Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 412 Soup Sheds and Trials

The first few days after the fall of Black Iron City were even quieter than the night of the battle.

It rained three times, and the dark clouds hung low.

Occasionally, the echo of iron boots pounding the ground could be heard from the depths of the street, only to quickly disappear around the corner of the alley.

The starving residents huddled in their dilapidated houses, with the windows bolted shut and strips of cloth blocking the cracks in the doors.

When the children cried, the mother would cover their mouths, and the old man would chant the Dragon Ancestor's prayers, but he dared not utter a sound.

They waited, waiting for the "man-eating demons of the North" to start looting, capturing people, and setting fires, waiting for the streets to be filled with corpses, waiting for the doors to be kicked open.

But nothing happened.

Two more days passed, and when they were so hungry they could no longer bear it, someone cautiously pushed open a crack in the door.

They expected to see blood everywhere and chaotic scenes of looting.

Instead, the smell of damp earth and rainwater hit us.

The streets were exceptionally clean.

The bloodstains left from the fierce battle a few days ago have been washed away by the rain, and not a single corpse can be seen. Only the traces of the filled pit remain, silently telling what happened here.

Further away, several soldiers wearing black raincoats patrolled the street corner.

They wore eye-catching red sun-patterned bands around their arms, marched in unison, and stared straight ahead.

When passing by a shop, they would even sidestep and avoid the dilapidated shelves placed at the entrance, for fear of kicking something with their toes.

"So that's... a Northerner?" someone whispered behind the door.

No one answered; instead, more doors quietly opened a little wider.

Until the first wisp of smoke rose from the square.

In the central square of Black Iron City, a dozen huge iron cauldrons were lined up in a row, the fires kept low but burning steadily.

Steam rose from the edge of the pot, carrying the aroma of salted meat and dried vegetables, which drifted into every alleyway on the wind.

This year, in order to prepare for the war, Raymond levied taxes ahead of schedule.

In the limestone province, many households have already searched through all the food available, and even rats are becoming harder to catch.

These days, this pot of thick porridge, made with diced salted meat, dried vegetables, and finely ground flour, is more precious than gold to many people.

Some children couldn't resist clinging to the windowsill, drooling.

Just then, the sound of a gong rang out from the square, its crisp sound breaking the deathly silence of the city.

“Dang—dang—dang—!”

A Red Tide soldier stood in front of the pot, holding a gong, and shouted loudly: "By order of Earl Louis of the North! Open the granary and distribute grain! All residents of this city, line up to receive your share. One spoonful for children, two spoonfuls for adults!"

The sound was loud and clear, and could be heard even at the most remote alley entrance.

The silence in the room gradually eased.

Is this... a trap?

"If you really want to kill someone, why bother making porridge?"

Some people swallowed hard, mustered their courage, and carefully led their families toward the square.

At first, there were only a few dozen people, but when they saw the row of real iron pots, they couldn't move their feet.

Hunger emboldened them, and also shattered their last remaining concerns.

People picked up the wooden bowls, their hands trembling like leaves in the wind, but they still stretched them out.

When the soldier scooped up a spoonful of thick porridge, the steaming aroma hitting their faces brought tears to the eyes of several children.

After the first bite, many people were stunned.

It's been so long since I've eaten anything so flavorful, not just watery gruel to fill my stomach, but food that truly warms my stomach.

Some people, ignoring the heat, wolfed down their food, biting the edge of the spoon. Others, halfway through their meal, suddenly covered their faces, their shoulders shaking, unsure whether they were crying or laughing.

A skinny little boy nestled in his mother's arms, a piece of dried vegetable he couldn't chew still in his mouth, and mumbled, "This... is for us?"

His mother didn't answer, she just hugged him tighter.

At that moment, the aroma of the thick porridge seemed to illuminate the entire Black Iron City.

There was also an after-dinner program; a temporary wooden platform was set up next to the porridge stall.

Several people, bound hand and foot, knelt on the stage with rags stuffed in their mouths and terrified looks in their eyes.

Some people recognized their Earl of Dorron's tax collector, the city's sheriff's knight, and several local bullies who usually roamed the streets.

The crowd in the square fell silent immediately.

They didn't know what would happen next.

A Red Tide Knight stepped onto the wooden platform, unfurled a scroll, and looked up, his gaze sweeping across the audience below.

“The first one,” he said, pointing to the tax collector, “Tax collector Jimmy raised the tax rate by 20% without authorization last month, and the extra money went into his own cellar. Old John's family at the blacksmith shop in the west of town couldn't pay their taxes, and you drove his son to hang himself. Is that true?”

