Winter Lord: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 82 Marriage
"It's us again?" Earl Grant frowned. "We can't even finish our own wars."

“This time is different,” Duke Edmund said, his gaze sweeping meaningfully over the crowd. “After it is done, the land in the south can be divided.”

After these words were spoken, the reception room fell into a brief silence.

Then came a cacophony of voices discussing the matter.

"That's a great place!"

"It's much better than the freezing cold in our mountain valleys."

"His Majesty has finally remembered to compensate us?"

"Ha, compensation? This is clearly making us the knives to cut those old guys from the South."

"But I'm willing to be the knife!"

"Those useless guys in the South, who can they beat? We'll have to take the fall in the end."

"Fight if you want, as long as we can get some land, I'll go to the front lines."

Laughter, whispers, and toasts gradually mingled together.

Excitement filled the air, and even the nobles who had previously been indifferent lit up their eyes.

The land in the North is too harsh.

The sheer amount of time spent preparing firewood and food for the winter can be overwhelming for a baron.

Every snowstorm, every livestock epidemic, every war, and so on, are realities they have to face.

But the emperor has spoken: as long as we send troops, as long as we win.

From this snow-covered frozen land, one can step into the sun-drenched, fruit-lined south.

What does that mean?
Lower security costs, higher taxes, more lucrative trade routes, and a more valuable population...

A fiefdom that can truly be passed down for three generations can provide a family with an extra good way to make a living.

These northern nobles were long accustomed to fighting in the snow and wind, relying on war to make a living.

With such a delicious-smelling pancake, how could they not be drooling?

As dusk fell, the banquet came to an end in a lively atmosphere.

The nobles left in twos and threes, their laughter and the aroma of wine still lingering in the hall.

Louis, however, was kept behind by the Duke of Edmund.

Only a few lights remained in the hall, casting a warm glow, and the Duke looked kind.

"Too many people died in the Battle of Snow Eagle City," Duke Edmund said, his tone heavy. "The nobles of Snow Peak County suffered particularly heavy losses."

Louis didn't speak, he just listened.

"The Firth family is finished. Most of their territory has been taken back, and a small portion has been given to distant relatives. Snow Peak County is now leaderless."

The Duke changed the subject, revealing a meaningful smile: "I want you to be the governor of Snow Peak County."

Louis paused, his expression subtly changing.

The title of prefect is more than just a title.

This means that he can oversee the military operations of the entire Snow Peak County and has the right to mobilize noble knights.

They could also directly conscript people, build defenses, and mobilize supplies during times of war.

This means that he can collect taxes on behalf of the empire from the affiliated villages and territories within the prefecture, and of course, he can also take a cut from it himself.

It also means that he can preside over county councils, mediate disputes among nobles, and act as the arbitrator of the region;
Three-tenths are like a warlord, three-tenths are like an administrative official, three-tenths are like a gang leader, and the rest are like a concerned neighborhood committee director.

The rights and benefits one can obtain are considerable.

Louis was very tempted.

But they also knew that this was not a pure reward, and that they also had to bear corresponding obligations.

“You know what this means,” the Duke said. “That place isn’t an empty lot anymore; it’s a mess.”

“I… am willing to take on this responsibility,” Louis replied softly.

Edmund nodded, then added, "Snowpeak County suffered heavy losses after the war. Many of its people died, and refugees scattered everywhere."

If you have the means, you could try to help them. Of course, all of this is a mess left behind by that idiot Firth's family.

I won't blame you for not being able to do it, but I hope you can.

Louis paused for a moment, then nodded: "That's what I was planning to do anyway."

Duke Edmund patted Louis on the shoulder in approval, though his gaze was a little too affectionate. Louis could sense that the look was a bit strange, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it, and simply nodded politely in thanks.

However, he was unaware that Edmund had already written a letter that afternoon and secretly sent it to the Duke of Calvin's residence.

The letter's subject was simply two words: marriage alliance.

This wasn't a sudden whim.

In fact, Edmund had considered the idea of ​​a marriage alliance months ago.

Although none of his direct descendants had yet married into the southern nobility, he always encouraged his family members to intermarry with powerful figures in the south.

After all, the north is harsh and resource-scarce, and if they want to secure a future, they must expand southward.

He himself had long planned to lay the groundwork for the southern fiefdoms he might acquire in the future.

Marriage is the safest way to gain political support.

However, such marriages cannot be arranged with just anyone.

It's important to be a good match in terms of social standing and family background, and also to have good character and abilities.

And now, Emily is the only daughter of child age.

His most beloved youngest daughter was intelligent, gentle, and not at all troublesome.

Although he had considered marrying her off to the heir of a duke's family in the south, he backed down at the thought of her being sent alone to a place thousands of miles away.

Until the Battle of Qingyu Ridge ended, a young nobleman named "Louis Calvin" suddenly appeared.

At such a young age, he was able to lead a team to launch surprise attacks, set ambushes, and eliminate the enemy, which accelerated the war in the North.

He is also a direct descendant of the Calvin family.

The Calvin family is one of the eight great families of the empire, and they are based in the southeastern province.

They control many important ports and vast salt fields in the empire and are one of the oldest and most prestigious families in the Noble Council.

Family background, military achievements, abilities, future prospects...

Louis has everything one would expect.

Moreover, this child is not impetuous, acts with discretion, and can be both humble and ruthless.

This includes the manners and etiquette of dealing with people at banquets, and the composed and confident demeanor when standing in a crowd.

In addition, the secret letters sent by Bond and Gibson mentioned that this person was extremely resourceful and would surely achieve great things in the future.

Most importantly, Louis's territory is only a few days' journey from Frostspear City, so even if his daughter is wronged, she can return at any time.

The Calvin family, for their own benefit, would most likely agree to the marriage.

And so the marriage proposal was sent to the southeastern province.

……

As usual, the Duke of Calvin woke up at six o'clock sharp in the morning.

Then I did the morning exercise routine that I've been doing for twenty years, and incidentally, I also contributed to the family's growth.

After washing up and changing his clothes, he strolled leisurely into the study.

The butler silently delivered a new batch of letters, as high as a mountain.

Duke Calvin was flipping through the pages when he suddenly stopped.

"Ok?"

He picked out a letter sealed with dark blue sealing wax and with bold handwriting.

"Edmund? Who is that?"

He squinted at the signature and confirmed that it wasn't some third-rate nobleman who had misspelled the name.

It was ultimately determined that it was written by the Duke Edmund, Governor of the North.

"That duke from the North? Why is he suddenly writing to me?"

Although he and Edmund were both heads of the eight great families of the empire, they rarely interacted.

With a head full of questions, he opened the letter.

"A marriage alliance??"

Duke Calvin nearly spat his tea onto the letter.

(End of this chapter)