Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 738 - 411: Porridge Shelter and Judgment (Part 2)

He did not dare to look at the person on the stage, only faced the wooden platform, and knelt down with difficulty.

"I beg you..." His voice trembled, "I beg you to give her justice."

Low sobs were heard among the women in the crowd.

Thus, one by one, the criminals were dragged up to be convicted, one by one the victims stepped forward to identify them...

The voice of the Red Tide Knight spread through the entire square: "Here in the Northern Territory, this is called the crime of plunder and murder."

He paused: "According to the law of the Northern Territory—death penalty."

The executioner stepped forward and drew his blade.

"Execute."

The blade flashed, blood splattered on the wooden boards in front of the platform, slowly washed down by the rain.

After the executioner stepped back, a knight with the Red Tide Emblem, the speech officer, stepped forward, standing at the edge of the platform where the blood hadn’t yet dried.

"Listen up, this is the law of the Northern Territory, and it is also the order of the Red Tide. We do not rob, do not burn, do not kill for money. Anyone who dares to treat you like livestock, we will not spare."

He raised his hand, pointing at the corpse kneeling in the pool of blood: "These people take taxes as their private vault, take power as a stick to play with the people. Such behavior might survive in Gray Rock, but not in the Red Tide, not for another day."

The crowd was subdued by his voice, silent except for the sound of rain hitting the stones.

The speech officer continued: "The Lord of the North, Louis, once said... Let the people eat their fill is the meaning of the Lord and the Knight’s existence. Whoever dares to block the people’s livelihood is blocking the advance of the Red Tide’s blade."

A few Red Tide Knights stood solidly below, their posture solemn, as if endorsing that statement.

The speech officer finally stopped speaking: "From today, you no longer need to kneel before Raymond’s whip. Just remember one thing, under Lord Louis’s rule, the law-abiding live, the harmful die."

After he finished speaking, he stepped aside.

At that moment, the square was so silent that even the sound of raindrops hitting the armor could be heard.

No one cheered, and no one cried, just stared blankly at those once high and mighty figures lying on the ground.

Someone subconsciously clutched their chest, as if a stone pressing down for years had suddenly been moved away.

Someone gently lifted their head, as if seeing light for the first time from the shadows.

Some families lost loved ones, as they looked at those bodies, there was no joy on their faces, only heavy breathing and a slow emerging sense of relief.

No one knew who first said softly, "Deserved."

Though the voice was not loud, it was like a needle piercing the pustule pressing for years on the city gates.

Immediately afterward, someone responded, eyes reddening: "Not unjust."

Then came the third, fourth... voices spilled from the crowd, initially fragmented, then growing urgent, like raindrops hitting the river surface, more frequent and dense.

"Not unjust!"

"Deserved!"

"Good!!"

The long-grieving people of Gray Rock finally found a place to let it out.

"Good!!"

More cries of approval exploded from the depths of the crowd, like waves pushing forward in layers.

They raised empty bowls, they tapped their wooden staffs, some even knelt excitedly to the ground.

The shadows of invaders in their eyes shattered at this moment, replaced by a long-lost exhilaration and nearly feverish gratitude upon seeing old scores settled.

Someone looked at the figure behind the judgment platform, whispering a name: "Lord Louis..."

The voice was soft, yet carried a subtle trembling that shifted from fear to reverence.

......

Outside the castle’s terrace, the wind still carried the chill of night, but below, the square was boiling.

The torches flickered among the dense crowd, casting light on numerous excited, feverish, and even intoxicated faces.

Louis stood high above, overlooking it all.

The steam from the hot tea in his hand rose, tracing a faint white mist on the side of his face.

Grey stood behind him, his gaze on the porridge being carried out in cauldrons below, the opened granaries, and the civilians kneeling in the mud, bowing to the Red Tide Army.

He couldn’t help but speak softly: "...They look at you with eyes more devout than those at a god. But if we continue distributing food like this, military rations will deplete very quickly."

Louis heard this and lightly sipped his tea, his motion leisurely, as though the potential food shortage did not bother him.

