Free Web NovelA week after the Spring Festival, morning exercises had just finished, and the white mist hadn't fully dispersed. Steam rose from the training ground of the Red Tide Knights' training camp.
Instructor Bruch stood on the platform, holding a parchment scroll: "Lord Louis selects a few young knights each year to join his personal guard. This signifies trust, and it also signifies a test."
The training ground immediately fell silent, dozens of eyes fixed on the scroll.
Bruch unfolded the list, raising his chin with a slight smile: "This year, the chosen ones are—Kosa.
Han Chi, Gray Harlow."
At that moment, the air seemed to pause.
Kosa was stunned at first, his hand frozen in mid-air, not even hearing his own name. By the time he reacted, his palm was already drenched in sweat.
Gray next to him reached out and slapped him, almost knocking him off balance: "Did you hear that? We're in the personal guard!"
The training ground erupted in applause and cheers. Their comrades surrounded them, teasing them, slapping their shoulders, and even excitedly lifted them up, tossing them a few times in the air.
Although a few gazes held envy and jealousy, most were filled with genuine laughter.
Bruch smiled and shook his head from the platform: "Perform well. It's not just an honor, but also a responsibility. Remember, standing by Lord Louis's side is a rare opportunity in a lifetime."
That night, Gray tossed and turned, unable to sleep, occasionally rolling over and hitting the bed next to him with a pillow: "Hey, Kosa, can you sleep? I'm already imagining myself riding a warhorse, guarding Lord Louis."
"Shut up." Kosa had his back to him, but his eyes were also open.
The moonlight from outside the window shone into the dormitory. He stared at that pale light, a mixture of indescribable emotions surging within him: pride,
excitement, and a touch of unease.
The next morning, they were summoned to the Red Tide Lord's Keep to report.
Weil personally received them.
This legendary figure of Red Tide was among the first group of knights trained by Louis. He entered the camp at twelve and reached the Extraordinary Knight realm in just five years, a genius among geniuses, known as the "Shield of Red Tide."
Kosa and Gray were so nervous in front of him that they almost dared not breathe.
Weil, however, smiled and stepped forward, patting their shoulders: "Welcome to the personal guard. Don't be too nervous, the Lord doesn't eat people."
He leaned in like an older brother, adding in a gentle tone: "Remember two things when you're by the Lord's side: obey orders and be steady. Besides that, he's gentler than you imagine."
Gray couldn't help but grin, and even Kosa relaxed a bit.
They could hardly believe that this Red Tide legend before them was so approachable.
"Alright," Weil turned and led the way, "Louis is waiting for you in the conference hall."
The two followed behind him, their hearts beating faster than war drums.
They had actually met Louis before, during their training camp days, when he personally praised their achievements.
But this time was different; this time they were to meet Louis alone and become true personal guards.
The door to the conference hall was gently pushed open, and warm light spilled onto the stone floor.
Louis was discussing the itinerary with Bradley and several councilors. He looked up and smiled when he heard footsteps.
"Kosa, Gray, right? I remember you."
The two straightened up and saluted almost simultaneously, their hearts pounding.
Gray's hands were almost clenched into fists, his eyes shining with excitement.
Kosa felt a warmth in his chest, his voice almost catching.
They had never imagined that the Lord they had discussed countless times at night would call out their names personally.
Gray couldn't help but puff out his chest, his voice filled with uncontrollable excitement: "Yes, of course!"
Kosa followed closely, his voice trembling but extremely firm: "Your subordinate will not fail!"
Louis looked at the two, a smile in his expression, his tone gentle: "Learn more, observe more. The future of Red Tide needs young people."
The two responded almost in unison: "Yes, Lord!"
Watching them leave, Louis chuckled softly: "Youth is truly wonderful."
Bradley and several councilors also echoed his sentiment, some sighing with a smile: "Their drive truly brings back memories."
Another councilor teased: "Looking at them is like looking at you a few years ago, Weil."
Weil, on the side, pretended to be a senior and commented: "Full of vigor, but their eyes are still firm. Young people, they should be like this."
Louis laughed, turning to tease: "Aren't you only sixteen yourself?"
Weil coughed, his expression slightly stiff, and laughter erupted from the others, the atmosphere instantly much lighter.
As the laughter subsided, Louis reined in his smile, returning to the main topic, standing with Bradley before an unfurled map.
Louis lightly tapped Frost Dragon Territory on the map, his gaze calm: "At this meeting, the Sixth Prince wants to intervene in Northern Territory affairs under the guise of reconstruction. We all know this. What he wants is nominal control, and what we want is a substantive structure."
He paused, his fingertip tracing a line, "The grain routes, account books, and regulations, we already control. The loyalty test will proceed as planned: voting, grading, and demarcation. It will be clear then who genuinely submits and who feigns loyalty."
Bradley smiled slightly: "Perfect, we also need such a scene to test the loyalty of the various territories. Everything will be executed according to our previous plan, and it will be clear who truly stands with us."
Louis nodded, his tone flat: "With the grain routes and account books in our hands, his so-called'special envoy' title is naturally very hollow.
