Chapter 326: Chapter 235: Problem Solving

After planning the food issue, the pen tip fell once more, making a faint sound.

“Insufficient housing.”

Louis said softly, the pen tip carved out four heavy characters on the parchment.

He leaned against the back of the chair, his temple somewhat tense. The Red Tide Territory originally had thirteen thousand people, planning to accommodate nearly thirty thousand, through Louis’s painstakingly designed city planning

That was a precisely calculated number—roads, wells, housing, sewage, warm current pipelines, even the wind direction of every chimney smoke was within controllable range.

But now…

“Fifty-seven thousand,” Bradley opened the latest population census book across from him, his voice was low, yet like a blunt knife slowly cutting through reality, “This is the number updated this morning, according to your instructions, the refugee camp at the north gate is still registering.”

“Too many people.” Louis rubbed his brow.

“The current migrants are all crowded in temporary warm shelters outside the residential areas.”

Bradley flipped open the record book in his hand, frowned slightly, “The residual warmth from the geothermal veins can still support daytime temperatures, but if it comes to winter… obviously, it won’t hold.”

Louis did not immediately reply.

He stood at the window, looking at the distant fields gradually tinged with white frost, the Red Tide Territory remained peaceful under the misty haze, yet could not hide an imminent crisis.

“Need to build houses,” he said, “It’s not about holding on, but truly getting through a winter.”

He turned around, his gaze fell on the giant table covered with the Northern Territory map: “Use the initial way we built, semi-underground collective dwellings. Simple, sturdy, non-material-selective, can keep warm.”

Bradley nodded, showing a slight smile of approval: “You mean the original semi-underground buildings of Red Tide City?”

“Yes, the bottom buried a third into permafrost, structural enclosure layer double-layered, wooden bone mud walls, a building can go up in as fast as three days.”

“I will gather the craftsmen right away, and those idle migrants.” Bradley closed the book, his eyes showing more certainty, “Every day they worry either about the temperature or about food, work can actually help them sleep more peacefully.”

“Don’t forget to train some people in batches.” Louis noted, “This time the craftsman team can’t rely entirely on veterans, we have to let the migrants themselves get involved.”

Then he wrote down another item: “Public accommodation.”

“Issue a summon, for local residents willing to shelter refugees, prioritize allocation of food and warm spots.” He said this calmly, but added a final note, “Set up document registration, make clear rewards and penalties, no coercion.”

Bradley pondered for a moment, then asked: “Do you think they will accept?”

“They will.” Louis’s voice was low yet certain, “In these two years, our Red Tide Territory citizens have had good days not by a gift from heaven, but by building them brick by brick themselves. They know what disaster means and how much has been blocked for them. Though… there will be complaints.”

“Then let them see me sign this document personally, those willing to weather the crisis together should be compensated and respected.” His tone did not sound commanding.

After a moment of silence, Bradley gently spoke: “They will trust you, my lord. Because you have never let them down.”

Louis ignored Bradley’s praise.

He simply continued to write down, categorize, and organize the urgent issues before him, as if suturing and stitching the Northern Territory which was covered in scars.

“Heating issue,” he read aloud softly.

“The Fire-backed Turtle system continues to be promoted. Thirty trained individuals have been reached, each can maintain sub-territory indoor heating for 3 to 5 days, rotating back to the Red Tide Main Territory for recharging…”

Bradley nodded in confirmation: “Previously as per your arrangement, distributed to Canglu Territory, Ice Ridge Territory, Snowfield Territory, Cold Fir Territory, and others, six in each place. The geothermal replenishment pool built at Red Rock Warehouse has been activated, and small-scale turtle-back heating arrays have also been successfully tested. As long as the operation mechanism remains stable, this winter, no one will freeze to death.”

“Good.” Louis marked a symbol, then turned the page, frowning slightly: “Medical system.”

“There are still over three thousand injuries from the insect disaster.” He read shortly, “Save those who can be saved to the end, don’t randomly discard those who can’t… Unified placement, cremation, purification of corpse zones to prevent epidemics.”

“There are already three simple clinics set up at the camps, but there is a severe shortage of doctors.” Bradley supplemented while flipping through the booklet, “I’ve also recruited doctors from other refugee nobility, still far from enough.”

Louis wrote: “Expand the medical team, deploy suitable women as assistants; establish standard procedures — cleaning, isolation, ventilation, disinfection.”

He paused, put down the pen, his voice sinking: “Now we have over fifty thousand people, once a disease spreads, it’s not just a few losses, it’s possible the entire Snow Peak County could be destroyed.”

“I understand.” The old steward responded meticulously.

“Add one more thing: psychological support. Arrange weekly visits by Dragon Ancestor Priests, hold prayer meetings, and soul-calming ceremonies. Let them know they are not wandering ghosts.”

Bradley nodded: “Yes, my lord.”

Louis put down the pen in hand, rubbing his brow, turning to a new page: “Transportation.”

