Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 375 Discussion
In the Chichao City after dusk, the sound of snow gently rustling through the air, and the upper halls of the earthen castle were illuminated by golden firelight.

The fireplace burned, its flames reflecting off the stone walls. A silver platter held stewed mushrooms and roasted cod, filling the air with a warm, enticing aroma.

The servants quietly served the dishes, the cups clinking softly.

Louis sat in the main seat, a cloak draped over the back of the chair, staring at the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought.

He rarely held banquets; his days were almost entirely filled with government affairs, meetings, and paperwork.

I'm making an exception tonight, but it's for one person.

The door was pushed open, and a blast of cold air swept in.

"I heard there's fish tonight? Boss, you finally remembered your brother!" Jon Harvey's voice was louder than the wind.

His coat was covered in snowflakes, his hair was ruffled by the cold wind, and his face was red from the cold, yet he was laughing heartily.

Louis looked up and couldn't help but laugh: "All you ever think about is food."

“I don’t eat ordinary fish, but this is something special that the boss is treating me to.” Yorn strode in and pulled off his gloves.

Actually, it wasn't Louis who invited him to Red Tide City; he had already been in Red Tide City for some time.

His reason for being in Red Tide City was simple: the affairs of Silver Ridge Hill had long been incorporated into the Red Tide Council system, and the documents only required a signature for confirmation. Moreover, the mining area was closed in winter, so he had nothing to do.

Moreover, compared to the frigid Silverridge Hills, Red Tide City is the true entertainment city of the North. Although people come here to report on their work, they are actually more here to escape the cold and enjoy the winter.

In fact, there are quite a few nobles like Yorn who entrust the affairs of their territories to the Red Tide officials and come to the city to spend the winter and keep warm.

Red Tide City has now become almost the true center of the North.

Karaoke bars, pubs, schools, theaters, hot springs... everything made them willingly stay.

“Please have a seat.” Louis gestured for the waiter to pour him a drink.

Jon pulled up a chair, sat down, wiped the water droplets from his hands, and smiled broadly.

The firelight reflected on their wine glasses, and the air was filled with fragrance.

“Boss, this is paradise.” Yorn raised his glass, downed it in one gulp, and sighed dramatically. “Back in the mining area, it’s hard to even get a hot drink. But in Red Tide City, even the air is sweeter than anywhere else.”

Louis chuckled: "Then you should thank the council."

“Thanks, boss, it’s even faster.” Yorn grinned. “My servants all say that Red Tide’s furnace fire is hotter than the sun.”

The two first talked about the current situation in the North.

Louis noted, "Silver Ridge Hills has had good mineral production this year. You've done a good job."

Jon immediately perked up, as if he had finally gotten his chance to show off.

He began to speak at length about his governance experience, laughing as he said, "The miners' shift changes were too chaotic, so I had the people in the council arrange the schedule; the workers' meals were too bad, so I had the cooks from the Chichao area write the menus..."

“I later realized, boss,” Yorn said, gesturing as he spoke, “that professional matters should be left to professionals. I just need to hand over the decision-making power to the Red Tide officials, then wait for the bills, the taxes, a few signatures, and that’s it!”

Louis chuckled: "This is your philosophy of governance?"

“That’s called efficiency!” Yorn said earnestly. “I learned this method from you. Now even the miners call themselves Red Tide people.”

Louis smiled and raised his glass: "This is the North we wanted."

The flame flickered in the cup, casting a warm glow on their faces.

After a moment, Louis changed his tone slightly and casually asked, "How is Earl Harvey in health?"

Yorn put down his glass and shrugged: "It's alright, just a bit too much. If I didn't drink, I'd probably be bedridden."

Louis chuckled: "I heard your father has recently expanded his warehouses at the port in the Southwest Province?"

“Yes.” Yorn’s tone suddenly became serious. “I was thinking of having him build a port in the North, but he’s so stubborn. He keeps saying that the North is too cold and not suitable for doing business. I really want to kidnap him and have him soak in a hot spring in Red Tide.”

Louis chuckled as he listened, then his tone turned serious: "Actually, this is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. The Red Tide is planning to expand a trade route southward. They need stable ports and transshipment points."

Yorn put down his wine glass: "Your Calvin Merchant Guild controls the largest port city, there's no need to look for my father anymore, is there?"

Louis smiled, raised his glass, and said calmly, "Having another path is never a bad thing."

Yorn paused for a moment, then laughed: "The boss is right, having more options makes things easier."

Louis continued, "I intend to cooperate with the Harvey family. The Red Tide Merchant Guild will handle the shipping, and the Harvey family will provide port clearance and warehousing."

