Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 402 The Aftermath of the War and New Bad News
Graystone Fortress - Ackerman's Command Study.

The night was as dark as iron, and the wind howled through the cracks in the stone walls.

The flickering light from the fireplace made the monster heads on the wall look ferocious and terrifying; these decorations were originally meant to showcase Ackerman's martial prowess and intimidating presence.

Now, these withered wolf heads and snow bear teeth seem to be grinning wildly, mocking the two barely surviving people in the room.

The ground was a mess, with expensive wine bottles scattered everywhere. The strong smell of alcohol mixed with the smell of burning, and it was as pungent as vomit.

Barthes huddled by the fireplace like an old dog whose courage had been drained away.

He clutched a bottle of Ackerman’s prized spirits, his hand trembling like a withered branch in the wind, choking on every sip.

"That...that's not..." His teeth chattered, and his voice cracked.

"Did you see that? How could they be so crazy? They're killing their own people... That's sorcery... We're... We're finished..."

He muttered nervously, like a frightened child: "We didn't participate in the war... we just went on a training exercise, right?"

Louis can't kill us, we are Imperial Legion Commanders...we are regular troops...regular troops..."

Thor kicked a bottle away, his face barely better than a dead man's, yet he struggled to maintain the last shred of dignity of the Ironwall Legion Commander.

“Shut up! Be a man!” he roared, his voice trembling slightly with fear. “That idiot Ackerman got himself killed, it’s none of our business! We were just watching from the flanks, not uttering a single word!”

He took a deep breath, trying to appear calm: "As long as we insist that we were deceived or even coerced by Ackerman, Louis won't dare to touch the two legion commanders. Imperial law will protect us."

Barth suddenly looked up, his lips pale: "Sol... how about we surrender? Kneel down and beg him? Hand over all the legion's equipment! Doesn't Louis like money?"

Thor sneered, "Surrender? Have you forgotten how Ackerman's head was cut off? And do you think Louis would leave any survivors?"

He walked to the huge map of the North on the wall, pointed to the marked location of Graystone Fortress, and regained some confidence.

“Listen, this is Graystone Fortress, the strongest natural barrier in the North.” Thor lowered his voice, as if speaking to himself, “Louis’s iron crates are powerful, but they’re too heavy! There’s no way they can climb that cliffside path!”

Bart nodded immediately, grabbing the bottle and scrambling to his feet: "Right, right, right! They can't walk on the mountain path! They'll get stuck! They'll collapse! They'll fall off the cliff! Haha... We're safe, we're safe..."

Thor plunged his dagger into the map: "As long as we close the Dragon-Slaying Stone Gate, even if he has a hundred chariots, he can only watch helplessly from below the city! We'll hold this position and wait for reinforcements from the capital!"

The two looked at each other and saw hope in each other's eyes, making them seem less like the dead.

Barth even raised his glass with trembling hands: "To...to the impregnable Graystone Fortress..."

Saul also raised his glass.

Just as the rims of the cups were about to touch.

"Om-!"

The wine on the table shook violently, splashing off the rim of the glass.

Thor's face paled: "Earthquake...?"

"boom!!!!"

It felt as if the heavens and earth were exploding in their ears, and the entire command center was as if it had been overturned by a giant beast.

The ceiling light fell off and smashed into pieces on the ground, with dust pouring down like a waterfall.

The guards outside stumbled in, their faces covered in blood, crying out, "My lord! The gate! The gate is gone!!!"

Thor roared, "Bullshit! That's a dragon-slaying stone! What kind of battering ram could break through it?!"

The guard knelt on the ground, his voice trembling and cracking: "It wasn't forced open... it was... it exploded!!!"

…………

As the first rays of morning sunlight pierced the battlements of Frostspear City, they illuminated three heads swaying slightly in the morning breeze.

They were hung on the city gate tower in a triangular pattern.

In the very center is Ackerman, his face still contorted with the rage and fury of his dying moments, as if he were about to unleash a torrent of curses at any moment.

The cold light reflected in his unseeing eyes seemed to be a mocking candlelight on his lost ambition.

On the left is Barth, whose mad dog-like face is now twisted beyond recognition, like a beast's skull that has been broken off; the fear before death has torn his features apart.

On the right is Thor, his expression almost blank, as if he was still pondering how Graystone Fortress was opened before he died.

