Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 865: Chapter 466: Shocking News

Louis sat behind a long table, reviewing a document labeled “Site Selection for Alchemy Industrial Park.”

The sound of shackles dragging across the carpet broke the silence.

Weir brought the man to the center of the study, pressing on his shoulder to stop him.

The silk robe that once symbolized regential authority was now tattered beyond recognition, its edges blackened by seawater and mud.

His boots had split open, with only half of the gold thread decoration remaining.

The only thing he held tightly in his arms was a gilded redwood box.

Even so, he still tried to straighten his back, chin slightly raised, his gaze slightly elevated—this was a posture trained through repetition.

“Louis Calvin.” Lampard spoke, his voice hoarse, deliberately projecting authority, “In the name of the Emperor, I demand to be treated in a manner befitting my status.”

Louis turned a page in the document, not looking at him: “You have two minutes; after that, I have another meeting.”

Lampard’s Adam’s apple moved faintly.

This sentence was more deadly than any insult, as if he was merely a distraction before the meeting, but that was indeed the reality.

So he stopped beating around the bush and quickly placed the redwood box on the table, opening it.

Inside was a well-preserved parchment scroll and a heavy royal seal.

“Imperial Power Transfer Document.” Lampard’s voice quickened, “Once I sign it, you will have legal legitimacy of the Empire. Those old nobility, former legions, and local councils recognize only this.”

He stared at Louis’s face, trying to find a hint of wavering in those calm eyes: “Without it, you will forever be a rebellious force relying on brute strength.”

Louis still did not look at the scroll.

He merely made a mark with his pen on the edge of the document in front of him, as if confirming the location of a certain factory area.

The silence made Lampard’s breathing rapid; he knew this card was losing its effectiveness.

“And this—” he continued through gritted teeth, “This is what your father owed me.”

Louis’s pen tip paused for a moment.

Lampard immediately seized on this, his voice urgent:

“Old Duke Calvin made a sacred contract with me to obtain my political support, promising to create chaos in the Empire. Without my help, you wouldn’t have been able to seize the Church Court so quickly…

He promised to grant one of the Avalonia Islands as my permanent domain.”

He took a deep breath, almost pleading, yet almost threatening:

“I don’t want the throne anymore; fulfill your father’s promise. Give me that island, and I will take my attendants, treasures, and disappear from your world completely.”

Upon hearing this, Louis finally put down his pen.

The pen made a crisp “snap” against the edge of the document folder.

He closed the “Site Selection for Alchemy Industrial Park” document, pressing his brow as if he had just listened to a lengthy and absurd report.

“Prince Lampard, your thinking is still stuck in the last century.”

Lampard instinctively wanted to refute, but before he could speak, Louis raised his hand to interrupt.

Louis stood up, adjusted his cuffs, and for the first time truly set his eyes on this Regent King, with a hint of mockery.

“You seem to misunderstand the source of power.” Louis slowly walked to one side of the study, stopping in front of the Empire’s full map on the wall.

“My power is not bestowed by that parchment; it comes from my knights, my artillery, my fleet.”

He turned around, as if stating a common fact, “When tanks roll into the Imperial Palace, who dares question the legitimacy?”

Lampard’s lips trembled, his face visibly grew paler.

“As for the contract you mentioned…” Louis walked to him, looking down upon him, “You demand me to fulfill a promise made by a dead man.

And that dead man was pushed onto the altar by you personally; you colluded with the Church Court to plant a curse in his body.”

Louis tilted his head slightly, as if seriously contemplating the issue: “Go, ask my father if he is willing to give you that island.”

At this moment, all of Lampard’s facade shattered completely.

“Don’t… don’t do this…” His voice lost all tone, cracking into sobs, stumbling as he knelt down, his knees scraping against the carpet as he crawled forward in despair.

“I didn’t kill Duke Calvin… I also have royal blood… I can work for you… I still have money, I have connections…”

He attempted to grab Louis’s boot, like clutching the last straw.

Louis, however, stepped back, glanced down at Lampard, then turned to Weir who had been standing aside: “Take care of him.”

The tone was as casual as giving instructions for routine cleanup.

Weir stood at attention, responding briefly, “Yes, sir.”

Lampard’s scream erupted in the study, quickly becoming distant and blurring.

The door closed, and the study returned to silence.

“I thought there’d be some interesting amusement, but there wasn’t any preparation at all.”

Louis returned to sit at the desk, picked up his cup of coffee, which had grown cool, and took a sip.

He reopened the “Site Selection for Alchemy Industrial Park” document: “Building the fertilizer plant downwind is a good plan.”

……

A few months ago, when the Holy Eastern Empire was still bleeding in civil strife and reckoning, the gold coins of the Jade Federation had already struck the border first.

Numerous mercenaries, hireling groups, and armed forces wearing the banners of trade guilds crossed the boundary stele, like a serpent fed by money, attempting to tear off a piece of meat from the weakened Empire.

Their calculation was clear, the Empire was decaying, taking advantage of Louis heading south to the Eastern Empire, to seize Kaelin’s territory.