Free Web NovelLouis awoke just as the sky was beginning to brighten.
The fatigue of last night's journey still clung to his mind; after racing from Dawn Harbor back to Red Tide, he had practically collapsed into bed.
He rubbed his temples and instinctively glanced to the side.
Emily lay beside him, blue hair spilling across the pillow, breathing softly, lashes trembling.
A tiny baby, curled into a ball, was nestled half inside her arm.
Louis looked down at them, his expression softening for a moment, then slipped quietly out of bed.
He threw on a heavy robe, walked to the window, and pushed open the wooden shutters.
Morning fog blanketed all of Red Tide City; snow-covered streets stretched into the distance.
Red-domed houses were faintly visible through the mist, like rolling waves.
Louis raised a hand and flicked his wrist; after a familiar chime, a pale-blue screen unfurled in mid-air.
【Daily Intelligence System update complete.】
【1: During a hunt, the Second Prince was ambushed by a mysterious high-rank Extraordinary Knight, lost his left arm, and remains unconscious.】
【2: Sixth Prince Asta August, bearing rare mana crystals in the name of the royal house, has recently won over Count Holmes.】
【3: A tribe of Frost Giants has appeared in the northern valley of Red Tide Territory, presumably wintering there.】
He focused on the first item, brows knitting slightly.
What was severed was more than an arm; behind it stood the dozen legions already pledged to the Second Prince, and the entire chain of command within the War Office.
Even if the limb could ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) be reattached, the injury would cut his edge in half.
Once the Second Prince fell, the capital's political balance would collapse overnight.
Would the legions keep backing a crippled prince, or scatter to support other claimants?
And if the military split, the Empire would have no unified defense—foreign powers would rush into the breach.
The capital's fractures were wider and deeper than six months ago, as if someone in the shadows were slicing open the Empire's veins.
Louis assessed it silently; he could almost see the scramble for legions, the shredding of command, the royal house settling scores.
He ticked off possibilities: internal purge in the War Office? Church interference? Aristocrats hiring blades? Or the Federation probing through proxies?
The report gave no culprit, only cold results.
This strike could not be the finale—only the opening act.
Chances of civil war in the capital next year were high; time left for the North to secure and consolidate itself was running out.
Louis exhaled a long breath—his own burdens kept growing.
Why all this fighting? Couldn't they join hands and build a better Empire?
【2: Sixth Prince Asta August, bearing rare mana crystals in the name of the royal house, has won over Count Holmes.】
“Asta...” Louis' lips twitched in a faint, mocking smile.
For him, Asta would never amount to more than a gnat. freeωebnovēl.c૦m
Every move the prince made appeared on the Daily Intelligence System almost instantly.
Though the Sixth Prince could not escape his palm, Louis was growing tired of watching him hop about.
A suitable moment to pluck out this thorn would come—just not now; the man still had uses.
As for Holmes—he was one of the political legacies Duke Edmund had left him.
Unfortunately, old Count Holmes had died this year, succeeded by an ambitious son eager to climb on a prince's coattails.
“Interesting,” Louis murmured, a cool smile touching his eyes.
He reined in the smile and turned to the third item.
【3: A tribe of Frost Giants has appeared in the northern valley of Red Tide Territory, presumably wintering there.】
Frost Giants had once been mortal foes for Louis when he first came to the North; then, he had to lay elaborate traps to hunt them.
Now even a single Elite Knight squad from Red Tide could wipe them out—no threat at all.
Yet Louis' mind raced through another possibility.
If they could capture the giants alive and deliver them to Merian the Alchemist for study, taming, or modification, the long-term gains would far outweigh short-term profit.
Even if taming failed, giant corpses made excellent fertilizer and raw material in the northern wilds; bone powder rich in mana could improve cold soil, and Alchemists could extract useful arcane components.
Louis noted silently: “Send scouts to observe without alerting them; if numbers are manageable, prepare a capture plan.”
He closed the Daily Intelligence System and exhaled, reviewing the day's news: internal strife, external threats—only he was busy building the Empire.
A soft rustle sounded behind him.
Louis sat on the bed and reached out to touch the baby's forehead.
The child cooed in his sleep, tiny fingers closing around Louis' own.
Louis stroked the infant's cheek for a moment, then returned to the window and began his daily cultivation in the pale snowy dawn.
He sat cross-legged, hands folded over his chest, guiding breath in slow cycles.
His breathing matched the rise and fall of the sea; battle-qi surged like tides through his blood vessels, coursing along meridians before flowing back. He could feel his strength increasing bit by bit.
An hour passed before the internal flow stabilized and he ended the session.
After a brief rest he closed his eyes and entered meditation.
Consciousness sank into a pure world of mana where time seemed to stop.
The Original Meditation Technique unfolded automatically in his mind; within the void shaped by thought, Louis guided motes of light, the flow of mana smooth and pristine.
Another hour passed; battle-qi and mana interwove within him, each reinforcing the other.
His battle-qi now sat firmly at high-rank Elite Knight, one step from Extraordinary Knight.
His mana had long since broken past ordinary mage limits, stepping into the domain of an Archmage.
In casting purity, most Archmages trained by the Mage Council could not match him.
With the bonuses of Rage-Burning Thorns Garden and the Hive's power, his overall combat strength rivaled an entry-level Peak Knight.
Throughout Red Tide Territory—and indeed the entire North—he was unquestionably the strongest.
To keep that strength hidden, outwardly he still projected the aura of an Elite Knight and a novice mage.
Louis smiled in satisfaction; from a talentless noble knight to his present level, without the Daily Intelligence System and his own ruthlessness, such progress would have been impossible.
