Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence - Chapter 614 - 362: Evidence (Part 2)

Chapter 614: Chapter 362: Evidence (Part 2)

At this moment, Lambert rushed in front of Louis, his voice deliberately loud: “This was found on the body of the Sixth Prince Astha.”

He held up a blood-stained wooden stick high, displaying it before everyone.

This stick had the blood oath markings of the Barbarian Race carved on it, a sacred item only held by allies.

The nobility exchanged glances, their murmurs spreading quickly: “This is a sacred item of the Barbarian Race… How could it be on the Prince?”

“Could it be that…”

“Impossible! How could the Sixth Prince…”

Louis remained silent, casting a casual glance at Camille standing in the corner.

This glance sent a cold sweat trickling down Camille’s back.

He immediately recalled the secret letter that had appeared on his bed a few days ago: “When chaos descends, point to Astha, Holmes, Klan, Bolton, Harlov, and Hyman.”

His breathing quickened, his heart beat like a drum, back then he didn’t understand, but now he finally knows this game had been set from the very beginning.

Had Louis anticipated this far already? Truly terrifying.

Moreover, he knew he had no choice if he wanted to survive.

Moments later, Camille steeled himself and raised his hand with difficulty, his voice trembling: “I… I have a clue, Prince Astha once hinted to me.

He allied with Holmes, Klan, Bolton, Harlov, and Hyman, and even contacted the Barbarian Race…

He planned to control the Reconstruction Council and wanted me to ease things for him in the Imperial Capital’s Surveillance Bureau. At the time… I had no choice but to temporarily agree, might it be related to this affair.”

Though his acting was somewhat abrupt, all eyes were focused on the still surviving nobles.

The few exchanged glances, their expressions rigid.

Holmes forced a smile and spoke: “I… I barely know the Prince’s retinue, if there was any interaction, it was only out of courtesy!”

Klan, pale-faced, added: “We too are victims of this attack! All my knights were killed!”

Harlov and Hyman kept nodding repeatedly, mumbling: “We have nothing to do with the Barbarian Race, never…”

Their voices rose and fell, filled with panic, their words becoming more fragmented, not even convincing themselves.

Their defense, dispersed by the cold wind among the ruins, seemed especially powerless.

Louis coldly scanned them: “If truly innocent, then prove your innocence. Search and see what clues exist.”

The four of them turned ghostly pale, wanting to say something but unable to speak.

Lambert, accompanied by several Red Tide Knights, had already moved forward, ordered to search their residences.

And they could only lower their heads, unable to refuse.

At that moment, the clinking of chains sounded, Wulu was brought up, his face ashen, steps unsteady.

He knew his wife and daughter were in the hands of the Red Tide, and now the prospect of the Barbarian Race was completely shattered, all he could do was confess everything to exchange for a slim chance of their safety.

Louis spoke lightly: “Speak, who gave you the orders?”

Wulu raised his head and glanced at the young Lord, that look reminded him of the Wolf King on the Snowfield.

He lowered his head, his voice hoarse, confessing everything: “It was the Sixth Prince… He instructed us to use the strength of the Barbarian Race to disrupt the Red Tide, saying that as long as chaos was created, we could exchange for grazing rights, grain, and salt and iron.

But knowing that all important nobles of the Northern Territory gathered here, we seized the opportunity to prepare to attack the Frost Dragon Territory during the council.”

The nobility was instantly in uproar, their discussions echoing in the ruins, yet not as noisy as before.

Some inhaled sharply, while others murmured: if this were truly related to the Prince, then there would be no explanation.

Several elderly nobles frowned, their tone probing: “Perhaps it’s the Barbarian Race’s trickery… dragging the Prince into this, causing infighting.”

Yet an oppressive unease lingered in the air, some exchanged furtive glances.

This was Astha’s domain, the Barbarian Race came too conveniently, claiming there was no connection, even they couldn’t believe it.

Some hearts flashed other thoughts: Could this matter actually be related to the Red Tide Count? But no one dared to voice it.

