Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 379 Seven Days of Training

Pete finally managed to squeeze through the crowd, his shoulders bumped several times, but he managed to stand in front of the notice board.

Recruitment notices for the spring aid team were posted on the pillars, with various positions clearly listed: construction team, craftsmen, doctors, apprentices, and guards. The salary, term of service, and family allowances were all clearly written.

The bottom line of commands is simple and direct: illuminate those who are still in darkness.

Pete stared at that sentence, a slight tightness rising in his chest, a feeling of "Okay, it's my turn to do something."

A registration desk was set up in the center of the square, and officials from the Municipal Affairs Bureau were busy maintaining order.

The wooden sign indicated the queuing categories, and Pete was in the logistics team.

Some people around shouted that they wanted to cut in line, while others complained about the crowding. It wasn't until the clerk stepped forward to calm the situation that order was restored.

When it was Pete's turn, he steadied his breathing and stood in front of the table.

A clerk in his thirties looked up at him and said in a calm tone: "Name, department, resume."

“Peter Holland, Supply Department, Third-Class Warehouse Officer,” he replied simply.

The clerk flipped through the records, then looked at him: "Third District Winter Dispatch... You have experience, you understand this task isn't just about moving things?"

Pitt nodded: "I've heard some things, but not much."

"What we export is not labor, but the methods of doing things," the clerk explained directly. "The people who go there must be able to keep accounts, distribute food, arrange channels, maintain order, and teach others to do the same. Simply put, they must be grassroots officials who can independently lead a small position."

Pete paused for a few seconds to process the question before asking, "So now that I've registered, I'm officially the candidate?"

"Not so fast." The clerk shook his head. "After that, there will be screening and training. You'll have to pass written and oral exams before you'll be officially assigned to the team."

His tone was casual, but with a hint of reminder: "If you do well, you might get a promotion when you come back."

Peter nodded, signed his name, his handwriting trembled slightly, but not to the point of losing his composure.

After confirming, the clerk put away the form: "You've been selected as a candidate. Come back to report when you're notified."

Pete led the booklet off the stage, turning back to look at the flags adorned with the Red Tide emblem, the light blinding him.

Whether driven by a desire to rise above others or by a desire to enable more people to live a life like Red Tide, Pete was absolutely determined to succeed this time.

…………

Pete was among the first batch of candidates to be notified of their selection.

As soon as the news broke, his colleagues started teasing him, patting him on the shoulder and whistling, saying things like, "Pitt is going to make it big!" and "He'll treat us when he gets back!"

Pete's ears burned, but he couldn't help laughing. He felt like he was on fire, wishing he could rush out of the Red Tide right now to contribute to the North.

When the mobilization time arrived, he rushed to the administrative center early.

The assembly point was the old training hall on the north side of the administrative center square, where hundreds of candidates were already seated.

The numbered badges on their chests divided them into several categories: craftsmen, doctors, administrators, construction workers, and logistics personnel.

Everyone sat up straight, looking serious, but their seriousness wasn't a sense of mission; it was more like being called out by the lord and told to do their job well.

On the platform, Bradley and representatives from various agencies were already in place.

Bradley's gaze swept across the room, and the room immediately fell silent: "You will become the Red Tide beyond the Red Tide, the seeds of order."

Next, everyone stood up and took an oath.

They had already read the oath in the booklet, and countless people knew it by heart: "By the fire of the furnace, with order as our heart, where the Red Tide is, chaos will not exist."

After shouting, Pete felt a weight lift off his shoulders, as if he had been formally accepted into a large group.

Just as the echoes of the oath were still lingering in the air, the sound of boots came from the doorway.

Louis entered, wearing the red cloak, his expression as calm as ever.

The firelight illuminated his profile; he was unpretentious, yet it made people instinctively straighten their backs.

Pete heard someone gasp and someone whisper, "Sir..."

That kind of worship was written on almost everyone's face.

Louis stepped onto the stage and began, "Time is short, so I'll just say a few words first."

The moment he finished speaking, the entire room fell silent.

Louis said directly, "You're going out to rescue people, not to build walls for the nobles. Your target is those children who are freezing purple; they are the starving people in your territory."

You may encounter obstruction from nobles. They may laugh at you, yell at you, and tell you not to care about these peasants, but you don't need to pay them any attention. If anyone maliciously hinders you, just write them down and report them back; the Red Tide will handle it..."