“Three sections of the Northern route are interrupted, Bridge No. 2 is completely destroyed, and the southern route is cut off by an avalanche in the Frost Ridge Mountain section.”

“Urgently repair Route No. 3 as the main winter line.” He wrote while speaking, “For now, let’s not talk about complete restoration, just ensuring the passage for supplies from the South through the winter; otherwise, all is lost.”

Bradley: “I’ve already dispatched a team of a hundred for repairs and established three temporary posts, which can be used for manpower transfer and rest in case of a blizzard blockade.”

Louis nodded and looked again at the title on his paper.

Heating, Medical Care, Transportation, Epidemic, Psychological Counseling…

The candlelight flickered, casting shadows over the densely written sheets of paper on the long table.

“These solutions aren’t optimal, but the preliminary schemes I’ve thought of are here.” Louis set down the quill pen, exhaled softly, leaned back in the high-backed chair, and looked at the old butler opposite him, “Is there anything I overlooked?”

Bradley closed the ledger, his tone consistently respectful and steady: “Lord, you have been very thorough. However… I’ve noticed two minor issues.”

“Speak.”

“Firstly,” Bradley hesitated briefly, speaking in a low voice, “not all among the refugees are well-intentioned.”

“Naturally.” Louis nodded, “In a torrent of over forty thousand people, there will inevitably be muddy waters.”

“A few conflicts broke out recently. Some outsiders attempted to seize food and water sources, sparking a fight, with even some injuries among the locals.”

Louis’s brow twitched slightly: “Didn’t I ask you to dispatch knights to patrol and suppress? For troublemakers, execute them directly.”

“We did send out knights to suppress and captured some leaders. But with so many people, we can’t catch them all, nor can we kill them all… They simply appoint a new leader and cause trouble again in a few days.” Bradley smiled wryly, “We can’t round them up and beat them up every time.”

“The method’s wrong.” Louis squinted, his voice growing colder.

He set down the quill pen, stood up from the table, his tone calm yet carrying the chill of a northern wind: “If we must kill, it should be done in a way that instills fear from further action.”

“Arrest all the troublemakers and prepare for a public trial.” He spoke softly, but his eyes betrayed a sharp, icy glare,

“Under everyone’s watchful eye, enumerate his crimes, starting from how he gathered people, incited refugees, stirred up violence, seized military supplies, to causing one injured soldier’s wound to worsen and two children being trampled to death during a food grab… Write it all down for me.”

“The more detailed, the better. The more vicious, the better.” He articulated each word slowly, “Misjudge minor offenses as major ones, for major crimes… direct execution.”

Bradley was taken aback: “…Execution?”

“Build a wooden platform on Red Tide Square, ring the bell to summon the populace.” Louis’s voice was calm, “Let not only the territory’s people see this, but the refugees as well. They need to know this is the Red Tide, not the swamp where they can cause unrest. If necessary, I can be called over.”

Louis added, “This isn’t a method I relish using. But in the absence of reestablished order, fear is far more effective than mercy. Only with a thunderous approach can the post-war chaos be subdued.”

Bradley hesitated for a moment, then bowed his head in acquiescence: “Understood, Lord.”

Bradley turned the last page of the records in his hand, coughed lightly, and added a sentence: “…One more thing.”

“Speak.” Louis rubbed his temples, his tone slightly weary.

“It’s about those ’nobles’.” Bradley used a tone almost dripping with sarcasm, “You know, many small nobility and fragmented families from Snow Peak County and the surrounding areas have come to seek refuge in Red Tide. They speak of seeking asylum, but each harbors their own agenda.”

Louis didn’t speak, just glanced sideways, signaling him to continue.

“Some of them have been privately discussing quite heatedly of late. They say ’the treatment in Red Tide is too shabby’, ’making nobility eat the same grain and live in the same shelters as commoners is an affront to nobility’.”

“And some… mentioned military power.” Bradley spoke in a low voice, “Saying ’it was originally our family knights’, ’Lord Louis merely seized power amidst the chaos’. They say, Lord, you ’don’t know the rules of nobility’.”

“Do they want to go back? Let them face the crevices of the insect corpses themselves.” Louis sneered, his tone mocking, “If not for my ’rule-breaking’ methods, they’d have long perished without even ashes left.”

He stood up, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, his eyes falling through the light shining in from outside onto the wooden houses settled inside Red Tide City, where many self-proclaimed noble refugees resided.

“The war has just ended, the bones hardly cold, yet they are already concerned with ’face’, ’territory’, ’who is more noble’.” Louis said softly.

“But they forget this is not their manor, not their ancient castle.” He turned back, eyes returning to Bradley, “This is the Red Tide Territory.”

Bradley nodded slightly: “How should I arrange it?”

Louis’s voice was calm, each word like a nail: “Summon them, in the Council Hall of Red Tide City, gather all the nobility currently seeking refuge in Red Tide. It’s time to give them a lesson.”

Bradley smiled: “Understood, Lord.”

He bowed slightly and exited the room.

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