quota ratio of the Chamber of Commerce to the supervision of port warehousing and the structure of the council, and even the emergency tax rate was carefully considered.

Louis didn't put away his drafts until the midday sun slanted into the study.

“Go on with your work, Bradley, I have something to do,” he said gently.

Bradley bowed and turned to leave.

Louis stared at the documents on the table for a long time before finally putting on his coat, pushing open the door, and boarding the carriage heading to the alchemy workshop on the outskirts of Red Tide City.

…………

The morning breeze slipped in through the window cracks, carrying a hint of the chill of the snow.

Merian woke up with a start, his chest heaving, his fingertips gripping the corner of the blanket tightly.

In my dream, it was still that dark room of the Bichao Guild.

The damp air, the echo of rubbing chains, and the sound of footsteps reverberated between the stone walls.

But when he opened his eyes, he was greeted by sunlight, real sunlight.

The curtains were lifted by the wind, and warm yellow light spilled onto the wooden wall. The air was filled with the scent of burning wood from the fireplace and the aroma of freshly baked bread.

Merian froze for a few seconds, his mind going blank.

Then he slowly sat up and looked around.

The door was unlocked, the window was open, and there were no shackles at his feet.

That unfamiliar freedom made him even more uneasy at first; it was too quiet, too bright, and even fear had nowhere to hide. He suddenly remembered that during his years in the guild, he had almost never truly seen the sunlight.

Since being pulled into the underground research institute when I was a teenager, my life has been locked behind layers of stone doors.

Every corridor is guarded by a dedicated person, and even their sleep and eating habits are recorded.

The only places he could go were the lab bench, his dormitory, and the lecture room; he almost never had the chance to set foot on the ground.

Even when he was occasionally assigned to overseas missions, someone would always accompany him the entire time, and he was not allowed to talk to any outsiders.

He lived a life of isolation and surveillance for decades, and only now does he realize that he has long forgotten what freedom means.

He pulled back the covers; the smooth wooden floor was cool, but not damp.

A small plant sits in the corner, with a few white moss flowers blooming among the green leaves. It is a common hardy variety in the North, with water droplets condensing on the tips of the leaves, shimmering slightly.

He reached out and gently touched it, murmuring softly, "It's been a month... I'm still alive."

The sounds were barely audible, as if afraid to break the unreal tranquility.

Just then, a soft knock came at the door, and a young servant said cautiously, "Master, breakfast is ready."

The title "Master" made him tremble slightly; there was no cold command in his tone, only respect.

He didn't know how to respond for a moment, and simply whispered, "...Thank you."

The servant placed breakfast outside the door and then left.

Merian stared at the bowl of hot porridge and two slices of buttered bread, remaining silent for a long time.

The aroma made his throat tighten, yet he found it strange. He had never smelled this kind of food in the Federation. The food they usually ate there consisted of nutritional supplements and pastes containing various elements that could prolong his life, but the taste was never very good.

Then he sat down by the window and began to enjoy his meal. Outside the window were courtyards with three-story buildings. His residence was located in the most luxurious part of Red Tide City.

The building is constructed of wood and stone, with warm-colored exterior walls and wide windowsills. The courtyard features a small fountain and neatly arranged vegetation.

There are also three servants responsible for living, cleaning, and serving meals.

The guards were stationed at a distance rather than at the gate, which seemed more like a courtesy than a guard duty.

All of this was unbelievable to Merian. In the Federation, he had spent his entire life underground, but now, in this corner of the Northern Wasteland, he owned a house of his own, and a very luxurious one at that.

Before arriving at Red Tide, he could never have imagined such a life.

This calm, which has lasted for a month, still makes him somewhat uneasy, and he often wakes up thinking he is dreaming.

This was all arranged by Louis.

During his time in Red Tide, no one restricted his freedom, but Merian still dared not go far, spending most of his time wandering between the laboratory and his residence, only occasionally watching the city center lights from the third-floor terrace at night.

After breakfast, Merian changed into his white robe. His movements were a little clumsy, and his hands were still trembling slightly as he buttoned the last button.

But when Merian pushed open the door and stepped out of the house, sunlight streamed in through the crack in the door, and for the first time, he didn't instinctively back out.