The tax official shook his head frantically, making muffled sobs.

The Crimson Tide Knight wasn't in a hurry: "Where are they?"

Someone at the back of the crowd was gently pushed.

Old John, his hair completely white, shakily pushed his way forward. He should have died long ago from the noose, but the Red Tide people removed the beam in time.

He looked up and saw the face on the stage, and his whole body trembled: "It's him."

“That day, he brought his soldiers to my house to confiscate our belongings and drove my son to his death!” Old John’s eyes were red. “I said I couldn’t pay, and he said that for every penny less, one less person would die…”

Suppressed whispers rippled through the square; the crowd clearly knew that something was amiss.

The Red Tide Knight then pointed to the Sheriff Knight: "Sheriff Knight O'Neill forcibly took the miller's daughter. Afterwards, he broke the miller's leg. The witness is below."

The crowd automatically parted to create a gap.

A middle-aged man with a cane was helped up. His leg bone hadn't been properly set, and he grimaced in pain with every step he took.

He didn't dare look at the person on the stage, but instead knelt down with difficulty facing the wooden platform.

"Please..." his voice trembled, "please give her justice."

A woman in the crowd was sobbing softly.

And so, one by one, the guilty were dragged up and convicted, and one by one, the victims stepped forward to identify them…

The Red Tide Knight's voice then echoed throughout the square: "In the North, this is called plunder and murder."

He paused. "According to the laws of the North—the death penalty."

The executioner stepped forward and drew his sword.

"cut."

A flash of light, and blood splattered on the wooden planks in front of the platform, slowly washing away with the rain.

After the executioner stepped down, a knightly orator wearing the Red Tide emblem stepped forward and stood on the edge of the platform where the bloodstains were still wet.

“Listen carefully, this is the law of the North, and the order of the Red Tide. We do not rob, burn, or kill for money, but we will not leave any survivors who dare to treat you like livestock.”

He raised his hand, pointing to the corpse kneeling in a pool of blood: "These people treat taxes as their private coffers and power as a club to manipulate people. Such behavior might survive in the limestone, but in the red tide, there will be no second day."

The crowd was silenced by his voice, with only the sound of rain hitting the stone slabs remaining.

The speaker continued: "Lord Louis, the lord of the North, once said... 'To ensure that the people are well-fed is the very purpose of a lord and knight. Anyone who dares to block the people's path to survival is blocking the advance of the Red Tide's blade.'"

Several Crimson Tide Knights stood below with their heads bowed, their posture solemn, as if endorsing that statement.

The speaker concluded, "From this day forward, you will no longer have to kneel before Raymond's whip. Just remember one thing: under Lord Louis's rule, the law-abiding live, and the perpetrators die." He then stepped aside.

At that moment, the square was so quiet that you could hear the raindrops hitting the armor.

No one cheered, no one cried; they just stared blankly as those who had once been high and mighty fell to the ground.

Some people instinctively clutched their chests, as if a stone that had been pressing on their hearts for many years had suddenly been removed.

Someone gently raised their head, as if seeing light for the first time from the shadows.

Some families who lost loved ones looked at the corpses with no joy on their faces, only heavy breathing and a slowly rising sense of relief.

Someone muttered something under their breath: "Damn it."

The sound wasn't loud, but it was like a needle puncturing a boil that had been pressing down on the city wall for years.

Immediately afterward, someone with red eyes responded, "It's not unfair."

Then came the third, the fourth... The voices spilled out from the crowd, initially faint, then growing more and more rapid, like raindrops falling on a river, hitting harder and harder.

"No injustice!"

"Damn it!"

"it is good!!!"

The long-suffering people of the limestone village finally found a way out.

"it is good!!"

More cheers erupted from the depths of the crowd, surging forward like waves.

They held up empty bowls, they banged on wooden sticks, and some even knelt down in excitement.

The shadow of the invaders in their eyes shattered at this moment, replaced by a long-lost sense of exhilaration and almost fanatical gratitude as they saw old scores being settled.

Someone looked at the figure behind the judge's bench and murmured a name: "Lord Louis..."

The voice was soft, yet carried a subtle tremor of fear turning into awe.

…………

The wind outside the castle terrace still carried the chill of the night, but the square below was already bustling with excitement.

Torches flickered among the dense crowd, their light illuminating countless excited, fervent, and even intoxicated faces.

Louis stood on high ground, overlooking everything.

The steam from the hot tea in his hand rose, casting a faint white mist on his profile.

Gray stood behind him, his gaze falling on the pots of porridge being carried out, the opened granaries, and the civilians kneeling in the mud, kowtowing to the Red Tide Army.

