Rise of the Northern Warlord: Starting with Daily Intelligence-Chapter 64: War Council

Vaerik closed the intelligence panel, got up to wash and dress for the war meeting.

He changed into dark gold embroidered noble formal wear, sword belt diagonal, boots polished bright.

Such occasions required proper attire—at least looking like a young hero.

He pushed open his tent flap, heading straight for the military camp’s center.

Along the way, many knights and young officers who saw him looked with awe or curiosity, bowing respectfully.

After all, his feat of killing Snow Swearer elite warriors at last night’s banquet had spread throughout the Fifth Legion.

Soon Vaerik reached the central command tent.

Guards stood solemnly outside with rows of Snow Peak Prefecture noble family banners on both sides. Familiar and unfamiliar faces were entering successively.

The tent’s interior proved surprisingly spacious, easily accommodating the gathering crowd with room to spare. At the very center sat an elaborate circular sand table covered in meticulously detailed tactical maps and carefully crafted miniature models representing troop positions and terrain features. This focal point was surrounded by several concentric circles of ornate high-backed wooden chairs, their rich mahogany surfaces polished to a warm shine, and nearly every seat was already occupied by officers of varying ranks and nobles of different standing.

Due to yesterday’s excellent performance, Vaerik got a seat in the innermost circle.

In the frontmost main seat, Earl Foss slumped in his chair, face flushed, eyelids half-drooping as he dozed.

Apparently he’d drunk too enthusiastically last night. ƒreewebηoveℓ.com

Presiding over the meeting instead was a silver-haired but spirited old man.

He wore old-style noble military uniform in black with blue patterns, robust build, hands behind his back.

He was Viscount Webster—the Foss family’s most senior and powerful vassal, a genuine Northern Province noble.

Also Snow Peak Prefecture’s only extraordinary knight.

Though aged now, he was still considerably stronger than elite knights.

His appearance immediately made the meeting atmosphere solemn.

"Noble lords, officers, distinguished agents—welcome to this pre-battle meeting of the Fifth Legion for Snow Swearers elimination."

Present nobles formed distinct factions—Northern Province old nobles mostly stern-faced, southern pioneering nobles whispering among themselves.

Some unknown officials and strategists mixed in the crowd.

Vaerik recognized several governor’s agents silently observing.

Viscount Webster surveyed all around, his gaze falling on every noble and officer’s face, then unrolled a scroll, declaring solemnly:

"Duke Edmund has specially established military merit reward system for this Snow Swearers campaign.

Those who kill enemy leaders or annihilate main forces earn first-class merit. Rewards: 5,000 gold coins, 300 square kilometers of Northern Province territory."

Instantly the tent fell silent.

Webster continued reading unchanged:

"Those who capture enemy strongholds or kill important generals earn second-class merit. Rewards: 2,000 gold coins, 100 square kilometers territory.

"Those who effectively support main battlefields or achieve scouting merit earn third-class merit—500 gold coins with warhorses and armor, plus priority supply rights.

There’s also special class, determined by contributions—though that’s not easily considered."

Here his voice cooled:

"But those who retreat from battle or comply falsely will lose all merit rewards, even face accountability and territory confiscation."

As words ended, the tent was silent.

Then whispered rustling spread around the meeting table.

"300 square kilometers of Northern Province territory—that’s a baron’s domain."

"5,000 gold coins could support a baron’s territory for a year."

"The duke’s really generous—this time he means business."

Many nobles’ eyes shone with greed, clearly already focused on upcoming battle merits and territories, as if everything was within grasp.

Vaerik sat calmly, fingertips lightly tapping armrests.

But his heart had stirred.

300 square kilometers territory could directly double Crimson Tide Domain’s size.

If he could successfully raid first then create a tide-turning situation...

That would start at second-class merit minimum. Adding subsequent battles, mixing first-class merit shouldn’t be problematic.

Viscount Webster lowered the scroll, slowly speaking: "Next is enemy intelligence briefing."

He pointed at the sand table showing Snow Peak Prefecture’s map.

Three locations were dyed red, particularly conspicuous.

Viscount Webster raised his finger, tapping the sand table:

"These rats... no, these cockroaches always lurk in shadows.

Find one, nine times out of ten there’s a swarm. Show any weakness and they crawl from cracks to bite you."

His tone was unhurried, but the metaphor was somewhat nauseating.

"Currently confirmed within Snow Peak Prefecture are three larger enemy activity points."

He pointed successively at three red dots on the map, located in northern deep mountains, northeastern ridges, and near northwestern mines:

"First, near Snow Shadow Heights in the mountains—exact hiding spots unclear.

Second, around Clear Feather Ridge where scouts frequently disappear.

Third, near Ice Fang Mine with an old mine site showing unusual activity since six months ago."

Here he glanced at attendees: "That’s roughly all Snow Swearers intelligence.

Snow Swearers aren’t open like us—they can survive in mountain caves or tree holes, lingering like malevolent spirits.

Though no clear large-scale attack signs currently, they’re active nightly, play dead daily, love fake retreats and luring enemies deep.

Frankly speaking, they’re few but target weak points specifically.

Moreover, using desperate special techniques, each warrior exceeds knight apprentices considerably, with several approaching extraordinary strength.

In life-or-death struggles, unclear who’d suffer."

He slowly surveyed the circle, lowering his voice: "If you expect them to line up for honorable battle, better prepare your coffin first."

As the viscount finished, the tent was silent momentarily.

Several older nobles who’d experienced Northern Province conflicts looked grave, some nodding slightly as if recalling unwanted memories.

Young southern nobles seemed somewhat dismissive.

"Just mountain bandits—making it sound mysterious."

"Probably overcautious? A whole legion scared by night-prowling madmen?"

But such contemptuous attitudes didn’t spread long.

Because Viscount Webster in the front row was scanning every speaker with sharp eyes.

Immediately those whispers ceased.

Due to excessive quiet, Earl Foss’ eyelids moved, seemingly slightly awakening from dreams.

He raised his head, groggily scanning surroundings. Though still looking half-asleep, he managed to appear somewhat attentive.

Vaerik looked at the second stronghold on the map, recognizing it as the location mentioned in morning’s third intelligence.

A vague plan formed in his mind.

Clear Feather Ridge was like a natural mountain pass—easy to defend, hard to attack.

But Vaerik could use hidden mountain paths, avoiding frontal assault to flank-attack Snow Swearers’ stronghold there, even ambushing returning Snow Swearers reinforcements.