The two exchanged gratitude, and in the conversation, they had already developed an initial acquaintance in the Northern Territory where the frost and snow had just begun to melt, before going their separate ways.

A little further away under the corridor, Safer held a cane and looked at the back of the young viscount who was turning to leave with a gift, he squinted slightly and whispered, "This young man from the Caven Clan is truly remarkable."

......

The three-day meeting continued; like melting frost and snow, the flow was slow but never stopped.

After the first day's rivalry, the four branches of the Imperial Capital seemed to have had a bucket of cold water poured over them; although they did not admit defeat, they realized that they could not force it.

In the following two days, their tone was noticeably more restrained, proposals became more cautious, frequently concluding with "negotiation" and "discussion".

The framework for the Reconstruction General Authority's power thus solidified, and the Northern Territory's seat of power no longer appeared as weak as it initially had.

Under the coercion and inducement from Duke Edmund, the four branches of the Imperial Capital also began to slowly split apart.

The financial representative Kant and the logistics representative Heruda gradually felt frustrated, and their words turned cautious daily.

Meanwhile, the military representative Gareth, after several discussions with Duke Edmund, began to lean towards practicality, gaining the right to station troops in the Northern Territory.

Mei Si from the Inspectorate continued to watch coldly, seemingly having everything recorded in his little notebook, but no one could discern his true stance.

Thus, the pile of parchment on the table grew taller, each written phrase outlining the fate of the Northern Territory in the coming years:

Who would oversee the reconstruction among the ruins?

Where would the first batch of grain and iron materials be transported to and from?

How would the displaced people be registered, taxed, and settled?

Would soldiers return to their camps, establish military farmlands, or borrow land for farming?

...

In this gradually stabilizing situation, Louis was like a quiet stream seeping into every crack unnoticed.

He almost never actively sought to seize power, yet he could always unfold his network of interests in unnoticeable details.

As if those decisions were always meant to be, not out of contention, but out of "reasonableness," gaining substantial benefits.

Once the three-day meeting concluded, Louis did not linger any longer.

He merely nodded and exchanged polite greetings with Astha and several local nobles before turning and leaving the Frost Halberd Council Hall.

In the howling cold wind, the Red Tide's carriage was already waiting at the street corner.

Louis boarded the carriage, shut the door, closed the curtains, and the sound of wind was instantly blocked outside.

Then he untied his scarf, leaned against the cushions, and exhaled deeply with eyes closed.

Success!

Louis's mind quickly reviewed every topic and every "suggestion" from the three days of meetings; he did not directly propose even one requirement, nor did he directly compete for any area.

Yet what finally landed in his hands exceeded his expectations by a margin.

An area of over 800,000 square kilometers was skillfully carved under the name of Red Tide as a temporary reconstruction zone, becoming his territory.

Concentrated in the North East, and according to the Daily Intelligence System, it contained vast resources.

Of course, he couldn't boast about it.

For a viscount to hold lands of marquis or even ducal scale was to be kept low-key and hidden.

He only needed to ensure genuine settlement of the population, village towns formed, and the granary operational—for it to become a fait accompli.

Additionally, 23,000 refugees were listed as permanent residents and farm workers for Red Tide, forming the lowest tier of labor and future "New Red Tide People."

Also, more than 20,000 other slaves were incorporated into support teams, scheduled to arrive gradually within a month.

They were nameless, without backgrounds, yet were indispensable flesh and blood for farming and construction.

Moreover, in that "Northern Territory Recovery Priority" program, he was in the first tier.

Refugees, craftsmen, merchants, wandering knights—as long as he provided a meal, a piece of land, a protective contract, they would become part of Red Tide.

No aristocracy could "consume" this marginal populace earlier than he could.

As for resources, he didn't return empty-handed either.

This time, what he truly brought back was a whole set of core material systems sufficient for Red Tide Territory to fully recover.

He secured the priority for grain allocation; the first batch of 2,500 tons of emergency relief grain before spring was to be directly allocated by the Imperial Capital Grain Reserves Bureau, first shipped to the Red Tide Territory warehouse.

This meant all refugee resettlement points and farmland areas would complete food coverage before spring, securing a crucial planting window.

Thirty tons of salt and cheese each, forty tons of cured meat, and a batch of herbs and basic medical supplies.

In addition, priority for five hundred sets of agricultural iron tools was granted, including hoes, plows, hammers, spades, etc.

Plus, approval for two initial smithing furnaces, three spare magic energy cores, and one hundred tons of raw ore for smelting—even if the amount wasn't large.

Yet it was enough to ignite the first spark in Red Tide's "self-made" system.

Thus, the resources in Louis's hands were sufficient to emerge from disaster and the cold winter.

Spring plowing would have oxen and iron tools, construction sites could light furnaces and forge iron, refugees no longer survived by gnawing on tree bark through winter, and simple shelters could be built before the snow melted.

Louis leaned against the seat cushions in the carriage, his heart like deep silent water.

He did not fight for a say at the negotiating table, but upon turning around, he had secured the initiative for the entire spring's sowing.

Not returning empty-handed but coming back fully loaded.

At this moment, the Northern Territory was still covered in ice and snow, with the wind singing mournfully through the trees.

But in the Red Tide Territory, those refugees had long started turning the permafrost, craftsmen were building greenhouses by the geothermal wells, furnace fires breathed in the snow, and people's hearts were ignited with hope amidst hunger and cold.

Just one more month…

When spring plowing starts, iron tools hit the ground, and kitchen smoke rises, he will no longer be a young lord, but a true founder of the new Northern Territory.

This was a gamble.

He didn't bet on the Emperor's favor, nor on the Duke's shelter.

But on what every hungry mouth and every hopeful face on this permafrost could bring him.

And now the situation had begun to quietly turn over.

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