Louis was still giving his speech when the quiet gasps from the audience below were barely audible.

Pete was the same; having grown up in the Empire, this was the first time he had ever heard a nobleman say such a thing.

They should ignore the nobles and serve the common people.

Louis's tone was as calm as if he were talking about the weather, without a hint of provocation, yet it made people afraid to refute him.

Pete's heart pounded as he listened, but he couldn't tell if it was fear or excitement.

In fact, he nodded with every word Louis said, not because he fully understood, but because the way the lord spoke made people instinctively feel that following him was the right thing to do.

Moreover, he understood very well that the adults were truly on their side.

And that's enough; adults hate those nobles who bully others.

Finally, Louis's tone softened: "If you can handle this matter well, your achievements will be established. In the future, promotions, transfers, and even the ability to independently manage affairs in a region will all depend on your performance this time."

I hope you won't just talk the talk, but walk the walk and achieve tangible results, so that the Red Tide will remember your names.

Applause erupted like a tidal wave.

In the crowd, Pete's heart felt like it had been suddenly jolted by something—not from fright, but from being ignited.

Perhaps I really can do what the adults say.

He stared at Louis on the stage, his chest burning with a rage that sent shivers down his spine.

"I can do it... I can do it too..." Pete repeated to himself, not even knowing why he was suddenly so certain.

He simply considered distributing grain, keeping accounts, and taking inventory as stable jobs.

But now, for the first time, he feels that what he is doing can change someone's life.

When Louis said, "Your achievements will be established as a result," a series of images flashed through his mind:

The people of the territory recognized him and would tell their children, "That uncle is the one who makes sure we have enough to eat."

When he returned from a mission in another city, all of his colleagues from Red Tide stood at the entrance of the administration building, patted him on the shoulder, and said, "Pete's back. That kid did a great job."

He even thought a little further ahead...

Perhaps in a few years, he will be able to sit behind his desk, like those high-ranking Red Tide officials, with his own seal, approving construction plans and grain quotas.

Thinking of this, the tips of his ears turned red, and he quickly lowered his head so that no one around him could see his expression. But that anticipation... he couldn't suppress it no matter what.

…………

After Louis left the training hall, the residual heat of the stove clung to the wall, like the imposing presence he left behind.

The heat wafted through the empty training hall, but the students had already been led to the adjacent longhouse to continue their lessons, without a moment's respite.

The seven-day course was tightly packed with content, from rescuing people and establishing systems to stabilizing public sentiment and reorganizing the land; every step was meticulously planned and executed.

Although the lecturers changed frequently and the actual instructors were never present, all the course outlines and procedures bore the mark of Louis.

The first three days focused on livelihood assistance, specifically saving lives and stabilizing the population.

They were required to learn the most basic things, but not manual labor; rather, they were to do things in the manner of the Red Tide:

The "Regulations for the Construction of Temporary Grain Warehouses in Winter" teaches them how to find the safest location in wet snow and how to prevent moisture under the ice.

The Handbook for the Treatment of Frostbite and Hypothermia breaks down the treatment process into steps that are almost impossible to go wrong with.

The "Household Registration and Population Registration Template" requires them to create a complete list within one day of arrival.

The "Emergency Stoves Layout Map" enabled them to set up the most basic heating points in villages and towns without houses.

The fire burned all day long, casting flickering light on everyone's faces, even making Pete's back ache from sitting so long.

He was no stranger to the three-day course.

He's done it all over the years, from building granaries to treating frostbite and filling out registration forms.

But here, all the experience is written into clear rules and regulations.

The lecturer's voice slammed like iron on the table: "The Red Tide Rescue Team's primary goal is to ensure that no one dies in a village during the coldest time of the year."

Pitt nodded; he understood all too well the weight of those words.

He recalled the days when he carried sacks of grain on the coldest winter nights, the helplessness of the refugees who came to the Red Tide in winter when they were frozen purple, and the difficult days before he came to the Red Tide.

The fourth and fifth days were about exporting the system, which is about bringing the red tide over there.

The training hall seemed to be suddenly covered with a layer of heavy snow, and even the air became stagnant.

The missionary spoke slowly, but every word was substantial: grain rights reform, household registration law, public accounting, working hours system, minimum standards for grain storage rooms and geothermal furnaces...

“Aid is not about sending food,” the lecturer said. “It’s about enabling that village to keep its own accounts, farm its own land, and distribute its own resources next year.”