He couldn't help but whisper, "...The way they look at you is more devout than when they look at a god. But if we keep sending rations like this, the military rations will be consumed very quickly."

Upon hearing this, Louis took a sip of tea, his movements so composed that he seemed completely unconcerned about whether there would be a food shortage.

“Grey, you’ve miscalculated,” he said calmly. “This grain isn’t mine.”

He raised his hand and pointed to the huge granary in the distance that had been sealed off by the Red Tide soldiers; the emblem of the Doron family could still be seen on the door panel.

“This belongs to Earl Doron, and to Raymond.”

He turned around, his gaze as calm as if he were reading a pre-confirmed judgment.

“I used the grain of Raymond to buy the people of Raymond.”

Gray was stunned.

Louis continued, "Take from the enemy and use it against the enemy. This is the cleanest tactic."

The cheers below surged like a tidal wave, one wave higher than the next.

Gray hesitated for a moment, still uneasy: "But...won't this make the people here dependent? Or even...pulling them out of Raymond's rule too quickly?"

Louis shook his head slightly: "This is neither charity nor benevolence."

His gaze fell downwards to the faces of those who were numb and hungry from oppression: "They must know exactly who they received every bowl of porridge and every bag of grain from."

And that bite they take marks the beginning of their connection with us.

"Killing will only breed hatred in this place. They'll hide in the alleys and shoot arrows at us, they'll set fires at night, they're as annoying as a swarm of rats."

“But if we let them benefit…” He looked up.

“They would volunteer to work for me, tell me the enemy’s location, and hope that Raymond would never come back, otherwise taking this ration would be a crime of betrayal.”

Gray remained silent.

Louis's voice was low, yet it carried an irrefutable, cold logic: "They ate my porridge and watched me kill nobles; they are my accomplices. From this moment on, their fate is tied to mine."

A breeze swept across the terrace, ruffling a corner of Louis's cloak.

Gray let out a long breath: "My lord, this method is more like war than a direct siege."

Louis smiled faintly: "War is essentially a war of hearts and minds."

He suddenly looked up in the direction of Grayrock Province, a hint of displeasure flashing in the depths of his eyes, a disgust for Raymond's long-standing indulgence of the nobility.

“The nobles here are rotten to the core,” he whispered. “Their corpses are more suitable as the cornerstone of this change than their names.”

Grey asked softly, "But why not just use Earl Doron to establish authority?"

A faint glow from the system panel flashed in Louis's eyes. "Doron's rank is too high, too far removed from theirs; the people don't harbor any specific hatred for him. This predictable execution is insufficient to establish a new order."

The emotions below were still brewing, but they no longer resembled the chaos of being frightened; instead, they were like a ignited tide, slowly spreading along the street.

A large crowd gathered at the city gate. They were not panicked, but rather actively surrounded the registration desk, asking if they could join the transport team or help repair the road.

The craftsmen arrived with their tools, each looking for a place where they could contribute.

Some ragged refugees also lined up at the end of the queue, cautiously trying to get a logistics job.

The Red Tide Army's discipline and distribution system allowed them to see for the first time an order that could truly incorporate them.

They approached not just because they were full, but also because they felt they could finally have a place in a new framework.

Gray murmured to himself, "They... are completely on our side now."

Louis's gaze darkened slightly, and he said slowly, "This is just the beginning."

The towns that the Red Tide army passed through almost all copied their methods.

The granary was taken over, the tax books were confiscated, and the villagers, harboring deep resentment, took the initiative to name their oppressors.

Louis's intelligence system made all of this much easier.

He could always pinpoint in advance which nobleman hoarded grain, which officer embezzled military pay, and which tyrant drove people to their deaths.

Every sanction is like a precisely delivered judgment, causing people's hearts to completely turn towards the red tide.

Reg rode closer: "My lord, the power of this move is greater than we anticipated. The two villages ahead haven't even started fighting yet, and people have already secretly contacted us."

Louis paused for a moment, then looked ahead in the direction of the dark, looming clouds.

Grayrock Fortress sits deep in the shadows, like a giant beast lurking in its lair.

“Raymont thought he ruled by fear, but he forgot that people who are starving do not fear. To them, a bowl of hot porridge is more worthy of their loyalty than any god.”

Louis raised his hand and waved it gently: "Order the entire army to advance at full speed."

The wind lifted the banner of the Red Tide Legion, allowing the sun emblem symbolizing the North to stretch across the sky of the Grayrock Province.

"Before Raymond can react, let's make this territory our backyard."

(End of this chapter)