Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 707: Chapter 397: The Black Flood (Part 2)

The iron tide roared, and the earth echoed.

The largest military assembly in the Northern Territory in thirty years marched towards Frost Halberd City like a giant beast awakening, and Ackman was certain: victory was already decided.

......

The wind and snow in Frost Halberd City continued to howl, as if trying to remind all visitors that this was once the most desolate ruin of the Northern Territory.

However, the grand hall was warm, as if two worlds were separated by a door.

A heavy crystal chandelier cast a bright golden light, and the new steam heating on the walls gently exhaled warmth, making the air as soft as a southern spring night.

Outside the window was a biting cold wind, but inside one could smell the sweet aroma of pastries and the spicy scent of strong liquor.

The long table was covered with fine velvet cloth, and artisans from Red Tide Territory had arranged the dishes to look as exquisite as artworks.

Pastries, red tea, strong liquor, honeyed fruit... piled up abundantly, almost making one forget this was once the focal point of war.

This Northern reconstruction meeting was the most organized in decades.

Besides the major nobility, even the pioneering minor barons sat at the outer seats.

The room was filled with chatter, mostly light-hearted conversations.

Some discussed this year’s grain prices, others exchanged hunting tips, and some jokingly talked about how the dancers from last night performed with much vigor.

It was as if the Northern Territory had truly ushered in stability and prosperity.

Yet no one mentioned Gareth Morkan, as if he had vanished from everyone’s memory.

No one wanted to jinx the lively occasion.

However, beneath all the light-hearted conversations lurked a common anxiety — Louis had not arrived yet.

The high-backed main seat at the end of the conference table was empty. The higher the nobility’s status, the more frequently they glanced towards it.

Ten minutes passed, then another twenty...

Some seasoned nobility began to grow impatient, deliberately lowering their voices to complain: "Sure enough, just a kid, became a lord for a few years and forgot manners."

"Making all of us wait for him, who does he think he is?"

However, no one dared to speak too loudly.

After all, Frost Halberd City was now under the jurisdiction of Red Tide Territory, whose power was intimidating to everyone.

Just as the discussions began to spread, the door was pushed open from outside.

Everyone instinctively stopped and looked up.

As expected, Louis Calvin walked in.

Today, he looked completely different from the nobility dressed in formal attire; he wore the Red Tide Standard light battle armor, black steel gleaming coldly under the light, and the edges of his shoulder armor were still stained with snow mud that hadn’t been fully wiped clean.

He didn’t disguise himself as a distinguished noble in formal wear, but walked into the conference hall like he belonged there.

His steps were steady, as if always ready to turn and head to the battlefield, using this outfit to remind everyone that the peace of the Northern Territory was never maintained by etiquette.

Behind him followed Bradley and Isaac.

The old butler, with bowed head and eyes, upheld decorum.

Isaac, with head held high, bore the tension and pride unique to youth, entering as the heir of Duke Edmund and the future master of the Northern Territory to sit in on the meeting.

Louis walked to the main seat, not rushing to sit down but resting his hand on the table edge, speaking politely yet with a hint of ease: "Sorry to keep you all waiting, I was dealing with a minor issue and got delayed."

His voice was not loud, yet it instantly silenced the entire conference hall.

"My lord has worked hard!"

"Lord Louis, you’re too kind!"

"Your presence is our honor."

The nobility rose one after another, exchanging pleasantries as if welcoming a grand event, to which Louis smiled and acknowledged before seating himself in the main chair.

But he did not open the agenda detailing business cooperation; instead, he drummed his fingers lightly on the table with an unsettling air.

"Ladies and gentlemen," continued Louis, "before discussing how to make money, I must first inform you of a... small piece of bad news."

The phrase "bad news" did not cause much of a stir in the hall.

Some furrowed their brows slightly but only casually agreed, while more nobility took it as Louis’ usual dry humor, awaiting jokes or gossip.

After all, with such a light-hearted tone, how bad could it be?

