He hesitated not, nor was uncertain, stepping forward, dropping to one knee, and presented the emblem representing military authority with both hands, saying solemnly:

"I, Yorn Harvey, am willing to submit all remaining forces under my command to the unified dispatch of the Red Tide Command."

His voice was exceptionally clear in the silence.

Immediately, Lady Grant rose.

Her movements were slow, yet extremely determined, as she gradually removed the family emblem adorned with silver threads, handing it to the envoy beside her who would present it forth.

"My territory is ruined, my family remains. I understand that Red Tide is our last barrier... we will no longer act on our own accord."

She gently lowered her head, as if bidding farewell to a segment of history, also as if welcoming the arrival of a new order.

Then Roland Sirius slowly nodded, the wrinkles on his face seeming even deeper.

He did not speak, merely removing the ring engraved with the Sirius crest from his hand and placing it on the table.

It was a symbol, a symbol of power belonging to the old era, now personally relinquished by him.

A few minor nobility exchanged glances.

Some hesitated, some revealed signs of struggle, but ultimately, under the stern gaze of the Red Tide Knight, they rose one after another, handing over the family emblems representing private military dispatch rights.

"You have made a wise decision," Louis said evenly, "From now on, local fortresses, natural passes, and village strongholds will be centrally defended and garrisoned by the Red Tide Command. Your troops will be integrated into the war zone system for rotation and frontline support."

He raised his hand and unfolded deployment maps on the long table.

On them, black lines outlined the mountain terrain, yellow sun patterns marked controlled areas, blue indicated the next focus of defense emplacement.

"The Glacial Canyon is set as the northern line interception position, defended by Red Tide heavy cavalry; Snow Forest Valley is the key supply route, incorporated into the minor noble's forces, co-guarded by Red Tide Inspectorate personnel."

"The military stations and supply points will no longer be managed by you independently; instead, they will be co-managed by the Red Tide Finance Bureau and Military Supply Department. Simultaneously, I will send Knight Commanders and Inspectors into each family to ensure the implementation of orders."

No one voiced objections.

The arrogance of those old nobility died quietly within this fortress.

No need for bloodshed, no need for weapons; just a dispatch order, a silent meeting, was enough to overthrow and reshape the entire old Snow Peak system.

They once had dominion over life and death in their lands, once prided themselves on family glory, looking down on all emerging forces.

But now, their castles burned, citizens devoured, the knight team in tatters, and emblems and banners passed down for hundreds of years became abandoned items. And their fate now rested in the hands of the youth sitting at the end of the Red Tide's long table.

On this night destined to be remembered, an entirely new and austere wartime order was born from the fortress:

With Red Tide as the heart, leading resource distribution, coordinating combat power deployment, directing command issuance;

With Louis as the will, integrating administrative dispatch, tactical execution, and psychological control, penetrating unified "military-political integration" control into every stationed camp, every valley outpost.

Yet this is not solely for war.

Louis stood by the fortress's high window, overlooking the contiguous lights of the entire Red Tide garrison camp, with no arrogance in his eyes, only mild certainty and some... quiet ambition.

The goal of this meeting was never just "to hold Snow Peak County."

"Snow Peak County must be held," he whispered in his heart, "But if all we do is hold it, that would be somewhat wasteful."

What he intends to do is implant the order of Red Tide into every knight team fleeing to them before the flames of war have died down.

Not merely unified dispatching, not merely deploying defense lines, but to deeply seep in the ideology of Red Tide...

Stability, efficiency, obedience to orders, no noble cliques, emphasizing coordination and systematic warfare—until these penetrate into the bones of the nobility knights.

He wants to show them what "systematic warfare" means.

He wants their knights, officers... to learn on the battlefield to obey the command center, not to turn back waiting for the patriarch's orders.

After the war ends, these families will become unfamiliar and fragile, while their soldiers, their heirs, their descendants... will be more accustomed to living under the Red Tide's system, and even inseparable from it.

By then, no political struggle is needed, no one needs to be overthrown, the future decades-long pattern of Snow Peak County will already be written.

He lightly raised the corners of his mouth, that smile not belonging to a young lord still struggling in the mire of war, but more like a chess player who has already seen the winning move.

"Not just to win, but to remind them who led them to victory."

This is not pride, but a rare genuine joy belonging to Louis.

In days filled with chaos, bodies everywhere, letters continuously bringing news of woes, being able to calmly and clearly set up his own chessboard brought him a kind of indescribable satisfaction.

......

South side of Red Tide Castle, a quiet room in the recovery ward.

Morning light through the half-open window sprinkled light sunshine onto the gray-white stone floor inside. In the air lingered the lightly bitter scent of boiled herbs.

Flora leaned against the bed, wrapped heavily in furs and blankets, chest bound layer by layer with snow-white bandages.

Her right arm had completely lost sensation, immobilized on her chest with a sling, leaving only her left hand able to slightly move.

She gently scooped a spoonful of porridge, swallowing slowly, her expression still showing some weakness. But she maintained her upright posture, not displaying a hint of distress before outsiders.

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