So they were taught how to teach others to read, how to collect grain according to a form, and how to lead the locals to dig the first drainage ditch and build the first grain storage room.

Looking at the blueprints, Pete suddenly understood. They weren't just providing temporary aid and then leaving; they were aiming to ensure that the land would never suffer from hunger again. For the first time, he realized, "What we're trying to replicate is the red tide itself."

The sixth day focused on local politics, aiming to fundamentally reform the structure.

They talk about power all day long, without discussing tools or engineering.

The lecturer wrote a striking line on the blackboard: "The recipients of aid are ordinary people, not nobles."

Most importantly, nobles must not interfere with the distribution of grain, audit accounts, give orders, or meddle in the division of labor. They must observe proper etiquette, but they cannot relinquish any power.

That day, Pete and his companions were taught how to maintain decorum, how to have nobles stand at the front of the ceremony without giving orders, how to let them listen to the meeting without interfering, and how to give a symbolic honor without relinquishing actual power.

The lecturer summarized it calmly: "They get to save face, but are effectively sidelined by the system."

Pete felt a chill run down his spine. The arrival of the aid team was like quietly embedding the administrative framework of the Red Tide into the territory of the old aristocracy, rewriting the order with systems rather than swords.

The seventh day focused on long-term strategy, paving the way for the next three years.

The entire wall was replaced with a map of the North, and military and government officials used long poles to tap on the villages and towns below the snow line one by one.

Where the winter mortality rate is highest, where are the potential supply lines, which villages and towns, once stabilized, can drive the development of four to six surrounding villages, and which nobles are most likely to be abandoned by the people.

The instructor then unveiled a new three-year plan, which, compared to all the previous courses, resembled a comprehensive blueprint for the Red Tide:

In the first year, the population was stabilized to ensure that no one died from cold or famine.

Establish grain distribution points and temporary household registration offices to bring villages and towns back together and prevent people from fleeing.

All rescue efforts revolve around one goal: to keep the underprivileged alive and to make them aware that the red tide is what kept them alive.

The following year, the export system was implemented, undermining the old authority.

The Red Tide-style household registration, quota, and accounting system was implemented. The lower classes were taught literacy, bookkeeping, and division of labor.

The old aristocracy retained their titles on the surface, but the rights to taxation, grain, and labor were gradually stripped from them.

The goal is to make villages and towns dependent on the Red Tide officials, rather than on the lords.

Year 3: Complete subordination and integration into the Red Tide order.

Villages and towns voluntarily submit their ledgers and production records; resource vouchers from red tides are used as the primary means of settlement.

The Red Tide faction has stationed resident secretaries and inspectors, and although they have not announced a merger, their de facto administrative subordination is a foregone conclusion.

The North is like a piece stitched together, with the Red Tide becoming the sole center.

During a break, the lecturer casually summarized: "These three years are not three years of aid, but three years of reshaping. After three years, the North will get used to the Red Tide, the nobles will depend on the Red Tide, and the villages and towns will actively gravitate towards the Red Tide."

You are not aid officers, but the sowers of the future Northern order.

The training hall was so quiet that even breathing seemed to be audible.

At the end of the training, the instructor closed the thick booklet and softened his tone: "Although the time was short, you are all grassroots officials trained by the Red Tide. You have done everything from rescuing people to keeping accounts and stabilizing the situation."

These seven days are simply for you to review these points again. If you have any questions, you can refer to the Red Tide booklet; all the answers are there.

He looked around and said, "When you leave, remember that you represent the Red Tide. May you have a safe journey, and may your footsteps bring light back to the North."

…………

Seven days later, Pete sat in the carriage that was about to depart.

The wheels rolled over the muddy tracks left by melting snow, making a dull sound, with a slightly sticky feel.

He was holding the small booklet with its curled edges, as if he were still standing in front of the long table in the training hall.

Pete's feelings were hard to describe.

I hope to be able to do something that truly gives hope to others, and also to get promoted and make a fortune.

There was also uncertainty: What would the first village be like? Would the local nobles object?

The outer walls of Red Tide City gradually receded into the mist, and the familiar red flag on the city wall was still fluttering in the wind, but it had become a blurred warm color, stuck to the gray sky.

Pete suddenly realized that from this moment on, he was no longer working under a flag.

He wanted to bring that color to a place where no one could see the firelight.

(End of this chapter)