Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence - Chapter 597 - 354: Yorn’s Joyful Days (Part 3)

Chapter 597: Chapter 354: Yorn’s Joyful Days (Part 3)

In the distance, a new market street is under renovation, with the ground paved with stone bricks and drainage channels extending straight downstream.

Along the street are warehouses, blacksmith shops, and schools, with the Red Tide Emblem hanging under the eaves.

Two years ago, when the Barbarian Race calamity was quelled, Yorn was still guarding his barren old land, with a dirt road and a few broken houses where the earthen walls would crumble when the wind blew.

Yorn could only rely on his father’s assistance to barely support himself, until a letter from Louis was brought by the Red Tide’s document.

“Move Baron Harvey’s land to the southern border of Red Tide, near the mineral vein. Red Tide will unify the planning, and the accounts will be integrated into Red Tide.”

Later everything fell into place as naturally as snow melting in spring: the engineering team sent by Red Tide erected the first mining shed at Silver Ridge Hill, with craftsmen setting up pillars and sealing walls one by one.

And his family further maneuvered in the Imperial Capital and secured the title of Viscount.

Yorn once thought that the glory of the Northern Territory needed to be seized with knives and fire, but he watched as the road laid itself out automatically beneath his feet.

On the first morning he arrived at Silver Ridge Hill, the sunlight reflected off the snow surface and illuminated the red waves on the Red Tide flag.

He stood on the balcony of his new house, holding a cup of hot wine, and saw in the distance the mining of ores, with the residents bustling like diligent beetles back and forth on the ground.

“The boss has lifted me up…” Yorn said with a smile to his close knight.

At first, he felt a bit uncomfortable.

In the past at the old place, he had to make chicken-and-feather decisions daily—who would patrol the mountains, who would guard the grain, which family gave three extra bundles of firewood, which hunting team stole two badgers.

Since Red Tide took over, they had a professional scribe for accounts, a mining officer for mines, a craftsman chief for renovations, the people…

At the end of each month, the surplus is automatically summarized into the accounts, and quarterly dividends are delivered by specialists.

“What else can I do?” Yorn asked himself like this for a time.

The answer came quickly: he led people on hunts, maintaining morale.

He attended banquets as a successful model of the Red Tide system, demonstrating for those skeptical nobles.

From time to time, he went to Red Tide City to see Louis, writing small issues in the system into notes to tell the boss.

But more often, he didn’t need to do much, nor need to.

Thus, he gradually learned to let go, just as the assembly line in the mining area ran smoother, and the warehouse statistics became more accurate.

Today, they repair the market, tomorrow, they pave the streets—everything is developing positively.

“Lord Viscount!” A young knight, hugging a handful of gold coins, smiled toothily, “The brothers all say that coming to Silver Ridge Hill with you is hitting the jackpot. We thought we were being exiled to the Northern Territory, but didn’t expect to eat meat every day, have coal in winter, and occasionally share bonuses.”

“Exile? Coming to the Northern Territory indeed feels like exile,” Yorn laughed heartily, patting his armor, “But when you follow the right person, it’s enjoyment, just like me. You follow me, and I follow him; the path won’t be wrong.”

“Yes!”

The knights’ laughter echoed in the mountain wind. Their armor was standard from the Red Tide Workshop, their horses were good ones selected from the northern slopes, thick winter fur, running like the wind.

Originally thought going to the Northern Territory was to suffer, but now they realized that compared to the knights in the South, they were living better.

Yorn led his horse downhill, walking along the newly-built stone steps to the mining shed.

The miners were loading boxes of newly produced silver iron blanks into carts, while a manager was verifying weights and stamping them.

Every stamp bore the Red Tide’s emblem, indicating the goods would follow Red Tide’s path, enter Red Tide’s warehouses, and be exchanged for gold coins.

“How are the accounts?” Yorn asked.

The scribe opened the ledger, revealing a page full of numbers: “This season’s ore output from the veins increased by twenty percent compared to last season, with losses controlled below standard. Dividends are estimated to be higher than last season by a level.”

“Not bad,” Yorn nodded, “Give the miners a hot soup meal; the weather is still cold.”

“At your command.”

He walked to the other end of the workshop where the civic school was holding classes, and children sat behind wooden desks, writing upright.

On the wall hung the Simplified Civil Regulations, with neat writing: “Don’t steal, don’t deceive, work according to share, earn according to share.”

“Lord Viscount!” Several little ones saw him and stood up in unison to salute.

“Sit, sit, sit. Remember, reading is not to mock others; it’s to prevent yourself from being mocked.”

The children giggled.

The teacher nodded to him, whispering, “Master, can we request more books for spring? We don’t have enough.”

“I’ll write to Count Louis,” Yorn thought for a moment and added, “Get more picture books; I’ve read up to the eighth volume of Lord Louis’s heroic deeds.”

He walked out of the school, with sunlight falling on his shoulders.

He suddenly remembered the winter three years ago, when he and others were huddled in the cellar, listening to the sound of the Insect Swarm scraping the ground, while watching the young lord in a red cloak bravely come to his rescue.

Then he told himself that if he survived, he would devote his life to that young man standing amidst the flames.

Now he had achieved it, placing his territory, reputation, and even dignity into Red Tide.

“Boss…” he said softly into the wind, “I wasn’t too capable, but well at recognizing people.”

“Lord Viscount!” The same young knight ran over again, this time running more urgently, almost jumping up the slope, “Louis is coming! Their team has entered the southern entrance and will reach Silver Ridge Hill by evening!”

Yorn was stunned for a moment, then his eyes lit up, and his whole person bounced up like a spring.

“The boss is coming?”

“Yes!”

“What are you still standing for? Blow the horn! Everyone tidy up their work, move the carts to the right, clear the streets! Take out the best meat from the kitchen, open the wine cellar, set the long table tonight!”

He spat out a dozen orders in succession, all filled with uncontrollable excitement, “Hang the Red Tide flag, call out the choir of school children!”

Attendants scrambled and dispersed.

Yorn pulled the attendant’s cloak over his shoulders but found it not proper enough, and turned to the steward, shouting, “Bring that black-edged red cloak—yes, that one! To see the boss, it must look decent!”

The cloak was put on, but the buttons were fastened incorrectly.

He fumbled, eventually tearing off the heavy button and fastening it again.

Yorn glared: “What are you laughing at? Laugh again, I’ll dock three days’ pay!”

“Yes, yes, no laughing, no laughing!” The attendant held back the laughter, his shoulders shaking.

Yorn led his horse, almost tumbling down the slope.

The wind poured in through the mountain pass, flags rustling loudly, his chest heating up, like when he ran on the training ground in the Imperial Capital in his youth.

“The boss is coming,” he told himself, “I must personally welcome him at the city gate.”