A cold wind blew by, and the three heads swayed gently in unison.

It looks like a bow to the people walking below.

It's as if they're acknowledging that the old era has ended.

Louis, draped in a black cloak, walked with a composed gait, as if he were strolling on some kind of red carpet that belonged to him.

The city was filled with auxiliary soldiers who were clearing the battlefield, and processions escorting prisoners passed through the city in rows.

The air was filled with the smells of blood, engine oil, and the chill of the morning.

Half a body length behind him, Lambert, clad in newly polished armor, moved with crisp, decisive steps.

He carried a thick stack of parchment scrolls tightly under his arm, quickly reporting the latest intelligence as he walked.

"The 17th Army Corps has completed its inventory. Its pre-battle strength was 3,000, and approximately 1,000 have been confirmed dead or seriously wounded."

The remaining two thousand people have all been taken into custody. However… the Soul-Devouring Bullets have an extreme psychological impact; most people will cower and scream at the slightest loud noise, and some are even completely paralyzed.

Louis didn't even turn his head: "Let labor heal their emotional wounds. Categorize them by their level of obedience. Those who still dare to glare and think of resisting, strip them of their fighting spirit, put them in shackles, and send them to deep iron ore mines. The mining area is in dire need of hard laborers who are not afraid of death."

The rest were reorganized and sent to reserve labor camps. They were to repair roads for three months first, and those who performed well… were then sent back to military service.”

Lambert nodded, then flipped to another report, took a deep breath of cold air, as if deliberately organizing his thoughts and not wanting his excitement to cloud his judgment.

"But at Graystone Fortress... the situation is different from what was expected." He lowered his voice. "After the magic bomb troops arrived, they only test-fired four siege magic cannons according to the most basic procedures."

Lambert glanced at Louis, then quickly looked away, realizing that what was truly awe-inspiring was the young lord's foresight in having Hilko create such a terrifying weapon.

Although he had previously tested the power of the magic bomb, the results and the shock of its actual application in war were still quite different.

"When the first shot landed, cracks appeared in the city wall. When the second shot broke the upper edge of the Dragonstone Gate, the entire fortress wall was shedding plaster."

“The third and fourth shots…” Lambert paused for a moment, “…directly shattered the Dragon Slayer Stone.”

He didn't dwell on the thrilling details, but went straight to the conclusion: "Before the smoke had even cleared, the men from the 14th and 7th Legions came out holding up white cloths..."

They even rushed to offer up the heads of Saul and Barth, claiming that they were voluntarily purging the rebels and were willing to join the Red Tide.

The remaining deputy legion commanders and adjutants were all willing to accept reorganization, saying that compared to Ackerman's fighting style... Lord Louis's system was the only way to survive.

Louis chuckled softly, neither surprised nor pleased.

Lambert continued, “My lord, so we received a total of nearly six thousand well-trained regular knights. This number…”

Louis finally stopped and glanced at the group of prisoners being escorted.

Those once invincible imperial knights now huddled together, like wolves with their teeth pulled, devoid of any fighting spirit. "Six thousand men," Louis said calmly. "Other nobles dare not devour them, but I dare. Send them to the Red Tide for re-education."

Lambert immediately replied, "Yes, sir."

“Tell the instructors that I don’t want Imperial Knights. I want Red Tide soldiers. I want them to be able to wear red cloaks and feel like strangers when they see the old Empire’s flag in three months.”

Louis said calmly that he was very confident about it.

The Red Tide system he has built over the years is not simply discipline or training, but a whole set of new processes that can rebuild faith and give people a new path.

In that process, an old knight's pride, anger, confusion, and loyalty will all be re-examined.

Let them understand why they are fighting and for whom they are fighting, and let them rediscover their dignity as guardians, so that they may be reborn from the ruins of the old era.

Lambert turned to the last page: "As for our casualties..."

He took a deep breath, his voice steady yet still filled with awe.

"Five tanks were destroyed, but all can be repaired. Thirty-two personnel were killed in action, and eighty-five were wounded, some seriously and some lightly... most of them were wounded during the pursuit."

"In exchange for five tanks and dozens of lives, we gained control of the Northern Frontier and the establishment of three elite legions..." Louis said in a low voice, then nodded.

The group continued forward and arrived at the foot of the steps in front of the city lord's mansion.