The North provides leather, cold iron, and precious minerals; the South provides spices, silk, wine, and grain. We will establish a joint trading guild and share the profits. At the Dragon Throne Conference, the Red Tide will also support the Harvey family's proposal for a new alliance of powerful families.

Jon paused for a few seconds, then smiled as brightly as the sun.

"Boss, you should have told me sooner!" He patted his chest. "Leave it to me! I'll write back tomorrow. If Dad doesn't agree... he can't possibly disagree."

Actually, he kept praising you in his letters, and even told me he wanted to get closer to you, saying that the future of the North rested on that kid Louis. I was quite surprised to hear that.”

Then Yorn scratched his head and couldn't help but mutter, "But... my dad has a strange question. He always asks me how big your port is. I really can't answer that."

Louis smiled, then took out a letter and handed it to Jon: "Send this letter to Earl Harvey for me. It contains everything he wants to know."

Yorn accepted the letter, then patted his chest and said, "Don't worry, leave this to me. Besides, we're brothers, and my father is your father too."

Louis was speechless; the sentence sounded strange no matter how you looked at it, but he still raised his glass and said, "Let's drink to the family first."

"Cheers to the boss!" Jon shouted, his voice drowning out the fire.

The two raised their glasses, the flames inside flickering.

Laughter, firelight, and the aroma of wine mingled together, and the temperature gradually rose in the hall.

Jon patted his chest and laughed heartily, like a young man who never tires.

Looking at him, Louis felt a sense of life returning to the cold North.

…………

As winter approaches, the streets of Chichao are covered with a thin layer of frost from the first snow.

The streets were filled with the sounds of people.

Vendors hawked their wares, selling hot wine, leather boots, and cured meat, while children ran through the snow, dragging wooden crates and swaying lanterns in their hands.

"Northern sheepskin, as soft as a spring breeze, a copper coin!" "Hot cod soup! Freshly cooked!" The cries of vendors rose and fell in the streets and alleys.

Workers wearing fur coats emerged from the workshop, their waists bulging with money bags, their laughter rough and genuine.

The knights moved through the crowd, haggling with the craftsmen without any airs.

Layton noticed that these people did not show any fear or poverty on their faces; they acted confidently, as if they were the masters of their own destiny.

He sighed inwardly, thinking that this city was busier than the ports of the Federation.

A border region banished by the empire has grown to this size in just a few years.

As a secret liaison for the Jade Federation's Azure Tide Guild stationed in Red Tide, he used his identity as the manager of the Southern Merchant Cold Salt Caravan as a cover.

In theory, Layton's task was simply to observe and record the resource potential of the North, establish hidden trade route nodes, and report back to the Federal Council.

Sometimes they also need to gather information on the politics and military of the North to provide intelligence for the guild.

But now, the Red Tide has become something he can no longer view simply as a mission; he has even integrated himself into this society.

“This isn’t just a miracle in the North,” he thought. “It’s incredible that a city in the Commonwealth could become so wealthy out of thin air.”

Layton walked into the Cold Salt Shop, his stronghold. It looked like an ordinary shop, but it was actually the guild's intelligence hub.

The room was brightly lit, the fireplace was burning, and the air was filled with a faint smell of salt and fish oil.

Layton took off his gloves, ordered his servant to close the door, and was about to tidy up the day's accounts when he heard a few light footsteps outside. Several men dressed in ordinary merchant robes entered one after another, exchanging pleasantries with smiles; their accents indicated they were locals.

Layton initially paid no attention and continued reviewing the accounts.

The next moment, the curtains were quickly drawn shut, and the men moved in unison to subdue him.

Two more fully armed Crimson Tide Knights appeared at the door. He said softly, "Lyton Fromm, the Crimson Tide Lord wants to see you."

Layton froze for a moment, realizing his disguise had been exposed.

My first reaction wasn't fear, but confusion: how did they know my name?
He was quickly pinned to the ground, a thick cloth was put over his head, and he heard hurried footsteps and short commands.

"take away."

The world was plunged into darkness. Layton could not hear the wind and snow outside, but could feel his body being dragged and the stone bricks under his feet shaking.

Someone pushed him forward, and then he was crammed into a carriage.

The carriage was cramped, and it swayed slightly as the wheels rolled. He couldn't tell which way to go, only that the carriage was going uphill, turning, and getting further and further away from the city.

In the blindfolded darkness, Layton's mind raced: Was there a problem with the invoice? Had someone in the Commonwealth Guild leaked information? Or had the Cold Salt House's books been investigated?

A gust of cold wind swept by, and he was pushed into a chair.

Someone ripped off the black cloth covering their head.

The light stung his eyes.

Layton squinted and looked up, seeing not a dark cellar, but a spacious and bright study.

