Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence - Chapter 493 - 306: The Art of Negotiation (2)
Chapter 493: Chapter 306: The Art of Negotiation (2)
However, in the following month, they noticed unusual changes.
The aid goods and supplies that were once delivered on time from the Red Tide Territory were now nowhere to be seen.
Some lords couldn’t sit still and immediately sent letters of inquiry to the Red Tide Territory.
Yet, the Red Tide Territory did not provide much explanation, only claiming: “Currently, supplies are scarce, and approvals must follow the regulations in order.”
But no specific dates or queue orders were reported.
As days passed by, more and more lords began to realize they might have been intentionally ignored by the Red Tide Territory.
“Is this the way of the Red Tide Territory? Truly barbaric.” they murmured, feeling uneasy.
The nobles who once thought they could gain more benefits from the Red Tide Territory gradually understood they had reached a dead end.
The patience of the Red Tide Territory had reached its limit; any attempt to be greedy in trade would ultimately pay the price.
As time went by, many nobles who originally insisted on not giving up their territories gradually became complex.
Some once arrogant lords now began to show helplessness and anger.
Even though they felt dissatisfied, they gradually realized they couldn’t refuse the proposal of the Red Tide Territory.
Several months later, almost all the lords proactively requested a land exchange with the Red Tide Territory.
But to their surprise, the terms offered by the Red Tide Territory were much lower than the initial version!
This made them very angry, questioning the envoy why this was the case.
The envoy shrugged indifferently and said, “Next time, it will be even less.”
As their territories were already unreachable, some lords could only accept it helplessly.
While others tried to continue negotiating, fantasizing about securing better exchange conditions or the initial terms.
But with each round of negotiations, they eventually discovered that the first offer from the Red Tide Territory was the highest version, and every subsequent version would only be lower.
These greedy nobles were no longer arrogant and even regretted why they didn’t agree to the land exchange from the beginning.
The damn market monopoly left them with no chance to resist.
But what could they do?
This world never really cares about fairness and decency; it’s a naked contest of the survival of the fittest.
Moreover, today’s Northern Territory is far from ordinary times.
After the insect plague and the war with the Barbarian Race, the entire power structure collapsed and reorganized.
Besides Duke Edmund, the only person who could really enable survival was the young lord of the Red Tide Territory.
A complaint? Even the avenue for complaints no longer existed.
At the Northern Empire reconstruction meeting, Louis presided over it, not to mention the inspector who had long fled the Northern Territory and was still missing.
Even the Imperial Capital itself was in chaos, and this little matter in the Northern Territory didn’t cause even the slightest ripple.
In this Southeastern snowy land, the place that could keep them fed and alive was the Red Tide Territory.
The power that could control resources, the market, and decide who lived or died was only the Red Tide Territory.
Thus, they bowed their heads.
Even though they knew they suffered losses, they could only grit their teeth and accept the currently reduced exchange terms.
“At least… we can still get something in return, rather than nothing.” they consoled themselves.
Just like that, an invisible gigantic hand steadily gathered piece after piece of land from those old nobles and Pioneer Lords.
Absorbed were not just those seemingly “resource-poor” border hills or “seemingly disposable” forested mountain valleys.
The truly important were those territories containing special resources or located at strategic passages and transportation nodes.
The Ghost Vine Slope was just the beginning.
As well as the Fuhe Ferry, Cold Branch Valley, Red Earth Ridge…
Each plot silently circled in red by Louis on the map now officially changed hands.
With one contract after another, eighty percent of the target territories were all gathered in the bag.
But there were always a few places, where neither exchanges nor cooperation happened, no matter how advantageous the proposals, they stubbornly refused to give in.
There must be something fishy!
This wasn’t an ordinary lord, so a heavy strike was necessary!
For example, in the constantly advancing expansion plans of the Red Tide Territory, there was a corner that remained excessively quiet.
The land of Viscount Zachariah.
He was the only noble who showed no sign of concession from beginning to end, without submitting exchanges or discussing cooperation.
He even sent away the special envoy from the Red Tide without allowing him to have a sip of hot water.
Why?
It’s not that he’s stubbornly ignorant of the situation.
In fact, Viscount Zachariah had been living in extreme torment these days.
Every morning when he woke, the first thing he did was stand atop his tower and gaze southward, silently praying: “Please don’t let anyone come… please don’t.”
Because he knew very well that once people from the Red Tide actually set foot on this land, it wouldn’t matter whether the land was exchanged or not.
His own body might just end up hanging over the city gates, becoming a wind-dried specimen.
The reason is simple; he was not an ordinary noble.
He was a relic of the “Old Snow Country,” once entangled with the now eradicated Snow Swearer.
Even with the status of an Imperial noble, his underground hall still worshipped the remnants of the Ancient God of Cold Abyss.
Every year, live sacrifices were offered in exchange for protection from death in the frigid winds of winter.
Where did the sacrificed people come from?
Just catch a few from within the territory, it’s that simple.
So when the Red Tide Territory proposed a “land exchange cooperation” plan and sent a special envoy, Zachariah was almost scared out of his wits.
If the Red Tide Territory were to enter, they could see everything.
“If I’m found out… then it’s over, truly over.”
So he made a decision that seemed strong but was actually panicked: close the city gates, refuse all people from the Red Tide.
Even at the risk of offending the Lord of the Red Tide, he couldn’t let them in!
……
The morning sunlight passed through the high window, falling on a huge map of the North East where marks were densely packed.
Most of the land had been colored with a deep red mark, signifying the ever-expanding territory of the Red Tide.
These were pieces of land annexed, integrated, or exchanged, spreading around the main city like a tide.
But there were still a few places that stood out distinctly.
Black stamps, lonely embedded among the red, like rotten tumors.
“As of yesterday, the ninth batch of special envoys has completed their reports.” Bradley lowered his head, flipping through the files.
“Eighty percent of the land inclusion agreements are completed, only the last three territories have not been successfully contacted.”
He pointed to a particularly conspicuous black mark near the edge on the map in a hilly area.
“For instance, the land of Viscount Zachariah still refuses the Red Tide envoy at the door. I am still unable to determine his intentions.”
A moment of brief silence ensued in the meeting hall.
The officials responsible for the negotiations exchanged glances, faintly revealing a hint of unease.
“He has issues.” A middle-aged intelligence officer spoke up, “He obviously has unspeakable secrets, special measures must be used.”
“Reason for deploying troops?” A young official frowned, “Without evidence, hasty military actions… might provoke criticism.”
However, the youth seated at the main position spoke up unhurriedly the next moment.
“No reason?” Louis raised his eyes, his tone ominously calm, “Open their gates first. If there’s truly no crime…”
He paused briefly, then smiled and said, “…then find a suitable one to pin on.”
With these words, the entire meeting hall felt the chill rise several degrees.
No one spoke again.
For a viscount, finding a “suitable crime” was never a problem.
Of course, they didn’t know that Louis had already learned through the Daily Intelligence System about Viscount Zachariah’s worship of the Evil God.
“The Broken Blade Knight Order is currently stationed at the Red Rock Pass, a hundred elite knights can be deployed to reach the border of Zachariah within a day.” Lambert reminded.
“Let Reggie lead the team.” Louis said softly, as if arranging a trivial matter.