Inside the gate were all the nobles from the North who were waiting for the meeting.

Louis slowly straightened his collar.

Will reached out and pushed open the door. The heavy oak door creaked softly, and blinding light burst out from the cracks, making Louis look as if he had stepped out of the morning light.

In that instant, the entire conference hall seemed to be gripped by an invisible force.

"brush--"

Hundreds of nobles stood up at the same time.

The screeching sound of chairs scraping the floor was uniform, more like a knight's declaration of resolve before battle than a noble meeting.

No one dared to sit down and greet the young lord who had just annihilated three legions.

Their eyes held an extremely complex expression...

There was the utter awe and complete submission of Earl Abette, the relief of the minor nobles who had survived by sheer luck, and some others... whose eyes flashed with a mixture of hesitation and fear.

Louis walked to the end of the long table, to the seat that once belonged to the Duke of Edmund.

He pulled out a chair, sat down calmly, and gently placed his hands on the table with his fingers interlaced.

It wasn't until three seconds after he sat down that the nobles slowly took their seats, their movements as gentle as if they were afraid of disturbing a sleeping monster.

The air was so oppressive that you could almost hear everyone's heartbeat.

Louis surveyed the entire arena, a signature smile playing on his lips.

"I apologize for keeping you all waiting." His tone was casual, as if he were talking about a trivial matter. "There was some trash outside the city that needed to be cleaned up, which caused a slight delay."

No nobleman dared to utter a word of rebuttal, nor even dared to change his expression.

Louis continued, "The good news is that the 17th, 14th, and 7th Legions have been dissolved. The three commanders, including Ackerman, have all been beheaded. Their troops have been incorporated into the Red Tide reorganization. Thus, the security threat in the North has been completely eradicated."

The tone was understated, yet it was like the final blow to the coffin lid of an old era.

Even though they already knew the outcome, many nobles still felt a chill run down their spines when Louis himself said, "It's all done."

Those were three elite legions! And he just described it as "all done"?

Just as a tiny thought arose in everyone's minds that "we can finally breathe a sigh of relief"...

Louis suddenly stopped smiling, his eyes becoming as deep as if they were sinking into an icy lake.

“But before the meeting begins, I regret to inform you all…” He paused. “There is another piece of bad news.”

The air solidified instantly.

Seven thousand knights pressing in is bad news, annihilating three legions is a minor matter, so what else could there be now?
Louis leaned forward slightly, his voice low, but each word was like thunder:

"The Imperial Regent, His Highness Arens, was confirmed dead late last night."

A silent tremor ran through the conference hall.

Someone asked with some skepticism, "Sir... is the source of this information reliable?"

Louis's gaze swept over them, cold as frost: "In a few days, your own channels will get wind of it."

The entire hall was momentarily stunned.

No one cried, and no one showed any signs of grief for a national mourning period.

For these landowners in the North, the capital was too far away, and who the emperor sat on the throne didn't really matter to them.

The death of the regent is more like the fall of a god in mythology, surprising people but not directly affecting them.

Someone couldn't help but mutter under their breath, "Then... who is the new emperor?"

But the wise old nobles' expressions had already changed.

Louis caught on to this and gave a cold laugh: "I know what you're thinking. The capital is too far away from us. What does it have to do with us, right?"

He stood up and walked to the huge map of the North.

The finger pointed heavily on the only connecting line between the capital and the North.

"There is no universally accepted heir right now. The death of the regent means the balance is broken. Those princes will immediately turn hostile."

He raised his head, his voice clear and heavy: "Gentlemen, do you really think this is just a matter for the capital? Think about it, once civil war breaks out..."

"Is there still any military funding allocated from the capital to the North? Will the grain and cloth shipments from the South continue to arrive smoothly? Does the Imperial Ministry of Commerce's order to purchase your ore still stand?"

Every word was like ice water splashed on everyone's faces.

The harsh, cold North has always relied on the South for its resources.

If the Empire descends into civil war, the North will become a forgotten island.

The nobles finally panicked:
"If no food is brought in, how will we get through this winter?"

Who will I sell my ore to?

"Without imperial orders, I can't afford to support knights!"

"Oh no... What if those princes forcibly levy taxes on the northern border in order to raise funds for the army?"

(End of this chapter)