Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 414 Battlefield Situation

The light of dusk spilled onto the watchtower of Silver Creek Mine, illuminating the exquisite cigar that Earl Abbott held in his hand.

He gently stroked the texture of the cigar, his gaze passing over the eaves of the tower and falling on the mine square below.

The two armies are handing over defense duties.

One of them was a legion formed by the fusion of the Red Tide and the Northern Army; their black uniforms looked like the Grim Reaper in the setting sun.

As Abette watched this scene, a complex mix of emotions welled up within her.

A few months ago, he was worried that the rigidity of the Red Tide would wear down the spirit of the men of the North.

But as he fought his way through, he saw not tamed wild beasts, but a pack of wolves that knew discipline.

The change made him feel gratified, but it also made him involuntarily think of that stormy night ten days ago, their first battle.

It was only that day that he realized just how powerful Louis's team was.

The torrential rain poured down like a waterfall, crashing down from the sky.

As the lightning ripped the sky, Abbott remembered standing in the mud outside Blackpine Castle, looking at Lambert beside her with a heart full of doubt.

Louis puts a naive kid in command? That's ridiculous.

The terrain of Black Pine Fortress is so rugged that it's impossible to take it without sacrificing lives, let alone with zero casualties.

He had even decided that if Lambert mismanaged the situation, he would immediately take over and lead the charge.

However, Lambert did not give him that opportunity.

The young man glanced down at the letter Louis had written in his hand, then raised his hand and pointed to an inconspicuous section of the wall at the northwest corner of Blackpine Castle.

Immediately afterwards, several knights, like shadows appearing out of nowhere in the night, silently climbed up the wall.

Abbott remembers very clearly that there were only a few muffled crossbow shots, followed by a "boom" that was drowned out by thunder.

When the firelight came on, the wall had already cracked and stones were rolling down.

He was stunned for a moment.

Louis seemed to have disassembled the fortress beforehand, knowing which section of stone was of the worst quality and which guards would slack off on rainy nights.

A near-absurd thought crossed Abbott's mind: "If I were defending the city, I wouldn't even know how I died."

What was even more shocking than the fall of the city was the Red Tide Army's actions after the city was breached.

The vault door was blown open, and military pay boxes were scattered all over the ground, a glittering expanse of gold.

The knights from the North instinctively pounced to steal the money.

He didn't think there was anything wrong with it. After all, the North was harsh and cold, and it wasn't shameful to risk one's life for money.

However, he could never forget Lambert's departing figure.

Standing before the mountain of wealth, the young legion commander did not hesitate at all; he simply raised his hand.

The Red Tide Knights walked past them without anyone reaching out to touch even a single coin.

Abbott stood there stunned, feeling as if she had been struck in the chest by a blunt object.

What he perceived as the pride of the North was, at this moment, like a mask being peeled away.

Louis was training a different kind of army that could remain calm in the face of gold. Of course, he wouldn't be so surprised when he learned about the treatment of the Red Tide Knights.

He opened the map of Grayrock Province, where a quarter of the province had already been stained with the colors of the Red Tide Legion.

A chill crept up my spine.

He imagined an extremely dangerous scenario: "If I were Raymond's vassal... or in the North Civil War, I would choose to stand against Louis..."

Images flashed through my mind one by one:

He knew very well what it would be like to be on the opposite side; intelligence would be impossible to hide, and all deployments would be like paper spread out on the other side's table.

The hidden tricks they set up won't last long before they're exposed.

The city walls couldn't even withstand the first alarm of the magic bombs, and as for their own knights, they probably didn't even have time to react before being suppressed by the steel torrent.

Abbott's throat tightened, and he came to an undeniable conclusion: "I won't last a day. No... not even half a day. My head will be hanging on the flagpole."

The tobacco from the cigar burned her fingertips without her realizing it, and Abette was jolted awake from her reverie.

“My Lord,” Lambert said, pushing open the door and entering with the smell of gunpowder. “Silver Creek Mine has been cleared. As is customary, soup kitchens have been set up, and the tyrannical mine owner is on trial. Your Knights… have done a very good job this time.”

Abette couldn't help but laugh. She never expected that she would be praised by someone from an ordinary background who was half her age.

He suppressed the chill in his heart and said to Lambert, "Lambert, where is the next target? Is it Red Leaf Town ahead, or White River Ferry? My knights request to lead the charge."

Lambert did not directly reject the idea, but instead walked to the map, picked up a red pen, and lightly marked several frontline outposts with crosses.

His tone was steady and polite: "Your Excellency, under normal circumstances, I would certainly support you in taking the lead. But Lord Louis has warned me that the situation has changed."

