Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence Chapter 699 - 394: The Player_3

"Take it back to them, let them decide for themselves if they want a piece of the feast."

"Nevertheless," Ackman murmured softly, "I’m in no rush to act."

Firelight flickered across his features, draping a veil over his burning resolve.

Gale-force winds battered the windows, as if the whole Northern Territory plunged toward the Abyss.

Ackman occupied the head seat, calm on the surface, yet inwardly seared by raging flames.

An indistinct hunch whispered that this could be his one shot at breaching the elite noble ranks.

Seventeenth Legion honors amounted to just another tally in battle records.

Genuine nobility demanded territories, legacies, and assets that unnerved even the Royals.

With the Empire on the brink of downfall, this desolate Northern Territory concealed prime ore lodes, vital grain paths, and Red Tide Territory's burgeoning trade.

Grasping this opportunity would carve Ackman's legacy into the Empire's fresh annals.

Beneath the table, Ackman’s fists tightened in silence: "I must not allow the Calvin family to monopolize the Northern Territory. This path alone elevates the Ackman family to the Empire's pinnacle."

Ackman reclined in his chair, as though unveiling the gameboard of his ambitions.

"The next move requires no ripping off of masks yet." He tilted his chin faintly, beckoning his loyal aide closer.

His finger drifted leisurely over the map, skirting Red Tide Territory and Frost Halberd City... before pausing on a overlooked small domain—Morkan Territory.

Its spot barely registered on the Northern Territory chart, reduced to a vague gray patch.

Unaffiliated with Red Tide, its geography and riches sustained a personal trade convoy, solid wealth, and nearness to Gray Stone Fortress.

Ackman drummed his finger on the shaded zone: "Begin with him."

The loyal aide creased his brow: "...Baron of Morkan?"

"Exactly." Ackman flashed a contemptuous smirk.

"Await his upcoming caravan." He gestured to his adjutant: "Dispatch two cavalry units there. Cite the extra provision in the ’Empire Wartime Emergency Requisition Act’ and declare, for defense against the Barbarian Race, these supplies get temporarily seized."

The loyal aide knitted his brows: "And if the Baron fights back?"

Ackman spoke with casual detachment, like musing on the skies: "Snap the leader’s arms and legs, then dump him in the drifts."

Silence gripped the room.

Ackman genuinely plotted to devour the Northern Territory.

The loyal aide whispered involuntarily: "But... should Red Tide Territory meddle..."

"Red Tide?" Ackman scoffed, as though at a farce.

"By sparing his merchants and zealot followers, I grant him honor."

He slashed his hand through the air: "Morkan stands apart. No vassal to Louis, outside Red Tide's fold. Should Louis interfere..."

Ackman dropped his hand, tapping the table's edge: "I’ll slap him instantly with charges of meddling in army matters and harboring personal forces."

The loyal aide gasped, ice crawling his vertebrae.

Every advance by Ackman came with prepped justifications; Louis's any reply would supply grounds for further grabs.

Ackman surged ahead, slamming his fist onto Morkan Territory: "His silence proves Red Tide a mere facade tiger.

Northern Territory nobles would flock to me at once, turning this realm into an open feast for my picking.

Should he rise, I’ll exploit it to brand him Empire foe, staining him traitor."

Flames played over his countenance, etching a perilous grin.

"Regardless, this strike descends."

Ackman withdrew his ever-present dagger, driving its point hard into Morkan Territory; the map's surface split with a subtle snap.

Gazing at the blade, his grin spread languidly, menacing: "Allow this lamb to cry out a few days.

I’ll gauge if that youth lounging in comfort harbors true grit to shield the North... or merely tallies ledgers from his keep."