Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 436 Varius's Experiences

The convoy continued north.

The wind and snow gradually became clean and sharp, and a familiar chill filled the air.

When Frostspear City appeared on the horizon, Varius subconsciously squinted.

This was once the heart of the North.

He had visited this city several times when he was young. The city had been ravaged by war, and the city walls had been repeatedly repaired. The streets were like scars that had been torn open and barely stitched back together time and time again.

Everyone was in a hurry, their eyes wary, as if the next bugle call could be sounded at any moment.

Of course, even back then, this place could be considered an important town in the North, but it was always a city that was dragged forward by war.

But what he sees now is not the case at all.

The city walls are higher, but they don't look bulky.

The streets were wide and straight, and the snow had been cleared in time, leaving only neat snow mounds on both sides of the road.

Pedestrians strolled leisurely, and the shop signs were uniform and restrained, lacking the hysterical extravagance of the capital city.

What surprised him most was the temperature inside the city.

The cold wind was kept out, and warm air flowed continuously from the pipes along the street.

Even without getting close to the fire, you can feel a steady warmth coming from your feet.

Varius stood at the street corner, briefly lost in thought.

This city was more magnificent than any he had ever visited before, and more like a real, living capital than the current imperial capital.

They were not allowed to stay any longer, and the next day they were led to the north of the city.

There stood a colossal building I had never seen before.

The thick concrete walls extend outwards, with exposed steel bars, devoid of any decoration, emphasizing only the function itself.

The dome is semi-enclosed, as if it exists to house some enormous thing.

Varius's gaze fell to his feet.

Two parallel black rails stretched into the darkness deep within the dome.

His brow furrowed slightly. Was this the rails of some kind of giant ballista? Or... a device used to transport the entire castle?

Just then, Baron suddenly rushed out.

The former royal chief blacksmith almost fell to his knees beside the tracks.

He took off his gloves and, ignoring the chill, touched the cold steel rail with trembling hands.

Then, he took out a small hammer and struck it hard.

"when--"

The sound was crisp and long.

Barron turned his head sharply, his eyes bloodshot: "This is top-grade steel, forged through countless hammer blows, without a single bubble!"

"You...you actually laid it on the ground for people to walk on? What a waste! This is paving roads with gold coins! Are the mines in the North inexhaustible?"

The staff quickly pulled him up, stopping him from jumping any further: "Do you want to die?!"

Victor stood aside and explained, “This is called a railroad, Master Barron. To make that steel beast run, the road must be harder than bone.”

Before he could even figure it out, the ground beneath his feet suddenly trembled slightly.

It was a rhythmic, muffled sound, deep and steady, like a pulse that was awakening.

Immediately following, a sound arrived: "Whoa—!!!"

The extremely piercing sound of the steam whistle tore through the wind and snow.

Everyone instinctively covered their ears, the warhorses neighed in fright, and their hooves pounded the ground.

In the darkness, two blinding yellow beams of light suddenly shone, like a giant beast opening its eyes.

The next moment, steel broke through the fog, and the Black Steel emerged from the depths of the tracks.

It was a black front end that was five meters high, and its entire body was covered with thick riveted armor.

The massive red connecting rods propelled the waist-high steel wheels, producing a rhythmic and violent metallic clanging sound.

"Kucha—Kucha—!"

The chimney on the roof spewed out thick black smoke and white steam, which condensed rapidly in the cold air, rolling like clouds and engulfing half of the platform.

Upon seeing this monster, everyone's expression turned grim, and some even collapsed to the ground, exclaiming, "Monster..."

Varius was pale and clung tightly to the railing beside him.

Even on the battlefield, facing the Knights' frontal charge, he had never felt such a clear sense of powerlessness.

If the Knights were to encounter something like this, he wouldn't even need to think about it anymore.

The train slowly slowed down with a screeching sound of brakes, sparks flying everywhere along the tracks.

After a brief hesitation, everyone was guided to the vehicle.

The moment the car door closed, the wind and snow were completely shut out.

The warmth enveloped us silently.

Herman even paused for a moment, then silently took off his worn-out coat.

Inside the carriage, upholstered leather seats are neatly arranged.

The transparent glass windows were clean and bright; such things were only found in the drawing rooms of nobles in the capital.

A train attendant pushed a cart past.

"Gentlemen, would you like some hot black tea, or today's Red Tide Daily?"

Varius took the teacup and then the finely printed newspaper.

He looked down at the headline above, which was a new decree issued by Louis that day.

The tea was warm, and the paper was dry.

His hands tightened slightly; this wasn't a means of transportation, but the veins of his rule.

The train started moving again.

It started slowly, then the speed gradually increased.

