Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 399 Quagmire
The afternoon after the meeting ended, Louis sent men to knock on the doors of every lord and representative who had attended.

He left behind a casual remark: "Meet at the north city wall; I have something I want you all to see for yourselves."

He offered no explanation, only instructing his attendants to prepare cloaks and portable heaters.

So these nobles, who were drinking tea and discussing cooperation and profit sharing on velvet chairs just yesterday, were forced to climb the newly built city walls of Frostspear City in the biting wind and snow.

They thought Louis was just putting on airs or holding a so-called lordly inspection ceremony.

However, when they stood on the city wall and saw the black torrent gathering outside the city, all their luck and speculation were instantly crushed.

Louis summoned them not for the ceremony, but to let them witness firsthand the impending danger and the power of the Red Tide.

Only genuine fear can make these guys, who still cling to the traditions of the old aristocracy, understand why military power must be handed over to the Red Tide.

Only by standing on this city wall where the wind and snow howl, facing the advancing regular army, can one truly understand the situation.

Only then can they truly realize that the old North is dead, and the new North can only be reborn in iron and fire.

…………

The winds of the North howled against the northern walls of Frostspear City, sounding like the roar of an entire ice field.

The sky hung low, and the blizzard was torn into white whips by the wind, lashing against the battlements and flags with dull cracking sounds.

However, what was even more biting than the wind and snow was the tremor that gradually approached, making even the air tremble.

It wasn't the sound of horses' hooves at first—but rather a low rumble of thunder, like a muffled thunder rolling from the depths of the earth, its echo lingering and carrying a sense of oppression.

One by one, the nobles on the city wall stopped breathing.

"Was that...was that an earthquake?" someone asked, their voice trembling.

“No,” another nobleman said hoarsely, “that was a cavalry tide.”

Looking into the distance, a thin black line, as thin as a hair, suddenly appeared on the previously pale horizon.

The wind and snow could not stop its spread; the black line, like the rising tide, quickly thickened and widened, then swallowed the color of the entire snowfield.

Someone exclaimed in surprise, "That's... a legion? The entire legion?!"

No one could count exactly how many knights there were.

The black torrent stretched to the horizon, without end.

Even from miles away, you can feel the discipline with which they move.

There were no shouts, no roars, only the resounding thud of countless iron hooves crushing the snow.

This silence is more suffocating than any war drum.

This is a regular army marching; it is the empire's most terrifying war machine.

On the command platform on the north wall of Frostspear City, almost all the nobles present were terrified and turned pale.

At that moment, they truly understood that Louis was not joking when he spoke at the meeting.

Three legions, seven thousand knights, are heading this way.

The cold wind shoved through everyone's heavy fur coats, and some even knelt on the ground: "We're finished... We can't hold them off... Who can stop this kind of scale?!"

Several cowardly barons had already begun to quietly retreat, trying to find the stairs down the city wall, as if by getting away from this scene, they could keep the apocalypse further away from them.

Count Abette, however, stood at the very front.

He was a former retainer of the Duke of Edmund, a veteran who had weathered decades of trials and tribulations.

Even in this oppressive and almost suffocating situation, he still kept his back straight, but his brows showed more heaviness and worry than usual.

Unlike the others who panicked, he lowered his voice and said, "Lord Louis, the 17th Legion is advancing south at the same time as two other armies. This is an extremely unusual move. Are the defenses you set up in advance really sufficient to deal with it?"

This reflects a veteran's concern and sense of responsibility for the safety of the North.

He wasn't doubting Louis, but rather confirming whether the young lord was truly confident in the face of such an apocalyptic situation.

Louis glanced at him, his expression as calm as a lamp in a snowy night: "Rest assured, Earl Abbott. I am ready."

Abette paused for a moment, then looked again at the black torrent in the distance, her taut fingers slowly relaxing.

He sighed softly and could only shake his head: "...In that case, I'll just watch."

As the cavalry drew closer, everyone's eyes turned to the young lord standing in the chair in the center.

Louis sat upright in his chair, one hand gently holding a steaming cup of red tea, as if he were enjoying a peaceful afternoon tea in a warm hall, rather than on the city walls about to be crushed by a cavalry tide.

The strong wind whipped his cloak, but he didn't even lift an eyelid.

He simply turned his head and looked at Isaac beside him, whose palms were sweating with nervousness.

The child's shoulders were stiff as stone, and he instinctively gripped Louis's cloak tightly.

But when Louis looked at him, he quickly raised his chin, trying to appear brave.

