Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 716: Chapter 401: Aftermath and New Bad News (Part 2)

The remaining scattered forces will be incorporated into the reserve labor reform camp. Repair roads for three months, those who perform well... will be allowed to wield swords again."

Lambert nodded, turned to another report, inhaled the cold air, as if deliberately organizing his thoughts, unwilling to let excitement disrupt his judgment.

"And Gray Stone Fortress... the situation differs from expected," he said in a very low voice, "After the Magic Explosion Bullet unit arrived, they only test-fired four siege magic cannons according to the most basic procedures."

Lambert glanced at Louis before quickly looking away, realizing that what truly deserved reverence at the moment was the young lord beside him, whose foresight led Hillco to create such a terrifying weapon.

Although he had known the power of the Magic Explosion Bullet through experiments before, its real application in war, this outcome, this shock, still felt somewhat different.

"When the first shot landed, the city wall developed cracks. When the second shot hit the upper edge of Dragonstone Gate, the entire wall of the fortress began to shed dust."

"The third and fourth shots..." Lambert paused for a moment, "...directly shattered Dragonstone."

He did not dramatize those breathtaking details but stated directly: "Before the dust had even settled, people from the 14th and 7th legions came out waving white flags...

They hastened to present the heads of Sol and Balter, claiming it was a voluntary purge of traitors and a willingness to join the Red Tide."

The remaining deputy corps commanders and their aides were all willing to accept reconfiguration, saying compared to Ackman’s methods... Lord Louis’s system is the way to survive."

Louis chuckled softly, neither surprised nor pleased.

Lambert continued: "My lord, we have thus received approximately six thousand well-trained regular knights in total. This number..."

Louis finally stopped walking, glancing sideways at the group of prisoners being escorted.

Those once arrogant Imperial Knights, now huddled together like toothless wolves, showing no signs of valor.

"Six thousand," Louis said calmly, "Other nobles dare not swallow them, but I dare. Send them to the Red Tide for re-education."

Lambert immediately responded: "Yes, my lord."

"Inform the instructors that I don’t want Imperial Knights. I want soldiers of the Red Tide. In three months, I want them to wear red cloaks and feel unfamiliar with the flags of the Old Empire,"

Louis spoke calmly, confident in this plan.

The Red Tide system he built over the years isn’t merely discipline or training but a complete process capable of rebuilding belief, offering a new path.

Within this process, the pride, anger, confusion, and loyalty of an old knight will be redefined.

Making them understand why they fight, who they fight for, and rediscover the dignity of a guardian, enabling them to start anew from the ruins of the old era.

Lambert turned to the final page: "As for our casualties..."

He took a deep breath, steadying his voice, yet it still carried amazement.

"Five chariots were damaged, all repairable. Personnel casualties were thirty-two dead, eighty-five lightly and heavily wounded... mostly sustained during the pursuit."

"To trade five chariots and dozens of lives for military power in the Northern Territory and the integration of three elite legions..." Louis murmured, nodding afterward.

The group moved forward again, now reaching the steps in front of the City Lord’s Mansion.

Inside were all the nobles from the Northern Territory waiting to attend the meeting.

Louis casually tidied his collar.

Weir reached out to push open the door, the heavy oak panels creaking deeply, harsh light spilling from between the door gaps, illuminating Louis as if he emerged from the morning light.

At that moment, the whole meeting hall seemed seized by an invisible force, gripping its nerves.

"Swish—"

Hundreds of nobles stood simultaneously.

The chairs scraping across the floor were deafeningly unified, resembling not a noble assembly, but knights declaring their resolve before the battle.

No one dared remain seated to welcome this young lord who had just exterminated three legions.

Their gazes were extremely complex...

Like Count Albert’s complete submission and reverence, the relief of small nobles who narrowly survived, and some... whose eyes revealed a mix of hesitation and fear.

Louis walked to the end of the long table, to the seat once belonging to Duke Edmund.

He pulled out the chair, calmly sat down, intertwined his fingers, gently placing them on the table.

Only until the third second after he sat did the nobles slowly sit, their movements gentle as if fearing to disrupt some slumbering magical beast.

The air was so oppressive that one could almost hear each person’s heartbeat.

Louis surveyed the room, his lips curling into that signature smile.

"Thank you all for waiting." His tone was understated, as if discussing a trivial matter, "There was some trash outside the city that needed clearing earlier, thus causing a slight delay."

No noble dared to voice opposition, nor even change their expression.

Louis continued: "The good news is, the formations of the 17th, 14th, and 7th legions have been abolished. Ackman and the three other commanders have all been beheaded. Their troops have accepted reorganization into the Red Tide. As of now, all security threats in the Northern Territory have been completely eradicated."

The understated tone was like the final nail sealing the coffin of the old era.

Even though the outcome was already known, when Louis personally said "handled," many nobles couldn’t help but feel a chill in their hearts.

Those were three elite legions he summed up with "handled"?!

Just as a tiny thought of "finally a sigh of relief" arose in everyone’s minds...

Louis suddenly retracted his smile, eyes as deep as an ice lake.

"But before the meeting begins, I must regretfully inform you all..." He paused. "There is one more piece of bad news."

The air instantly froze.

Seven thousand knights on the edge were bad news, annihilating three legions was trivial, now then... what else?

Louis leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice yet each word thunderous:

"The Empire’s Regent King, His Highness Arens, was confirmed dead last midnight."

Silent shock rippled through the meeting hall.

Someone half-believing asked, "My lord... how reliable is this news source?"

Louis’s gaze swept across, cold as frost: "In a few days, your own channels will receive the news."

The entire hall was momentarily stunned.

No one cried, nor did anyone show grief befitting national mourning.

To these landowners in the Northern Territory, the Imperial Capital is too distant, whoever occupies the throne scarcely matters to them.

The Regent King’s death was more akin to the fall of some deity in mythology, surprising but without direct affecting them.

Someone couldn’t resist whispering, "Then... who is the new emperor?"

But the faces of those wise old nobles had already changed.

Louis noticed this, coldly smiling: "I know what you’re thinking, the Imperial Capital is too far away, why should it concern us, right?"

He stood, walked to the huge map of the Northern Territory.

His finger emphatically pointing along the only line connecting the Imperial Capital and Northern Territory.

"Currently, there is no universally acknowledged heir. The Regent King’s death signals a broken balance. Those Princes will immediately tear each other apart."

He raised his head, voice clear and grave: "Everyone, do you truly believe this is just an issue for the Imperial Capital? Consider this, once civil war breaks out...

Will there still be military funds allocated to the Northern Territory? Will the grain and cloth from the South still flow smoothly? Will the Imperial Commerce Department’s orders for your minerals still hold?"

Each sentence was like ice water splashing everyone’s faces.

The harsh land of the Northern Territory, long reliant on Southern aid.

If the Empire plunges into civil war, the Northern Territory will become a forgotten island.

The nobles finally panicked:

"If no grain comes in, how will we survive this winter?"

"Who will I sell my ore to?"

"Without Imperial orders, I can’t afford my private soldiers!"

"Finished... What if those Princes, to fund their armies, forcefully tax the Northern Territory then what?"