Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 429 New Information
When Louis woke up, it was just dawn, but for Louis it was already late.

He opened his eyes and his gaze fell on the beam at the edge of the dome.

The beams are covered with polished dark wood trim, with narrow copper strips inlaid at the joints to stabilize the structure and also serve a decorative purpose. Relief patterns left over from the old aristocratic period can still be seen at the edges.

This was once the main residence of the Earl of Black Iron Territory, an old castle that was completely taken over.

Of course, it's a thousand times worse than Red Tide Castle, a magnificent architectural wonder of the North, but it's still sufficient.

Louis used this place as a temporary office and residence.

He did not choose the gray rock castle because the stench of blood had seeped into the cracks in the rocks, something that could not be dispelled by a few cleanings.

Louis didn't think much of it and simply turned to the side.

Sif was still asleep, her long white hair spread out beside her pillow.

Her hair was spread out on the pillow, with a natural cool sheen, and her long, closed eyelashes cast a faint shadow under her eyes.

Louis gently tucked the blanket around her shoulder. Sif's eyebrows twitched, but she didn't wake up.

Emily and her old butler Bradley stayed in Red Tide City to oversee the North, where the Red Tide system was already in operation and they wouldn't be needed without them.

Sif came to the province of Greyrock to handle his affairs and personal matters.

Louis sat up, grabbed his robe from the back of the chair and put it on, then stood by the window, his fingertips lingering for a moment on the old wood grain of the window frame.

The morning air in the limestone is always a bit chilly, as if it's seeping out from the cracks in the rocks.

This is Black Iron Territory, the core city of the Gray Rock Province. Iron mines and coal veins have made this place robust, and now new flags are flying over the city gates, granaries, workshops, and military camps.

Louis let out a soft sigh, suppressing his distracting thoughts: "Let's see how our luck is today."

Extend your right hand and wave it in the air.

A semi-transparent interface appeared before my eyes, spreading out like thin ice, with text jumping around rapidly before finally settling into a still image.

[Daily intelligence update complete]

[1: Karen has detained Adrian Kress, commander of the 33rd Army Corps, and plans to publicly execute him in the capital within three days to purge his military power and sever the old command chain.]

Louis's expression remained unchanged after reading the first item.

As expected, Kalein made his move.

The detention of the commander of the 33rd Army Corps, and the public handling of the matter, indicates that it was not simply a purge.

At this point, Duke Raymond should not have returned to the capital yet, and this timing itself speaks volumes.

This means that Carlene has given up on dealing with the Duke of Raymond and wants to get rid of as many people as possible as quickly as possible.

This is just the first hurdle; those who remain hesitant—whether they are legions observing, nobles wavering, or those still loyal to Raymond—will all be forced to make a choice.

They either side with Carleon or are publicly named in the next round of punishment until Duke Raymond returns to the capital.

This move will inevitably lead to a loss of control in the short term, with internal suspicions, secret collusion, and even premature rebellion emerging.

The capital city will only become more chaotic, which is a good thing for Louis.

It exposed Karen's distrust of morale and revealed that the old imperial system could no longer be maintained by rules and could only be suppressed by bloodshed.

When Duke Raymond returns to the capital, there will surely be undercurrents, and even bloodshed.

Louis felt a little pleased, because the dogs had started biting each other.

He doesn't need to get involved; he can just stand by and watch them tear each other to shreds.

All the Red Tide had to do was pave the roads, deliver the food, and guard the city gates while they were making a ruckus.

Louis thought that perhaps he could recruit some talented people. He silently made a mental note of it.

[2: The surface volcanic ash of the red soil slopes in the eastern part of the limestone province is mineable, while the deeper layers are highly reactive volcanic ash deposits with characteristics of hydraulic materials, which can be mixed with limestone for trial burning.]

Louis's gaze lingered on the second one.

He remembered the area on the map as Hongtupo, its color dark and the soil looking as if it had been scorched by fire.

Previously, nobles only regarded it as a byproduct of fertilizing the land, digging up some ash and spreading it on the ground in exchange for a small harvest.

But this intelligence report mentions a different kind of value.

He quickly matched the materials with their intended uses in his mind.

Limestone and limestone are everywhere in the province.
If volcanic ash deposits are indeed active, and the correct proportions and firing temperature are achieved, water-resistant cementitious materials can be produced.

It's not fragile mortar, but something that can harden when it's damp.