Louis paused for a second, his tone still calm: "At this moment, the Seventeenth Legion, the Fourteenth Legion, and the Seventh Legion, totaling seven thousand fully armed knights, have already crossed the Birch Forest line."

He lifted his eyes slightly and added, "If the roads are clear, they should reach Frost Halberd City in about a day and... commence a massacre."

The air instantly froze.

Three seconds later, the noise exploded like ignited gunpowder.

"Seven thousand knights?! Are you crazy? How can we fight this?!" A skinny baron collapsed to the floor with a thud as his legs gave way.

On the other side, a white-haired old count slammed the table, causing the silverware to jump an inch high: "Louis! Did you drag the entire Northern Territory into this? Do you know what this means?!"

"It’s over... it’s all over..." mumbled a noble, collapsing against the back of his chair as if drained of all strength.

Some completely broke down, abruptly standing up and knocking over the chair behind them: "Quick! Send an envoy! Send them now! Open the city gates! Tell Ackman we weren’t involved, we knew nothing!"

Fear spread like a plague, causing everyone’s voices to escalate uncontrollably.

The entire conference hall was like a ship hitting a hidden reef, with screams, arguments, and chaos tearing apart all elegance.

In the midst of this chaos, Louis sat quietly, showing neither anger nor panic, even taking a sip of red wine with indifference.

The noble who shouted "surrender" was the loudest, even attempting to rush to push open the large door.

Louis set down his glass, his tone calm as if scolding a misbehaving child: "Surrender? Negotiation? Are you sure Ackman will spare your lives?

When Morkan went to claim the conscripted goods, he was beheaded on the spot. His head now hangs on the city gate of Gray Stone Fortress."

As he spoke, he pulled out a roll of parchment from his pocket and tossed it on the table.

The parchment unfurled, revealing dense red markers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you have two choices." Louis held up one finger, "First, fight on your own. Be broken one by one. Entire families wiped out."

He then raised a second finger: "Second, immediately and unconditionally hand over all your personal soldiers, guards, and the complete military command of your territories to me. Let Red Tide unify command."

He leaned back against the chair, his tone still gentle, yet chilling to the bone: "Now, vote. Those in favor, remain seated. Those unwilling, the door is there, feel free to meet Ackman."

That door suddenly appeared as terrifying as the entrance to death.

No one moved.

Including the noble who had just shouted to surrender, who seemed nailed to the spot with legs weighed down by lead, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

A few seconds later, the first noble shakily raised his hand.

Then the second, and the third...

More people nodded silently, more people dared not raise their heads, more people expressed submission through silence.

No opposition.

Louis nodded with satisfaction, showing that gentle smile again.

"Very well."

He stood up, adjusted his cuffs, and with a tone as light as if concluding an ordinary afternoon tea, said: "Since we have reached a consensus... the meeting is adjourned. Now, it’s time for war."

With that, Louis’s coat tails fluttered slightly as he headed straight for the door.

Inside the hall, hundreds of nobles stood frozen as if their souls had been taken, leaving only wide eyes blankly following his departing figure.

Isaac trailed behind, his little steps nearly at a trot to keep up.

Though he tried to appear composed, his tense mouth corners revealed his unease.

Once outside the hall, he couldn’t help but tug at Louis’s sleeve, whispering: "Brother-in-law... is it really okay? There are seven thousand knights outside..."

Louis halted, looking down at the little one who was trying hard to appear mature, the coldness in his eyes instantly softening.

He reached out and tousled Isaac’s hair.

"It’s okay." His tone was as relaxed as commenting on today’s weather: "No matter how many men Ackman has brought, he’s already lost."

Isaac froze: "But we... aren’t we in great danger now?"

Louis smiled, with a confidence born out of having everything under control: "I came today only to have them willingly hand over military power to me. Without this war, they would never agree wholeheartedly."

He patted Isaac’s shoulder: "As for Ackman... a truly great war ends before the enemy even begins their advance. This meeting is also a part of the battlefield."

Having said that, he continued forward, his steps steady yet leisurely, as if the threat of seven thousand knights was merely a move he had long poised on his chessboard.