Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence-Chapter 623 - 366: Kavier’s Retirement Plan (Part 2)

Chapter 623: Chapter 366: Kavier’s Retirement Plan (Part 2)

Bradley stood aside, his palms sweaty. It was only when the iron car slowly came to a stop three hundred meters away that he breathed a sigh of relief.

What followed was a long-repressed cheer.

The craftsmen raised their arms, their cheers echoing.

Someone excitedly patted a companion’s shoulder, the glow of the furnace flickering on their faces.

Hamilton, however, stood frozen, his face flushed, gripping the roll of blueprints tightly.

It wasn’t until Louis turned his head and nodded in acknowledgment to him that he hurriedly responded, lowering his head to softly say, "Th-thank you, my lord..."

The dust on his face was dissolved by sweat, slipping down his neck, a light in his eyes that couldn’t be concealed.

Louis disembarked, his gaze sweeping over the body of the vehicle.

The residual flames from the furnace were still flickering, heat still rising from the vent.

Louis reached out and stroked the metal shell, calmly saying, "Some parts are still not ideal, they need further improvement."

"Yes, my lord! I understand!"

Louis nodded, turning to look at him: "The next goal is to put this thing on the tracks. We’re not just building a transport car, but a train. And—a war machine."

Hamilton was stunned, his lips slightly parted, his heart almost overflowing with heated blood.

He instinctively hugged the blueprints tighter, the lines on them drawn by Louis’s own hands.

These were what he had relied on in countless studies, experiments, failures, and retries.

Hamilton nodded forcefully, "Yes, Lord Louis! Your blueprints... I will make them come alive!"

The red flames in the furnace reflected on their faces, steam turning into white mist in the wind, rising to the sky.

For the next two days, Louis stayed in Red Tide City, personally organizing affairs and military plans.

He delegated the workshop schedules, tax issues of other territories, and the annual allocation table of the Red Tide Academy to Bradley, leaving only a few letters as clever strategies.

Bradley stood before the desk, saluting, "Everything will be handled properly, my lord."

Louis nodded, putting on his coat, "Thank you for your hard work. I must go to Dawn Port; this year’s plan can’t wait."

He took one last look back at the city lit by steam light.

Then he boarded the carriage, heading south to greet the pirates.

......

The cold tide had not yet arrived, but thin fog was already rising over the sea.

The moon was like a broken copper plate, hanging low over the dark bay near the shore, ship shadows everywhere, sails folding into black wings, forming a forest at sea.

Thirty-seven black sails quietly gathered into a formation, the sound of anchors sparse but aligning in rhythm.

Ten reinforced ships, modified by the Ashen Guild, lay in the inner circle, the metal hoops on wooden gunwales creaking, and the revolving cannons on the ship’s sides like sleeping sharp teeth.

The deck was stained dark red by bonfires and the smell of alcohol, flames elongating the shadows only to be torn apart by the sea breeze.

In the very center, the Wave Eater took up most of the view.

Nearly twenty meters of ship-body thicker than neighboring ships, the bow’s iron shield blended with ancient runes, a massive explosion cannon bound by thick cord rings atop the deck.

This cannon could tear apart a dock in an instant.

Beside it were piled alchemy fuel jars, their mouths sealed with wax, bodies inscribed with explosion-proof talismans and straw mats, arranged neatly with a ceremonial feel.

Kavier "Iron Jaw" stood at the helm of the Wave Eater.

Half his face sunk in shadow, the other half exposed in firelight revealing a metal prosthetic jaw, rivets reflecting the flickering firelight.

When he raised his cup, the rim was first offered to a seagull, letting the gull take a sip before he began to drink heartily.

A banquet was underway on the deck, drummers beating rhythm, blade craftsmen forging short blades by the fire, several sailors jostling each other to drink to the last drop then refill.

Someone poured a whole barrel of strong liquor beside the fire, igniting the alcohol, flames soaring as faces full of bloodlust were reflected.

A tall and thin pirate raised a bottle, shouting, "Tomorrow we’ll drink Dawn Port’s wine! Rob their women!"

Sparking a round of clamorous cheers.

Another shirtless man slapped a table, roaring, "Damn the Red Tide! Drink their blood dry!"

Sailors thrust daggers into the wooden tables, shouting bets, clinking rusty cups loudly.

Someone climbed the mast, shouting, "The Mad King brings us fortune!"

Below, a chorus of responses.

Wild laughter, curses, singing mixed with the sea breeze, like a pack of untamed beasts celebrating on the eve of a storm, coarse, reckless, filled with the scent of alcohol and blood.

