Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence Chapter 2: The Sun Will Always Rise

A wooden bowl contained the poisoned soup, releasing an enticing fragrance.

Louis received the bowl from the knight and lifted it leisurely to his mouth, but halted abruptly and extended it toward Roy.

"I have no appetite, drink it for me."

Roy's features tightened as he mustered a strained smile, responding, "My lord, that’s against the rules, you should have it first."

"I order you, drink it." Louis's voice grew stern instantly.

Roy's lips drained of color, chilly sweat beading on his forehead.

He understood perfectly the poison lurking in the soup. Gulping it down would mean his doom.

Knight Captain Lambert noticed the oddity as well, gesturing to the knights nearby. They sprang up at once, forming a ring around Roy.

"Drink it." Lambert commanded in a grave tone.

The steaming soup was thrust forcefully to his lips.

Aware escape was impossible now, Roy lunged to flip away and flee, yet iron grips held him fast.

At that instant, the remaining knights grasped the truth—the soup was tainted with poison!

Louis rose, staring down at Roy restrained on the ground: "You know the outcome of trying to murder the lord, don’t you?"

Pure dread flooded Roy’s gaze; he certainly knew the penalty.

"Who ordered you to poison?" Louis inquired steadily.

With a shaky voice, Roy replied, "It was... it was Lord Benjamin, he ordered me to poison."

Benjamin, the second son of Duke Calvin, served as Louis’ elder brother.

The knights’ stares shifted entirely to Louis.

Belonging to the Calvin Clan, they knew the brothers’ overt and secret conflicts all too well.

Still, a relative striking at the lord before he could even take root sent chills through them.

Roy faltered before adding, "He promised that as long as you were killed, I could return to the South and that he’d arrange a new position for me, at least as a Knight Captain..."

This revelation made the surrounding knights’ expressions turn even grimmer.

However, Louis emitted a soft chuckle.

Assuming his hunch was accurate, his brother sought to eradicate a potential heir completely.

The Calvin Clan’s dukedom went not to the firstborn but to the most formidable.

No matter Louis’s current apparent worthlessness, his survival kept him as Duke Calvin’s heir, entitled to claim.

Besides, his death midway to the Northern Territory would force the family to dispatch yet another brother for the duty.

Benjamin thus removed a foe while draining the family’s other sons, fulfilling several aims—a cunning scheme.

Grasping at faint hope, Roy gazed beseechingly at Louis: "My lord, I... I was coerced!"

"I’m just a knight, Lord Benjamin ordered me, I dared not disobey... Please spare my life, I’m willing to swear allegiance to you!"

"Lambert." Louis stated calmly.

"Yes." The Knight Captain approached, pulling out his longsword.

Roy descended into full panic, writhing furiously: "My lord! Spare me! I will never..."

"Psst!"

Silver light flashed, blood spraying across the snow.

Roy’s cries ended sharply, his head tumbling to the earth, eyes frozen wide in death.

Lambert slid his blade back into place, announcing coolly, "The traitor has been executed."

Nevertheless, a strange tension lingered in the camp.

Silent, the watching knights harbored intricate feelings in their eyes.

Roy’s betrayal of the lord warranted his execution—unquestionable.

Yet, were his motives solely greed?

He longed to head South, avoiding doom in this icy desolation.

What of them? Did they differ?

Each knew the fate awaiting in the Northern Territory.

Exile’s domain, it boasted the worst death rates.

None arrived by choice, none rejected return.

No one then risked eyeing the head on the ground, lest they glimpse themselves in its cut features.

Disarray and despair surged over them like rising waves.

Night cloaked them as the campfire roared, etching their sentiments in their gazes.

Louis perceived it keenly, stepping forth: "Anyone who wants to leave, you can go now."

Stunned, the men raised heads to regard him.

"I will personally write a letter to the family, absolving you of guilt." Louis halted, scanning every face, "But after today, anyone who leaves will meet the same end as Roy."

None uttered a word, none budged.

No fools they; Louis’s missive might not sway the family from punishing deserters. Worse torments loomed.

The Northern Territory spelled likely death, yet retreat promised no sanctuary.

Louis regarded the mute knights, chuckling faintly.

Discarding his prior lethal presence, he spoke evenly: "You all think coming to the Northern Territory is a death sentence.

You also know why you were sent here. Isn’t it because you have no backing in the family, making you disposable trash?"

Louis paused, his voice surging with resolve: "But I don’t believe so! You are not trash!

You became apprentice knights, even official knights, through your talent, your effort, through countless real battles!

And those who sent you here? They are nothing but parasites hiding in the castle, indulging in pleasure!"

Slowly he eyed them all, subtle doubt stirring in every gaze.

"Have you ever thought that there might be a possibility if we can survive on this permafrost? If we can establish our footing here?

Perhaps the darkness before dawn will be long.

But the sun will eventually rise!

I don’t know if we can all wait for that moment, but I swear by the Dragon Ancestor—

If that day comes, the glory brought by the sun, I will share with you all!"

Louis gazed steadily at them, hesitation flickering in each set of eyes.

"For the Calvin Family, you are insignificant, pawns to be sacrificed at any time.

But on this land full of opportunities, anything is possible.

Someone here might become a Baron, a Viscount, even a Count one day!

Of course, you can continue to wallow in your fate, continue to lament every day, considering yourself halfway in the grave;

Or you can join me on this forsaken land, holding the future firmly in your own hands."

Silence.

Dead silence.

The night wind howled, the campfire flickered slightly, reflecting complex faces.

Suddenly, "Bang!" a low thud broke the night.

Knight Captain Lambert dropped to one knee, slamming his right fist hard against his chest!

"I swear to follow my lord to the death!"

Then the second, the third, the fourth...

"I swear to follow my lord to the death!"

"I swear to follow my lord to the death!"

...

One after another, the knights knelt, their right fists thumping solidly on their chests.