Free Web NovelThe day after Louis returned, the clouds above Red Tide Fortress pressed down, as if the entire North had held its breath.
Louis donned his military robe and bid farewell to his two wives in the room.
Emily gently straightened his collar, her eyes hiding an unspeakable worry.
Sif said nothing, only held his hand for a moment, then released it.
But time was pressing; the tender embrace could not hold him.
Louis walked out of the room, his steps firm.
Every second of delay would mean a new territory falling, a new batch of Worm-Eaten Household corpses emerging.
The meeting hall of Red Tide Territory's castle.
This was where they had held meetings months ago, but the atmosphere now was entirely different from before.
The long table in the hall was filled with various nobles, some looking haggard, some with shifting eyes, and many more with their heads bowed, looking dejected.
Some of them had been personally rescued by Louis from the sea of insects, while others had desperately fled to Red Tide before their own strongholds fell.
No one spoke in the hall; only the wind poured in through the window cracks, bringing the bitter cold of Red Tide Territory's late winter.
Louis stood before the main seat, without pleasantries or greetings, merely scanning the crowd, his gaze calm and sharp.
The nobles either lowered their heads or secretly glanced at his expression, all looking grave, as if they already anticipated that this would not be a gentle discussion.
Louis was silent for a moment, then raised his hand, pointing to the large map of the North in the center of the long table.
“Gentlemen, you should know the current situation of the North.”
His voice was not loud, but every word sank into everyone’s chests.
“The entire Western Front has fallen. The Gwen family, the Heller family—many of you once called them ‘the pillars of the North.’ And now?”
His gaze swept across them, and some instinctively averted their eyes.
“Their territories are occupied by the Doomsday Mother Nest, turned into breeding grounds for Worm-Eaten Household corpses. Family members are either dead or have become Worm-Eaten Household corpses.”
Louis’s voice was unhurried, yet it was like chiseling stone into bone, carrying an unbearable chill.
“And Frost Halberd City is also under siege.”
He reached out and placed a crimson stone chess piece heavily on the map of the North, pressing it onto the location of Frost Halberd City. freēwēbnovel.com
That piece was surrounded by countless black marker lines, circles upon circles, dense as a spiderweb, as if slowly tightening a noose.
“I know the remaining forces in your hands are few, and it’s impossible to fight the Worm-Eaten Household—so if Red Tide falls,” he paused slightly, “none of us will survive.”
“No shelter, no supplies, no rear. Your families will abandon their cities in a panic like the Notts, unable to escape; your descendants will be crying in the mountains, their bellies ripped open by the Worm-Eaten Household; your family crests will be nailed to the Mother Nest’s resin walls, becoming nests for the next wave of insect swarms.”
His tone was not exaggerated in the slightest, but it was precisely this calmness that made people feel the undeniable reality.
“You are clear that the Worm-Eaten Household corpses are not bandits, nor are they rebels. They will not negotiate, will not take ransom, and certainly will not recognize whose descendant you are.
If Snowpeak County is completely wiped out, you won’t even get a dignified death as nobles.”
A young viscount, hearing this, trembled and nearly knocked over the water glass beside him.
Another old noble clenched his cane, his face ashen, but he forced himself to straighten his back, feigning composure.
Several family heads exchanged glances, their eyes filled with complexity and fear.
Some resented, some regretted, and some wanted to say something, but upon seeing the silent formation of Red Tide Knights behind the main seat, they swallowed their words.
The air seemed to solidify.
“You don’t have many remaining troops; I know. But I also know that, whether you are willing to admit it or not, these few troops of yours cannot defend your territories.”
When he said this, his tone suddenly deepened:
“But relying solely on Red Tide’s knight order for relief? We only have one direction for rescue, only one supply system, and only limited stamina and energy.
We cannot save everyone at once, unless—”
He slowly walked to the table, his hand resting on the map.
“Your troops, from today onwards, will be under my unified command.”
These words, like a blade, cut through the oppressive atmosphere, and everyone sat in stunned silence, their expressions varied.
“From this moment on, the knights under your command will no longer be ‘the troops of a certain family,’ but the defense line of Snowpeak County. I want your troops to garrison passes, defend strategic points, participate in mobile support, and become part of Red Tide’s defense system.
Only then do we have a chance to hold out and wait for the Imperial reinforcements.”
As Louis’s words fell, the hall plunged into a suffocating silence.
At Red Tide’s long table, faces grew paler under the projection of the red flag.
Some slightly clenched their fists, some instinctively looked around, trying to find allied gazes, but no one spoke.
