Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence Chapter 708 - 398: Quagmire

In the afternoon right after the gathering, Louis dispatched a servant to rap on the doors of all the Lords and Knight delegates present.

He left behind a single brief note: "Assemble at the North City Wall, there's something you must witness firsthand."

No reasons were provided; he simply directed his aides to ready cloaks along with portable heaters.

And so, the nobles who had lounged in plush chairs sipping tea while hashing out alliances and profit splits the day before now had to scale the freshly constructed walls of Frost Halberd City amid howling gales and relentless snow.

They figured Louis was merely showing off or staging some pompous lordly review.

But upon reaching the ramparts and beholding the dark flood assembling beyond the city, every shred of their optimism and speculation shattered in an instant.

Louis hadn't summoned them for a ritual; he wanted them to confront the looming peril and the might of the Red Tide up close.

Nothing but raw terror could compel these holdouts of ancient noble ways to grasp why control of the military had to shift to the Red Tide.

Only while perched on this wall lashed by ferocious winds, staring down a disciplined army bearing down on them.

Would they finally comprehend that the Old North lay in ruins, and the new Northern Territory could rise anew solely through steel and flames.

...

The Northern Territory's fierce winds raged across Frost Halberd City's North City Wall, echoing like the bellow of an entire Icefield.

The heavens hung oppressively low, with the blizzard ripped by gusts into white lashes that whipped against the merlons and banners, producing a muffled crackle.

Sharper than the gale and flurry, though, came the intensifying tremor that quaked the very atmosphere.

It began not as hoofbeats, but as a profound thunder rolling up from the earth's core, reverberating endlessly with crushing weight.

One by one, the nobles atop the wall held their breath.

"Is that... an earthquake?" a voice quavered.

"No." A different noble rasped, "That's a cavalry surge."

Eyes shifted to the distance, where a thread as fine as silk emerged abruptly on the previously blank snowy skyline.

Neither gale nor snow could hide its expansion; that dark streak ballooned and broadened rapidly like an incoming wave, devouring every hue across the Snowfield.

A cry rang out, "Is that... a legion? An entire legion?!"

Counting the Knights proved impossible for anyone.

The ebony flood extended to the horizon's edge, endless as far as the eye could see.

Miles off, their precision in motion was palpable.

No yells, no bellows—just endless iron-shod hooves pounding the snow into a relentless "thud—thud—thud—."

Such quietude choked more fiercely than any war drum's beat.

This marked the advance of an imperial regular army, the Empire's deadliest engine of war.

Upon the command platform of Frost Halberd City's North City Wall, nearly every noble gathered had gone ashen with fright.

Right then, the gravity of Louis's meeting words sank in—they weren't bluster.

Three legions, nine thousand Knights, barreled toward them.

Icy blasts tugged at their thick furs, and a few dropped to their knees gripping the crenellations, their tones cracking like shattered clay: "We're finished... impossible to halt... who could block such numbers?!"

A handful of fainthearted Barons had started slinking back, seeking the wall's descent stairs, as though fleeing the sight might push doomsday farther away.

Count Albert remained planted at the forefront.

Loyal retainer to the departed Duke Edmund, he was a veteran commander forged by decades of harsh blizzards.

Amid this near-asphyxiating pressure, he held his posture firm, albeit with brows furrowed deeper in worry than before.

Unlike the rest, he stayed composed, murmuring lowly: "Lord Louis, the Seventeenth Legion paired with two other forces pushing south at once—this is highly irregular. Will your prearranged defenses truly suffice?"

Such words stemmed from a seasoned warrior's duty to safeguard the Northern Territory.

No challenge to Louis's word, just probing if the youthful lord truly trusted his plans against this cataclysmic force.

Louis eyed him coolly, his face serene like a lantern's glow amid a storm: "Have no fears, Count Albert. Preparations are complete."

Count Albert paused briefly, then peered once more at the far-off dark deluge, his clenched fists easing gradually.

With a soft exhale, he shook his head: "...Very well, I'll observe."

As the riders drew nearer, all eyes fixed on the young lord in the main seat.

Ensconced in his chair, Louis cradled a warm cup of crimson tea, resembling someone savoring a cozy salon tea hour rather than perched on a rampart soon to face a cavalry onslaught.

Blustery winds billowed his cloak, yet his eyes stayed half-lidded.

He simply pivoted his gaze toward Isaac, drenched in anxious sweat at his side.

Instinctively gripping Louis’s cloak, the boy’s shoulders stiffened like unyielding stone.

Yet as Louis turned his gaze toward him, he swiftly raised his chin, desperately feigning bravery.

Louis set aside the teacup, gently smoothed Isaac’s wind-ruffled blue hair with his hand, and asked in a casual tone like inquiring about supper: "Are you afraid?"

Isaac’s breath caught sharply, his earlobes turning red from the chill, yet he clenched his teeth and shook his head defiantly: "No... not afraid."

A subtle smile curved Louis’s lips—not in mockery, but as a soothing reassurance.

"Good." He murmured gently, "Then open your eyes wide and see clearly, this is the last curtain call of the old era."

...

The fierce gale of the Northern Territory howled through the Birch Forest pass, as though the vast Icefield itself whimpered faintly.

Ackman halted his warhorse with a firm pull on the reins, positioned at the forefront of the ranks.

His eyes scanned the 300-meter-wide pass toward Frost Halberd City, bordered by sheer cliffs of glossy, ice-mirroring smoothness on both sides, while ahead stretched a vast white plain blanketed in swirling wind and snow.