Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 364 The New King of the North

Shortly afterward, Lambert's searching knights returned, presenting several letters that had been found in the nobleman's residence.

The letter clearly states: Holmes, Crane, Bolton, Harlow, and Seaman.

The letter detailed the seating arrangement, speaking order, the deployment of knights, and the guidance of public opinion regarding the Red Tide.

Finally, it added: "If the Red Tide is attacked, it is the will of Heaven, and we should seize power while the opportunity arises."

Everyone present was plunged into even deeper shock.

The four nobles turned pale, their legs went weak, and they almost collapsed to the ground.

“This is not my letter!” Holmes’s voice trembled, and his lips twitched.

"That's just a draft for the meeting!" Crane almost shouted, veins bulging on his forehead.

"Someone forged my seal!" Kharov said, his voice trembling as he broke out in a cold sweat.

"You're trying to slander us!"

As they spoke, their words became increasingly incoherent, and they even knelt down, their hands trembling as they held up the letter, frantically explaining that they had been wronged.

"We never intended to betray you!"

"His Highness the Sixth Prince was the instigator!"

A few frantic explanations echoed in the empty ruins, torn apart by the cold wind, sounding utterly powerless.

Harlov lowered his head, his hands clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his flesh.

Heman avoided eye contact, glancing at Louis but not daring to look him in the eye.

Fear and regret were spreading in their hearts; they should have known better than to get so close to that madman Asta.

If they are convicted of colluding with barbarians, their families, fiefdoms, and surnames will likely be wiped out after tonight.

Moreover, he was indeed wronged and had not colluded with the barbarians at all; he only wanted to cause some trouble for the Red Tide.

Lambert replied coldly, "Each letter bears a seal and signature; how could they be obtained if not in person?"

Their breathing quickened, almost pleading, as they whispered their pleas: "Please investigate further... perhaps someone framed us..."

The voice grew softer and softer, eventually fading into silence.

The other nobles looked at them with disbelief, after all, the evidence matched the barbarian's.

Now the evidence is becoming more and more conclusive, and all the evidence points to Asta's stupidity, which triggered this bloody attack.

The air was thick with the smell of burnt blood, and the firelight illuminated everyone's faces.

The accused nobles were breathing rapidly, their lips were pale, and although they wanted to defend themselves, they couldn't even utter a word.

The surrounding nobles exchanged bewildered glances, their expressions complex.

Some were angry, some were relieved, and some lowered their heads in fear of being drawn into the trial.

In the corner, the injured Cypher remained silent throughout.

He already knew what Asta had been doing behind his back. Sometimes he was in charge of the affairs of the territory, and he knew that Asta was gathering the barbarians, but he never expected it to go this far.

Feeling utterly hopeless, he took the blame upon himself, believing that he had taught the students wrongly.

Cypher turned his gaze to the side, where Asta's wife and two children were trembling.

He knew that Asta couldn't be made to take the blame, otherwise the prince's reputation would be ruined and his descendants would not survive.

He had no children of his own and raised Asta as his own son...

Bloodline, honor, and the dignity of the empire all mingled together at this moment, forming a heavy burden on his heart.

After thinking everything through, Cypher slowly stood up, his voice hoarse but resolute: "It was me! It was me who acted behind His Highness's back, colluding with Holmes, Crane, Bolton, Harlow, and He-Man. It has nothing to do with His Highness."

Louis was slightly taken aback. He knew through the daily intelligence system that Asta had done all of this behind his back.

Unexpectedly, this old man went to such lengths for the sixth prince, even sacrificing his posthumous reputation.

A complex emotion flashed through his mind, a mixture of surprise and indescribable admiration.

The surrounding nobles were also stunned into silence.

Now that the evidence is so complete, everyone understands that only Asta was truly capable of mobilizing the barbarians and plotting this, and this veteran was willing to take all the blame.

People gasped in surprise, some shook their heads in disbelief, and many more secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

If it is true that the prince colluded with the barbarians to attack the nobles, the situation would be too terrible and would only make the already unstable political situation in the North even more chaotic.

Now that a veteran is willing to take the blame for all the crimes, it may not be a bad thing for them.

All eyes turned to Louis.

After all, only Louise can make the next decision, which will determine who survives.

After a moment of deathly silence, Louis finally stood up and calmly said, "His Highness the Sixth Prince sacrificed his life for his country and is a martyr of the empire. However, the traitors and conspiracies must be dealt with."

He announced: "General Cypher, having been instigated by the barbarians and misjudging the situation, caused the turmoil at the conference. He has now surrendered himself and confessed his crimes, but because of his service to the Empire, he will be sent to the capital for trial."

Asta's wife and children were escorted back to the capital for resettlement.

