Across the snow-blanketed plain, a column of over forty knights approached Frostspear City.

At its center, a black carriage rolled smoothly forward, a crimson banner emblazoned with the crescent moon crest fluttering from its roof.

The formidable procession naturally drew the attention of the city guards, who tensed and watched the newcomers warily.

As the party neared the gates, a tall, slender young man stepped down from the carriage.

He pulled back his hood, revealing a handsome face. "I am Louis Calvin, a Colonization Baron appointed by the Empire. I request an audience with Duke Edmund."

The soldiers exchanged glances, surprise flickering in their eyes.

House Calvin was one of the Ironblood Empire's Eight Great Houses. Even in the Northlands, the name carried weight.

Whatever this young man's standing within the family, he was not someone ordinary soldiers could afford to slight.

One of the guards turned and hurried into the city to report.

Moments later, a middle-aged official emerged at a brisk pace. "Lord Louis! The Duke has been informed of your arrival. Please, follow me into the city."

Under the official's guidance, Louis and his party passed through the heavy city gates and entered Frostspear City.

The streets, though broad, were riddled with potholes. Snow mixed with mud, leaving trails of slushy footprints.

Most of the buildings were cobbled together from stone and timber, rough and crumbling, with the occasional collapsed ruin still visible, half-buried in the drifting snow.

Pedestrians were sparse and fell into two categories.

The first were Northlands soldiers wrapped in leather coats, their faces etched with exhaustion, their eyes carrying the cold detachment born of years on the battlefield.

The second were commoners bundled in coarse cloth, their expressions numb as they hurried onward, heads down.

Louis took in the scene without any particular reaction.

Given the Northlands' scarce resources and constant warfare, maintaining even this level of order was already remarkable.

"Duke Edmund is inside." The official led them to the governor's office.

The interior lacked ostentation. A heavy desk dominated the room, flanked by a few worn bookshelves and a deep-blue military banner hanging from the wall.

Behind the desk sat a middle-aged man. A savage scar carved its way from the corner of his left eye down to his jaw, slicing his hardened features into something even sharper.

His presence was that of an immovable fortress, suffocating in its intensity.

This was the ruler of Frostspear City, the effective master of the Northlands Province: Duke Edmund.

"Mid-stage Formal Knight…" The Duke sized Louis up, his eyes tinged with disdain. "A boy from House Calvin, are you?"

Louis's expression remained steady. He inclined his head. "I am."

"Good-looking, at least." Edmund's lips curled upward, his tone dismissive and mocking. "Compared to that battle-hardened eldest brother of yours, you do look more like a proper noble."

Louis wasn't surprised by the contempt.

This was a world where strength ruled supreme. His own meager power being looked down upon by a renowned Peak Knight was entirely normal.

So he wasted no time on pleasantries. He produced his colonization permit, stamped with the royal seal. "I am here to register my colonization territory."

Edmund took the permit and glanced it over, confirming Louis's status as a Colonization Lord. Then he pulled a map from a stack of documents on his desk and spread it flat. "Any area not marked with a red circle is available."

Louis looked down. It was a detailed map of the Northlands Province, vast and boundless, roughly half the size of Russia in his previous life.

Yet only a scattered dozen red circles marked restricted zones. The sheer amount of available land sparked a surge of excitement.

The Empire had issued a comprehensive Northlands Colonization Edict for this initiative. One provision was explicit: all newly appointed Colonization Lords were required to register at the Governor's Manor and select their initial territory. First come, first served.

It seemed Louis was among the earliest to arrive.

The other noble scions dispatched by their families were probably dragging their feet, delaying as long as possible, treating the entire affair as an afterthought.

For Louis, that was tremendous news.

He stared at the intricate map, sinking into thought.

Over the past several days, he had been continuously sorting through the intelligence provided by the system, preparing for this very moment.

Information flooded his mind. He filtered, cross-referenced, searching for the territory best suited for development. In truth, he already had several ideal candidates in mind.

The selection took very little time. He reached out, circled a location on the map, and looked up at Edmund. "Here."

Edmund glanced down at Louis's finger, and a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes.

The southeastern region of the Northlands, at the junction of Greystone Rift and the Grey Moss Tundra, seventy-five kilometers from Frosthowl Fjord. The boy had picked a good spot on his first try.

This area possessed a rare quality in the Northlands: slightly warmer temperatures, allowing hardy crops to be grown outside the deep winter months.

That alone put it above most of the region.

A small stream nearby ensured a reliable water supply and even the possibility of fishing.

More importantly, there were deposits of Cold Iron ore. Difficult to mine, yes, but with the right approach, enormously promising.

In a frozen, resource-starved wasteland like the Northlands, this patch of ground qualified as one of the few genuinely fertile locations.

The Duke lifted his eyes and studied the young man before him anew.

He'd assumed Louis was just another run-of-the-mill playboy noble. The fact that he knew how to pick a territory suggested there was more to him beneath the surface.

Edmund fixed Louis with an appraising stare and offered a rare compliment. "Good choice."

Louis showed no sign of smugness at the praise. "I am grateful for Your Grace's kind words. I simply did my best to make the right call."

Edmund's appreciation deepened. He clapped Louis on the shoulder. "If every Colonization Lord had your eye, the Northlands might actually be saved."

He picked up a steel seal and pressed it firmly onto Louis's registration documents, formally confirming the young Baron's sovereignty over the territory.

Louis accepted the papers, his fingertips brushing across the Frostspear seal embedded in the stamp.

His expression remained calm, but inside, fireworks were already going off.

A territory selected using the Daily Intelligence System could not possibly be ordinary land. If Edmund knew its true value, he would never let it slip so easily into another's hands. He'd keep it clenched tight in his own.