Kavier stood above, letting their din sweep across the deck.

Someone shouted his title, "Mad King!"

He responded by raising his cup, his metal jaw reflecting the firelight, as if smiling.

At this moment, three distant reconnaissance ships approached the shore, their signals flashing on and off.

The chief scout jumped onto the deck and reported to the captain in a terse manner, "Dawn Harbor’s defense has weakened, the outer harbor dikes are being repaired in two places.

The warehouses are filled with alchemical fuel and powder, loading operations will be completed within two days.

Escort ships are dispersed in three places, a ship in the south line is undergoing repairs, there are not enough hands on the western line. Harbor signals rotate with clear patterns, predictable."

He took out tidal records and a rough harbor map, adding, "The depth of the inner harbor channel is about seven and a half feet, enough for large ships to invade.

There are about three hundred knights stationed at Dawn Harbor, night watch halved. If we launch a raid before dawn on the second day, we can first break the defense, then cut off the storage area..."

Kavier only nodded after hearing, his gaze bright and sombre, a slow smile creeping up his lips.

"Excellent," he said, his voice like the edge of a blade, "that’s the meat we sink our teeth into."

Then Kavier stood tall on the deck like a madman, his laughter overpowering the sounds of tides and drums.

He suddenly raised his cup, the liquid splashing onto the deck, flashing once in the firelight.

His voice hoarse and fervent, "Brothers! Those self-proclaimed noble dogs of the Empire are waiting to deliver grain and oil to us!

In a few days we’ll drink their wine, burn their ships, take their lives! Pull off a big score and earn a whole damn year!"

The deck exploded with howling laughter, someone drew a knife and knocked it against the wooden table, someone splashed wine into the sky, shouting:

"Long live the Mad King!", "Screw their Red Tide!", "Drink it all tonight, kill them all tomorrow!"

Laughter mixed with the sound of tides and drums, like waves crashing against the deck.

Kavier spread his arms, towering above the sea fog amidst the roaring of these beasts, his whole form like a shadow forged by fire and wind.

However, when the banquet dispersed and only scattered firelight and the last guards remained on the deck, Kavier’s smile instantly faded into a mask of calm.

He pulled open a hidden door by the helm and walked into the cabin, where the lights were dimmer, maps and sand tables spread out on the table, the shadows beside the candles cutting his face into sharp relief.

The madness he showed earlier was an armor he crafted meticulously.

Kavier knew these people who lived by plunder only believed in violence and madness; if the leader pirate showed even a hint of hesitation, they would tear him apart like a pack of wolves.

So he masked his true rationality with alcohol, laughter, and madness, making them believe he was still that fearless Mad King.

Only in this quiet cabin did he shed his outer layer, revealing that calm and calculation.

Kavier checked the three reports one by one, tides, port, cargo, all imprinted in his mind.

At that moment he was calculating an escape route, not for the fleet, but for himself.

The failure of the last mission nearly cut off all funding for the Ashen Guild.

And relying on looting and empty promises of brotherhood wouldn’t sustain thirty-seven black sails.

Sailors needed meat, cannons needed lead, oil needed money, once the stores ran dry, they’d first turn on the captain.

Kavier coldly stared at the map on the table, his fingers tapping on the edge of the sand table.

A smile nearly devoid of emotion graced his lips, it was a smile of calculation.

"If this bunch doesn’t have meat to eat, they’ll eat people. So I must devour them first."

Kavier already had it figured out, make one last score.

Then sell off the treasure hidden over the years, buy a small city in the Jade Federation, become a filthy rich local bully.

As for these brothers? He’d leave them adrift like floating debris.

Of course, Kavier’s plan wasn’t a slap-dash gamble.

Dawn Harbor had only been built for two years, many ships, little experience, currently shipping the first batch of precious alchemical minerals.

Escort ships shuffled around, the defenses switched guards chaotically, it was the ripest moment.

He etched letters and numbers beside the sand table, muttering lowly, "Three fake merchant ships to draw away escort ships, main force outflanks from the mist, gobble up all the cargo."

Then feign death, escape with a few men. The rest can float away with the tide."

His fingers tapped lightly on the wooden board, the rhythm cold and hard.

The shell of madness peeled away completely at this moment, leaving only the calm predator.

No matter how formidable the Red Tide’s knights were, the sea was still his domain. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

The tides wouldn’t pause for anyone.

What he didn’t know was that the Lord of the Red Tide had already seen through his inner calculations thoroughly with intelligence.