We control the meeting process. If the Sixth Prince wants to participate, he can only do so within our framework."
Bradley responded: "This time is merely to confirm the results."
"Mm." Louis smiled slightly, then changed the subject, "Also, there's no need to select a model city anymore; it will be Frost Halberd City. We'll build a new Frost Halberd City based on that one, which will serve both as a window to showcase the Red Tide system and fulfill my promise to Duke Edmund."
Bradley murmured: "This is the most suitable choice, Lord. The terrain there is good, transportation is close, and it has enough symbolic meaning."
Louis put away the map, his tone calm: "We don't need to save face, only results. Once the Northern Territory operates according to Red Tide's rules, his meager prestige will naturally be completely eroded."
After being summoned by Louis that day, Kosa and Gray did not have any special assignments after leaving the main keep. They continued their training as usual.
Occasionally, they would accompany Louis to various places inside and outside the city for small escort duties, but there were no dangerous or exciting missions.
It wasn't until three or four days later that they received orders, learning that there would be a large-scale expedition, and this mission was extraordinary.
Louis would travel to Frost Dragon Territory to attend the Northern Territory Reconstruction Conference, a gathering of all the prominent lords of the Northern Territory and representatives of the Red Tide Council.
The journey was expected to last fifteen to seventeen days. He would depart from Red Tide, pass through various territories of the Northern Territory, and then enter Frost Dragon Territory.
Louis, of course, decided to inspect the various subordinate territories along the way to check the progress of the Red Tide system's implementation, and they would witness it all firsthand.
And they soon realized the unique nature of this expedition.
In the early morning, the snow in Red Tide City had not yet melted. The main street was swept clean, and the cold light reflected on the stone bricks, like a mirror laid out for the Lord.
Louis's colossal carriage slowly rolled out of the main keep. The carriage body was engraved with the Red Tide emblem, its heavy armor reflecting a cold gleam. A banner with a sun motif, a symbol of rule, hung from the front. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
Eight Frost Halberd steeds marched abreast, their hooves like drums, pulling the entire carriage like a slowly moving iron fortress.
To his left and right, Extraordinary Knights led by Lambert formed the vanguard, followed by the formidable Red Tide Knights.
Over three hundred knights were divided into five columns, their cloaks and armor shimmering in the morning light, their long spears rising like a forest. The formation on both sides of the street created an indestructible torrent of steel.
Every knight had undergone rigorous Red Tide training, from physical fitness and tactics to Aura manipulation, all of them Elite Knights or higher.
It was rumored that no one in the Northern Territory dared to challenge the might of the Red Tide Iron Cavalry now.
Officials, scribes, attendants, supply wagons, and patrol cavalry unfolded in sequence, with musketeers and crossbow cavalry patrolling the flanks for cover.
The entire contingent numbered over five hundred, meticulously organized, yet moving like a precise war machine, everything in perfect order.
As the procession passed through the main street, residents had already lined both sides, whispering prayers or shouting loudly.
Artisans doffed their hats in respect, children waved small Red Tide flags, and shouts of "Long live Red Tide!" echoed through the street.
Kosa rode in the rear of the procession, experiencing this powerful presence up close for the first time.
The wind swept from the front, carrying the scent of iron and fire. He gazed at the carriage, like an iron fortress, and felt nothing but awe and passion in his heart.
"This is—the prestige of the Lord of the Northern Territory."
Gray rode beside him, turning back with a smile: "Someday, we'll also be knights standing by Lord Louis's side, right?"
Kosa said nothing, only instinctively tightened his grip on the reins.
It was morning on Silver Ridge Hill, and the snow line still clung to the mountain hollows, as the wind blew a low, whooshing sound from the cracks in the ore veins.
Yoen Harway reined in his horse, which snorted at the top of the slope.
He raised a hand to block the light and looked down the mountainside, where the silver-iron ore vein stretched like a fishbone lurking in the earth, traversing a long section through the forest.
“Release the hounds!”
At the command, drums boomed from the temporary camp below the mountain.
A dozen Red Tide Knights galloped out into a loose formation, closing in from both flanks like a net, while hunting dogs weaved along their designated routes. A horned deer was startled, sending snow flying half a man’s height.
Yoen drew his bow, nocked an arrow, and released it. The feathered shaft cut through the wind and cleanly embedded itself in the deer’s shoulder.
“A hit!”
“Viscount, you’re still as steady as ever!”
Several young Red Tide Knights rode forward, gesturing with their spears, eager to chase a few more.
An attendant rushed over to take his bow, handing him a cloak, praising him repeatedly: “Truly a hundred shots, a hundred hits, my Lord!”
A chorus of praises enveloped him, like a warm current dispelling the morning chill.
Yoen couldn’t help but throw his head back and laugh, thrusting his bow into the attendant’s hand, dismounting, and quickly walking to the horned deer to grasp its antlers.
“Extra dishes tonight!” he turned, smiling broadly, “Follow me, we can’t let our brothers go hungry.”
