Nora's preparations began with astonishing speed.

First, a few inconspicuously ordinary carriages were prepared, covered on the outside with gray cloth, simple and unnoticeable, with slightly dusty rooftops that appeared like old items bumped along snowy roads.

The compartments were filled with wooden boxes and cloth bags, presenting a typical wandering merchant's cargo from the outside.

The so-called "wandering merchant" is a type of peddler commonly seen in the Northern Territory, not relying on fixed shops for a living but traveling between territories by carriage, selling silk, spices, medicinal herbs, or other necessities.

They either exchanged for money or bartered, wandering for years and barely noticed.

In the Red Tide Territory, occasionally a few wandering merchants would visit, but since Louis controlled the Calvin Clan's channels.

Most goods were procured directly and delivered within the territory.

Therefore, there was little interest in these small, irregular trading ventures.

Next, Nora personally supervised the arrangements, placing over ten guards at the back of the carriages.

The armor was all replaced with simple iron plate armor, with a crude style that appeared more like temporary guards of mercenary origin, unrelated to noble knights, low-key and practical.

The final preparation was the most crucial step: disguise.

Nora took out a small wooden box, gently opened it, revealing mud glue, lip color, and dark red powder, along with dye mixed from trace amounts of herbs.

She pinched some pigment and turned to Emily; "Miss, for the disguise, draw a large scar across your cheek, this way you'll look less like nobility."

Emily nodded without hesitation, sat before the vanity mirror, and closed her eyes, allowing herself to be manipulated.

Nora's fingers, agile, began to draw the fake scar bit by bit on her fair cheek.

The old wound, slicing diagonally across from the brow bone, carried faint hints of red and gray.

She then added dust and grime to her nose bridge and jawline, making Emily's entire face less delicate and more weathered.

The person in the mirror was no longer the dazzling duke's daughter of Frost Halberd City but looked like a tired yet resilient woman merchant.

Emily glanced at her reflection, and with a slight smile, expressed satisfaction: "Certainly convincing."

Of course, how could all this "secret journey" arrangement be hidden from her father?

Emily knew all along, this was merely a "performance."

She played her part for her father, showing her stance, knowing her father would likely agree.

Indeed, the evening before her departure, the old butler quietly reported the matter to Duke Edmund.

Beside the dining table, the duke merely stared silently at the snowy scene outside the window, after a moment of contemplation, and then revealed a knowing smile.

"Let her go..." he instructed his personal guard beside him, "have Victor escort her secretly, without her noticing."

So, on the following morning, before the mist had cleared, several carriages discreetly departed from the West Gate of Frost Halberd City, quietly heading toward the Red Tide Territory.

Emily did not know whether this young viscount was someone she could entrust her life to.

But she was willing to go see the answer herself.

...

On an early spring morning, Louis had already settled into his office, ready to begin the day's work.

He held a cup of hot red tea, with hints of lemongrass and mint, sipping it slowly.

Beside him, the ever stern old butler Bradley placed a stack of substantial documents on Louis's left hand side.

In fact, this pile wasn't much; it's the norm of winter governance.

The Red Tide Territory, although slightly more populous, is still in the Northern Territory, where everything's rhythm is pressed down by snow after winter sets in.

Compared to the hectic distribution of food and post-war reconstruction in autumn, these daily trivialities now seemed as relaxing as a holiday.

At this point, Bradley reminded, "The one on top is a letter from the master."

"Duke Calvin?" Louis raised an eyebrow.

Louis casually tore open the wax seal and unfolded the letter.

Elegant and tidy handwriting came into view, so familiar that he immediately knew it was written by his father.

As he read, he gently rocked his chair, the more he read, the more a playful smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

First came the customary greetings and congratulations.

"Congratulations on finally becoming a viscount, proof of my years of deliberate nurturing."

"Deliberate nurturing, my foot," Louis rudely retorted in his mind, "From the time I could walk until arriving in the Northern Territory, I've seen you less than twenty times, mostly at family dinner banquets."

The second part was the highlight, where the duke expressed great pleasure in having arranged for him a "most suitable marriage."

The match was with Duke Edmund's beloved daughter, Miss Emily Edmund.

"Ha..."

Upon seeing this bombshell news, Louis remained indifferent and was not overly astonished.

After all, the Daily Intelligence System had reported this matter a few times already.

Additionally, he had received a piece of intelligence regarding Miss Emily this morning.

[1: Miss Emily left Frost Halberd City before dawn, disguised as a wandering merchant convoy, suspected destination being Red Tide Territory]

This piece of intelligence was quite intriguing and piqued Louis's interest.

Of course, he wasn't particularly nervous or eager to react.

After all, she hadn't arrived yet, and she wasn't planning to openly court either. She was just "disguised as a wandering merchant" to see what he was truly like and how he looked.

