Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence - Chapter 341 - 241: Meeting in the Imperial Capital (Part 1)
Chapter 341: Chapter 241: Meeting in the Imperial Capital (Part 1)
The dome of the Imperial Hall let out a low hum, and beneath the throne, all sounds froze.
The Head Chamberlain, Lin Ze, stepped slowly out of the shadow of the dais.
Standing still, he unfurled a thin sheet of secret mithril paper, each word from his tone cold as ice:
“Thirty-six days after the conclusion of the Northern Campaign, the preliminary intelligence report has been archived, and is now formally presented.”
He raised his eyes, his gaze slowly sweeping over the nobles and ministers on either side of the long table, then mercilessly spoke:
“According to confirmation by the Inspectorate and the Imperial Secretariat’s field joint investigation team—
First item: Population loss, preliminary estimates indicate the Northern Territory has lost four-fifths of its population.”
Someone in the hall shifted slightly, but no one spoke.
“Second item: Territorial collapse, most of the Northern Territory has either fallen or become ungovernable.
The explosion of the Insect Nest caused a crustal fracture, accompanied by intense geomorphological changes. Roads were destroyed, rivers overflowed their banks, lakes dried up, and some areas formed ash-gray zones, uninhabitable.
Third item: Military collapse.
The original Red Iron Line defenses completely collapsed, with the first, seventh, and ninth regiments of the Red Iron Army annihilated along the Snow Peak and Frost Halberd line.
Now only scattered garrison units remain, bereft of command directives.”
“Conclusion.” Lin Ze’s tone remained unchanged, as if reading a judgment, “The Northern Territory has become the ’vacuum zone’ on the Empire’s northern edge.”
He paused, gently folding up the secret report in his hand, like closing a coffin lid.
Above the throne, Ernst August remained silent throughout.
His face hid in the shadow cast by the high-backed throne, even his gaze blurred, leaving only a stern outline, like an imposing dragon.
But no one dared to underestimate his silence at this moment.
Lin Ze stepped back half a step, bowed his head in calm salutation: “Your Majesty, the above is a summary of post-war intelligence.”
The Emperor did not respond, he simply raised a finger slightly, pointing silently once.
The faint, almost inaudible action struck at the heart of each participant.
The power play officially began.
After Lin Ze stepped down, the Imperial Hall plunged into a frightful silence.
No one spoke immediately, as if even thinking required extra caution before the Emperor.
Yet the quiet did not last long.
“Your Majesty, may I speak.” A trembling yet barely suppressed angry voice arose from the rear seats on the right side of the long table, from the Helan family’s seat in the Western Territory.
It was a noble representative about fifty years old, his complexion gray and gloomy, who stood and bowed, lowering his head but unable to conceal the fury in his eyes.
“My eldest son of the Helan family, an Extraordinary Knight of the Dragon Blood Legion, died in the Northern Territory… his remains cannot be found, not even a fragment of his armor was retrieved.”
He clutched the post-war roster tightly, his knuckles white, his voice almost choking: “The cruelty of this battle is evident. We never shirk the fate of sacrifice, but I boldly ask…
Why was the defense deployment so slow? Why did the entire Northern Territory collapse within a few days?”
His tone grew increasingly urgent, his eyes directed toward the direction of a few elder nobles sitting at the left end of the table, his words as sharp as a blade: “Did Governor Duke Edmund ’engage without request for instructions,’ leading the Northern Territory into disaster? Please thoroughly investigate Duke Edmund!”
This last sentence was almost shouted, its echo reverberating through the hall.
The two nobles sitting beside him also nodded, though their tones were obscure, their stances clear:
“Though natural disasters in war are irreversible, failing to set contingency plans and mobilize troops adequately is a dereliction of duty.”
“However strong the Empire may be, chaos must not ensue due to calamity, lest governors across the lands learn nothing as a warning?”
They occasionally cast glances at the high throne, seeking some inkling of the Emperor’s stance from his silence.
Yet the shadow bore no sign of movement.
Just as the atmosphere seemed on the verge of freezing, another deep and stern voice rang out: “In terms of responsibility, who should defend the ruined frontier?”
The speaker was General Yoda Brutas, clad in a military cloak with dragon insignia, one of the hawkish leaders of the Imperial Capital’s military command.
He stood, his back straight, his gaze as sharp as a knife.