He didn't need to think too much about what this meant.

Wharf, embankment, bridge piers, warehouse foundations, military camp walls...

Once the limestone province can produce this material on its own, the entire construction speed will change.

Moreover, not only in the Gray Rock Province, but also in the roads and warehouses of the various territories in the North, once the infrastructure is in place, the next ten years will be much easier.

Louis picked up the intelligence book on the table and began to write.

“Hongtupo was designated as a strategic building material production site in the province, and craftsmen and a team of alchemists were dispatched to conduct trial firings to determine the appropriate proportions.”

In Louis's eyes, the Graystone Province was a treasure trove.

On the surface, it is just a piece of land that has been repeatedly mined and exploited by the old empire, but after the daily reports from the intelligence system, it is discovered that there is much more buried here than is recorded in the ledger.

The blind spots left by the old aristocracy, the neglected geological layers, and the marginal resources that no one cares about are slowly emerging one by one.

Since he was stationed in the province, he has been able to find one or two discoveries in the intelligence almost every day. Some of them are not amazing, but they are useful enough.

Some of these, when used correctly, can directly drive the entire construction process.

This intelligence is one of them; it's something that can be directly transformed into city walls and roads.

[3: Eduardo Calvin has been fully implanted with the Golden Thorn Crown, and his consciousness has entered a state of synchronization, making him the vessel for his next generation.]

Louis's finger froze in mid-air.

He stared at the words for two breaths before slowly exhaling.

Eduardo.

The first thing that came to his mind was not the family's political strategy, nor the power in the capital.

Rather, she is someone who makes people feel very comfortable around her.

He made a very good impression on the other person when they first met.

He appears mild-mannered and speaks in a gentle tone, yet he always maintains a perfect sense of propriety.

Moreover, during the investigation of the Mother Nest, he chose to reveal his abilities, and it was at that moment that Louis truly realized that he was a good person with principles and a willingness to take risks for others.

But now that such a person has been chosen and become a puppet, Louis's feelings are very complicated.

He wasn't actually familiar with the Golden Thorn Feather Crown; this was the first time he'd seen something like it in the Daily Intelligence System.

But based on this single piece of information, he could deduce some things.

That crown is not a symbol; the person who sits on it will have their will replaced and their judgment overridden, leaving only the function of execution.

The Pope is one of the most powerful people on the continent, and arguably one of the strongest beings in the world.

If even such a person can only exist as a puppet, then it means that what controls all of this is at a level far above the Empire and the Vatican.

This thought sent a chill down Louis's spine.

He followed this line of thought back and deduced an idea that sent chills down his spine.

The mother nest, the scorching vine garden, the remains of a giant dragon... Perhaps this golden thorn crown shares the same origin with them.

They are distributed throughout the continent, with different shapes and uses, but they all have one thing in common: they can carry, amplify, and transmit a certain will.

Over the years, he has consulted many history books, from the history of the founding of empires to the secret records of various churches, and even the fragments and collections of legends that have been judged to be false history, but he has never been able to find any record of these existences or the fragments of memories they have instilled in him.

They seem to have been deliberately erased, or perhaps they were born in some unrecorded era.

Perhaps there is a gap in this history, a piece of history that has been forgotten by the whole world.

The primordial heart within him is very likely the same thing, or even the most crucial part of it.

This thought gave Louis a rare sense of powerlessness.

He wanted to investigate but didn't know where to start; for now, the only thing he could rely on was the daily intelligence system.

Come on, system daddy...

Louis remained silent for a moment, then finally wrote two lines in his intelligence notebook; this was all he could do now.

"Send two caravans as cover to infiltrate Jin Yu Hua Port. Establish three layers of informants: the docks, the monastery, and the grain market. Only investigate anomalies, do not seek contact with the core."

He closed the notebook, and the interface disappeared, leaving only the coldness of the unlit stove in the room.

A very soft inhale came from behind me.

Sif woke up, but didn't sit up immediately. Instead, she buried her face in the pillow, her voice still a little hoarse: "You were standing by the window for quite a while."

“Think about something.” Louis tightened his robe and glanced back at her.

Sif opened her eyes, still somewhat dazed, but clearly said, "There's a mobilization meeting this morning. The garrison of Black Iron Territory, the workshop teams, and the newly formed provincial night patrol teams will all be there. Don't forget."

Louis chuckled. "Me, forget something like that?"

