Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence

On this cold and unfamiliar wasteland, Raymond suddenly experienced an unprecedented illusion.

It was as if he had been stripped of all armor and clothing, standing naked in an illuminated clearing.

And deep within the mist, Louis was standing there.

……

The outside world only saw the fall of Gray Rock Castle and Raymond’s army suffering repeated setbacks in the Mist Swamp.

But the true support of this war lay within the Red Tide Army, the intelligence line Louis had never disclosed.

The battle of Gray Rock Castle was not won easily.

The blitz rhythm was stretched to the limit, with knights continuously fighting, their stamina and spirit rapidly depleting.

Steam war vehicles were forced to operate at high intensity amidst rainstorms and cold currents, terrain and low temperatures requiring almost half to undergo repairs.

Moreover, supply lines were stretched, repair teams rotated day and night, and though the legion appeared intact, it was approaching its carrying capacity.

If at this moment, Raymond chose to press forward regardless of the cost, the outcome would hold no suspense.

The Red Tide Army could still win, but it would be a victory not worth the cost.

A frontal crash meant a war of attrition.

It meant exchanging knights, vehicles, and time for an army that had already lost strategic value.

Even if Raymond were ultimately defeated, the Red Tide Army would gain no extra resources, population, or territory, only overdrawing its strength in the least appropriate season.

Louis would not accept such a victory.

In his judgment, the true risk was never whether Raymond could fight, but whether it was worth fighting.

Therefore, this front line was never designed for annihilation from the start.

[Daily Intelligence]was constantly refreshing.

Raymond’s legion’s marching routes, logistical nodes, scout deployments, and even high-level psychological changes were dissected into cold and concrete information.

Louis did not need to completely control the opponent, only some audience nodes.

When would Raymond feel that this path could no longer continue?

Before Lambert set out, Louis told him three words: “Bite him hard.”

Louis did not want a decisive battle, but rather an illusion.

To make Raymond feel that the road ahead was not a path to force through but a meat grinder that had begun to operate.

Every step forward meant bleeding, yet the end was nowhere in sight.

Therefore, the Red Tide Army’s actions were deliberately controlled at a vague boundary.

Guerrilla teams only struck vital points, never lingering.

Attacks always occurred where Raymond least wanted to lose, the scouts and logistical nodes.

Each precise attack was enough to spark association in any veteran.

Their dynamics were completely seen through, there were traitors among them.

Larger forces, intact heavy artillery positions, or even a battle site ready for a decisive clash awaited ahead.

Each attack added to this pressure.

If during this process, Raymond was directly worn down, causing the army to collapse amidst constant harassment, that would be the ideal result.

If not, at least push him back.

Make him account for this arithmetic.

Advancing meant a doubting army crashing against an invisible wall.

Retreating, at least, could preserve a nominal integrity.

This was the option Louis truly prepared for Raymond.

Not victory or defeat, but choice.

On this invisible frontline, the Red Tide Army never attempted to hide its purpose.

……

In the central tent, the air seemed frozen.

The charcoal fire in the brazier was burning vigorously, yet it could not dispel the chill pressing on Duke Remont’s chest.

The generals stood in the tent, no one spoke, even the faint sound of armor clashing was deliberately suppressed, leaving only the occasional crackle of the oil lamp.

When the first urgent report arrived, Raymond was still standing.

The messenger kneeled on the ground, voice hoarse.

Gray Rock Castle had fallen, Kael was dead in battle.

Raymond’s fingers trembled slightly.

It was a dull pain as if flesh had been forcibly gouged out.

Gray Rock Castle was more than just a fortress.

It held his family cemetery, his bloodline memories, the traces of his journey from boyhood to today.

His kin, his old troops, those he considered as fallback… all were now under Louis’s control.

More crucially, the underground laboratory was completely destroyed, the collections, ledgers, alchemical materials, secrets, and wealth accumulated over three hundred years by his family, all fell into Louis’s hands.

But this was only the beginning of the nightmare.

The second piece of intelligence was almost slammed onto the desk by Duke Remont.

In the southwest, the Jade Federation had completed its assembly, with a large number of mercenaries launching an attack on the southwest province.

Simultaneously, there was turmoil at the Holy Eastern Empire’s border, with the Fifth Prince’s banner and the Church Court’s Holy Emblem raised together.

The scent of chaos had finally torn away the fig leaf completely.

Raymond did not lift his head.

His gaze fell on the map, on the provincial borders that should have been under his control.

They were being pressed, divided, and tugged by unfamiliar hands.

Then came the third piece of intelligence.

The secret agent almost crawled into the tent, wounds still bleeding.

Secret orders from the Imperial Capital.

His Majesty the Emperor, whom Raymond had placed on the throne with his own hands, to escape control, had ordered Raymond’s elite garrison around the Imperial Capital to move to the southwest front line.

In name, it was to support the Empire, but in reality, it was to fill the pit.

To use Raymond’s last knights to plug the gap against the Jade Federation’s attack.

Upon hearing this intelligence, Raymond slowly closed his eyes; he understood everything.

This was a complete act of killing two birds with one stone.

The so-called new Emperor wanted him to be dragged to death by Louis at Gray Rock, hollow his lair out, and exhaust his Imperial Capital knights in the enemy’s meat grinder.

By the time he somehow made it back to the Imperial Capital, it would have already changed hands.

His family, his bloodline, his retreats… all gone.

“Ungrateful whelp!”

Raymond’s eyes flew open, the fury finally losing control, the sound like that of a wounded beast squeezed from deep in the throat.

He grabbed the document tube on the table.

It was sealed with wax, originally prepared to be tied to the leg of a Gale Bird.

Once released, the mobilization order to fully advance on Gray Rock would propagate throughout the army in the shortest time.

He could still turn back and fight Louis at all costs.

“Crack.” The document tube was crushed in his hand.

The metal edge cut into his palm, the blood dripping through his fingers stained the map, coloring the spot of Gray Rock Castle.

That was his birthplace as well as the biggest failure of his life.

Raymond stared hard at that spot, eyes bloodshot, almost dripping blood.

“Louis…” his voice was low and terrifying, “you venomous snake.”

Calculating the season, the terrain, his thoughts, even the foolish Prince’s betrayal.

Forcing him to choose between two options.

No one dared make a sound in the tent.

Raymond’s chest heaved violently a few times; he forcibly steadied his breathing.

Reason, like being pulled from torn flesh, was gradually extracted.

If he now returned to Gray Rock, what would he gain?

A looted empty city, a worn-out remnant army worn down by winter and ambush, and the simultaneous dead-end pressing from the Imperial Capital and southwest.

That wasn’t revenge; that was suicide.

Raymond raised his hand and drew his sword.

A flash of cold light, a corner of the desk was sliced to the ground.

“Pass the order,” his voice was hoarse yet exceptionally clear, “the entire army will turn around.”

The generals’ heads snapped up.

“Your Grace!” someone exclaimed, “that’s our home…”

Raymond did not look at him: “The home is already gone.”

When he spoke those words, his tone was frighteningly calm.

“Going back now will only throw lives away there too.” He pressed his bloodstained hand onto the center of the map, “We’re returning to the Imperial Capital.”

Raymond’s gaze lingered on the map for a moment.

Not at the Imperial Capital, but past the bloodstain on his fingertip, once again falling on the northern region already marked in red.

He said nothing more.

But in that brief silence, a resolve was driven deep into his heart.

He would undoubtedly return.