Louis put down his teacup, raised his hand to tuck the wind-blown blue hair under his hand, and asked in a tone as if he were asking what he wanted for dinner: "Are you scared?"

Isaac's breath hitched, his ear tips turned bright red from the cold, but he gritted his teeth and shook his head, saying, "No... I'm not afraid."

Louis's lips curled up slightly, not in mockery, but in a reassuring approval.

“Very good.” He said softly, “Then open your eyes wide and see clearly, this is the last curtain call of the old era.”

…………

The biting northern wind echoed through the birch forest pass, as if the entire ice field was groaning softly.

Akman reined in his horse and stood at the front of the column.

He looked at the three-hundred-meter-wide pass leading to Frostspear City, with smooth, frozen cliffs on both sides that reflected his image, and a white plain covered in snow in front of him.

Any general would have seen that this was an excellent ambush site.

But Ackerman laughed; he had expected Louis to do this.

He stared at the eerily quiet snowfield, his eyes flashing with the coldness of a hunter: "Louis Calvin, you think I'd step into your enchanted trap? With those exploding alchemical toys, who can you kill?"

The Blacksteel Knights of the 17th Legion stood solemnly behind him, three thousand fully plate-armored heavy knights like an iron-colored tsunami pressing in.

The snow fell on their armor, but upon contact, it was instantly vaporized by their battle aura into white mist and disappeared.

"All troops, listen up! Slave cavalry, scout ahead!" Ackerman lashed out his whip.

A hundred barbarian light cavalrymen, like wild dogs released from their cages, roared and charged into the pass.

A few breaths later...

"Boom! Boom, boom!"

The snow exploded, and flames and blood mist mingled together, sending more than a dozen barbarians and their horses flying.

But the explosions stopped there; there was no chain reaction, no massive explosion like the one that shocked Ackerman.

Ackerman sneered, "As expected, a minefield was laid... but its power is limited. The heavy knight won't die at all."

Then, without hesitation, he ordered: "Loosen the formation! All knights, maintain a five-meter interval! Advance in squads!"

Three thousand black-clad riders dispersed into a vast, net-like advancing formation at the sound of horns. Though the torrent was sparse, it carried an uncontrollable aura of destruction as it surged into the pass.

Until they had almost all entered the designated area.

...but there was no second explosion. At the end of the birch forest pass, on the north wall of Frostspear City, Louis raised his hand in the distance, as if signaling some elegant beginning.

The next second, the earth emitted a muffled, thunderous heartbeat.

“Buzz—Boom!!”

There was no blinding fire, no flying metal fragments. Only a terrifying tremor, so intense it instantly paralyzed the nerves, emanated from the depths of the earth.

Ackerman's black-scaled warhorse suddenly sank.

He reacted extremely quickly, but his eyes still widened: "This... isn't an explosion?"

This is not a high-explosive minefield; this is a deep-buried, five-meter-deep, seismic-induced explosive charge.

The shockwave first shattered the permafrost layer, then stirred up the groundwater, turning the entire solid foundation into a fluid in an instant.

The snowfield collapsed instantly.

The entire 300-meter-wide passageway was transformed into a swampy, muddy hell in the blink of an eye.

The warhorse's hooves sank in first, and the more it struggled, the deeper it went.

The heavy plate armor, along with the knight, was half-submerged in the sticky mud.

No one died, no one was injured, but the entire army was paralyzed.

Ackerman's pupils constricted sharply. He wanted to curse, but the words caught in his throat: "This kid... he's not trying to blow me up. He's trying to capture me alive like an animal?!"

The mud churned and rolled, and the knights fell from their horses, collapsing one by one into the mud. They struggled to their feet, but could not even pull out their weapons. Chains, plate armor, and horse armor all became their shackles.

"Commander! We're...stuck!"

"The rear guard is colliding with us! Their formation is all cramped!"

The three thousand Black Riders, who had originally spread out like a net, were now forced into a narrow "meat-slaughter corridor" by the terrain.

The front ranks stopped, the rear ranks collided, and the flanks were trapped, squeezed together like sardines.

Ackerman roared, his fighting spirit erupting and shaking the mud away as he leaped into the air.

"Get up, all of you! Charge! As long as we get out of this muddy mess, we've won!"

Under Ackerman's almost maniacal roar and oppressive force, the heavy cavalry were forced to pull themselves out of the mud.

Some abandoned their horses, while others stumbled and continued charging forward.

They finally made it out of the muddy area with great difficulty, and were only 800 meters away from the foot of Frostspear City.

