Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence - Chapter 452 - 287: Before the Final Battle
Chapter 452: Chapter 287: Before the Final Battle
The heavy oak door slowly closed behind him, completely isolating the noise and debates from the meeting hall.
The corridor was silent, with only Duke Edmund’s footsteps echoing steadily and heavily in the vastness.
In his mind, the words of the battle reports continued to surge; every troop forced to retreat south, every fallen town, pressed coldly against his chest, turning his breath heavy and labored.
Then he returned to his room and pushed open the heavy wooden door. Inside, the warm fireplace flickered, casting a golden glow on the stone walls, and the air held the faint scent of holly and dried lavender, a fragrance Lady Irina favored.
Duke Edmund tried hard to shake off the heavy mood that accompanied him, forcing a gentle smile onto his face.
The large scar on his face made the smile somewhat peculiar, but he did his best to appear less like a man just returned from the battlefield.
Lady Irina sat by the fireplace, holding their one-year-old child, gently patting the little back and humming a lullaby.
Hearing the door open, she looked up, a spark of light in her eyes.
A letter from the Red Tide Territory was spread out on the table.
Emily had sent it back; the corners of the paper slightly curled from the journey, with a few small snowflakes still lingering on the envelope.
Edmund stepped forward, bent down, and took the child.
Even without his armor, his embrace still held its heavy strength, yet he clumsily held the child like a young father learning to do so for the first time.
He tried to gently rock, but was scrutinized by the child’s curious gaze for a few seconds, then the little one reached out a soft hand, grasping his beard and giving it a strong tug, causing him to tilt his head slightly.
The child giggled, a sound like the tinkling of a wind chime.
Edmund simply lowered his head, gently touched the child’s forehead with his own, eliciting a joyful coo.
Lady Irina, seeing this, couldn’t help but laugh, lightly tapping the little one’s nose with her finger.
“He’s more spirited today than usual,” she said. “Before his nap, he insisted on trying to climb up the curtains.”
Edmund raised an eyebrow: “With that strength, I wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up following me to the battlefield.”
“He will likely make a good knight.”
“Hmm… but first he needs to learn not to pull beards.”
Then they talked about the venison stew in the kitchen today, about the fruit growing in the greenhouse, and even mentioned how Lady Irina tried having the servants cultivate mushrooms in the cellar recently.
The fire crackled, and the wind and snow still howled outside, yet the room felt like a small, isolated island from the war.
It wasn’t until then that Irina seemed to remember something, pointing toward the envelope on the table: “By the way, Emily’s letter, it arrived this morning.”
She sat back in her chair by the fireplace and unfolded the letter.
“At the Red Tide’s spring event, Emily almost won the knight demonstration match… but in the end, her horse was attracted by the candy stand beside the field and went straight to munch on candied haws.”
Edmund couldn’t help but laugh upon hearing this.
The laughter was initially stiff, as if unused to showing such emotion amidst war affairs, but the imagery quickly softened it.
He could almost truly see Emily, exasperatedly pulling at her reins while the horse contentedly chewed on the hawthorn.
“Isn’t that girl pregnant? How mischievous is that?” He shook his head, though his tone carried unmistakable fondness.
Irina casually picked up a piece of warm honey cake and gently placed it in his palm.
Edmund’s fingertips slightly relaxed in the warmth of the cake, the sweet aroma seeming to dispel the chill that traveled with him.
The wind and snow continued to howl outside. Inside, the fragrant scent and soft light kept the cold night at bay beyond the doors.
This moment of warmth nearly made one forget the blood and fire devouring the Northern Territory beyond the gate.
After a while, Edmund’s gaze fell on the depths of the fire, his voice calm yet heavy as he spoke: “You should take the child to the South for a while.”
Irina hesitated, a flicker of unease and inquiry in her eyes.
She understood what this meant; Edmund would not ask her to leave Frost Halberd City without reason, nor would he have her go to the South.
But she took a deep breath, pressed these thoughts back down, and ultimately only nodded lightly.
After sitting for a while longer, Edmund stood up, gently placing his palm on his wife’s shoulder.
Without speaking, he simply looked at the child sleeping peacefully in her arms for a moment, then adjusted his cloak and concealed the last hint of smile between his brows, heading for the door.
“I’ll go check the arrangements for the alert lines,” he said, his tone casual.
Irina did not intervene, only gently replied, “The wind is strong on the road, wear your cloak.”
The door closed softly.
At the moment when the heavy door shut, it felt as though the warmth was locked inside the room.
When he stepped out of the room, Edmund’s smile faded along with it, a cold sternness, well-accustomed to the battlefield, returned to his features.
He surveyed the corridor, and immediately a personal guard in armor quickly approached, kneeling on one knee.
Edmund’s voice was as cold as ice: “Ensure safe delivery.”
Then he slowly took out several letters from his cloak that had been sealed for some time.
Each seal was pressed by his own hand, the edges of the papers slightly yellowed, evidently written days ago.
He handed them out one by one, his tone indisputable: “Deliver them to the lady once they’ve reached the Southern Territory.”
The personal guard took them without a word, though his hands slightly trembled under the pressure, knowing what these letters meant.
“By the fastest route, bypass the main roads, head south through the forest line, avoid trade routes. You and your men… return together when the conflict subsides.”
