Chapter 90: Chapter 90: The Refugee Problem

Louis finished reading the Daily Intelligence System and gently waved his hand to put away the light screen.

“Alright, time to get to work.” He rubbed his forehead and turned over to get out of bed.

Washing up, dressing—his movements were as neat as ever.

Just as the sky brightened, with the sun yet to pierce through the morning fog, the door to the office was already open.

As he walked in, he saw Sif sitting by the desk, flipping through a thick stack of documents.

“Good morning, Xiaobai.” Louis greeted with a smile.

Sif paused, seemingly surprised by his greeting, blinked before she stood up and bowed.

“Good morning, sir.” Her voice was soft, but her ears were slightly flushed.

During the time Louis went to war, she did have thoughts of fleeing.

She wasn’t lacking courage; it was just not the right timing. Besides…where would she even go?

Eventually, she simply stayed.

And then Sif realized that she would find herself lost in thought at night.

Would he die on the battlefield?

What if he never came back?

Upon hearing he had returned victorious, Sif let out a long sigh of relief.

But such things, of course, couldn’t be said out loud; it would be too odd.

Sif merely bowed her head, pushed the organized documents over, her tone as usual: “The paperwork you wanted to see, I have already processed.”

Her voice wasn’t loud, but her movements were very proficient.

She just didn’t realize that her hand, as she passed it over, was somewhat trembling.

Louis didn’t notice Sif’s small anomaly.

His gaze fell on the stacks of documents, almost taller than a person, and he sighed softly.

These were the materials he had instructed Sif to organize before returning to the territory—about the situation in Red Tide Territory and the areas newly assigned to him.

He casually flipped through a few pages, and the headache feeling followed.

Bandits, food shortage, winter survival, well water contamination…

Each page was filled with problems.

He leaned back in his chair, fell silent for a moment, and finally decided to start with the refugees.

Because with this issue, the earlier one took action, the more people could be saved.

Snow Peak County suffered heavy damage during the war; vast villages turned into ashes, and even Red Tide Territory was repeatedly harassed by Snow Swearers, held barely by the knights and soldiers Louis left behind.

But the other territories weren’t so lucky.

Months of warfare had left the entire county battered and bruised.

Fields abandoned, livestock plundered, warehouses ransacked, even the well water was poisoned by enemies.

Countless people lost their homes and family, struggling to survive on remnants, tree bark, and wild vegetables.

They moved like shadows without a body, flowing through the broken ruins.

“All problems, really such a hassle.” Louis flipped through the stack of documents, finally sighed and grumbled, pressing his forehead.

Sif said nothing, just silently turned a page of parchment.

She was well aware that Louis was right.

Those struggling to survive in the ruins were like boiling water under too much pressure.

At any moment, they might overflow due to cold, hunger, or fear.

Louis slapped a sheet of parchment on the table and his tone sank, “Other issues are manageable; the worst fear is an outbreak of epidemics among them—that’s trouble that can’t be salvaged.”

He put away his grievances, lightly tapped on the table, his gaze becoming calm, taking out a roughly yet meticulously marked map.

“Alright, we’ll divide this area of nearly a thousand square kilometers into four sub-regions, handled by different groups responsible for refugee affairs in each area.”

He bent over the map to mark, dividing the whole territory roughly based on mountains, rivers, and abandoned villages into four parts.

“Naming them Canglu Territory, Ice Ridge Territory, Snowfield Territory, Cold Fir Territory,” Louis casually named them.

“Next, we’ll send out the knights,” he said, “bringing dry food and medicine, conducting a field investigation to see where the refugees are, their conditions, and…how many people are still alive.”

Upon hearing the last sentence, Sif’s movements stalled, then she resumed quickly recording.

“Then, set up reception points in each area,” Louis said as he circled a few spots with a pen, “the marks should be prominent, let’s use Red Tide Territory’s banner.”

He paused, his voice softened: “Also let them know that there are people in the world who care about them.”

“Alright.” Sif replied softly as she recorded.

“It’s still not enough.” Louis thought for a moment, then bent down to make several notes on the table.

“The outposts must be built quickly. They need simple sheds, braziers, hay mats, and clean water sources.”

He paused, added: “If the half-dug houses of Red Tide Territory can be replicated, that’s the best; they can be built quicker, and they’re warm. Arrange for the carpenters and stonemasons to start directly at suitable locations.”

Sif quickly recorded, while asking: “So, do all the outposts need to be prepared?”

“Yes.” Louis nodded solemnly, “Prepare them to winter standards. Dry food, smoked fish, blankets…and also bring medicine, don’t give plague any chance.”

Listening to Louis’s words, Sif gently pursed her lips, suddenly feeling an inexplicable emotion, like reassurance.

Louis stood straight, his tone as calm as ever: “Additionally, refer to Red Tide Territory’s early model of the work-for-food program. Those who are willing to work will receive food and temporary shelter.”

He paused, continued directing: “Build sheds, dig wells, chop wood, fish, hunt, plough, and grow vegetables…these tasks will be allocated.

Record in the register those willing to work, prioritize housing allocation for the particularly diligent.

Also, those with special skills, such as medicine, farming, literacy, or blacksmithing or carpentry, register all of them.”

“What about management personnel?” Sif asked.

“The family members are already on their way.” Louis’s tone was steady, “They will partner with the knights of the fief to form the initial backbone of each outpost.”

Louis tapped his fingers on the table and continued: “But ultimately, it depends on the refugees themselves. We’ll guide them to form groups, elect representatives, who will then uniformly receive supplies, report affairs, speeding things up and stabilizing.”

He spoke naturally, as if already well-prepared.

Sif quietly glanced at him.

Louis’s brows slightly furrowed, appearing tired but still focused.

Very different from his usual carefree and unruly manner.

This young noble from the Southern Empire seemed…

More reliable than she imagined.

Though a bit unwilling, somewhere in her heart she did feel a slight admiration.

Perhaps, but just a bit.

At this moment, Louis looked up, directly meeting Sif’s light-colored eyes.

The girl froze, quickly lowered her head, pretending to continue flipping through the documents at hand.

“…Why are you staring at me?” Louis asked instinctively, “Is there dirt on my face?”

In that instant, Sif’s ears turned red very quickly, even her neck was tinted with a thin layer of pink.

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