When cultivation ended, the room had brightened further.
Emily and Sif were awake, the baby babbling atop the quilt.
The three shared a gentle breakfast.
Louis dressed the child, murmured a few instructions, then pulled on his coat and stepped outside.
The wind carried the scent of snow as he boarded the carriage heading for Red Tide's administrative quarter.
Along the way they passed a new castle under construction.
It was still the early stage; the massive stone foundations were already in place, and craftsmen bustled about amid cranes rising and falling while the roar of steam engines mixed with the clang of hammers.
Though the structure was far from complete, its outlines already hinted at future grandeur.
The carriage rolled on, crossed the stone arch of the main street, and stopped in front of the administrative hall.
Bradley was waiting at the door.
His expression was as grave as ever, but when he saw Louis a rare smile touched his face.
"Long time no see, Lord Louis." He bowed.
"Long time no see, Bradley." Louis returned the smile and clapped his shoulder. "You've had it rough."
Together they walked into the office; a wave of heat greeted them.
Documents were stacked in neat piles, and the air carried the scent of ink and fresh paper.
Bradley flipped through the thick ledgers, the firelight catching his face and deepening the lines the years had carved.
He opened the account book to report this autumn's harvest: "This year's autumn reaping figures are complete.
Thanks to expanded acreage, greenhouse investment, and tool innovations, total output reached 310,050 tons—half again last year's yield.
Green wheat: 100,000 tons; rice: 5,000 tons; beans and tubers: 140,000 tons.
New greenhouse crops are included for the first time, totaling 15,000 tons for urban supply and for medicinal or fodder reserves."
Louis did not answer at once; he only tapped the desk with steady, measured fingers, eyes calm as if calculating—or weighing.
Outwardly unruffled, inwardly a quiet satisfaction stirred.
Wheatwave Ridge and every camp had exceeded even his own forecasts.
Grain was the root of Red Tide's survival and the weapon of its future expansion.
He tallied the growth rates in his mind, picturing once-barren hills now sheeted in golden wheat—prosperity bought with order and planning.
"Excellent," Louis said. "Grain is our confidence and the root of Red Tide."
Bradley nodded. "As you ordered, we keep 60,000 tons as official reserves; 150,000 tons are set aside for external allocation."
"Sell 100,000 tons."
Bradley blinked. Louis went on, "Before, we gave aid for free, but the northern crisis has eased and they now produce their own grain and goods. From this year on, no more charity.
We'll offer favorable prices: the northern lords can buy with coin or barter. Because the haul is short, our grain will cost only half what southern shipments do.
First claim goes to Duke Edmund's vassals and Red Tide's earliest allies; the rest may buy within quotas. Whoever hoards or resells will pay for it."
Bradley looked at the young man, a complex respect rising unawares.
The once-overlooked boy now ruled the entire North with rules alone, turning power, popular will, grain, and destiny into an invisible hand that steered the whole realm.
Louis continued: "Three tiers—ally price, common price, punitive price.
Allied lands pay cost plus a small tax, a token of trust and mutual aid. Neutral lands pay the market rate; they owe us nothing and receive no protection.
As for rebels and waverers—if they want grain, they pay triple. Red Tide does not feed its enemies."
Louis paused, as though in passing: "Count Holmes—top-tier price."
Though puzzled, Bradley recorded it at once. "Yes, my lord. Count Holmes at the highest rate; I'll post the exact ratio so no one can miss it."
Louis gazed at the snowy scene outside. "From this year, Red Tide is no longer a charity but the steward of the North. Whoever wishes to live must play by our rules."
Bradley nodded quietly, realizing the young lord before him was no longer merely master of Red Tide but the very axis on which the North turned.
Louis's tone softened. "Bradley, how stands the rebuilding in the southeastern North?"
Though surprised, Bradley answered smoothly: "Overall conditions are good, my lord. Nearly all war ruins have been restored; transport lines are open.
Populations are returning; some areas have regained two-thirds of pre-war levels. Around Red Tide Territory things are livelier than before the fighting."
Louis inclined his head, as though balancing something. "Good. It seems we can hold the line—and advance."
He paused, voice dropping. "It is time to stretch our hand beyond the Southeast and steer the whole North."
Bradley lifted his head, delight showing. "High time, my lord.
You've spent two years securing northern goodwill with grain, but food alone cannot hold power. Take this step and none in the North will stand beside you."
"Then let it begin." Louis turned. "With order and profit we shall make every wind in the North blow Red Tide's way."
Bradley straightened, solemn. "Your will, my lord."
Louis smiled, tone easing. "No need for ceremony, Bradley. Speak—what would you advise? Had my father Duke Calvin held the reins, what would he do?"
Bradley considered. "His Grace was adept at binding hearts through marriage; in Southeast Province nearly every noble is cousin or in-law to the Calvin Family."
Louis's smile faltered as he pictured the Old Duke with his dozens of offspring, spawning children like eggs.
His thoughts leapt to his own one-year-old son—how to marry alliances with that?
He himself was diligent enough, yet perhaps he might never sire another child.
Bloodline strength made knights mighty but also made offspring a luxury; many imperial nobles ended life with only three or four.
Thinking of this he gave a wry smile; Duke Calvin's thirty-odd children had the whole empire wondering what tonic the man had swallowed.
Bradley sensed it too, and the air turned awkward.
He cleared his throat. "Of course, my lord, you need not follow him. Red Tide walks its own road." ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom
"In fact, I have long had a plan."
Louis smiled faintly and drew several sheets from the desk, covered in dense notes and marks.
