Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence Chapter 704 - 396: Dog (2)

As Morkan staggered away, the door closed slowly behind him.

Isaac could no longer hold back and said: "Brother-in-law... A guy like Ackman won’t cough up the meat he’s swallowed. Letting Morkan leave like this... Isn’t that just sending him straight to his doom?"

Louis picked up his feather quill, scribbling on the Red Tide Emblem stationery, his face utterly serene and detached: "Isaac, the initial lesson for you is to stop counting on the enemy’s compassion.

I dispatched Morkan not for reclaiming those goods."

He halted his writing, allowing the ink to dry briefly in the air.

"Once those goods got seized, they were lost forever."

Isaac stood frozen in shock.

Louis lifted his gaze, his eyes profound like the midnight of the Northern Territory’s harshest winter: "What I really seek is a justification."

Then he glanced aside to issue a command: "Sako, fetch Lambert here."

The young Barbarian nodded and exited.

Isaac raised his chin a bit, appearing mildly intrigued, yet too cautious to probe further.

He sensed the mood shifting, moving from the prior teaching to a tense aura of impending conflict.

Soon after, Lambert entered, his armor coated in frost from wind and snow, standing tall regardless.

He halted a half-step from Louis, clenched his fists in salute: "My lord."

Louis questioned directly: "What’s the current knight count in Frost Halberd City?"

Lambert’s gaze sharpened, grasping Louis’s intent at once.

Without doubt or delay: "Two thousand one hundred from the Red Tide Knight Order, six hundred Silver Fang Knights, alongside knights with the nobles, totaling roughly one thousand one hundred.

Combined fully, we have three thousand seven hundred cavalry ready, and that weapon is here."

A faint smile crossed Louis’s lips, one laced with icy menace that pierced the soul.

"That’ll do."

At that instant, the Ice Wolf emitted a soft rumble, as though detecting the brewing tempest across the Snowfield.

......

In the war council chamber atop Gray Stone Fortress.

The massive Northern Territory map on the wall bore crimson slashes, like a beast laid open.

Ackman positioned himself by the map, his frame massive like an upright grizzly.

His finger tapped lightly on a parchment, his own "Northern Territory United Defense Draft".

Firelight flickered across half his visage, rendering his eyes shadowy and avaricious.

Empire, Prince, Nobility... Such terms meant less to him than becoming a hereditary duke.

Loyalty to the Second Prince? Merely a convenient rung on his ladder for now.

His true goal: to usurp Duke Edmund’s seat.

All he lacked was a spark to set it ablaze.

That "requisitioned" haul from Morkan served as lure and test alike.

Should Louis stay quiet, it proved Red Tide a mere hollow threat.

Should he dare appear... It handed Ackman grounds to charge him with meddling in army matters and misusing forces.

A chilly grin twisted Ackman’s mouth.

As he prepared to study the map deeper, rapid footfalls echoed from the entrance.

Tension gripped the Gray Stone Fortress hall abruptly.

Two guards shoved in a trembling figure — a Morkan family baron.

Ignoring the icy floor, he dropped to knees at Ackman’s feet, hunching like a chilled stray hound, yet forcing a fawning grin.

"Sir Legion Commander... My Morkan folk fell short, bothering your noble troops. I’m a fool, blind to the deep strategies in your campaigns... I come bearing profound regrets."

Morkan uttered this, deliberately pitching his voice low and meek, mimicking the obsequious drawl of southern nobles begging, even trailing flattery at each phrase’s end.

"I beg your lordship to see clearly... My humble caravan’s a speck in Northern Territory, nothing against your army’s grand fame, truly nothing..."

He crawled ahead swiftly, pulling a gem pouch from his chest, holding it aloft with both hands, letting firelight make them sparkle vividly, ready to yield all at Ackman’s gesture.

"This modest token... Kindly take it, my lord. Your brothers drill without cease, defending relentlessly; I hold them in awe. If those goods could... er... be returned in gesture, not for worth, just so I can account back home... For any tasks ahead from you, Morkan house won’t falter!"

His speech dripped with sycophancy, boosting Ackman near as Northern Territory’s overlord, every line hailing "Your lordship’s wisdom," "Your lordship’s fearsome renown," his voice groveling at boot-level.

Ackman dipped his head, gazing at the gemstone pouch lying on the floor, and his eyebrow twitched noticeably.

He wasn't completely free of greed.

This aristocrat, groveling in the dirt yet masterful at flattery, truly matched his preferences.

Had Morkan been sharper and more careful in usual circumstances, Ackman might have simply fobbed him off with vague promises.

After all, sparing such a chatty cash cow promised greater returns than ending it.

But this time around, minor profits weren't his goal.

"The earlier goods... If returned twenty percent... No, no, a mere ten percent, my lord, I’d be content! In the future, I’d surely praise you as the true guardian of the Northern Territory..." Morkan remained clueless about Ackman’s real aims and kept yammering on.

Ackman booted the gemstone pouch aside, sending it tumbling into a pillar as the gems spilled out with sharp clinking noises.

"Misunderstanding?" Ackman peered down at him, voice like clashing cold steel, "Are you saying I stole your stuff?"

Icy sweat poured from Morkan in an instant, his frame slumping even lower, forehead almost scraping the ground: "No, no, no! Never! It’s a levy! It’s an honor! I... I’m here to beg your wisdom and instruction..."