Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence - Chapter 511 - 314: New Daily Intelligence_2

Chapter 511: Chapter 314: New Daily Intelligence_2

Louis opened his notebook and recorded this on the priority intelligence page marked with a red line.

South of Ghost Vine Slope, on the west coast of Breakwave Bay, lies an uninhabited mudflat known as “Sinking Sands.”

He has been strategically planning for this coastline repeatedly over the past three months.

Behind it lies rolling hills, forming a natural arc bay towards the sea, with no storm invasions all year round—a God-given harbor structure.

As early as last winter, Louis quietly found out that this beach nominally belonged to a former Empire navy noble who had migrated south long ago.

This person hadn’t set foot in the Northern Territory for decades; the territorial documents had already turned yellow and moldy, leaving only a name.

Thus, he simply sent someone south via a detour, personally offering a thousand gold coins to acquire this future port core.

He wrote a few words in the notebook: “Sinking Sands → Dawn Port City.”

To other minor nobles, it was merely a ragged mudflat.

To Louis, it was the first waterway trade throat for Red Tide Territory to step out of the Northern Territory and connect to the Southeast Province.

Previously, he had to send various mineral resources refined from Red Tide via winding land routes to Calvin Southeast Point every month.

It took a long time, cost was high, transport teams were easily attacked, and if the road was sealed by winter snow, supplies were almost cut off.

However, if “Dawn Port” could be built, water transport would solve this once and for all:

Supply ships could head south, reaching Calvin Southeast Port warehouse in just over a week.

It could open up the Northern Territory maritime trade route, absorbing migrants and foreign merchants.

It could also connect other Southern Nobles’ ports, a political negotiation bargaining chip and link.

Of course, the ideal was ideal, but reality was like the mud on the coast, full of traps.

The ideal was very full, but reality was like Sinking Sands; if you step down, all around are traps.

Although the site selection for the new port was good, it was very difficult to build. The muddy terrain was soft and needed sand embankments to stabilize the foundation.

Lack of wood, nails, ropes, even lifting magical tools had to be mobilized from the Southern Territory; let alone artisans—there were few in the Northern Territory who understood port construction.

Others might have been discouraged long ago.

But Louis was well prepared, after all, the Calvin Clan controlled the most ports in the Empire, all this was easy.

He secretly mobilized manpower and materials over the past half year, waiting for this moment.

In just a few days, everything could start construction.

But the real problem came from the outside, as in the intelligence regarding the fishmen now.

Fishmen were once a wise sea race that traded shallowly with humans, but a thousand years ago, for unknown reasons, they regressed into half beasts, becoming greedy, deranged, almost impossible to solve.

They could climb ashore close at night, assassinating sentries, biting civilians, and secreting corrosive acid that melted wooden ships.

Yet the fishmen weren’t the biggest problem.

The biggest issue was one of the Seven Pirate Lords, Kavier Ironjaw’s lair, right at the northern end of this sea area.

This legendary “Steel Fang Mad King” was not only violent and brutal, but also had nearly a hundred small raiding ships under his command, plundering countless near-sea merchant fleets each year.

Once Breakwave Bay is opened, Red Tide Port could become his most prioritized hunting target.

But these objective factors couldn’t stop him from entering the port, as he was prepared for battle himself.

The notebook flipped to the first page, circling “fishmen activity area,” “Kavier’s sphere of influence boundary,” and “new port coordinates” together.

At that moment, Emily slowly opened her eyes, seeing Louis sitting by the bedside, organizing his personal documents.

“Awake?” Louis’ voice was gentle as he looked up at her, “We’re returning to Red Tide today.”

Emily nodded lightly, but a trace of reluctance swept through her eyes.

Louis smiled slightly, reaching out to hold her hand: “Lady Irina and Little Isaac will be going back as well. We aren’t leaving, just changing places to continue living. We’ll have the chance to return one day.”

“I know.” Emily’s voice was still somewhat subdued, “I’ll go prepare.”

……

In the afternoon, the convoy was already gathered outside Frost Halberd Castle.

Louis, draped in the Red Tide cloak, had the Cold Iron Knight Order assembled in formation behind him.

He glanced at this fractured yet still standing castle, then finally waved a hand, leading the team to set out.

As for Frost Halberd City, he had delegated government affairs to the Silver Fang Knight Order to guard, selecting several senior officials to form a temporary council.

Louis required them to report on the situation once a month, until Little Isaac comes of age to succeed, when the rightful lord would take over everything.

Inside the carriage, Lady Irina gently pushed aside the corner of the curtain, gazing at the gradually receding silhouette of Frost Halberd City, a misty haze in her eyes.