Holmes, Crane, Haroff, and Seaman, being listed as joint perpetrators for instigation and assistance, are to be executed immediately.

Cypher breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing Louis's verdict.

Knowing that Louis had shown mercy, Asta's family had a chance to survive back in the capital, given their influence. Asta's wife and children would also be more secure in the capital.

Upon hearing the word "execution," the four people were initially stunned and didn't react.

Holmes murmured, "Execution...?" His voice was weak, as if he was still waiting for someone to plead for them.

The sound of the cold armor scraping against their shoulders as the Crimson Tide Knights stepped forward and pressed down on them was the only thing that truly woke them up.

Holmes was the first to react, immediately kneeling down and kowtowing repeatedly: "No, sir! I'm innocent! I didn't do anything!"

Kran's face flushed crimson, his eyes bloodshot: "Please give me a chance to explain! I was only following orders! Your Highness is the one who..."

But before he could finish speaking, he was kicked to the ground by the Crimson Tide Knight.

Harlov struggled and roared, "You little brat have no right to judge the honorary nobles of the North! My grandfather took an arrow for the Duke!"

His voice was high-pitched, filled with a frantic will to survive.

The last one, Heman, looked numb, trembling as he closed his eyes, muttering as if resigned to his fate, "I just..."

The four were forced to kneel on the ground, one after another.

Pleading, cursing, and remaining silent—emotions intertwined.

Until the first slash of a blade cut through the air, and blood splattered before everyone's eyes.

Lambert's movements were clean and efficient, each strike as fast as lightning.

As the second blow landed, Crane's angry curses abruptly ceased.

The third blow was accompanied by a terrified scream.

By the fourth cut, He-Man could only let out a soft sigh.

Blood trickled down the cracks in the floor tiles, making the stench of blood in the air even stronger.

Among the onlookers, some were intrigued, some gloated, while others trembled and lowered their heads, unable to watch any longer.

The nobles near the front row whispered among themselves, their words a mixture of "they deserve to die" and "the punishment was too harsh."

Lambert sheathed his sword and silently stepped back. The entire hall was so quiet that only the sound of the wind and dripping blood could be heard.

Everyone understood that Louis's blow was not just punishment, but a declaration of the beginning of a new rule in the North.

Louis simply watched the blood-red light with a cold, unchanging gaze. Flames danced behind him, casting a golden-red silhouette.

From this moment on, he was no longer the Lord of the Crimson Tide, but the true ruler of the Northern Territory.

Thus, a King in the North, succeeding the Duke of Edmund, was born.

…………

Four days have passed since the night of the barbarian attack. The North Reconstruction Conference remains postponed.

The burned-down manor was temporarily repaired, with new wooden beams supporting the roof, and fire marks still remaining on the charred stone pillars.

Through the cracked skylight, wind and snow poured in, causing the dragon flag of the Iron-Blooded Empire to flutter.

The nobles looked tense, and some even wore bandages as they took their seats.

Every footstep echoed on the stone bricks, sounding heavy and oppressive.

Seated in the main seat was the young lord—Louis Calvin.

He wore a black and red military uniform, with the Northern Shield emblem gleaming on his chest.

Although he was still nominally just an earl and held no official position in the Northern Reconstruction Council, he sat in the main seat, and no one dared to say a word.

Because everyone knows that the seat that should have belonged to the sixth prince is now occupied by no one but Louis.

Asta's body, along with the convoy escorting Safer, has set off south for the capital.

The hall was silent, save for the soft crackling of the fire burning in the fireplace.

Louis slowly rose to his feet, his gaze sweeping over the crowd as he spoke: "You are all aware of the situation in the Empire."

The regent was isolated, imperial power was waning, the southern provinces were in turmoil, the western border blocked supply lines, and the northern border was the empire's last line of defense.

Louis paused, his tone softening further: "His Highness the Sixth Prince has passed away, but we must still take over his responsibilities and protect the Northern Border."

If we continue to act independently, the North could be reduced to ruins at any moment. Therefore, I propose that we unite and work together to protect this land.

“Earl Calvin is right, the North must unite!” Jon slapped the table and nodded in approval.

Marquis Corey, from the old noble family of the North, only gave a vague "hmm".

Viscount Hal swallowed the wine in his throat and forced a smile, saying, "Yes, yes, guarding the North..."

The vassal lords of the Red Tide region in the southeast were the first to respond loudly, their expressions sincere and excited.

They had already witnessed the benefits of the Red Tide regime and praised Louis as the one who could truly lead the North out of the harsh winter.

Those from the old aristocratic camp had complex expressions, barely managing to twitch their lips as they responded in hushed tones, daring not to voice their opinions.

A mixture of awe and hesitation filled the air, yet no one dared to object to this statement, neither out of sentiment nor reason.

