Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 643: Chapter 375: Count Harvey (2)

The commands from the Imperial Capital kept coming, the coastal tax system changed again and again, and the preparatory agenda for the Dragon Throne meeting was getting thicker with each page.

The old nobles schemed against each other, while the new ones were used as buffers; no one wanted to be the first to fall.

Harvey put down his quill and sipped his wine, "Ha... a table full of messy accounts."

The current crisis is far more complicated than the tax reforms on paper.

The coastal routes were repeatedly requisitioned by the Imperial Capital, and a merchant ship had to pay taxes three times; the southern pirates were resurging, and secretly, some were even supporting them.

Inland nobles took advantage of the chaos to cut off trade routes, forcing him to make concessions, while creditors from the Imperial Capital demanded repayment, and the Military Supply Department’s IOUs continued to pile up.

The entire trade in the South was like a ship riddled with holes, on the verge of capsizing at any moment.

Harvey knew his situation too well; although the Harvey family was bestowed the title of Count, their foundation was still weak.

At the slightest disturbance, once the old nobility joined forces, they would be the first to be thrown out of the game.

The current books could still be maintained, thanks to the export taxes from the three ports and the income from the vineyards.

But once the Imperial Capital dispatched a new supervisor, cutting off the revenue share, the fruits of his ten-year labor could vanish overnight.

Even worse, he had to maintain ambiguous relationships with various factions.

The envoy from the Imperial Capital wanted him to swear allegiance to the Second Prince, while the Superintendent was pulling him towards the Fourth Prince’s camp...

He had to maintain every connection, appease every side; a wrong move would alert the others.

"The messier the Imperial Capital gets, the more we, who seat at the table with our money, need to band together for warmth," Harvey murmured, as if reminding himself.

As he spoke, he signed his name on the document.

Just then, there was the soft sound of footsteps and a knock on the door from outside.

"Come in," he said calmly, putting down his wine glass.

The servant entered, greeted him respectfully and presented a silver tray with two letters on it.

One bore the sun emblem, the mark of the Red Tide Territory in the Northern Territory, and the other a familiar ship emblem, belonging to his own Harvey Clan, written by Yorn.

Harvey raised an eyebrow, recognizing the sun emblem; it was a letter from Louis Calvin.

With a count personally writing to him, he was quite curious about what the Lord of the North wanted to discuss with him.

However, he temporarily set aside that letter and first picked up the one with the ship emblem.

"Let’s see what that kid wrote this time," he sighed, leaning back in his chair.

This second son really gave him a headache, considered his child in late age, spoiled from a young age, somewhat duller than his older brother, not lacking in intelligence, just a bit flighty.

The path laid out for him was supposed to be foolproof, guarding the family port, inheriting a small Baron’s domain, living a life of wealth and not causing trouble.

But the kid, full of passion, went ahead and signed up for the Northern Territory expansion.

That place was practically a heap of dead bodies; he truly thought his son wouldn’t make it back then.

Who would’ve thought not only did he survive, he even cozied up to the Lord of the North.

In just a few short years, he earned a Viscount’s title; this ability to cozy up was somewhat reminiscent of his own younger days.

He chuckled helplessly as he opened the envelope.

The letter’s tone was light, its wording chaotic, full of Yorn-like enthusiasm.

"The Red Tide Lord Louis wants to cooperate with us! He’s the most capable person I’ve ever met!... He suggests our family can provide southern ports, Red Tide can supply leather, Cold Iron, and whatnot... profit-sharing! It’s a surefire, no-loss deal!"

Count Harvey laughed halfway through, shaking his head with a sigh, "This kid... he’s a Viscount and still so naive."

He actually understood why Yorn wrote it this way.

After all, that Lord of the North gave him so much, constant support, land, resources, honors; it’s all like falling opportunities from the sky.

To be fair, even if personally arranged, he could never have elevated him from a Baron of Expansion to a Viscount within just a few years.

Thinking about this, Harvey felt a bit conflicted, half proud, half sighing.

He set down the letter and picked up the one with the sun emblem.

It was from Louis Calvin, with neat handwriting and a clean wax seal on the cover.

