Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence Chapter 740 - 412: Duke Calvin’s Stroke of Genius (Part 2)

A moment of silence followed before he raised the letter towards the flickering candlelight.

The parchment began to curl inward as it burned, releasing a dry, smoky scent that intensified the gloom of the chamber.

Once the flames died out, a fresh sheet of paper was laid out once more.

With his pen, he wrote the opening line: "Well executed. Continue the effort, but never forget your origins lie in the Southeast."

This message conveyed a desire for peace, acted as a cautious inquiry, and served as a late expression of goodwill.

......

Outside the window, rain hammered down like a relentless assault, its impact against the tower's glass producing a sharp, percussive sound.

Within a secondary tower of Grey Rock Castle, Kael Remont, dressed in dark, half-plate armor, was occupied with reviewing the supply logs destined for the Imperial Capital, illuminated by the wavering candlelight.

Known for his composed and steadfast demeanor, he was the primary commander entrusted with the territory's defense by the Remont Clan, a position of significant expectation from his father.

He had just finished penning the entry: "The third convoy of grain is scheduled to depart tomorrow..."

"Boom."

A sudden, muffled impact sound brutally disrupted the tower's quietude.

Kael's head snapped up in an instant.

Perched precariously on the windowsill, a Gale Bird lay tilted, its feathers slick and plastered to its body by the rain, its wings quivering as though violently forced from the sky by an unseen power.

Attached to its leg was a crimson tube, the symbol of the highest level of emergency communication, and its chest was impaled by a fractured crossbow bolt, crafted from exquisite steel and featuring barbs, clearly indicating it was not a weapon within the reach of commoners.

Kael's heart lurched with sudden apprehension, and he threw open the window.

A blast of frigid air surged into the room, carrying the rain and nearly extinguishing the candle.

He extended a hand to grasp the bird, now barely clinging to life, and carefully untied the message capsule.

The parchment inside was difficult to unfold, stained with rain and droplets of blood, the ink blurring into indistinct, dark smears.

Yet, despite the damage, the frantic and fearful script, penned by trembling fingers, was still discernible...

"An attack! An unknown force! Their weaponry... capable of breaching city walls... possesses immense destructive power..."

The signature, Count Doron, was written at a sharp, unsteady angle, as if the writer collapsed mid-signature.

Kael stood frozen for a moment, his throat constricting as if ensnared by an invisible cord.

Doron's territory was situated less than half a day's ride from Grey Rock Castle, and he was one of his father's most devoted and resolute vassals.

The towns within his domain, housing tens of thousands, were considered virtually impenetrable, and notorious for their ferocity, as no one dared to provoke the Duke's warrior retainers.

But now, such a desperate plea for assistance had arrived.

"Impossible..." Kael whispered, his voice strained, "Who could possibly conquer Doron's domain in a single night? Who would dare? And who possesses such... a weapon that can obliterate fortifications?"

The dancing candlelight cast elongated shadows across his face.

"Sound the alarm!" Kael's voice suddenly escalated, tinged with raw, uncontainable panic.

The door burst open, admitting a messenger officer, who saluted, "Young Master?"

"Release the Gale Birds!" Kael commanded, his words tumbling out rapidly. "Dispatch urgent messages to Black Iron Town, Fertile Plain, and the three Baronies along the Northern Frontier! Dispatch them immediately! Make inquiries about their current situation, any enemy banners observed, troop numbers, and details of all weaponry encountered!"

"Yes, sir!"

The messenger officer and his aides hurried from the tower. Cages were opened, and the Gale Birds took flight, disappearing into the tempestuous night.

...

The ensuing five hours constituted the longest period of darkness Kael had ever endured.

Within the tower, the only sounds were the howling of the storm, the sputtering of the candle, and Kael's own labored breaths. Twelve Gale Birds had vanished from sight, swallowed by the distant tempest.

Kael remained by the window, his gaze fixed intently on the inky void of the sky, as if sheer concentration could somehow summon a single bird back.

Yet.

Five hours elapsed, and not a single one returned.

It was as if these birds had flown into a vast, unseen maw, their very existence consumed along with them.

The hand gripping the window frame grew icy cold. Kael finally grasped the horrifying implication.

All surrounding territories, utterly vanquished...

The lords had not received their messages; more accurately, they were unable to send any replies.

"Who... who are they..." His voice dropped to a barely audible murmur, ravaged by the wind and rain.

The storm battered the tower's exterior, its fury echoing like distant war drums.

......

Kael had already dispatched several Knights under the cover of night to scout the neighboring territories, but even the swiftest Elite Knights would require at least six days to return with any intelligence.

On the third day, the frantic pounding of hooves, chaotic and urgent, erupted outside the castle gates, resembling a desperate herd of cornered beasts crashing against their final sanctuary.

The guards, their nerves frayed, reluctantly opened the main gate as a disheveled contingent of retreating soldiers from the north stumbled into the courtyard.

Kael swiftly descended the winding stone staircase, the torchlight casting a long, imposing shadow from his black half-armor.

Upon entering the grand hall, he observed a Knight Captain from Gray Stone Fortress, drenched and shivering, huddled near the warmth of the fireplace.

His war garb, a somber blend of muddy black and grey, seemed to be wrenched from a desolate landscape of carnage and spilt blood.

Drawing near, Kael seized the Knight Captain by his collar, hoisting him bodily off the ground. "What befell us?" he demanded.

The Knight Captain's eyes were clouded and vacant, as if some nocturnal entity had consumed his very soul.

His lips quivered, and only Kael's voice jolted him back to the grim reality, tears suddenly streaming down his face. "Gone... everything is gone..."

Kael's jaw tightened. "What is gone?"

"The Gray Stone Fortress!" The Knight Captain's voice cracked like a string snapped taut. "That bastion we were tasked to defend for three months... obliterated in a mere two hours!"

Kael stood transfixed, the stark meaning of those words struggling to penetrate his comprehension.

The Gray Stone Fortress was far more than a common military installation.

It commanded the strategic bottleneck between the Northern Empire and Gray Rock Province, an imposing, unbreachable gateway that divided the northern territories into two distinct sectors.

Within the Empire, it was revered as the mythical God Shield; its continued integrity guaranteed the Gray Rock Province would remain untouched by any invading Northern Knights.

Yet now, this very Knight was proclaiming its fall within two hours! "A fortress with triple-layered ramparts! Do you grasp what you're telling me... two hours?"

The Knight Captain clutched his head, as if warding off the lingering specters of a horrifying nightmare. "Thunder erupted endlessly... assaults came wave after wave... There were no siege ladders, no battering rams... They deployed some monstrous metal contraption, spewing black smoke from kilometers away... and then the walls... the walls simply crumbled..."

His narration grew increasingly disjointed, his mind seemingly fractured by the ordeal.

Kael drew a deep, steadying breath, compelling himself towards composure. "Their standard. Tell me, what banner did they hoist?"

The Knight Captain flinched, as if struck again by the terrifying apparition. "Red... a crimson sun emblem... the entire sky was stained crimson... descending like a blood-soaked tide..."

The very air seemed to thicken, heavy with dread.

Kael's grip loosened, and the Knight Captain crumpled to the ground.

Kael, however, remained rooted, as if struck by a bolt of divine lightning, his throat constricting.

The Northern Red Tide, Louis Calvin.

At this critical juncture, all disparate threads of information converged, forming a sharp dagger that plunged relentlessly into Kael's heart.

The severed communication lines from the north, the thunderous, unknown weaponry, the eerily silent advance... it all coalesced into a clear, devastating truth.

"It's him..." Kael managed to rasp, his voice like the grating of stones. "That predator of the Northern Territories."