Some people sighed softly, while others pursed their lips, their gaze shifting between the table and Louis.

The firelight shone on everyone's faces, blurring their expressions.

Louis then announced the official start of the meeting.

As the various lords took turns proposing reconstruction plans, the atmosphere immediately became tense.

The representative of Holmes's remnant faction was the first to rise, cupping his hands in greeting, and said, "The territories in the North should restore their autonomy, with each family raising its own army and supporting its soldiers. Imperial supervision will suffice; there is no need to establish new administrative institutions."

As soon as he finished speaking, several old nobles nodded in agreement: "That's right, the North has always been self-sufficient!" "It's our tradition!"

Yorn frowned slightly, leaned back in his chair, and said in a low voice, "The result of self-sufficiency is that we can't afford to eat. Don't you have any idea what kind of strength you have? Do you dare to say that you won't buy cheap food from the Red Tide?"

His two questions created an awkward atmosphere in the room.

Immediately afterward, a middle-aged count from the Southern Expeditionary Faction stood up, his voice trembling: "I believe that an inspection team from the capital should be sent to take over finances and defense again, in order to demonstrate imperial authority!"

As soon as he finished speaking, almost the entire room fell silent for a moment, then burst into whispers.

"The capital city? They can't even take care of themselves."

"Sending people to the North now will only create another bunch of freeloaders."

Some people scoffed dismissively, while others simply shook their heads and sighed, clearly finding the statement too unrealistic.

Amid the commotion, Louis slowly rose, placed his hand on the table, and calmly said, "The territories shall voluntarily join the Northern Reconstruction Alliance."

Sharing resources, coordinating defense, and unifying trade routes—we will not deprive you of your rights, but only link the fates of the North together.

His gaze swept across the room: "This is not an order, but an invitation. Today's conditions are the best available. Everyone should consider them carefully."

"An alliance...that doesn't sound bad."

"The Red Tide regime might actually allow people to survive."

After a moment of silence, several nobles began to speak in hushed tones.

Louis glanced around at everyone, nodded slightly, and then gestured to Bradley.

Bradley rose, unfurled a parchment scroll, and said with great charisma, “Gentlemen, the Earl’s alliance plan is not just empty talk, but has a concrete implementation plan.”

All territories willing to join will immediately enjoy trade priority and material assistance; this is not charity, but cooperation.

He looked at the scroll in his hand and began to explain: "The Northern Border Supply Council will be responsible for settling the flow of supplies."

You will receive grain, timber, and iron ore according to your share, and enjoy the low-price trade provided by the Red Tide transportation network. Those who join the alliance will also be exempt from some taxes and have priority access to winter supplies.

Quiet murmurs arose from the crowd; some nobles showed expressions of interest, while others frowned and calculated.

Those nobles who were good at business were already calculating profits, because they knew that the Red Tide industry was well-developed and convenient, and most importantly, cheap.

However, those who are wary are wondering: if the council controls food and iron, how much autonomy will they have left in the future?
“Furthermore,” Bradley’s tone shifted, “the defense system will be coordinated, and your armies will still be under your individual command, but will receive arms, medicines and training support from Red Tide.”

We will jointly establish a military academy and share military supplies. Simply put, the soldiers of the nobility will no longer fight alone.

Several weak lords from the border exchanged glances, clearly moved by the words "military supplies support".

But some old nobles scoffed, "Cooperative defense? That's just the Red Tide manipulating our knights."

Bradley continued, "In addition, a commercial alliance and a Northview Entertainment Hall will be established. The former will ensure the security of trade, while the latter will ensure the flow of information, daily entertainment activities, and festival order."

Your names, deeds, and stories will be sung by bards throughout the entire North.

A vain nobleman chuckled and whispered, "That sounds...quite advantageous."

Bradley closed the book and bowed slightly: "This is the solution proposed by Red Tide: cooperation, mutual assistance, and coexistence."

Louis smiled faintly: "Gentlemen, I will not force you. This is voluntary."

But as Bradley said, the door to the Northern Alliance is always open, only the conditions won't always be so generous. If you miss today's opportunity, it won't come again.

After he finished speaking, the hall fell silent once again.
The agenda drew to a close in a tense atmosphere. The Red Tide scribe stepped forward, unfurled the oath scroll, and the candlelight shone brightly on it.

Jon was the first to step forward and sign his name without hesitation.

The interested lords signed one after another, and more than ten people stamped their family seals, their expressions ranging from resolute to apprehensive.

The others lowered their heads in silence, their fingers rubbing against their knees, unwilling to pick up a pen. Some shook their heads slightly, while others bit their lips and watched.

When the last pen was put down, the conference room fell into a deathly silence.

Half of the most prominent nobles in the entire North signed the agreement.

(End of this chapter)