“You will.” Sif glanced at him sideways, her tone deliberately certain. “And usually, it’s right after I’ve reminded you, I don’t know what’s going on in your head.”

Louis raised an eyebrow: "That means your reminder wasn't formal enough."

Sif snorted, but the corners of her mouth twitched slightly: "I see. Then I'll double-check next time."

“Not really.” Louis smiled, walked back to the bedside, and reached out to tuck a strand of white hair behind her ear. “If you really keep an eye on me every day, I won’t be able to sleep soundly.”

Sif looked up at him, her eyes clear: "Then remember it well."

She sat up, pulled the blanket over her shoulder, and spoke in a businesslike tone, though still with a hint of warmth: "That's why I came with you, so you wouldn't have to fill your schedule too much."

The footsteps outside the window grew more frequent.

A short horn rang out in the distance, as if to remind the whole city that dawn had broken.

Because Sif arrived yesterday, Louis woke up a little late today. He has other things to do later, so he can only rest for one day during his morning practice.

Louis picked up his sword belt and went out the door.

…………

At the entrance of the Black Iron Castle in the early morning, a cold wind swept up from the stone steps, making the back of one's neck feel tight.

But the crowd in front of the door was like a pot of water that had been set on fire, with waves of heat surging.

More than 500 officials are queuing to enter.

Pete wrapped his dark red Tide uniform coat tighter around himself and was pushed forward by the crowd.

The lining of my coat was soaked with sweat and stuck to my back, but I didn't care.

The accents around me were all familiar.

They all spoke with a distinct Northern accent, at a fast pace, and with very firm final words.

They were all low-level cadres selected from within the Red Tide system.

On the other side, about two hundred people wore thick outer robes in bright colors, which contrasted sharply with the dark colors of the Chichao uniforms.

They stood ramrod straight, but couldn't hide the tension in their expressions; their eyes kept drifting around unconsciously.

Those were old bureaucrats left over from the Black Iron Province. Because of their experience, they were temporarily retained after a preliminary screening.

Pete glanced at them but didn't look at them much. These people would become comrades in the future, and they would be gradually weeded out.

The province of Grayrock is now a giant refugee camp stretched thin. Food, shelter, medical care, and order—each one is threatening to crush people.

All Louis needed was an executor who could keep the situation under control when resources were scarce and manpower was in disarray. That's why Louis kept bringing in more people.

Pitt was selected through a rigorous process of screening.

He did the dirtiest and most scolding work, managing to reduce the death rate in a northern territory that was on the verge of collapse to single digits.

He only read the transfer order a few times the day it came down.

His official position was promoted, and his salary doubled.

More importantly, the reason for the transfer was signed Louis Calvin.

This is what truly excited Pete.

Being remembered by Lord Louis means that he has truly seen your results and approves of your methods.

All the work I did before wasn't in vain.

The crowd moved forward a bit, and Pete followed them into the hall.

This was originally where the Earl held his balls. The dome is very high, and the crystal chandelier still hangs in the center, though the lights aren't on full blast.

To accommodate nearly 600 people, all sofas, coffee tables, and decorative small tables were cleared out, leaving only a dense row of hardwood folding chairs.

Chairs were side by side, shoulders were shoulder to shoulder.

Although the weather was cold, the air quickly became stuffy and hot as a hundred people breathed together.

Pete felt his uniform collar was soaked with sweat, but he still kept his back straight.

He found his seat, in the second row, on the side.

As soon as I sat down, a pungent smell wafted up next to me.

Perfume mixed with the smell of sweat.

Pete turned his head and saw an official from the Black Iron Province. He was quite old, with a pale face, and his fingers were constantly rubbing the hem of his clothes.

The man was clearly unaccustomed to this scene, his gaze shifting between the backs of the Red Tide officials in the front row, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

“A bunch of lunatics…” The man didn’t say anything, but his lips moved.

Pete saw it clearly, but didn't reply. He simply took out a charcoal pencil and his hardcover notebook from his pocket and laid them out on his lap.

There isn't even a table here where you can write; if you want to jot something down, you have to prop yourself up on your legs.

He had seen many people like this. They always had some impurities at the beginning, some of which could be worn away, while others would eventually fall away on their own.

The previously noisy whispers in the hall suddenly stopped.

It felt like something invisible was holding me down.

Pete instinctively looked up.

A figure appeared at the door; Louis entered.

There was no announcement, but the entire hall fell silent.

(End of this chapter)