Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence Chapter 719 - 402: Major and Minor Meetings (3)

Louis bypassed pleasantries and went straight to the heart of the matter: "I'm aware of your concerns. You believe I intend to disarm you all."

He gestured towards the window, where three heads, frozen stiff by the biting wind, swayed gently under the fading sun.

"However, consider this: in the face of overwhelming power, what true significance do your so-called strengths hold?"

Louis's voice, though not loud, sent a shiver down each person's spine. "The Knight Orders of those three legion commanders were individually more formidable than any of your noble houses. Yet, their heads now adorn the gates of Frost Halberd City."

No one dared to voice a counterargument. Louis's absolute military dominance was an undeniable fact, but this did not equate to their complete agreement with his assertions.

Their silence spoke volumes, a palpable dissent hanging in the air, so still one could almost hear the crackling of the fireplace.

Just as the suffocating tension reached its peak, Viscount Yorn reappeared.

He surveyed the assembled nobility. "Over the years in the Northern Territory, which of the esteemed houses present has not benefited from Lord Louis's aid? Provisions, skilled artisans, weaponry, military supplies, trade networks... which of these has not seen his support?"

Several elder nobles' eyelids twitched, but they remained silent.

Yorn maintained his composure, his words striking with surgical precision. "Reflect upon it, all these years, what has your allegiance to the Empire truly yielded? What have you gained in return?"

He extended a hand, indicating Louis, who occupied the main seat. "Conversely, by aligning with Lord Louis, each one of you has enjoyed more prosperity in the past decade than in any period prior."

The crowd was left without words.

Yorn's conviction grew. "Every decision made by Lord Louis demonstrates a clarity that surpasses any of ours.

The reconstruction of Frost Halberd City, the establishment of trade routes to the South, the development of winter granaries, the consolidation of security across the Northern Territory, the eradication of the Ackman corps—were any of these not the correct course of action?"

As Yorn concluded, the gazes of nearly every elder noble from the Northern Territory converged simultaneously upon Count Albert.

This quiet, elderly figure represented the pivotal balance of the entire Northern Territory. He was Duke Edmund's trusted confidant, a living symbol of the old Northern Territory.

Without his assent, this proposed alliance could never truly materialize.

Albert slowly set down his wine glass, his cane tapping the floor with a soft thud.

His eyes, weathered by years of snow and frost, were raised, their sharpness seeming to pierce the very soul of those before him. "Lord Louis, we acknowledge your military prowess and are thankful for your decisive action against the Ackman forces."

He paused, his tone resonating with the inherent stubbornness of the North. "However, the ingrained tradition of the Northern Territory dictates that each household manages its own affairs. To bind us together... is it not solely for matters of defense?"

Had anyone else uttered these words, they would have been construed as defiance. Yet, coming from Albert, it carried the weight of a necessary clarification.

The other nobles held their breath, anticipating Louis's response.

Louis offered a smile.

He walked deliberately to the wall and gently tapped the surface with the back of his hand.

Bradley, understanding the gesture immediately, drew back the heavy velvet curtain.

The moment the curtain fell, a collective gasp rippled through the assembled nobility.

Revealed was an intricate strategic map of the Empire, stretching across the entire wall.

Louis retrieved a pointer and, with a decisive 'pa', tapped the vast expanse of territory south of Gray Stone Fortress.

"The Count poses an excellent question," Louis replied, turning around. For an instant, an uncontainable fire seemed to blaze within his eyes.

"If our objective were merely to defend this limited domain, I would indeed have no need for such measures."

He swept his hand across the map, his voice deepening with power. "But the Regent King is deceased, and the Empire is plunged into turmoil. The formidable barrier that has shielded the Northern Territory for centuries, Gray Stone Fortress, has now been breached by my hand."

He leaned forward, his tone igniting like flames. "Gentlemen, do you truly wish to remain confined for your entire lives within this desolate, frozen expanse?

Do you not yearn for the warmth of the southern lands, to claim fertile vineyards? Do you not desire to control several ice-free ports? Do you not wish for your children to experience life under the sun, rather than perish in the relentless blizzards?"

These pronouncements were undeniably audacious, words that could not normally be spoken to the assembled nobility of the Northern Territory. Yet, Louis was confident that no one within the confines of this private chamber would betray this conversation.

And his words struck home like lightning, their impact echoing fiercely within each person present.

Count Albert's once-hazy eyes suddenly gleamed with astonishing brilliance. He murmured, "When Duke Edmund was alive... we too considered a southward expansion."

However, Duke Edmund was bound by his noble principles. He remained steadfastly loyal to his guardian oath, refusing to involve himself in the empire's internal conflicts. Moreover, at that juncture, the Gray Stone Fortress presented a formidable natural defense, standing as an obstacle.

Albert rose slowly, his entire demeanor suddenly reignited, akin to a blazing torch.

He abruptly lifted his wine goblet: "The Albert Clan's trade routes to the South have been choked for two decades! I've had enough of bowing and scraping to those in the South!"

His glass ascended higher, his voice resonating throughout the entire war room: "If your objective lies in the South, then the knights of the Albert Clan pledge to spearhead the assault!!"

In that instant, the very air within the chamber seemed to vibrate.

With the influential Albert pledging allegiance to Louis, any lingering discontent among the other Nobles regarding the consolidation of power evaporated instantly.

In its place surged an immense yearning for the fertile Southern lands, the gentle warm breezes, and the promise of both riches and resounding glory.

Animated discussions erupted throughout the room:

"How lucrative are the annual sales of Southern wines?"

"Ports that remain ice-free... that's a dreamland worth aspiring to!"

"If we could march South, even meeting our end on the journey would be a worthy sacrifice!"

Louis made a subtle gesture, and the rising clamor gradually subsided.

His voice, clear and composed, nonetheless carried a profound confidence that soothed every anxious heart.

"War is not a mere pastime; venturing South demands immaculate timing. Place your trust in me, and I shall lead the Northern Territory to strike at the most advantageous moment."

These words acted as the steadfast anchor of a sea god, instantly calming all the turbulent minds present.

For they were all keenly aware that since Louis's ascent, whether confronting the Nest, the Savage Races, or the Corps, not a single campaign or strategic decision had ended in failure.

He possessed an exceptional talent for biding his time until the perfect moment, and then unleashing his full might when that moment arrived.

With the strategic arrangements concluded, every individual raised their crystal goblets:

"To the Northern Territory!"

"To a New Era!"

"To the Southern Vineyards!"

The resonant chime of clinking glasses filled the clandestine chamber, a clear and harmonious melody, as if heralding the impending victory in advance.

At this precise juncture, the formidable war apparatus of the Northern Territory, now under Louis's decisive command, began its intricate operation, while the South found itself engulfed in profound upheaval.