Abbott frowned: "The surrounding towns are as empty as the bottom of a barrel. My men could easily pick one and take it over."

“That’s why the enemy won’t be careless anymore.” Lambert pointed to the dense red dots on the map. “The previous victories were built on an intelligence blockade. They didn’t know where we came from, or where our next strike would land. Now it’s different.”

He slowly rowed down the main road of the Gray Rock Province: "According to Lord Louis, the intelligence on our army's entry into the Gray Rock Province has been reported back to Gray Rock Fortress."

Kyle Raymond must have reacted incredibly quickly; all the vassals were retreating towards the center. They burned provisions, closed gates, drove laborers into the fortress, and rendered the outer outposts empty shells, but riddled with traps.

He turned to look at Abette, his tone still polite: "This is Lord Louis's assessment. Trying to launch a surprise attack with light equipment will only lead us into their well-prepared ironclad defenses."

Abbott pondered for a moment: "So you mean step by step? One fortress at a time?"

Lambert shook his head, his expression clear and respectful: "My lord has a different strategy."

He took out an order covered with the Chichao leader's seal wax from his pocket and placed it on the table: "The entire army shall rest in place for two days, feed the horses, and take inventory of the ammunition. Then move towards the central route."

Abette was taken aback: "Middle route? Where does it converge?"

Lambert's finger swept over all the outer outposts, as if wiping away irrelevant noise, and finally landed on the massive stone fortress in the center of the map.

“Greyrock Fortress.” He relayed Louis’s intentions steadily: “The lord will meet us at the Blackrock Canyon. All heavy firepower will be present. Then we will take Greyrock Fortress directly.”

Abette's heart skipped a beat.

Head straight for Grayrock Keep, the stronghold of the Raymond family that has been built up over hundreds of years and is a symbol of pride for the West.

In his world, that thing was never something any army could touch.

Abbott stared at the straight route of advance, feeling something ignite in his chest.

His blood began to boil; after all, he was also a man of the North, and the fighting spirit in his bones was awakening.

He murmured, "A frontal assault?"

Lambert stood up straight, like a true officer: "Yes. Head-on confrontation. This is the lord's order, and it's what we can do."

Abet laughed heartily, his laughter filled with pride: "Alright! Don't stop me then, Vanguard, I'll take over!"

…………

The sky over Grayrock Fortress was as overcast as a leaden weight, yet the military intelligence meeting place was brightly lit, the sealed stone chamber so stuffy it was almost suffocating. A huge map of the entire Grayrock Province hung on the wall, and countless colorful flags filled the main roads and towns.

Two weeks ago, they were symbols of the Raymond family's control over order, but now they are like a piece of skin being slowly sliced ​​open with a knife.

Kyle Raymond stood in front of the map, his face pale and bloodless.

"Report—!" The heavy iron door was pushed open, and a messenger stumbled in.

He knelt on one knee, panting heavily, his voice hoarse but trying his best to remain clear.

"The Baihe ferry crossing has fallen! The northern army didn't build a bridge; they erected a pontoon bridge at night! The garrison didn't even have time to sound the alarm before they were all captured and taken prisoner!"

A series of rustling whispers filled the secret room.

The river at Baihe Ferry is turbulent. Common sense dictates that anyone wishing to cross the river would need to gather timber, nails, and craftsmen in advance, making the marching route easily predictable.

But the Northern army seemed to have appeared out of thin air, creating a path across the river and silently making its way to the shore.

Kyle's Adam's apple bobbed, but he didn't speak. He simply raised his hand and pressed hard on the family flag representing Baihe on the map.

The flag swayed slightly, and he seemed to hear the sound of something breaking.

"Report—!" The second messenger knelt down with a thud, his voice strained, "The Baron of Red Leaf Town... has surrendered."

Kyle raised his eyes, his gaze icy: "Reasons for surrender?"

"The Northerners raided the Baron's mansion at night, but they didn't harm a hair on his head. They just tied his only son... in front of him."

The messenger swallowed hard. "The child was strapped to the city wall and made to look at by the whole city. The baron broke down on the spot and handed over the keys to the city gates."

Some people gasped in astonishment. The Northern Army had somehow managed to pinpoint the softest spot in a city and then snap it in front of everyone.

Kyle clenched his fists and whispered, "Take down the flag of Redleaf Town too."

"Report——!"

The third shout almost drowned out everyone's heartbeats.

"The Ironwall Knights encountered the enemy vanguard on the plains." The messenger, his hands on the ground, spoke in a hoarse voice, "The enemy is pushing forward with some kind of smoking steel monster."

