Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence

The faint light of dawn silently spilled into the room through the lattice window.

A layer of fog-like morning light cast soft and hazy shadows on the floor and the edge of the bed, reflecting a scene inside the room so tranquil it was as if time had stopped.

The warmth of last night's fireworks had not completely dissipated, like the trailing notes left by a dream.

Louis slowly opened his eyes.

He didn't get up immediately but instinctively glanced to the side.

Sif was quietly curled up in his arms, her posture a little cautious, yet carrying an unintentional dependency.

Her silver-white short hair was scattered on the pillow, like a layer of frost silently covering a snowy night.

Her eyebrows were peaceful, her pale cheeks were tinged with a hint of red from sleep, breathing steadily and warmly.

Last night, she didn't say anything, just stayed silently by his side after the dance ended, not uttering a word.

Louis knew she had sensed his hesitation, ambiguity, even avoidance.

She was too smart not to know that the fireworks were not prepared for her, nor would she misunderstand his casual mention of a "dance partner invitation."

Yet she still smiled and extended her hand.

"Thank you for your hard work," he murmured softly, as if speaking to her, or perhaps to himself.

He slowly sat up, his movements gentle as if not wanting to disturb the girl sleeping in his arms.

Raising his right hand lightly, he waved his palm.

Accompanied by a soft "hum," a translucent light curtain slowly unfolded before him, revealing familiar ice-blue interfaces.

[Daily intelligence update complete]

[1: The Supreme Mage decided to dispatch three Grand Mages and an elite Silver-faced Squad to the Northern Territory of the Ironblood Empire to investigate the insect corpse attack case.]

[2: Vic's investigation discovered that the insect swarm has shown organized tactical behavior, suspected of intelligent evolution, and has sent a team for in-depth investigation.]

[3: Eduardo Calvin, under the orders of a Bishop from the Golden Feather Flower Church Court, heads to the Northern Territory to investigate the disappearance of Grand Mage Jurgen Locke.]

The floating blue light curtain in the air gently trembled, lines of intelligence automatically scrolling and updating.

Louis quietly watched, his right-hand fingers tapping lightly on his knee, his emotions ebbing and flowing with the three pieces of intelligence.

The first was that the Grand Mages and Silver-faced Squad would be visiting the Northern Territory to investigate the insect corpses.

His lips unconsciously curved up slightly; it was good news.

The deployment of Grand Mages by the Mage Forest indicated that they had finally realized the seriousness of the situation.

This not only alleviated his pressure but also meant that higher-level forces were involved, shielding him from much trouble and suspicion in the short term.

Besides, if the presence of the insect corpses could be eliminated by them, he wouldn't have to worry about it either.

The second piece was that Vic had identified the insect swarm exhibiting organized behavior and tracked the whereabouts of the insect corpses.

Louis nodded; another piece of good news, though nothing much to say, he hoped Vic could uncover more truths.

But just then, his eyes fell on the third piece of intelligence.

That moment, his brow gently furrowed.

Eduardo Calvin.

The name of his older brother appearing in the intelligence list wasn't surprising, but the problem lay in his credentials.

"Under the orders of the Bishop from the Golden Feather Flower Church Court."

Louis's gaze fixed.

The Golden Feather Flower Church Court? ... That's the authoritative body of the Golden Feather Flower Religious Authority Country.

Everyone in the Empire knew that this religious country was at odds with the Ironblood Empire and could even be considered its most significant enemy faction.

And now his brother was appearing in the Northern Territory as a "Bishop's Envoy," coincidentally investigating the disappearance of Grand Mage Jurgen Locke, which was closely tied to him...

His fingertips twitched slightly, the characters on the intelligence light curtain reflecting in his eyes but unable to conceal the turmoil in his thoughts.

"When did he establish connections with the Golden Feather Flower Church Court? Does father... know about this?"

This was the first thought that flashed in his mind. If father didn't know, then it was too dangerous.

If father knew, then this was probably his contingency plan.

After all... the Emperor's actions had become increasingly overbearing in recent years, forcing various powerful nobility to prepare alternative routes in secret or openly.

The Calvin Clan should be no exception.

He wasn't sure if his brother was attending his wedding, investigating the Grand Mage, or using the church's name to strategize in the Northern Territory.

Perhaps all three.

But in any case, such a figure appearing at this time must not be left unattended.

Not to mention that the subject of his investigation was Jurgen Locke.

The missing Grand Mage had died right before him and was closely connected to the Primordial Meditation Technique in his mind.

"All right then..." He extended his hand, closing the light curtain with a finger, as the blue light slowly dissipated.

Louis planned to guide him to focus on the insect corpses.

The more people entangled in this mess of insect corpses, the safer he would be.

With more people involved, he would have more shields to protect him.

Then he still disappointedly glanced at where the light curtain had last disappeared.

