The wind and snow raged outside, and the sky above Frost Halberd City was as gray as a pot of thick molten iron.
Inside the office of the Northern Governor’s Mansion, the fire in the fireplace was weak, unable to suppress the bone-chilling cold.
Duke Edmund, draped in a black military cloak, stood in front of a wooden table, his brows furrowed, staring at the open map.
Frost Halberd City, in the center of the map, used to be the pride of the Northern Territory. Now, it was like a festering sore pinned on paper, too painful to look at directly.
"It cannot remain."
His gaze slowly drifted away, landing on other potential new city sites on the map, but none were completely suitable.
"Corpses, poisonous fog, necrotic remnants... as long as the remnants from the Nest are not cleared, Frost Halberd City cannot be inhabited."
However, the outside cold wave had already arrived, heavy snow blocking the roads. Rashly relocating the city was equivalent to courting disaster; they could only temporarily hold on here to survive the winter.
Edmund’s knuckles pressed against the table, pondering for a long while, his brows never relaxing.
Just then, a knock broke the dead silence: "Knock, knock."
A low yet tense voice ca from the old butler outside the door: "My Lord, an urgent letter from the Imperial Capital."
Edmund was slightly startled and raised his head.
"Bring it in," he said in a deep voice.
The butler respectfully entered, handing over a parchnt letter sealed with a golden dragon crest.
The wax seal was exceptionally striking; it wasn’t the Emperor’s personal insignia but the exclusive emblem of the "Dragon Throne eting."
Edmund took the letter, slightly frowning, a sense of unease rising involuntarily.
He had long known that this letter would eventually co and the general content of the eting that concerned his fate.
But until he actually opened the envelope, he couldn’t calm his heart.
He silently cut the wax seal, unfolded the parchnt, and neat, cold handwriting ca into view line by line:
In light of the extre disaster situation caused by the rampant insect plague in the Northern Territory, partial defensive lines have been lost and regional order severely damaged. However, the Governor’s Office has made great efforts to coordinate disaster relief and restore order. Therefore, by His Majesty the Emperor’s approval, the Dragon Throne eting has resolved as follows:
It is confird that Duke Edmund’s organization and coordination during this disaster have been effective. He shall retain the title of "Governor of the Northern Territory" and be appointed as the "Chief Officer of Post-Disaster Reconstruction," overseeing the comprehensive reconstruction affairs of the Northern Territory region.
The Imperial Oversight Departnt will send three departnts to the Northern Territory to integrate into the financial, military, and civil governance systems, exercising direct imperial audit and supervision authority.
The "Northern Expansion Plan" is to comnce imdiately, selecting lineal descendants from the Imperial Capital and nobility to migrate gradually, assisting in the reconstruction and optimizing the power structure.
His Highness, the Sixth Prince Astha August, shall personally establish royal territory in the Northern Territory, representing His Majesty overseeing the reconstruction and fulfilling the role of royal authority in the North.
The reconstruction eting shall have thirteen seats, with eight seats fully nominated and allocated by the Chief Officer of the Reconstruction Headquarters, assisting in restoring Northern administrative affairs and executing reconstruction plans.
The stamp at the end of the letter is the joint resolution seal of the Dragon Throne eting, without the Emperor’s personal signature, but it already equates to an imperial decree.
Edmund finished reading, and his fingertips silently tightened for a mont.
Then, he slowly exhaled.
"...We’ve retained it."
His first reaction was mild relief—Frost Halberd City wasn’t directly taken over by the Imperial Capital.
Instead, they chose to give him the appearance of honor and leadership under the guise of "upgrading to the Reconstruction Office."
This was already the best outco.
Even if he understood that this so-called "good" was essentially compromise, hanging by a thread, maintaining a veneer of dignity on a knife’s edge.
He placed the letter down, his gaze heavily falling back onto the map, recalling the letter’s content, his brows furrowing once more.
"...The Northern Expansion Plan, the three oversight departnts, the Sixth Prince setting up territory." Edmund’s eyes turned sharply cold, "Indeed, the Emperor isn’t sparing . He’s steadily replacing the blood."
He quickly laid out the logic in his mind:
The three oversight departnts ant that financial and military aspects would be fully monitored, and he would no longer have independent control.
The expansion plan involved introducing major noble lineages to the Northern Territory, under the guise of "joint reconstruction," but in reality, it was to seize territory and restructure the power dynamic.
The Sixth Prince’s personal arrival ant that the royal envoy was not just a titular noble but the Emperor’s progeny, effectively driving in the wedge of royal intervention.
This was a gradual, yet thorough, takeover.
On the surface, the Northern Governor’s Office would remain, but in reality, it no longer belonged to the Edmund family.
"The knife is already pressed against the throat; it just hasn’t cut down yet."
Edmund stared at the letter sealed with the Dragon Throne eting’s emblem, pondering deeply.
Although the Empire’s blade was poised at the Northern Territory’s throat, there was still leeway.
The Post-Disaster Reconstruction Headquarters was still under his leadership.
The reconstruction eting, shared by northern and southern nobility, had thirteen seats, eight of which he had absolute authority to allocate.
At least that’s sothing he could hold in his grasp.
He gently tapped on the Northern Territory map on the table, various candidates quickly crossing his mind, and the first na that erged was without suspense.
Louis Calvin.
Snow Peak County, the only entire territory preserved in this catastrophe, not only survived itself but also supported the Governor’s Office at the most critical ti.
Louis held a complete army, with a foundation among the populace.
More importantly, after this battle, he has been tacitly recognized by the commoners and the remaining nobles of the Northern Territory as a trustworthy strongman.
He had the capacity to quickly integrate new nobles with local surviving forces, and the qualification to sincerely mobilize public support.
Most importantly, he was his son-in-law.
Edmund closed his eyes for a mont and showed a faint, bitter smile.
This wasn’t purely for familial benefits but the Northern Territory’s only rational choice at the mont.
Moreover, the Calvin Clan had indeed advocated for him in the Imperial Capital eting.
This favor had to be returned.
"The first seat, give it to him," Edmund quietly said to himself.
As for the other candidates, several noble families had survived in territories farther from Frost Halberd City.
However, their strength had significantly diminished; family heirs were killed in battle, private armies reduced, and many noble houses even had their lineages severed.
After this battle, the Northern Territory’s risk-resilience capability drastically fell. Winter hadn’t ended yet, and no one knew how many would remain after enduring the extre cold.
At this thought, his temples began to throb, the buzzing in his mind like a copper bell struck by frost and snow, low and hoarse.
Since the great war, his internal injuries had never healed.
The doctor had implicitly told him that perhaps... perhaps, he really didn’t have many good years left.
He might not live to see the day when the Northern Territory returns to peace.
Suddenly, there was a gentle knock on the door outside.
Footsteps, familiar, light, with a hint of breathing.
Without needing a report, Edmund already knew who it was.
The door slowly opened, revealing Alina with her heavily pregnant belly, carrying a steaming bowl of dicinal soup, gently saying, "You’re disobedient again; the doctor said you shouldn’t be too exhausted."
Edmund softened the weariness in his brows, offering a relaxed smile as he took the bowl, "Don’t worry, everything will be fine."
The soup was bitter, yet it carried a trace of warmth.
He looked down at Alina’s rounded belly, where their child was growing, perhaps his only hope for the future.
But the ruins of the Northern Territory, the Northern tribes, the Emperor’s sches, and this newly begun storm of reconstruction...
He didn’t know what kind of era this child would be born into.
"How long can the Northern Territory endure?" he silently sighed in his heart.
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