Red Tide City, the Grand Council Hall.
Morning light spilled through the gaps in the dome, illuminating the vast hall supported by cold iron beams and pillars.
Red Tide banners hung one after another along the walls, their corners gently swaying as though rising and falling with each breath.
Unlike any previous year, this place had become the heart of the entire Northern Frontier.
Louis sat quietly at the head of the table. His daughter had been born only a few days ago, yet on the morning of the third day, he had returned to this long table as usual, without hesitation.
His gaze rested on the enormous map of the Northern Frontier behind him, the latest version produced by the surveyors.
On the map, Red Tide's red had spread all the way from the southeast like bleeding ink, painting almost the entire Northern Frontier the same color.
The once-scattered fiefs were now bound tightly together by that expanse of red.
The hall's tiered seating was packed.
These were not Red Tide's minor clerks, but the true backbone of the Northern Frontier's administration.
Office heads, deputies, and coordinating officers-all were pillars of their territories, capable of taking charge on their own.
A few years ago, some had been serfs, workshop apprentices, or even slaves sold to the Northern Frontier.
Now they wore Red Tide's crimson shoulder capes, with the insignias of its various offices engraved on their epaulets.
Louis had personally promoted every one of them. They were the Northern Frontier's new ruling class.
They had not come today to discuss minor matters, but to determine whether the Red Tide system had fulfilled its first-year objective.
To turn the Northern Frontier into Red Tide's true heartland, rather than a collection of old fiefs barely held together.
The hall was so