The letter unfolded, the handwriting was orderly, the wording calm and composed, with the restraint and order of a negotiation.

Louis addressed him as "Uncle Harvey," his tone calm and appropriate, neither humble nor arrogant.

The entire letter contained no excessive flattery, nor did it exude any sense of pressure, as if it were a lord who understood his own weight stating his case.

He first briefly explained the current situation in the Northern Territory, that Red Tide City had become the core of northern commerce, with stable output and expansion in scale;

He then outlined the cooperation intention: Red Tide was willing to exchange leather, Cold Iron, Demon Marrow, and various minerals in exchange for the Harvey ports’ pathway for grain, spices, textiles, and wine, and to establish stable transit warehouses.

The letter even listed several suggested plans: including product profit-sharing ratios, winter transport subsidies, port maintenance costs, and future expandable trade limits.

Each item was clear to the clause number, evidencing the presence of an entire management team’s logical and organized backing behind the letter.

Moreover, Red Tide promised: to speak for the "New Nobility Alliance’s" reasonable proposals at the Dragon Throne meeting.

If the Empire’s situation worsened and the war spread, it would also prioritize securing the Harvey Family’s supply shipments and port channels.

The concluding sentence was succinct yet profound: "If the Northern and Southern families can join hands, even in turbulent times, stability will be more assured."

He read it through and gently set the letter down, his gaze lingering in the firelight, his thoughts gradually entwining.

"The Calvin Clan is the Empire’s top port trade route overlord, this child being a son of Calvin, yet bypassing his own trade guild to seek me out?" he murmured inwardly.

This was no ordinary invitation for cooperation; it was akin to fanning one’s own father’s face.

Either there was internal strife in the Calvin Clan, or this young count was already planning to establish his own faction.

He sipped his wine, countless thoughts flashing through his mind.

He had always competed with the Calvin Clan’s ports, silently wrestling for years.

And Louis, having saved Yorn, pulled that foolish boy from a pit of corpses, and helped him gain the Viscount title; such a debt of gratitude couldn’t be ignored.

Moreover, the Emperor had long been absent, with the Princes forming alliances; the old nobility waiting for a chance at resurgence, while the New Nobility Alliance was suppressed in the Imperial Capital. He, as a count who rose from wealth, frankly stood on shallow roots, and his position remained unstable.

"Whichever side you take feels like staking one’s life," he murmured internally. "But the young man in the Northern Territory turned wasteland into a place of warmth and survival, better than half the old nobility. At least for now, he needs a partner, not prey."

He understood all too well that tying himself to the old nobility was merely passive vassalage.

Opening a separate line with Louis meant an additional card, an extra escape route.

Moreover, if Louis failed, he could always claim it as merely attending to his son’s regional cooperation.

He tapped the table, making a decision: talk first, then take sides.

"Draft a reply," he instructed the secretary, "use a friendly tone, neither humble nor overbearing. Express interest in the cooperation proposal, willing to send a representative to the Northern Territory for detailed discussions, starting with a single route, a single batch as a trial."

He gazed into the fire, but his thoughts did not stop.

Harvey kept weighing the significance of this step in his mind; this letter was not just a business talk, but a test, a silent bet.

He knew he wasn’t in a position to openly clash with the Calvin Clan, nor could he easily be dragged into the Prince’s factions.

But Louis was different; the north line, historically, was separate yet resiliently independent of the Imperial Capital politics.

If he could hold his ground in such a place, it proved he didn’t rely on imperial authority and could create his own order.

Such a person understood both the game of power and how to survive in the dirt.

If he could connect with this northern line, no matter who emerged victorious in the Imperial Capital’s future, the Harvey family in the south would still have room to negotiate.

Harvey’s heart was half icy calculation, half intrigued admiration.

Young, bold, and strategic; such a lord was rare in this decaying empire.

"He bets on the future of the Northern Territory, and I’m betting on him," Harvey murmured.

Count Harvey decided to be more cautious, not rushing to stake all his chips, but he had to first secure this line.

He raised his glass, as if to toast the distant figure in the flames: "Let’s see how far you can take the Northern Territory, Louis Calvin."