But Ackerman didn't notice any of this.

In his eyes, the mud was merely a temporary obstacle. A slightly excited smile appeared on his face as he roared, "See that?! Even the traps can't stop us! As long as we break through, victory is ours!"

Ackerman had no time to observe the collapse of the formation; he only stared at the seemingly still passable flat ground ahead, spurred his horse hard, and charged out first amidst splashing mud and water.

Behind him, the massive army, shattered, dragged by the mud, and forced into a chaotic mass, was also forced to surge forward in rhythm with him.

They thought they still had momentum and that if they kept charging forward, they could break down the gates of Frostspear City in one fell swoop.

On the city wall, Louis quietly looked down at their almost comical striving, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Louis never intended to kill them with a trap.

What he wanted was to strip them of their fighting spirit, to strip the 17th Army Corps of its meaning as an army corps, and to break their fearless momentum.

This would disqualify them from fighting before they even reached the city walls, paving the way for the grand banquet to follow.

…………

The high ground on the flank of the birch forest pass.

The wind is extremely strong here, but it is also the best spot to overlook the entire pass.

The snow swirled in the cold wind like fine silver dust, tapping softly and rapidly against the armor of two knights hidden behind the snow slope.

Commander Ferran of the Cold Iron Knights stood at the very front, his entire being appearing as if forged from cold iron.

His heavy armor was so dark it almost swallowed up the light in the snowstorm, leaving only a cold, hard outline.

He remained silent, staring intently at the pass below, which had turned into a sea of ​​mud.

Commander Oser of the Silver Fang Knights stood half a step to his side and slightly behind, his light silver-gray armor rustling softly in the wind.

Compared to Ferran's composure, his emotions were noticeably more tense.

Through his telescope, he could see Ackerman's heavy cavalrymen struggling and rolling around in the mud, a scene that looked almost like an apocalyptic catastrophe.

"Ferland! Look down!" Oser couldn't help but growl, his hand already gripping the hilt of his sword. "Ackerman's formation has crumbled! Completely crumbled! This is a golden opportunity!"

He pointed to the majestic Frostspear City in the distance, his voice low, yet still betraying his anxiety:
"If we let them escape, the city walls will withstand a full-force attack! The civilians inside will panic! Our Silver Fang Knights' duty is to protect Frostspear City! Charge down now and we can cut them down from the flank!"

Ferran raised his hand, like an insurmountable iron gate blocking Oser's path: "The Lord's red signal flare has not yet been raised. Without orders, the Cold Iron Legion will not move an inch."

"You're too blindly obedient!" Oser was furious and shoved Ferran's hand away, even forcing the Cold Iron Knights next to him to take a step forward.

“Louis is merely acting as the acting commander! Frostspear City is the foundation of young master Isaac’s power! If Frostspear City suffers because of his hesitation, how will we face the Duke after we die?!”

He gritted his teeth and angrily rebuked, "What is that young man thinking? The battlefield is ever-changing, and he actually wants to fight heavy cavalry head-on on the plains? Does he think war is a child's game?!"

Ferran slowly turned his head: "Oser, do you remember the vow I made before the spirit tablet?"

He spoke slowly and deliberately: "We swear not to dishonor our mission. Since the Duke has entrusted command to Lord Louis, his orders are the Duke's will."

You're too far removed from Lord Louis. You only see his gentle demeanor in Frostspear, but you haven't witnessed how he turned the impossible into reality in the Crimson Tide. He understands better than any of us how to protect Young Master Isaac's future.

Oser still wanted to argue, but he froze at the last second before he could finish speaking.

Because the earth... shook.

It started as a slight tremor, which gradually intensified, as if some enormous creature was awakening underground.

Ferran raised his chin and pointed towards Frostspear City: "You think Lord Louis set up this trap just to trap them in a mud pit?"

"listen."

Oser held his breath.

Amidst the howling wind, a deep, unfamiliar rumble gradually became clear, like the heartbeat of a metallic behemoth.

bang -- bang -- bang --

The power of the sound even drowned out the hoofbeats of thousands of warhorses, causing the snow on the slopes to slide off in a rustling sound.

Oser's pupils contracted slightly: "What...is this?"

"The monster of the Red Tide".

The wind carries the breathing sound of mechanical pistons, the roar of steam and steel.

The sound grew louder and more frantic.

On the snowy highlands, the members of both knightly orders instinctively straightened their backs.

The power of the new era is about to take center stage.

(End of this chapter)