Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence - Chapter 523 - 320: The Ennoblement Ceremony

Chapter 523: Chapter 320: The Ennoblement Ceremony

Half a month ago, Louis captured a crucial piece of information from the Daily Intelligence System.

Anthony, the Northern Territory head of the Silver Plate Guild, would personally come to Red Tide City to meet with the Empire’s Inspector Envoy, Camille, for the first time.

This intelligence was a double surprise.

Firstly, Anthony’s personal presence meant that the Silver Plate’s power in the Northern Territory would be exposed right under their noses.

Secondly, the collusion between Camille and Silver Plate was no longer just superficial exchanges but deeply embedded infiltration into the marrow.

It was almost certain that this Inspector Envoy dispatched from the Imperial Capital had become a spy bought by the Federation.

Even better, they chose to meet in Red Tide City.

Louis read the intelligence and couldn’t help but chuckle, “Really… convenient.”

He wouldn’t even need to cross the border for capture; they were walking right into his trap.

……

When Anthony woke up in the secret prison, his limbs were tightly chained by heavy iron chains, and the stone chair beneath him was ice-cold and bone-chilling.

He slowly opened his eyes, his gaze sober and calm, without panic.

Facing the cold shine of imprisonment, he simply spoke calmly, “If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.”

Hearing his words, Louis merely gave a faint smile, “Leave it to you all.”

Then he turned and left, since Master Calvin was kind-hearted and couldn’t bear to see people suffer.

The torture began.

The Cold Iron Legion’s interrogators had long learned various methods from the Snow Swearers, the Barbarian Race, and even the Imperial Army’s interrogations.

Cold buckets of water poured down repeatedly, causing Anthony to shiver in the piercing cold.

The iron pincers slowly crushed the joints, causing the bones to emit a slight crackling sound.

Powdered poison was mixed into the drinking water, causing the nerves to be torn between numbness and burning, making it unclear whether the scene was a dream or reality.

Initially, Anthony remained calm, gritting his teeth, “…you won’t get anything.”

Yet the days passed, indistinguishable between day and night in the stone chamber.

The cold water and flames alternated, the pain of bones and nerves constantly multiplying.

Anthony’s gaze finally began to cloud, his previously cold and hard lips no longer a cold smile but a slight quiver.

Under the waves of pain and drug invasion, Anthony, the Extraordinary Knight, finally cried out amid the darkness, “Stop… Stop! I’ll talk! I’ll say everything!”

The voice was hoarse but carried the suppressed collapse of a long time.

“Red Tide City… marketplace… secret agents… they’re disguised as merchants from the South, permanently stationed in the market, using smuggling as cover…”

The interrogator coolly noted it down, then flicked his fingers, prompting the assistant to pour cold water again, “Don’t stop, keep talking.”

Anthony shuddered, his teeth chattering, “Several Nobility expanding in the Northern Territory… have been bought… they secretly transport grain and ore for us…”

He still harbored a lucky thought, a chance that a few pieces of intelligence might lead them to spare him.

But when the branding iron was pressed against his skin again, his throat finally tore open in a scream, “Southeast border… there’s a resource outpost! …once war breaks out, it can serve as a springboard!”

The interrogator wasn’t satisfied, coldly demanding, “Details.”

Anthony cried out, revealing coordinates, types of resources, even names of those in charge.

By the eighth night, his voice was nearly shattered, yet he was still coerced into giving more.

In an utter breakdown, he finally shouted:

“Inside the city, a secret chamber… there’s a file bag! …it contains contact codes, communication methods… and… Camille’s documents and accounts… that’s… definitive evidence…”

With his final words, he seemed utterly drained, his gaze without focus, his mouth continuously bleeding.

But the interrogators did not stop because of his collapse.

“What else? What else? What else? Details! Details! Details!”

They repeatedly questioned, even when Anthony had gone mad, seeking to extract every last bit of information from him.

Yet such a brutal method indeed had its price.

In less than half a month, Anthony couldn’t hold on any longer, dying on the torture chair.

His scarred body collapsed on the torture chair, his eyes losing focus, his mouth still muttering those codes and names.

All he divulged had been compiled into thick volumes of documents, placed on Louis’s desk.

Of course, his body wasn’t wasted; his head was packed into a delicate meal box.

So when Camille and his entourage grandly arrived at Red Tide City, what awaited them was merely a few days of polite delay.

The official excuse was the busy autumn harvest, the Lord’s official duties, but this was just a respectable pretense.

The real reason was that Anthony’s screams in Red Tide City’s underground prison hadn’t yet ceased entirely.

Louis closed the parchment roll, the corners of his lips curving into a cold smile.

With all the evidence in hand, he didn’t even need to speak threatening words; no need for anger or an aggressive stance.

Just quietly placing the bloodstained head in the box on the dining table.

It was enough for that high-and-mighty Empire Inspector Envoy Camille to instantly understand:

Here in the Northern Territory, it wasn’t the Inspectorate, nor the Regent King;

Louis truly held the power to grant life and death.

……

Back at the dining table, Camille still maintained the envoy’s posture, trying to uphold that superior demeanor.

He swirled his wine glass, speaking indifferently, “This batch of gem cutting… is acceptable. But compared to the craftsmanship of the Imperial Capital, it’s still somewhat lacking.”

Then he seemed to casually bring up some secret regarding an Imperial Capital Countess, his laughter forced, conversing aimlessly and incoherently.

His voice still carried arrogance, yet his fingers trembled slightly from tension, nearly spilling the wine.