The trees outside the window receded rapidly, eventually forming a blurry line.

In the distance, a troop of cavalry was patrolling in the snow, and they even came to greet the train when they saw it.

The train overtook them without stopping, leaving them stranded in the depths of the snowstorm.

"How many miles does this thing travel in a day?" Varius asked in a low voice.

The intelligence officer glanced at his pocket watch: "It will take three days to reach Red Tide City, which means this horse can cover half a month's worth of distance in a day."

Varius leaned back in his chair and slowly exhaled.

As someone who had studied war and rule, he instantly understood what this meant.

Supply delivery, troop deployment, and effective communication of government orders.

No wonder the North was able to conquer the Grayrock Province in such a short time.

In the face of this steel monster, all old-fashioned war theories became a joke.

"The North is bitterly cold?" He looked at the howling wind and snow outside the window and chuckled to himself.

…………

The train glided into the station in the darkness.

The moment the car door opened, the smell of steam and metal rushed in, like a thick fog clinging to the nostrils.

As everyone disembarked with their luggage, their feet touched the hard ground of the platform, and they could still feel the aftershocks coming from the other side of the tracks.

They followed the signs to the exit.

Varius remained silent the entire way. The sound of the steam whistle still lingered in his mind, like an echo that could not be stopped.

As soon as he stepped out of the station, a chill hit him.

The sky was low and deep, almost inky blue; such a night should have swallowed everything.

But the city before us has no night.

The magic stone streetlights and gas lamps intertwine to form a huge network of light, spreading from the main street and extending into the more distant alleys, illuminating every stretch of snow.

Snowflakes twirl and fall in the light, like finely polished crystal fragments.

On the distant mountainside, the Red Tide Fortress hangs suspended.

That wasn't a castle in the traditional sense.

The enormous dome is fixed to the rock wall and steel frame, and the dome surface emits a warm red light, like a steadily beating heart.

The heatwave slowly emanated from above, forming a thin layer of white mist in the cold air, which slid down the mountainside. Varius instinctively raised his hand to his chest.

He thought of the capital city, a city with lights, but those lights belonged only to the aristocratic districts. The nights in the commoners' districts were like a silent well, so dark that it was hard to breathe.

Even the outermost alleyways here are lit up, as if it were perfectly natural.

A patrolling knight passed by the street corner, his steps steady, snow falling on his cloak.

Workers pushing carts by the roadside made a soft sound as the wheels rolled over the paved surface.

The child's laughter leaked out from a crack in the door, only to be quickly swallowed up by the warmth inside the room.

Varius stood there for a moment before realizing he was actually daydreaming.

"Please follow me." A gentle voice sounded from the side.

They were led to a side hall of the station.

Someone was already waiting there; it was an elderly man in a crisp black uniform.

His hair was gray, but his back was very straight, and his eyes were not cold, even carrying a just-right sense of distance.

Varius had seen far too many people like this in the court.

The difference was that this old man didn't have any obsequious air about him; he simply raised his hand to his chest and gave a crisp, efficient bow.

"Bradley," the old man introduced himself, then handed over a neatly bound booklet and a slightly heavy brass key.

The cover of the booklet clearly reads: "Check-in Guide".

Varius suppressed the inappropriate unease within him and spoke urgently, "I wish to see Lord Louis Calvin immediately. I have important suggestions for revising the legal code, as well as intelligence regarding the capital..."

Bradley smiled slightly: "Your Excellency, the Lord is currently inspecting the test firing of the new cannons at the arsenal and will probably not be back for another three days."

Varius frowned.

Bradley didn't give him a chance to continue speaking: "Besides, you've traveled a long way, it would be impolite to go see the adults like this."

Please rest in the apartment for a few days and experience life in Red Tide. You'll have a clearer understanding of what kind of people the legal code you're trying to amend should protect.

Varius opened his mouth, instinctively wanting to refute.

The apartment was not a palace-style mansion used to display status, but a standard stone building with few floors and a simple exterior.

Bradley simply pointed in the direction and then left without accompanying them.

Varius pushed open the door alone and entered, closing it behind him to shut out the sounds from the street.

The temperature inside made him instinctively stop in his tracks.

It wasn't the scorching heat of the fireplace, but a gentle warmth that seeped from the floor and walls.

He followed the heat to the side and saw a metal faucet embedded in the wall.

He hesitated for a moment, but still reached out and turned it on, and clear hot water immediately gushed out.

Varius was stunned.

In the capital, a bucket of water like this requires three servants to take turns boiling, carrying, and lifting it upstairs. But here, it's as readily available as air.

He continued walking inside, and in a clean and quiet cubicle, there was a strange white porcelain utensil.