A map of the North hung on the wall, a fire burned in the corner, and a metal gear clock ticked softly.

A young lord sat behind the desk, with black hair and a calm expression, but he did not appear stern.

The firelight reflected on his face, making him look more like a patient scholar than a lord ruling the North.

Louis Calvin.

He was younger and more approachable than Layton had imagined, and even had a reassuring ease about him.

Layton's fear was somewhat diminished by this composure, and he even felt a sense of relief.

Perhaps as long as I act like an ordinary businessman, I can still get away with it.

He quickly forced a smile, his voice trembling: "Sir, you...you must have mistaken me for someone else? I'm just a small merchant, a salt seller, doing some small business in the North."

Louis did not answer immediately, but simply gestured for him to sit down, watching him calmly as if waiting for him to finish telling the lie.

That silence wasn't hostile, but it made you feel like there was nowhere to escape.

“Lyton Fromm of the Azure Tide Guild,” Louis finally spoke, his voice calm to the point of being gentle, “Welcome to Red Tide.”

Layton's heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to burst out of his chest; his breathing was labored, and his throat felt dry as if it were blocked by dust.

His mind was in complete chaos.

Oh no, we've been exposed. Where did things go wrong?

Louis's gaze was fixed on him calmly, without a trace of emotion, yet it was more terrifying than any threat.

Layton felt a chill run down his spine, his breathing became more rapid, and the fear in his heart was magnified completely. It was a hunter staring at his prey.

At this moment, Layton suddenly realized that the young lord in front of him was not as gentle as he appeared.

Beneath that calm smile lay a chilling sense of control, as if his every move was in the other person's palm.

But now he could only force himself to raise his head, forcing a stiff smile, his voice trembling: "You, you really have mistaken me for someone else... I really am just a nobody."

His voice was weak, and his eyes darted around in a panic, like a wild beast cornered.

He tried to find an excuse, but even he could hear the panic in his voice.

Louis didn't answer, he just smiled and looked at him.

The smile was calm and gentle, yet it was hard to tell whether it was genuine or a test.

The candlelight illuminated his profile, his black hair falling smoothly over his shoulders, and his expression was serene.

Layton grew increasingly flustered as he looked at the smile. It wasn't one of comfort, but rather a detached composure, as if everything was already within his expectations.

“Don’t worry,” Louis finally spoke, “I’m not interested in spies.”

He changed his tone and added casually, "But I'm interested in the Chamber of Commerce."

Layton, as if finally grasping at a straw, hurriedly said in a trembling voice, "Yes, yes, sir, I understand."

Louis slowly rose and turned to look at the falling snow outside the window: "Tell your guild that we have cold iron, magic marrow, and other minerals you need. We don't plunder, we only trade, and I hope you will too."

Louis turned around, his eyes reflecting the firelight, as if he could see clearly the forces behind Layton.

“Of course I know you can’t make that decision,” he continued calmly, “so give this letter to your boss and let him think it over.”

Louis took a letter from the table, the envelope stamped with the Red Tide seal, and gently pushed it to the edge of the table: "I believe you will take the right thing back with you."

Layton opened his mouth, his throat dry, and could only nod: "I... understand, sir."

Louis waved his hand gently. Several Crimson Tide Knights stepped forward and took out a cloth to blindfold Layton again.

“Take him back,” Louis said calmly.

Layton felt himself being helped up and pushed out of the study again, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

He heard the heavy door open, the cold wind rush in, and then he was shoved into the carriage.

The carriage drove down the stone road from the main castle, the sound of its wheels rolling over the snow clearly audible.

He stopped the car in a familiar neighborhood as night fell and the distant firelight was swallowed up.

Someone untied the ropes and ordered in a gruff voice, "Get off the vehicle."

The cloth was torn off, and a biting cold wind rushed in.

He stood at the entrance of his own cold salt shop.

The shop assistants stood frozen at the door, looking surprised.

Layton, pale and panting, whispered urgently, "Pack your things... now! We need to leave this city."

No one dared to ask why; the servants frantically packed up the ledgers, invoices, and valuables.

That night, Leighton and his entourage hastily left the city, heading south.

Regardless of what was written in the letter, he had already exposed himself.

As the carriage passed through the streets of Chichao, he couldn't help but look back.

Under the cover of night, the main castle's tower loomed in and out of the snow and mist, the firelight inside the windows still burning, as if someone were standing there.

In a daze, he saw the young lord standing by the window, wearing that calm smile.

Layton's breath hitched, and his heart nearly leaped out of his chest.

He turned his head sharply, not daring to look again, and urged the driver, "Hurry! Hurry up!"

The carriage wheels kicked up snowflakes as it sped faster and faster, as if trying to escape the sight of that smiling face.

(End of this chapter)