“To ensure the prompt restoration of order in the Northern Territory, I suggest that the Imperial Capital deploy the third, sixth, and twelfth corps to temporarily station in the Northern Territory under the banner of a ’Joint Legion.’”
He stepped forward slowly, his fingertips falling on the intelligence map scroll, his tone resolute: “The garrison will cover the outer line of the Northern Territory, establishing a Northern Territorial Joint Command District, subordinate to the Ministry of War’s unified directives, and may even counterattack the Barbarian Race.”
He glanced at the Helan representative, sarcastically saying: “Blaming an old man with white hair for failing to resist disaster? Better to let a truly capable legion handle the mess.
The path of reconstruction should not rely on residual private soldiers and surviving vassals, but should be maintained by a strong army of iron and blood.”
Having said that, he too carefully glanced at the Emperor.
Hoping to find even a slight nod or approval from the shadowy obsidian throne.
But the Emperor still gave no response.
The next moment, a crisp and restrained voice rose from the opposite side: “The general’s proposal is surely robust, but it’s too crude.”
The speaker was the Chief Envoy of the Inspectorate, Mei Si, a middle-aged official wearing thin-framed glasses and donning a dark blue ceremonial robe.
His voice was not loud but clear and calm: “The problem in the Northern Territory is not just the lack of troops. The bigger issue is the inability to coordinate, the absence of decisive authority, and a lack of responsibility.”
He glanced at the post-war intelligence on the table and continued: “I propose establishing a new body—the ’Imperial Direct Northern Military-Political Office.’
This body, co-supervised by the Inspectorate, Treasury, and Ministry of War, will temporarily take over all resources, taxes, and defense lines in the Northern Territory, orchestrating all reconstruction efforts, reporting directly to the Imperial Capital, unfettered by local nobility.”
He spoke without any hesitation, clearly having prepared thoroughly.
Then, his gaze returned to where General Yoda stood, his tone growing colder: “The ’Joint Legion’ the general mentioned, in theory, is a good idea, but without checks and balances, another problem will arise.
Troops residing long-term in the area, overstepping into politics, ultimately becoming a hot potato beyond control. Are you intending to detach from His Majesty’s control, establishing your own reign in the Northern Territory?”
General Yoda Brutas’ brow twitched, his face paling slightly.
“I… I have no such intention…”
He quickly stood up, trying to explain, but his voice trembled slightly because the phrase “detaching from His Majesty’s control” struck at the dragon’s scales.
“My intention to deploy troops is to restore the Empire’s order! Absolutely not—”
Before Yoda could finish, he found himself under several indifferent gazes—from the nobility’s seats, the literati’s seats, and even his political military peers who once closely interacted with him.
No one spoke up for him, not even a single response.
The entire Imperial Hall was dreadfully silent.
Yoda’s Adam’s apple moved, a trace of sweat emerging on his temple, forcing himself to calm, his hands slightly clenched into fists, he re-seated himself.
Mei Si disregarded him, continuing to survey the entire hall, his tone increasingly stern:
“The post-disaster void in the Northern Territory cannot be filled by old methods. What’s needed now is a centralized structure with control, efficiency, and a clear command chain.
Rebuilding the Northern Territory is not a single person’s task, nor should it be monopolized by a few. I suggest that all families present at this conference bear a portion of the garrison and supply allocations.
The defense line of the Northern Territory, from today, will be our shared responsibility.”
There was a moment of silence in the hall.
The nobles exchanged looks, some frowning, some looking toward the throne.
This proposal was so meticulous, almost flawless, like a decree already drafted, just waiting for someone to read it out.
Some even began to suspect: Was this the Emperor’s authorized plan?
Because having other nobles contribute resources and efforts to repair the Northern Territory certainly mirrored the Emperor’s style.
However, Mei Si remained calm, seemingly unfazed by these glances.
He simply bowed his head slightly, saluting the dais.
Yet on the dais, the Emperor still made no movement.
The air in the grand hall seemed to grow even colder.
Everyone present pondered in silence, some frowning, while others looked toward the throne.
It felt like even the air had thickened with tension as each representative quietly considered whether to push their agenda further or to curb their ambitions, waiting for another opportunity to gain insight into the Emperor’s will.
At this moment, sitting at the far end of the eastern side, a small middle-aged man finally rose slowly to his feet.
“””