"Still no... direct core intelligence on the insect corpses."

......

Outside, the sky was flushed, like a red satin gently crumpled and slowly spread along the silhouette of distant mountains, shimmering in the clean evening breeze unique to the Northern Territory in July.

In the Governor's Mansion's dressing room, a silver mirror hung high, white gauze half-draped, like a stage curtain.

Emily was standing in front of the mirror, her skirt slightly lifted, her fingertips gently brushing the collar of her wedding dress.

This was her third time trying on this dress, and it would be the last.

The wedding dress was dark red, with a fine pattern woven into it, and gold thread meandered down from the shoulders, embroidered with the symbols of the Northern Territory: a flying eagle and a cedar tree.

At her waist was a pale gold belt that perfectly outlined her straight posture.

She stood there like a crimson rose on the snowfield, upright, elegant, yet exuding an unapproachable chill.

Emily had a typical face of the Edmund Family, with distinct features, brows sharp as blades, and dark eyes that were calm and cold.

She inherited her mother's soft hair color, a head of long blue hair, now styled into a "vow-style" bun of the Northern Lords, with a few strands of loose hair at her neck, tinged with a golden hue in the candlelight.

She stared at herself in the mirror, her gaze focused yet complex.

Her mouth slightly upturned, but not smiling, as if trying to adapt to a new identity.

"So, it's really... time to set out now." she said softly, her voice like a feather brushing across a clean tabletop.

Emily took a gentle breath, turned around, and said to the maid beside her, "Pack this wedding dress well, I'll wear it on the road tomorrow."

"Yes, miss."

It had only been three months since Emily decided to accept this marriage proposal.

"How sly, even though he only said, 'Welcome to the Red Tide,' I started expecting him to hold my hand, worrying about whether the headdress at the wedding would be too tacky."

She sat on the chair, hugged her knees, gently rested her head on them, and murmured softly.

"What color suit will he wear? Will he think my wedding dress is too formal? Or will he wait for me seriously, and then smile and take me over..."

As she thought, she looked at the distant flower vine wooden chair, where several half-written sheets of paper lay scattered.

She had originally wanted to write something, maybe a family letter or a farewell speech before the wedding.

But when holding the pen, she felt that the blankness was heavier than words.

The closer to the wedding, the more at a loss she felt, even though she wasn't that kind of person.

A gentle knocking sound came from outside the door.

"Come in."

The door creaked open, and it was her mother—no, her stepmother, but Emily never called her that.

To her, this was the woman who gently took her hand when she was six and stayed by her side ever since, her true mother.

"Are you all ready?"

Her mother was dressed in a simple dark blue gown, her hair coiled into a traditional Northern bun, looking gentler than usual.

"Hmm, pretty much..." Emily nodded.

She stood up, obediently walked over, and sat beside her mother.

Her mother gently tidied up a few strands of hair ruffled by the wind, then handed her a cup of hot tea.

"I remember the first time you attended a court ball when you were young, you wouldn't let me touch your hair and insisted on braiding a messy pigtail yourself."

"That's because I was afraid you'd make my hair too 'obedient'!" Emily protested softly.

Her mother smiled and gently tapped her forehead with her fingertip.

"From that time, I knew you were an eagle meant to fly away. One day you would fly out of this castle and walk your own path."

"But this time, you're flying a bit far." Emily said softly, without any hesitation in her voice.

"I... even though I've only met him once, I know he's not someone who lives off his family..."

"I trust he won't let me fall. Even if I fly far, I'm not afraid."

Her mother looked at her, momentarily absent-minded.

"You've grown into a woman, Emily. Faster than I imagined."

She gently embraced Emily, letting her lean on her shoulder.

"If one day you feel wronged, no matter how far, just write home. Even if I can't help you, you'll know you're not alone."

Emily hugged her mother tightly and nodded, "I won't feel wronged. I won't let you see such a thing."

......

On the early dawn of the next day, before the sky was fully bright, the sound of wheels rolling and horses' hooves hitting the stone path in front of Edmund's Mansion could be heard.

A grand dowry caravan lined up in the morning mist, the red and gold patterned curtain of the carriages fluttering in the wind, dozens of exquisite carriages lined up in a row.

Chests piled high as small hills, gold and silver wares, ceremonial utensils, wedding dresses and combs, and even Emily's sword for practicing swordsmanship were placed inside.

Guards and servants each played their roles, impressive yet not ostentatious.

Emily, dressed in a dark blue traveling cloak and wearing a cape, slowly descended from the stone steps.

Her stepmother held her hand, and they walked side by side towards the caravan, their buns damp from the morning dew, their expressions gentle.

"Father said he'd leave a bit later," Emily said softly.

"He'll make it to the wedding." Her mother tightened her grip.

The bells tolled, and the caravan slowly set off, heading in the direction of the Red Tide Territory.