It wasn’t that they didn’t understand what Louis was saying. They just weren’t willing to face the reality:
They had no retreat.
“If you still want to preserve some ‘lordly dignity,’ then go back to your ruined territories.” Louis’s voice was devoid of emotion. “I won’t stop you, but I also won’t send another soldier to save you a second time.”
He said, slowly stepping back half a pace, yielding the map’s position.
“Choose now. Either hand over your forces to me to rebuild a true defense line; or—keep them, and let them be buried with your surnames in the sea of insects.”
These words, like an iron hammer, struck everyone’s hearts.
The first to stand up was Yoen Harway.
He did not hesitate or waver, stepping forward, kneeling on one knee, and offering the emblem representing military authority with both hands, stating in a deep voice:
“I, Yoen Harway, am willing to place all remaining forces in my territory under the unified command of Red Tide’s headquarters.”
His voice was exceptionally clear in the silence.
Next, Lady Grant rose.
Her movements were slow but extremely firm, as she slowly removed her family crest, adorned with silver threads, and handed it to the messenger beside her, who presented it.
“My territory is broken, but my # Nоvеlight # family still exists. I understand that Red Tide is our last barrier. We will no longer act on our own.”
She gently bowed her head, as if bidding farewell to a piece of history, and also as if welcoming the arrival of a new order.
Then Roland Siris slowly nodded, the wrinkles on his face seeming to deepen by another fraction.
He said nothing, only slipped the ring engraved with the Siris crest from his hand and placed it on the tabletop.
It was a symbol, a symbol of power belonging to the old era, now relinquished by his own hand.
Several minor nobles exchanged glances.
Some hesitated, some showed expressions of struggle, but eventually, under the stern gaze of the Red Tide Knights, they rose one by one, handing over the family crests representing the right to deploy private armies.
“You have made a wise choice.” Louis’s tone was steady. “From now on, all fortresses, natural passes, and village strongholds will be uniformly garrisoned and deployed by Red Tide’s headquarters. Your troops will be incorporated into the combat zone system for rotation and frontline support.”
He raised his hand, and deployment maps of the defense lines unfolded on the long table.
On them, black lines outlined the mountainous terrain, yellow sun patterns marked controlled areas, and blue indicated the next key points for deployment.
“The Glacier Valley will establish a northern blocking position, defended by Red Tide’s heavy cavalry; the Snow Forest Valley is a vital supply route, incorporated into the minor noble forces, jointly garrisoned by Red Tide Auditing Department personnel.”
“Military stations and supply points in various locations will no longer be managed solely by you, but will be jointly controlled by Red Tide’s Finance Department and Quartermaster Department. At the same time, I will dispatch knight commanders and inspectors to each family to ensure that orders are implemented.”
No one voiced an objection.
The arrogance of those old nobles quietly died within this stronghold.
Without bloodshed, without weapons, just a single military deployment order and a silent meeting were enough to overturn and reshape the entire old Snowpeak system.
They once held the power of life and death over a region, once prided themselves on family honor, and disdained all emerging forces.
But now, their cities were burned, their people devoured, their knight orders shattered, and their centuries-old medals and battle flags had become discarded relics. And their fate was held in the hands of that young man sitting at the end of Red Tide’s long table.
On this night, destined to be remembered, a new and stern order of war was born from the stronghold:
With Red Tide as its heart, it would control resource allocation, coordinate troop movements, and dictate command issuance;
With Louis as its will, it would integrate administrative dispatch, tactical execution, and psychological control, permeating the “military-political unity” into every garrison camp, every mountain valley outpost.
But this was not merely for war.
Louis stood by the high window of the stronghold, overlooking the continuous lights of Red Tide’s garrison camp, his eyes showing no arrogance, only a faint certainty and a certain—unspoken ambition.
His goal for this meeting was never just to “hold Snowpeak County.”
“Snowpeak County must be held,” he whispered to himself, “but if all we do is hold it, it would be a bit of a waste.”
What he wanted to do was to implant Red Tide’s order into every fleeing knight order while the fires of war were still burning.
Not just unified deployment, not just defense line arrangements, but to thoroughly embed Red Tide’s principles—stability, efficiency, obedience to command, no noble cliques, emphasis on coordination and systematic warfare—into the very bones of these noble knights.
He wanted them to know what “systematic warfare” meant.
He wanted their knights and officers to learn to obey the command center on the battlefield, rather than turning back to wait for their family head’s orders.
When the war ended, these families would become unfamiliar and fragile, and their soldiers, their heirs, their descendants would be more accustomed to living within Red Tide’s system, perhaps even unable to leave it.