At that moment, he suddenly had the illusion that he had truly left the shadows.

Just then came the soft sound of horses' hooves; it was the carriage prepared for him, and the coachman was already waiting at the door.

Merian put on his outer robe, whispered a few instructions, and got into the carriage.

The carriage was warm and padded with thick fur blankets.

He was still somewhat uneasy, tapping his fingers lightly on his knees from time to time, until the rhythm of the wheels rolling over the cobblestone street gradually calmed him down.

The carriage traveled through the streets of Chichao, with white steam rising from the workshops along the roadside.

The air was filled with the scent of flowers and plants; this was a northern town he had never imagined.

Almost every federalist would imagine this place to be desolate and backward, but the orderly scene he witnessed surprised him.

The car stopped in front of the alchemy workshop.

This is a brand new building, with a more open and brighter exterior than the Federal Underground Experiment Tower.
The workshop was clean, well-ventilated, and fully equipped; even the refining furnace was made of the same material as the main city of the Federation.

This was a separate studio that Louis specially set up for him.

It is equipped with fireproof walls and ventilation towers, a complete set of glass instrument racks, a temperature-controlled alchemy furnace, a separate medicine room, and a dedicated experimental record assistant.

Every detail shows the designer's dedication.

Upon his arrival, several young assistants came forward to greet him with respectful expressions.

One of them handed over a newly compiled list of medicinal herbs, his tone tinged with excitement: "Master, this is a sample that was re-refined yesterday according to your instructions, and the purity has increased by three percentage points."

Merian was stunned for a moment; even after a month, he still felt a little out of sorts.

He had initially thought these assistants were merely there to monitor him, but their eyes held only genuine respect.

“Very good…very good,” he said softly.

After his assistants left, he looked around the studio alone, still unable to calm down.

The equipment and medicinal herbs here are neatly arranged, with Silver Leaf Grass, Magic Stone, Aquamarine Crystal, and Jade Dew Extract, as well as the rare Frost Leaf Vine, all on orderly shelves.

There were even several new materials similar to Frostleaf Vine that he had never seen in the Federation, seemingly new catalysts extracted from Northern specialties.

The preciousness of these materials made him almost believe that he was still in the core experimental layer of the guild.

This was the most surprising thing for him—the resources of a border city of the empire were actually comparable to those of one of the eight major merchant guilds of the Emerald Federation.

However, when he examined the sample, he felt a little confused.

Given the quality of these materials, the finished product was surprisingly rough, with proportions and blending not meeting expectations.

For the past month, his main task has been to recombine these materials, rearrange the reaction pathways, and correct the flaws in the Red Tide alchemy system.

Merian continuously modified the formula in his experimental records, noting the temperature and time, and tried to improve the stability of the finished product with more refined techniques.

Unbeknownst to them, the fire in the stove gradually dimmed, and sunlight shifted from the window cracks to the doorway.

Merian then realized it was nearly afternoon. Just as he put down his notebook, there was a soft knock on the door.

“Master,” an assistant cautiously pushed open the door and peeked in, his tone respectful, “Lord Louis has arrived and wishes to see you.”

Merian paused for a moment.

The faint tension in his heart resurfaced. He had never truly seen that young lord since their first meeting at Dawn Harbor.

“I…” He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then swallowed it back. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “I understand. Please inform him for me. I’ll be there right away.”

The assistant nodded and withdrew.

Merian raised his hand to straighten his clothes, his heart tightening slightly.

He knew he couldn't avoid it; he had to face it no matter what.

At that moment, steady footsteps came from the doorway.

Louis entered the laboratory with a gentle expression and a polite smile.

“Master Merian,” he said calmly and kindly, “I’ve heard that your recent work has been very fruitful, and I would like to come and see for myself.”

Merian hurriedly stood up, almost knocking over the bottle rack on the table, and said quickly, "No, I dare not accept that, sir... it's just some experiments on recombination, still very rudimentary."

“Don’t be nervous,” Louis smiled, his gaze sweeping over the notes and bottles. “Could you tell me about your research over the past month? I’d like to hear it from you.”

Merian took a deep breath, nodded, and slowly opened his notebook.

(End of this chapter)