“Long live!”
“Long live Yoen!”
The flattery contained genuine admiration, and Yoen felt comfortable hearing it.
He abruptly untied the money bag from his waist, scattering a handful of gleaming coins. The gold rolled wildly on the snow, and several young Red Tide Knights were so delighted they nearly jumped up.
“Hold on tight, don’t fall!”
“Thank you, my Lord!”
“The Viscount is generous!”
The crisp clinking of metal mingled with laughter, making even the wind seem a little warmer.
Yoen watched them and couldn’t resist throwing out another handful.
The attendant cautiously reminded him from the side: “My Lord, you’ve given out quite a lot of rewards today—”
“What do you mean, a lot?” Yoen patted the attendant’s shoulder, “The more we earn, the more we reward. Silver Ridge Territory isn’t short on this.”
He turned and looked towards the mining shed on the mountainside. It was a standardized mining shed built by Red Tide Workshop, with square wooden frames erected on stone foundations, a snow-proof tiled roof, and smoke curling from the chimney.
Further in the distance, a new market street was being renovated, with stone bricks laid on «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» the ground and a drainage ditch extending straight downstream.
Along the street were warehouses, blacksmith shops, and academies, with Red Tide emblems hanging under the eaves.
Two years ago, after the barbarian disaster was quelled, Yoen was still guarding his barren old land—a single muddy road, a few dilapidated houses where the dirt walls crumbled with every gust of wind.
Yoen could only rely on his father’s aid to barely hold on, until a Red Tide document brought Louis’s letter.
“Relocate Baron Harway’s land to the southern border of Red Tide, near the ore vein. It will be uniformly planned by Red Tide, and its accounts will be incorporated into Red Tide’s.”
Everything thereafter unfolded as smoothly as melting spring snow: the engineering team sent by Red Tide erected the first mining shed on Silver Ridge Hill, with craftsmen raising columns one by one and sealing walls panel by panel.
Furthermore, his own family's operations in the imperial capital secured him the title of Viscount.
Yoen once believed that the glory of the Northern Lands had to be seized with sword and fire, but he watched as the path automatically unfolded before him.
On his first morning at Silver Ridge Hill, sunlight reflected off the snow, illuminating the red waves on the Red Tide banner.
He stood on the balcony of his new residence, holding a cup of hot wine, watching chunks of ore being mined in the distance, and his people moving back and forth on the ground like diligent beetles.
“My boss really lifted me up,” Yoen said with a smile to his personal Red Tide Knight.
Initially, he was a little unaccustomed to it.
In the past, on his old land, he had to make trivial decisions every day: who would patrol the mountains, who would guard the grain, which family received an extra three bundles of firewood, which hunting team stole two badgers.
Since Red Tide took over, professional scribes were responsible for accounts, mining officials for the mines, master craftsmen for repairs, and civilians...
At the end of each month, surpluses were automatically transferred to his account, and quarterly dividends were delivered by a dedicated person.
“What else can I do?” Yoen asked himself for a while.
The answer came quickly: he led hunting parties and maintained morale.
He attended banquets, serving as a successful example of the Red Tide system to demonstrate to those skeptical nobles.
He occasionally visited Red Tide City to see Louis, writing down minor operational issues within the system and informing his boss.
But more often, there was nothing he needed to do, or had to do.
So he slowly learned to let go, and the assembly line in the mining area became smoother, and the warehouse statistics became more accurate.
Today building the market, tomorrow paving the streets, everything was developing for the better. “Viscount!” The same young Red Tide Knight ran over again, this time even more urgently, practically hopping uphill, “Lord Louis, Lord Louis is here! Their contingent entered the South Gate and will arrive at Silver Ridge Hill before dusk!”
Yoen froze for a moment, then his eyes lit up, and he sprang up like a coiled spring.
“The boss is coming?”
“Yes!”
“What are you waiting for? Blow the horn! Everyone, put down what you’re doing, mining carts to the right, clear the streets! Kitchen, bring out the best meat, open the wine cellar, we’re setting up long tables tonight!”
He rattled off a dozen commands, his voice brimming with uncontainable excitement, “Hang the Red Tide banners, call out the academy children’s choir!”
The attendants scrambled, scattering in all directions.
Yoen snatched the attendant’s cloak and draped it over his shoulders, then, finding it not dignified enough, turned and shouted to the butler: “Bring that red cloak with the black trim, yes, that one! Right, I need to look presentable for the boss!”
The cloak was donned, but the buttons were fastened incorrectly.
He fumbled, then simply tore it open and re-buttoned it, while the attendant stifled a laugh.
Yoen glared: “What are you laughing at? Laugh again and I’ll dock three days’ pay!”
“Yes, yes, no laughing, no laughing!” The attendant’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.
Yoen led his horse, practically tumbling down the slope.
The wind poured in from the mountain pass, making the banners flap loudly. His heart pounded with warmth, like when he used to run on the training grounds in the Imperial Capital as a young man.
“The boss is here,” he told himself, “I must personally greet him at the city gate.”