He himself couldn't make too many arrangements.

Next was the third matter, something that Louis was not yet aware of.

"To fully support the cause, His Majesty the Emperor has issued a new Northern Territory Expansion Order.

It's been decided to send your two brothers, Willis and Pal, to open up the territory. If they encounter difficulties, please support each other.

Of course, you remain the Calvin Clan's representative in the Northern Territory, with family affairs in the region centered around you."

Upon reading this, Louis raised an eyebrow: "Do they want me, a Prefect, to be a babysitter for them?"

His fingers unconsciously tapped twice on the edge of the letter, quickly weighing things over in his mind.

Willis and Pal, these two brothers' names were somewhat unfamiliar, and Louis barely had any impression of them.

"Hmm... if the two brothers come asking for help, I'll assist them if I can, but I won't go out of my way.

However, if they're indeed disrespectful and clueless, they can't blame me for being indifferent."

He harbored no ill will toward these brothers, but neither did he feel any affection.

Blood ties don't mean everything, especially with such "blood ties" devoid of affection.

In this Northern Territory, where cold winds and war entwine, only reliable partners and demonstrable strength are worthy of discussing the future, forming alliances, and earning his support.

He shook his head, folded the letter, and placed it in the letter case, then pulled out a sheet of paper and quickly penned a response.

The content was brief and roughly read: "Regarding the Northern Territory Expansion Order, I've been informed. Thank you, Father, for your concern. Everything in Red Tide Territory is stable, and may the glory of the Calvin Clan never fade."

He didn't add more; it was concise and polite, with words that were orderly yet distant.

After finishing, he sealed the letter with wax and handed it to Bradley beside him: "Send it back."

"Yes." The butler carefully stowed away that reply and then said, "My Lord, there are still some local matters. Although trivial, they need to be handled swiftly."

"Hmm." Louis nodded, turning to the first page.

The first was a report from the River Management Team:

"The snowmelt upstream of the Red Rock River is increasing, and the water level is rising, posing a possible flood risk."

Louis glanced at the map and quickly circled a river section: "Have the River Construction Team set out tomorrow, retrieve timber from the lumber warehouse, and bring heavy-duty hammers as well."

He spoke decisively, "Also, call upon two militia teams to assist; don't let houses be flooded."

"Yes." Bradley noted it down.

The next was a request from the Road Maintenance Team: "The accelerated snowmelt has made the roads muddy and difficult to traverse."

"Allocate ten carts of wheat straw to pave the roads. Don't layer too thick; too much would sink the feet."

"Understood."

Next was a report from the workshop: "The stockpile of winter clothing is excessive; production should be reduced."

"Suspend the production of leather gloves and fur boots, shift to repairs and stock management. Reallocate manpower for bridge repairs and snow barrier construction."

...

Louis put down his pen, systematically organizing each matter like securely laid bricks.

Bradley stood beside him, astonished by how casually the Lord made various decisions from his chair.

Even though he'd seen it countless times, that effortless poise still made him inwardly admire: "Though young, he's already more of a true governor than many older Lords."

Louis closed the final report and rested against the back of his chair, gazing out at the gradually thawing street scene beyond the window.

The corners of the rooftops had long shed their icicles; the snow at pedestrians' feet turned into slush pools of black-brown muddy water. The wheel ruts deepening, dogs barking frequently, sparrows returned to the eaves, chirping incessantly.

He exhaled lightly and, almost to himself, said, "Spring is coming; it's that season again..."

It wasn't a simple change in temperature but a sign that the entire territory was about to awaken.

What followed would be the thawing of the ice, the livestock being released, the workshops resuming, the seeds planted...

Louis considered the idea of planning a festival to celebrate.

So he pulled out a clean sheet, dipped his pen in ink, and began to write.

It wasn't long before a clear plan for a festival was drafted.

He laid the paper out on the table, scrutinized it for a moment, and, seeing nothing amiss, called Bradley over.

"I want to organize a Celebration Day," Louis said calmly, "for three reasons: to celebrate the arrival of spring, to celebrate the first anniversary of Red Tide Territory's founding, and to celebrate my Viscount ennoblement."

He pushed the written plan in front of Bradley.

Bradley looked it over, eyes slightly widening.

He had seen nobles hold celebrations before, but most were about wining and dining guests, irrelevant to ordinary people.

But in this plan, every aspect of Louis's design clearly pointed to one goal.

To involve the entire territory, from the elderly to the young, from slaves to farmers, so everyone could find a sense of "belonging" in the celebration.

"This... is indeed quite innovative." Bradley was momentarily speechless and took a while to respond, "I've never seen such a comprehensive and heartfelt festival plan. I shall arrange for the execution in various areas immediately."

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