Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 435: Chapter 279: War Preparations Meeting (Part 2)

Silence spread through the room. Just after a good year, war returns unexpectedly.

“Are you saying…” Lambert frowned, “they’re marching south?”

“And possibly initiating once the spring snow melts next year,” Louis nodded, “We don’t have much time.”

He pointed to the intelligence reports nearby, where rough black ink arrows sketched possible attack routes of the Barbarian Race.

Louis paused, his gaze cold, “According to reports, they have acquired some ability to incite rage, frenzy, and even control the Frost Giants.”

“Frost Giants?” Lambert repeated softly, the wrinkles on his face deepening.

“Exactly,” Louis replied.

“What we must do,” he said, swiping a quill across the sentry defense lines of the Northern Territory, “is to keep them out, prevent their first collision, and not crumble.”

The crowd remained silent, as the flickering fire made the air seem heavier.

“I suggest extending the wolf sentries and hidden lines,” Northern Army Corps Commander Heller spoke first, his knuckles tapping the table, “The scouting range must expand, not missing a spot in the northern treeline or Windcut Gorge.”

“I advocate for establishing three lines of Fire Wall horses early,” Southwest Army Deputy Corps Commander Lesha echoed, “Especially around Freezing Spring Gate, if breached, the entire supply line will become as fragile as paper.”

Louis nodded slightly, as the recorder jotted down their words on parchment.

“And the Scarlet Leaf Ridge,” Southern Army Tactics Officer Tull stood up, a slight, unnoticed agitation in his voice.

“We originally only set up a sentry, but if they send Rage Giants, even one could uproot the cliffside post. I suggest deploying at least two Magic Explosion Crossbow Towers equipped with high-altitude magic bursts.”

“Scarlet Leaf Ridge is too far, the supply line stretches too long,” Eastern Army Deputy Commander Weir countered, “The production of magic explosives is already tight; diverting more there will deplete the main city’s reserves.”

Tull did not back down: “Without early deterrence, how many more will die when we fight?”

Weir snorted coldly but said no more, staring at the map with knitted eyebrows.

“In the southwest, I suggest deploying mental shock bullets,” North Army Forward Commander Ranjie suddenly spoke, his voice heavier than his usual playful tone.

“Infected ones cluster quickly in that area; we need to disrupt their emotional core. Even a few seconds of chaos will buy us breathing time.”

The crowd offered their suggestions babblingly, but without coherence or organization.

“I have noted all your opinions,” the recorder obliged, quickly gathering several pages of records, his wrist sore but daring not to stop.

Louis glanced over at everyone at the table, his voice turning low yet powerful: “Your suggestions are all good, now let me talk about my own deployment.”

The room suddenly fell silent.

Lesha rolled up a half-spread map and sat upright, Heller touched his chin, saying no more, and Lambert pushed aside a glass with a quill, nodding slightly…

Firelight cast over Louis’s profile, illuminating his unwavering eyes.

He stood up, tracing the Northern Territory border with his fingertips, before firmly landing on a crossroad marked in dark red on the map.

“Within a hundred miles of the Red Tide Main City, no Frost Giant shall take a step closer.”

He switched hands, laying out a simplified deployment sketch on the table, circling with a charcoal pen.

“We will construct a three-tier interception zone,” he spoke methodically, his gaze sharp as a knife.

“First, the outer defense line,” he tapped lightly in the northwest direction.

“Deploy magic explosive minefields, paired with folding horse barriers and ember firewalls to ensure maximum chaos and casualties for the enemy’s first charge.”

“Second, the middle ring,” he took a small flag from the table and placed it behind the defense line.

“Heavy crossbow towers and magic explosion projectile cavalry will suppress Frost Giants and Mutated Beasts, prioritizing kills.”

“Third, the inner circle, our last line of defense.”

He stated each word clearly: “Platforms of Steel Beasts, hook spear formations, and multi-point linkage of magic explosive projectiles must form a net of firepower to tear apart any invading Exotic Beast army here.”

He spoke slowly, as if unraveling a simple puzzle.

Yet with each word, everyone’s hearts steadied a bit more.

“Our greatest trump card remains the magic explosion bullet,” Louis turned to them, “Optimize the configurations of all explosive bullets; I don’t care if it’s flame, freeze, shock, or toxic, every type must be used.”

He spoke, his fingers twitching slightly, moving a column of small wooden markers wrapped in twine towards the mountain pass and valley at the map’s northern end.

“Special units shall also preempt. The Frost Howl Unit ambushes Snow Ridge Pass to disrupt enemy rhythm and prioritize beheading their leaders.

The Fiery Breath Unit, in teams of three, handles fire line patrols, ensures no gaps between defense zones; if we can hold, we can seal.

The Crimson Frost Unit reassigns heavy ammunition, absolutely breaking the enemy’s backbone in one strike.”

He stopped, exhaled a long breath, finally sitting back in the chair, looking at the map, then slowly lifting his eyes.

“We don’t fight for attrition,” he said, “We’re aiming for a decisive blow, not allowing a single step beyond our line.”

There was no one speaking in the room.

Silent, yet not oppressively so, more like a final stand before the drums of war.

The previously tense legion commanders now bore clearer senses of purpose on their faces.

Heller sighed softly, a barely perceptible smile at the corner of his mouth.

Lesha tapped her nails lightly, humming: “… Then what are we waiting for?”

Lambert muttered, “This battle, we must fight in a way that they dare not look south again next time.”

All eyes fell silently upon the map’s dense markers, lines, and heavily inked defense lines.

Their gazes hesitated no more, for the great Lord had made everything ready.

Inside the war room, the candlelight flickered, casting serious or determined outlines on every face.

The recorder put away the final page of notes, nodding quietly to indicate he had written everything down.

When the pen tip landed, it felt as though it concluded the meeting.

Thus, the border war of the Red Tide Territory quietly took root within a lantern-lit war room.

“Alright,” Louis put away the pointer, his voice steady yet firm as always, “This meeting is hereby concluded.”

He scanned each legion commander, his tone softening slightly but remaining sharp: “Remember what I’ve said. Next, it’s your respective battlefields.”

They all responded in unison, “Understood.”

Then rose, paying a solemn knight’s salute in sequence, expressing their loyalty.

Under the firelight, figures in fur armor and thick cloaks gradually left the war room, pushing doors open, welcoming the snow-laden wind, yet none retreated.

As their footsteps faded, the sturdy wooden door slowly closed amid the cold wind, leaving silence within the war room.

Only Bradley and Louis remained at the long table.

The old butler bowed slightly, pouring a cup of warm wine, speaking softly, “Sir… will the Spring Festival be held as usual this year?”

Louis paused, gazing at the map atop the table, and after a moment gently nodded, “Indeed. People have been striving hard constantly, without a festival for respite, it won’t do. It’s time to reconvene everyone, unifying their spirits.”

Bradley let out a reassuring smile, nodding respectfully: “I will organize it as per your intentions.”

He then bowed and exited, gently closing the door behind him.

The firelight continued to flicker, casting Louis’s silent silhouette in contemplation, pondering the impending crisis beyond the distant snowstorm.