"Grey, you miscalculated." He spoke indifferently, "These grains are not mine."

He raised his hand, pointing to the distant granary sealed by Red Tide Soldiers, the door still showing the emblem of the Doron family.

"These belong to Count Doron, to Raymond."

He turned, his gaze serene as if he were reading a judgment already confirmed.

"I use Raymond’s grain to buy Raymond’s people."

Grey was stunned.

Louis continued: "Taken from the enemy, used against the enemy. This is the cleanest combat technique."

The cheers below surged like tides, wave upon wave.

Grey hesitated for a moment, still uneasy: "But this way...might it not foster dependency among the people here? Or...pull them out of Raymond’s rule too quickly?"

Louis shook his head lightly: "This is not charity nor mercy."

His gaze shifted below, to those oppressed till numb and hungry faces: "Every bowl of porridge, every bag of grain we give them, they must know clearly who they are receiving it from.

And their consumption of this bite begins the link between us.

Relying solely on slaughter, this place will only breed resentment. They’ll hide in dark alleys to shoot arrows at us, set fires at night, annoying like rats."

"But if we let them benefit..." he raised his eyes.

"They’ll voluntarily work for me, tell me the enemy’s position, hope Raymond never returns, or the food they receive will be deemed treason."

Grey was silent.

Louis’s voice was low, yet carried a cold logic that allowed no refutation: "They eat my porridge, see me kill nobility, they become my accomplices. From this moment, their fate binds with mine."

The wind swept across the terrace, lifting the corner of Louis’s cloak.

Grey exhaled deeply: "Sir, this tactic resembles warfare more than a direct siege."

Louis smiled faintly: "War is, after all, a battle of hearts."

He suddenly looked towards the direction of the Gray Rock Province, deep in his eyes flashed a trace of anger, a disgust for Raymond’s long-endured indulgence of noble tyranny.

"The nobility here, they’ve long been rotten." He spoke softly, "Their corpses are more suited as the foundation stone for this revolution than their names."

Grey asked softly: "But why not directly use Count Doron to establish authority?"

A faint glow flashed in Louis’s eyes from the system panel. "Doron’s rank is too high, too distant from them, the people hold no specific hatred for him. Such unsurprising executions aren’t enough to establish a new order."

Below, the emotions continued to ferment, though no longer like panic after being shocked, but more like a tide ignited, slowly spreading along the street.

A crowd gathered at the city gates, not in panic or confusion but actively gathering at the registry asking if they could join the transport team or help with road repairs.

Artisans brought tools, each seeking places to contribute.

Some ragged drifters queued at the back, cautiously hoping to obtain a logistical errand.

The discipline and distribution system of the Red Tide Army allowed them to see for the first time an order truly incorporate them.

They approached not just because they were full, but because they felt they finally had a place within a new framework.

Grey couldn’t help but mutter: "They... have completely stood on our side."

Louis’s gaze deepened, and he spoke slowly: "This is only the beginning."

The Red Tide army followed suit through nearly every town they passed.

Granaries were seized, tax records taken, deeply resentful villagers actively identified oppressors by name.

Louis’s intelligence system facilitated all this easily.

He could always pinpoint ahead which noble hoarded food, which officer embezzled military pay, which bully forced someone to death.

No miscarriages of justice, no accidental injuries.

Each sanction was like a precise judgment, turning hearts thoroughly toward the Red Tide.

Reg approached on horseback: "Sir, the impact of this tactic is even greater than we anticipated. The last two villages contacted us even before warfare began."

Louis was silent for a moment, looking toward the direction with overcast clouds.

Grey Rock Castle rested deep within that shadow, like a giant beast lurking in its lair.

"Raymond thought rule depended on fear, but he forgot that near-starving people wouldn’t fear fear. To them, a bowl of hot porridge is worth allegiance over any god."

Louis raised his hand, gently waved: "Order the whole army, advance at full speed."

The wind pulled at the flag of the Red Tide Legion, letting the emblem of the Northern Territory’s sun unfold under the sky of the Gray Rock Province.

"Before Raymond realizes, let this territory become our backyard."