By then, without any political struggle, without overthrowing anyone, the next few decades of Snowpeak County’s structure would already be written.
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, a smile that did not belong to a young lord still struggling in the quagmire of war, but rather to a chess player who had already seen victory.
“Not only to win, but to make them remember who led them to win.”
This was not pride, but a rare trace of genuine pleasure belonging to Louis.
In the midst of all the chaos, the littered corpses, and the continuous bad news, being able to calmly and clearly set up his own chessboard gave him an unspeakable sense of satisfaction.
South side of Red Tide Fortress, a quiet room in the recuperation level.
Morning light streamed through the half-open window, casting faint sunlight onto the gray stone floor of the room. The air carried the slightly bitter scent of boiling herbs.
Flora sat leaning against the bed, thickly wrapped in animal furs and cotton quilts, her chest downwards bound with layers upon layers of white bandages. Her right arm had completely lost sensation, fixed to her chest by a sling, with only her left hand still able to move slightly.
She took a very light sip of porridge and slowly swallowed it, her expression still showing a hint of weakness. But she straightened her back, not showing a trace of discomposure in front of outsiders.
“Lord Louis has arrived,” the attendant outside the door announced softly.
Before she could reply, the door gently pushed open.
Louis Calvin entered, having walked through the snow, draped in a black cloak, his shoulders still bearing unremoved leather armor and insignia, with remnants of snow on his boots, as if he had just stepped in from the cold wind.
His eyes were steady, his robes neat, only a hint of fatigue in his eyes betraying his long journey.
“Apologies for disturbing your rest,” he nodded slightly in greeting, his voice gentle and restrained.
Flora looked up, a faint smile appearing on her haggard face.
“You came at a good time. This old bone of mine owes you a thank you,” she said softly.
“You don’t have to,” Louis stood by the bed, his tone polite and sincere. “Red Tide merely did its duty.
It was fortunate that we could save you.”
Flora shook her head, a hint of solemnity in her eyes.
“It wasn’t luck; it was a life-saving grace.
If your knight detachment hadn’t appeared in time, we would probably all be buried under the ice and snow of the plains now. You saved us—Louis, I owe you my life.”
She paused for a moment, then, as if feeling it wasn’t enough, rephrased: “No, all of us owe you.”
At that moment, her gaze towards Louis held no wariness, only genuine gratitude and respect after experiencing such heavy trauma.
Louis lowered his head slightly, not interrupting, only walking to her bedside and glancing at the notepad she had placed by the bed.
It was densely covered with lines and annotations: the structure of the Mother Nest’s cocoon shell, the trajectory of magical fluctuations, patterns of broken insect silk, and several blurry, strange runes.
“—I know these are messy,” Flora said softly, “but I was afraid I might faint one day and forget, so I wrote down as much as I could.”
Louis nodded faintly: “Very valuable. More meaningful than many ‘complete reports.’”
Flora looked at him, as if a little surprised. She had thought this young lord would just say a polite word or two and then leave, but she didn’t expect him to take it seriously.
She suddenly smiled: “Magician Forest has already received the distress signal I left. A batch of more powerful Archmage support is on the way and will directly contact the Governor’s Mansion.”
“That’s good news for the entire North,” Louis responded softly, his tone a little more relaxed.
Flora leaned gently on the soft cushions, looking at him, and suddenly said: “You are a special young man. To be able to defend a territory like this amidst such great turmoil—I truly didn’t expect it.”
She looked at him, without any suspicion or guard, only pure admiration.
“Perhaps, it truly is the North’s fortune.”
Louis smiled slightly, but said little else, only gently folding the Mother Nest sketch and carefully putting it into his cloak’s inner pocket.
He stood up and nodded to her: “Please rest well. I have already given instructions for magical healing and protection; Red Tide will do its utmost to take care of you.”
As he reached the door, he paused, then softly added:
“Flora, Red Tide will not forget everything you brought back, nor will it forget the price you paid.”
Louis closed the door, his footsteps echoing in the corridor.
He didn’t look back, only let out a soft breath.
“Gained favorability successfully—I guess.”
He wasn’t here to be sentimental. He was a knight, but not the kind who charged on the back of righteousness.
He came today to set up his strategy.
As long as Flora was alive, the door to Magician Forest remained open.
Red Tide saved her; she would owe a favor. And what he wanted was that favor.
And if he could bring in a few more Archmage supports for the North, even if they came with selfish motives, it was still good.
Being able to understand the Mother Nest’s magical structure was a profitable deal.
“One more point of combat power means one more point of victory.” fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓
“Solve that thing sooner—only then can the North have a winter.”