A brief instruction manual was posted next to him; it was for a toilet. He pressed the metal button, and the water swirled down, cleanly and efficiently washing everything away.

The window is a wide double-pane glass wall, keeping the cold wind out while preserving the night and lights perfectly.

In early spring, snow was still falling in the northern border region, and the city lights spread out quietly in the distance.

He slept soundly that night.

The next morning, Varius went out into the street alone.

The main street was bustling with people, but it wasn't noisy.

Workers pushing carts, children carrying schoolbags, and women carrying baskets each went their own way in their predetermined directions.

A newspaper delivery boy stopped. He was about thirteen years old, wearing a thick cotton-padded coat and carrying a bulging cloth bag on his back.

The boy pulled the newspaper out of the bag, skillfully checked the house number, and then drew a mark on a sheet he carried with him with a charcoal pencil.

Varius slowed his pace.

Watching that series of actions, he finally couldn't resist taking a step forward.

"Child," he said in a low voice, as if afraid of disturbing something, "do you recognize the words on this?"

The boy looked up and glanced at him.

There was no awe or wariness in his eyes, only simple confusion.

“Of course I know it, sir.” He pointed to the address and read, “22 Baker Street, Fisher’s Bakery.”

The boy thought for a moment, then added, in a matter-of-fact tone, "This is a compulsory subject for second graders. How can I earn money by delivering newspapers if I can't read?"

Varius stood still, not responding immediately.

In the capital, literacy was a privilege reserved for priests and nobles.

Knowledge was tightly confined within high walls, and ordinary people were not only ignorant, but were even deliberately prevented from accessing written language.

As a result, the lower class, like wild beasts, are driven by instinct and fear.

Here, a child who delivers newspapers can read and write, and can even earn money from it.

This is what truly shocked Varius.

Not far away, a few people were gathered in front of a bakery.

A customer was quietly questioning the weight of the bread. The shop owner didn't raise his voice, but simply placed the bread on a scale by the door.

A wooden sign stands next to the scale pan—Fair Scale.

The shop owner pointed to the notice on the wall, "Red Tide Business Code".

“One less and the penalty is ten times the penalty.” He said calmly. “It was decided by Lord Louis. The Red Tide people don’t lie to the Red Tide people.”

The customer nodded, took the bread, and that was the end of it.

Varius sat down on the side of the street.

It was an unassuming bench with a smooth, worn wooden surface, but it wasn't cold to sit on.

Heat slowly seeps out from under the seat, climbing up the spine, where geothermal pipes are buried.

Not long after he settled in, another person appeared next to him.

He was a young worker who had just finished work; his cotton-padded coat was open, and sweat was still dripping from his forehead.

He placed the tool bag at his feet, let out a long sigh, but smiled.

Varius turned his head, deliberately keeping his tone even: "Is it tiring working here?"

The young man paused for a moment, then laughed, revealing a set of white teeth.

"I'm exhausted!" he said frankly. "The lord is very strict about the construction schedule; if we're slow, we'll get points deducted."

His tone shifted, becoming lighter: "It's all worth it. I got a perfect attendance bonus last month, and we'll have lamb stew at home tonight."

He turned his head and glanced at Varius: "Old sir, you're from out of town, aren't you? In Red Tide, as long as you're willing to work, the adults won't let you go hungry."

The young man patted his knees, as if confirming the tangible reward: "Two years ago, I was still a slave in the mine. How could I not be satisfied now?"

After saying that, he stood up, picked up his tool bag, and naturally merged into the crowd.

Varius remained seated there, the square of the administrative center not far away.

In the center of the square, a huge red tide flag was raised high.

The yellow sun emblem fluttered in the cold wind, as if to throw light and heat into the night sky.

Under the flag was a whole row of bulletin boards.

Awards for technological improvements, results of hygiene assessments, and announcements of new bills were posted neatly. Some people stopped to look at them, some discussed them in hushed tones, and then quickly dispersed.

Varius stood up and walked to the flag.

Looking at the Chichao people coming and going around him, their faces hurried but their expressions focused, he finally understood.

This is not an order built on plunder; it grew out of the ruins bit by bit.

Just then, a slight commotion came from the street corner.

The crowd spontaneously parted to make way for them.

Bradley walked over accompanied by several attendants, and as his gaze swept across the square, it suddenly stopped on Varius.

The old man gave an almost imperceptible smile: "Lord Varius, how have you been these past few days?"

Varius turned around, his gaze burning almost impolitely: "Please tell me, when will Lord Louis return?"

He paused for a moment, as if restraining himself: "I have too many questions, I must see him, right now!"

(End of this chapter)