Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence - Chapter 669 - 385: The First Breeze of Spring in Cold Sand Territory (Part 3)

Chapter 669: Chapter 385: The First Breeze of Spring in Cold Sand Territory (Part 3)

As soon as the townspeople saw him along the way, the originally noisy market didn’t quiet down, but instead, surged up with a wave of greater enthusiasm.

The men took off their hats in salutation, their movements filled with a sincerity never before seen.

The women smiled and lifted the baskets in their hands, eager to stuff the best food into his hands.

The children, like little tails, followed him, the bold ones even daring to reach out and touch the hem of his cloak.

Pete smiled and nodded to each one, politely declining the gifts, but accepting the heavy respect.

He took a deep breath of the air mixed with the scent of wheat and smoke, something in his chest gently warming.

A year had passed.

Pete subconsciously rubbed the inconspicuous wear on his cuff, his thoughts drifting back to the time a year ago when he first set foot on this land.

The Cold Sand Territory back then was not like it is now. It was like a mute town, lifeless, even the wind that blew through it carried a whimper.

He remembered it was a gloomy afternoon when the Red Tide convoy just entered the town gate.

No welcome, nor any insults.

Only pairs of eyes hiding behind the door slits, window boards, and broken fences.

In those eyes was a murky numbness, and deeper within lay a kind of wary vigilance, like watching a wolf.

At that time, the distance between him and these territorial people was so close, yet so far.

Close enough he could smell the moldy odor coming from their old clothes, yet far enough that no matter what he said, they would only look at him with terrified eyes and then shut the door tightly.

In their eyes, Pete in his red uniform was merely another lord come to exploit.

They feared him, as they feared the cold winter and death itself.

Pete did not back down.

He recalled the words of his instructor in the Red Tide academy: “Don’t expect them to understand you at first; you must engrave your rules into their bellies with your actions.”

So he began to use the skills he learned in Red Tide, solving the despair on this land item by item.

The first thing was to bring the dead mines back to life.

The shafts were flooded with bone-chilling underground water, and the old lord’s overseers would only wield whips to force people into the water, resulting in nothing but a few more floating corpses.

When Pete arrived, he did not wield a whip but instead wrote an urgent letter to Lord Louis.

Half a month later, several steel monstrosities spewing white steam were transported to the shaft—steam pumps.

When the machine emitted a deafening roar, tirelessly drawing black water from the deep shaft night and day like a giant beast, those numb miners all knelt on the ground, thinking it was some kind of divine miracle.

“Stop kneeling,” Pete shouted loudly, standing in the mud, “This is Red Tide technology! The water is gone, start work tomorrow, and there will be wages!”

The second thing was to straighten people’s spines.

Previously, the miners had to carry heavy mining baskets, climbing step by step out of the pit, and many were crippled with back troubles before they reached thirty.

Pete summoned people from the craftsmen’s department to lay rows of tracks wrapped in wood and iron along the mine tunnels.

When the first cart full of ore smoothly slid out of the tunnel along the track, the miners touching those tracks, their hands were shaking. They discovered for the first time that work didn’t have to cost them their lives.

The third thing was to let everyone know where their money went.

This was the hardest step. Pete erected a large wooden board at the entrance of the administrative hall, posting on it an open ledger in Red Tide’s standardized format.

Every tax, every sack of relief grain, every copper coin’s usage was written clearly.

“The former lords’ taxation was robbery, Red Tide’s taxation is rule,” Pete said, pointing at the ledger to the gathered territorial people, “Every grain of wheat you hand over is on here. Anyone who dares to tamper with it, the Inspection Department’s knife will cut them.”

When the territorial people saw those numbers truly transformed into repaired roads, the built standard Red Tide granary, and the winter rations distributed into their hands, the ice named vigilance finally melted completely.

Not to mention the newly completed town school.

In the past, the children of miners could only roll around like weeds in the coal slag, now, they sit in bright rooms, following teachers sent by Red Tide, reciting, “Lord Louis saves Northern Territory…”

When the old miner, his face black with coal, heard his son read the words from the book for the first time, this man who had never shed a tear in his life, hugged Pete’s boots and cried uncontrollably.

This is how it was, step by step, item by item.

Pete used the power and wisdom bestowed by Red Tide to forcibly intervene in their lives, turning this mire into solid ground.

That wary vigilance like watching a wolf dispersed, replaced by an almost blind trust and reverence.

They began to realize that this stern Officer Pete was different from the former lords who only wielded whips. He was truly someone who would put bread into their hands, the one who on a snowy night would check to see if the roof had collapsed.

This reverence is not just for Pete personally.

Pete could feel that whenever he mentioned the name “Lord Louis,” the light in these territorial people’s eyes would become even more devout.

Because Pete had told them, “I am merely a executor, the one giving you steam engines, tracks, food, and schools is Red Tide, is the great Count Louis Calvin.”

Thus, this gratitude flowed through Pete to that distant, sun-like name.