She remained silent, her fingers tightly gripping a handkerchief embroidered with the Edmund Family crest, as if through this small gesture, she was storing her memories away.

This city carried the joyful years of her and her husband and also buried the solitary shadow of a generation of Dukes in the Northern Territory.

Meanwhile, nestled in her arms, little Isaac, barely over a year old, giggled and clapped at the wooden panel of the carriage window, his big eyes filled with curiosity at the distant scenery.

He didn’t yet understand what separation meant; he only felt the carriage moving, with snow, wind, and novelty along the way, everything was immensely entertaining.

The cold wind rose slightly, and in the distance, the snow line undulated like sleeping veins.

And the wheels of the carriage had once again set off towards Red Tide City.

……

In the remote territories of the Northern Territory, the wind and snow howled, and the manor under reconstruction still leaked cold wind.

In the makeshift study, near the brazier, the Sixth Prince, Astha Auguste, wrapped in a blanket, was perusing the post-disaster reconstruction register submitted by officials.

A hurried footstep was heard outside the door, and an attendant pushed the door open, his hand tightly gripping an envelope stitched with gold thread.

“Imperial Capital Gale Bird mail, Your Highness, it’s… from the Dragon Throne council.”

Astha was momentarily dazed, his expression shifting indecisively.

He slowly took the envelope, his fingers trembling slightly as he opened the seal.

“Specially granting Prince Astha Auguste the position of Royal Inspector Envoy for the Northern Territory, temporarily overseeing the Northern Territory’s reconstruction and administrative coordination.”

He stood still as if struck by lightning, repeatedly caressing the phrases with his fingertips until he confirmed it was not an illusion.

“Finally… finally, my turn has come…” he murmured quietly, then suddenly stood up, bringing a gust of cold wind.

“The Northern Territory, this forgotten snowy land, will become the starting point of my Astha Auguste’s achievements!”

He then, like a victorious general returning home, traced grandiose plans on a tattered map.

Yet just as his blood boiled, about to order the reorganization of his forces and the establishment of a government, the steady footsteps outside the door abruptly halted his daydreams.

“Calm down, Your Highness.” It was his mentor Sai Fu who entered, “I advise you not to get too carried away with this appointment.”

Astha frowned: “Why? This is an official order from the Imperial Capital! I bear the name of the Royal Family, I hold the inspector’s position, isn’t that enough to intervene in Northern Territory affairs?”

Sai Fu said in a deep voice: “In the past half year, the Imperial Capital hasn’t sent a single soldier, grain, or cavalry to the Northern Territory. Now suddenly appointing you is just them putting you out there to test the waters.

If you can hold down Louis Calvin, it’s fortunate for the Royal Family; if you can’t… they’ll just discard you immediately.”

“They never cared whether you succeeded.” His tone was devoid of warmth, “Your Highness should understand, the real power in the Northern Territory is already in the hands of others.

Don’t rush to make decisions, at least wait until the Imperial Capital’s Special Envoy and resources arrive, then we’ll see.”

Astha lowered his head in silence.

The fire in his eyes seemed to be doused with cold water, his body slightly trembling, his palm slowly releasing its grip.

His gaze fell on the map, now vividly marked with plans and schemes, for a moment speechless.

……

At night, the firelight in the study was dim, the wind and snow outside the window wailed mournfully.

Astha sat alone in the dilapidated hall, looking out at the endless snowfield, silent and wordless.

It seemed as though the world was mocking his delusions and impotence.

“This is the last chance; there won’t be another… Once Louis finishes digesting the Edmund Clan’s resources, I won’t have an opportunity.” Astha murmured quietly, his fingers slowly tightening.

Yet under the glow of the fire, there remained a point of light in his eyes that hadn’t extinguished.

He thought of Louis Calvin.

This young noble, clearly previously unknown, yet remarkably quickly accumulating fame, power, forces, and public support, even Duke Edmund delegated part of the Northern Territory to him.

“If it was him, how would he do it…” Astha whispered, his tone filled with self-questioning and unwillingness.

He may not be unable to do it, as long as he is given time, as long as he is given space.

So on the surface, he retracted all his sharpness, feigning composure.

But privately, he concealed his actions from Astha, quietly summoning several small pioneer noble lords who had migrated from the South, and even harboring several tribes of the Barbarian Race willing to submit.

Under the name of post-disaster autonomy, he distributed some land rights, grain allocations, and armed permissions.

Not because he was benevolent, but to reveal the dagger when the time comes.

He believed that day would come.