Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence - Chapter 566 - 340: The Shock of Civilization (Part 2)

Chapter 566: Chapter 340: The Shock of Civilization (Part 2)

Let them hear the officials of Red Tide calmly recounting how the system of Red Tide changed his life.

Let them feel disheartened rather than convinced.

The realization that their tribe’s honor, family superiority, and border hardships were neither revered nor laughed at here, but simply disregarded.

This is cruel, but also extremely effective.

“It’s not about telling them, but letting them feel the disparity themselves.” This is the evaluation Louis wrote down himself.

Red Tide City itself is his greatest weapon.

People walking between Fierce Tide Square and the main roads need no persuasion; just by opening their eyes, they would understand.

Kosa didn’t know the details behind all these arrangements.

Yet when he walked on the wide stone path and heard Harlow speak of his own background as a Red Tide official, the pride he held onto began to quietly collapse.

This method, Louis has tried many times.

Every time it works.

When they arrived at the Three-Ring Residential Area, it was nearly dusk, and the street-side fire basins were already lit, with warm orange glows spilling from iron containers, tinting the stone floor a pale gold.

“This will be your residence later,” Harlow said, pointing ahead to the cluster of semi-subterranean buildings, “Red Tide-style domed houses; here is the living area for military families and staff, windproof in winter, ventilated in summer, with geothermal pipes inside, only requires the furnace to be fired twice a day to stay warm.”

Kosa looked up at the roofs resembling half rock hills before him.

Dark gray and deep red bricks tightly fitted together, with hardly a seam visible, and a faint circle of dark gold lines around the curved roof ridge.

He didn’t speak, just instinctively tightened the cloth bag on his shoulder and slowed his pace.

Harlow walked to the front and opened the door of one of the houses.

The door hinge moved almost silently, warmth flowed through the cracks onto one’s face, making one squint involuntarily.

Inside, the house was clean and simple, the floor made of compressed stone slabs, with no extra furnishings in the center; the staircase was designed to curve into the wall, saving space without losing aesthetic appeal.

“This one is for you youths, six per floor, divided into upstairs and downstairs,” Harlow said while moving to the lower level.

They followed downstairs, noting the storage room and kitchen flanking either side.

The stove was stone-built, with a copper ventilation pipe connecting throughout the house. Cooking utensils were neatly placed, with wood barrels and iron kettles in the corner, alongside a large, uncut slab of salted meat wrapped in oil cloth on the shelf.

“In winter, it won’t frost or mold. Food can be stored for a month without spoiling.” Harlow described as if it were a commonplace matter.

Besha, following behind Kosa, stared at the cooking station for a while before murmuring admiringly: “I’ve never seen such a clean stove.”

He touched the warm stone on the wall, then fiddled with the copper pipe to feel the heat inside, eyes shining brightly.

“This house… in winter, you wouldn’t feel cold even without a fire, right?”

No one answered him, but he didn’t mind, becoming more excited with each viewing, even after a loop around the house then stood at the door and gazed out at the entire residential area.

“This is Red Tide…”

At that moment, something in his eyes, something Kosa had never seen before.

It wasn’t awe, nor envy, but a kind of fervor.

Kosa said nothing.

He simply stood inside the house, gazing at the clean stone seams, extinguished stove, and copper decorations on the windowsill.

He recalled hearing stories in his childhood that only the Imperial Nobility could live in such a place.

Yet now, it was they, this group of Barbarian Race youths, carrying cloth bags, wearing animal skins, who had walked into such a house.

He remembered his original home, a shanty enclosed by wooden stakes, the roof leaking snow, smoke curling into the house.

During strong winds, he and his brother would use torn animal skins to block the corner of the wall, just to barely survive the night.

And here… here there was even hot water, a grill, dry rations, and a copper teapot.

Such contrast, for Kosa, was more piercing than the cold wind.

Kosa didn’t know what others thought, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

He murmured to himself, “It’s just because the road is paved better, the houses are rounder… it’s not that impressive.”

But as he spoke, his steps grew slower.

Kosa suddenly thought, if his mother could live in such a house, perhaps she wouldn’t always be coughing non-stop?

So, he said no more.

Harlow explained the rules of use, adding: “The food is on the table, eat and rest early. Someone will come to gather you all tomorrow morning.

The door closed.

The room fell immediately silent.

The air was filled with the scent of bread, with a slightly fermented sourness — the new “salted yellow cheese” from Red Tide City.

On the table was a basket of sliced bread chunks, along with a pot of warm water, a small jar of cheese, and some pieces of toasted dried cured meat, not particularly sumptuous, but for these youths who came from Border Guard Village, journeying through snow and winds, it was already an excellent treatment.

One tall Barbarian Race youth rushed forward first, grabbing a piece of bread and biting into it, his eyes widening instantly.

“Is this really what they eat every day?”

“Aren’t Imperial People supposed to eat only beans every day?”

“What’s this called?!”

The youths jabbered, gathering around the table, soon eating with faces full of satisfaction.

Kosa didn’t move, just sat in the corner, watching them.

He wasn’t as excited as them, nor did he entirely disagree.

Just that a feeling of relief gently arose in his chest.

Kosa had thought he came as a hostage, even to be humiliated.

But now he was just in a warm house, eating soft bread with a few peers.

Even being identified as Barbarian Race seemed less important now.

He couldn’t help but bow his head, breaking off a small piece of bread and putting it in his mouth.

Chewing a few times, he suddenly chuckled lightly.

The roads indeed were paved better, the houses indeed were rounder, but… they seemed quite impressive after all.

……

That night, Harlow returned to Red Tide City Hall.

Instead of heading back to his residence first, he waited outside Louis’s study for a moment and was then granted an audience.

The room was brightly lit.

Louis, draped in a dark gray cloak, sat behind a long table reviewing a workshop budget draft, with Bradley standing to one side recording entries.

“Come in,” Louis said without looking up.

Harlow walked in, bowed briefly, unable to conceal his excitement:

“Reporting, sir. The seventeen recommended youths from Border Guard Village have been successfully settled into city’s Three-Ring Residential Area, emotions stable, registered for citizenship.”

“During the tour of the square, market, and living facilities… the youths showed clear shock, surprise, and longing, displaying initial inclinations of acceptance.”

He paused briefly, adding: “As you instructed, I didn’t overly indoctrinate them, just let them see for themselves. The effect was better than imagined.”

Bradley nodded, made brief records, turned to Louis: “Looks like the first scaled-down implementation of the civilization beacon plan was a success.”

Louis closed the document in his hand, finally turning his gaze to Harlow with a somewhat satisfied smile: “Well done.”

Harlow lowered his head at the words, his voice dropping even further: “I merely… acted according to your wishes.

If not for you breaking precedent three years ago, accepting me, someone from Barbarian Race, and letting me take up an important position… I wouldn’t be standing here today, nor dare to imagine bearing such a task, I won’t disappoint the trust you’ve placed in me.”

Louis looked at him without responding, just tilted his chin slightly: “Understood, then go rest.”

“Yes.” Harlow bowed and retreated, the room returning to silence.

Bradley flipped through his records, speaking lightly: “Didn’t expect taking him in three years ago, now he can nurture Barbarian Race youths.”

Louis chuckled softly: “To set an example, Barbarian Race are people, he was the first, certainly won’t be the last.”