Louis frowned slightly: “Don’t speak nonsense! The Prince, as an imperial bloodline, could not do such a thing?”

Wulu struggled to raise his head, blood at the corner of his mouth: “I have evidence.”

It wasn’t long before he was taken away, soon to be brought back.

Behind him, several Red Tide Knights were carrying a heavy iron box.

Inside neatly lay the Frost Dragon Territory Special Envoy insignia, a vow parchment, grain and salt dispatch orders, a hand-drawn Frost Dragon Territory map, several signed documents, and two contract letters.

Lambert knelt on one knee to report: “All were found in the Barbarian Race’s hiding place.”

Everyone’s gaze focused on the insignia, the Frost Dragon Territory Special Envoy insignia, a token authorized by Astha, allowing the bearer to issue formal orders on behalf of Frost Dragon Territory.

The backside of the insignia bore Astha’s seal, not seeming counterfeit.

Another contract bore the Barbarian Race’s totem as the heading, detailing both parties’ oath terms: “Sworn by the blood of ancestors, all who sign this document shall share honor and disgrace with allies, violation leads to clan annihilation and name eradication.”

The signature included Astha’s name and the seal of Frost Dragon Territory.

There was also a document stating: “The Sixth Prince of the Empire, Astha August, promises: After the Northern Territory Council, the Barbarian Race may obtain grazing rights north of the Frost Dragon River.

If assist in creating Red Tide chaos, will be rewarded with winter grain, salt, iron, and settlement permission.” Signed Astha August.

Upon seeing this ironclad evidence, everyone was stunned, they looked at each other, fear and suspicion filling their eyes.

Astha’s signature, the Frost Dragon Territory insignia, the blood fingerprint on the contract, each was like a heavy hammer striking their hearts.

“If it’s truly counterfeit, why are the seals so complete?”

“How could the Barbarian Race understand these document formats…”

The debates rose and fell, the air filled with the scent of burnt and blood, mixed with an indescribable emotion.

At this moment, they were already seventy to eighty percent convinced.

Some secretly glanced at Louis, but the young Count appeared calm, his gaze lightly sweeping over the crowd, as if everything was under control.

However, Lambert’s voice broke the silence once more: “There are also two surviving naturalized Barbarians, Frostfang and Nak, willing to testify.”

The two were brought forward, faces grey, draped in tattered guard cloaks.

Lambert spoke sternly: “They were originally from the Barbarian Race, later incorporated by Sixth Prince’s Knights as guards. On the night of the attack, it was they who personally opened the secret passage at the north gate.”

This statement was like a boulder thrown into a pond, stirring up an uproar.

The nobility turned, looking at the two Barbarians with disbelief and disdain in their eyes.

Frostfang trembled all over, his hands shackled, knees barely supporting him.

He kept his head lowered, lips quivering, almost inaudible: “We… we acted on orders… Orders from the Prince…”

Halfway through, a flash of fear crossed his eyes, unable to continue.

Nak was in worse condition, his face still bloodstained, eyes bloodshot, nearly standing by force.

He trembled, stuttering to supplement: “It… it was the Prince who gave us the insignia and tokens… instructed us… to assist the Barbarian Race in entering the city.”

After finishing, he collapsed heavily to his knees, forehead pressed against the cold stone, sweat and tears mingling as they dripped.

Their voices were pathetically weak in the silent ruins, yet they pierced the hearts of the crowd like nails.

The nobility exchanged glances, under the afterglow of the flames, their expressions complex, belief and disbelief intertwining on each face, freezing even the air.

Not long after, Lambert’s search knights returned, presenting several letters found in the noble’s residences.

The thick wax seals clearly marked with the names Holmes, Klan, Bolton, Harlov, Hyman.

The letters detailed the seating arrangement of the council, the speaking order, the deployment of knights, and guidance on the public opinion regarding the Red Tide, accompanied by a note: “If the Red Tide is attacked, it is the will of heaven, seize the opportunity to take power.”