Our knights had barely begun their charge, before they even engaged the enemy, when they were blown apart in volleys… their bodies were so badly damaged that not even a single intact piece of armor could be recovered. That wasn't a battle; it was… a massacre.

A moment of deathly silence, broken only by the soft crackling of embers in the brazier.

The Ironwall Knights are the hallmark of the Grayrock Province, one of the few remaining trump cards left by Raymond. Armored with heavy shields, they have never suffered a defeat in a frontal charge.

Now, however, they have been pulverized into minced meat on the plains.

Kyle slowly raised his head and looked at the entire map.

The small flag at Baihe Ferry was taken down, the mark next to Red Leaf Town was smeared into a deathly gray, and the plain where the Iron Wall Knights were stationed was also heavily circled in red ink.

The red rings swayed in the candlelight, as if something was seeping up from under the paper.

His finger stopped in the center of the map, his fingertip trembling slightly.

“How could this happen…” Kyle said in a low voice, his voice hoarse.

The enemy's advance followed an invisible path, step by step cutting off communications, seizing crossings, and destroying mobile forces.

It was as if they were already familiar with this land, with every supply line, every warehouse, and the habits of every cavalry unit.

He suddenly had the illusion that someone was looking down on him from a high place.

All the defenses he thought were hidden, the secret grain depots, and the backup escape routes were laid bare before those unseen eyes.

“We have moles, and a lot of them.” Kyle looked up, his chest tight with worry. “When exactly did they start infiltrating?”

We thought we controlled the province. But in his eyes, it was nothing more than a ripe wheat field. Which plot to harvest first, which to harvest later, was already decided.

The messengers remained silent; none dared to speak.

Kyle slowly took a step back, looking up at the map riddled with holes, and felt a chill that had nothing to do with the battlefield.

It wasn't fear of the enemy's swords, but rather the opponent's near-omniscient control.

Louis Calvin.

The name rolled over and over in his mind, and with each roll, the pressure increased.

He clenched his fist, only to find that he couldn't even tell which part of the map he should punch.

So, the only thing that can be changed... is the terrain.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he opened them, there was no hesitation in his eyes, only the cruelty of someone who had no way out.

"Since we can't stop this wolf, let's make it unable to step on it."

Kyle's voice was low, yet carried a chilling resolve: "The steel monsters are strong, but they are heavy and dependent on roads. Mud can swallow cars, and corpses can slow them down. As long as that road becomes a swamp and a mass grave... they won't be able to get across."

The adjutant was stunned: "Young Master, you mean..."

Kyle suddenly looked up, his fist slamming onto the table so hard it made the map tremble: "Burn down all the villages in the north! And that will cut off all their supplies."

The firelight danced in his pupils.

"Then force all the refugees onto that only road, regardless of the old, weak, women and children, push them all up! Turn that road into a swamp hell."

The adjutant's face turned ashen: "Young Master, that would trigger a large-scale popular uprising..."

"Then kill!" Kyle roared. "Anyone who dares to rebel, kill them on the spot! I don't want order, I want time!"

He pointed to the wide road on the map leading into the heartland, gritting his teeth: "I will fill that road with the flesh and blood, baggage, livestock, and broken possessions of tens of thousands of people. Let it rot, let it slip, let it stink so badly that the people of the North can hardly breathe!"
I'll make sure Louis's steel monsters... can't move an inch in this mountain of corpses and sea of ​​mud.

The adjutant cowered, not daring to refute further.

…………

After the order was given, the Gray Rock Province began a harrowing migration.

The rooftops of the village were set ablaze, the flames forming a terrifying red line across the night sky.

The crying people were driven onto the main road, and the cries of babies, the groans of the elderly who had fallen, and the screams of livestock caused by fright mingled together.

The road was blocked, turning into a stagnant torrent of blood and flesh.

Kyle stood on the high platform, coldly watching everything, as if checking whether a brutal yet effective weapon was operational.

“Louis,” he murmured, his voice icy, “you’re the one who killed them.”

“If you dare to march south, I dare to make the entire Grayrock Province pay with its life. Come on, let’s see if you, the King of the North, dare to crush me... or be dragged to your death in my sea of ​​mud.”

Kyle stared into the distance, his chest feeling like it was filled with a red-hot iron, burning him so much he couldn't breathe.

Ignoring the tragedy unfolding in the valley below, he turned to look at the gray rock fortress not far away, as if by no other choice…

The limestone fortress has not been breached for over six hundred years; we must defend it by any means necessary.

(End of this chapter)