During the Winter Solstice holiday, in the Old World, Bretonnia, in the county of Glamorgan, at the Tower of the Lady of the Lake.
Ryan stood by a wooden table in casual attire, looking over a map. Sitting beside him, Sulia, dressed in a stylish crimson fur-lined coat and a black dress, had her arm wrapped around his. The lady knight crossed her long legs clad in black stockings, accompanying him as he examined the map. "The issue with the rebellion in the Grey Mountains should be easily resolved."
"The problem with the Grey Mountains can be dealt with, no question. The issue is, what do we do next?" Ryan frowned and looked up. "Morgiana, are you feeling better? Can you sense where the Holy Grail of Potions is?"
"It should be within Mousilon," Morgiana replied, sitting opposite him. The Lake Witch was in a delicate low-necked gown adorned with intricate lace, her sheer skirt revealing legs wrapped in flesh-colored stockings and feet in peep-toe heels. At Ryan's question, she looked down, troubled. Betrayed and deceived by Manfred, she still hadn't washed away the shame.
"Your territory needs time to recover, Ryan. We shouldn't rush. Attacking the Spire Palace now would mean full-scale war with Mousilon," the Lady of the Lake commented from her place by the fireplace, where she was baking pies. Today's lunch was steak and chicken onion pies... Ryan thought they looked more like pizzas.
The goddess wore a dainty off-the-shoulder white dress with floral lace trim. Her outfit, adorned with golden fleur-de-lis motifs, gleamed along with her golden hair. She wore simple cotton slippers decorated with a white cat pattern, her delicate ankles wrapped in unicorn wool socks, gently swaying. True to her promise, she wore what Ryan liked.
"Going to war with Mousilon isn't the main issue. In the battle at La-Maisoneil Abbey, my army's losses were minimal. The real problem is that no duke in the kingdom can support my military actions right now." Ryan frowned, gazing north toward Mousilon, lost in thought.
After years of continuous warfare, the Kingdom of Bretonnia was exhausted. The number of knights had dwindled. In the north of the kingdom, the effects of Egril's Chaos invasion still lingered. In Lyonnesse, the duke couldn't even leave his castle. The north of the duchy was a wasteland, and the southern nobles were embroiled in internal conflicts. Duke Aldrel of Lyonnesse, powerless against the chaos, drank himself into oblivion.
The duchies of Connaught and Le-Angouleme had just fought against Mousilon and needed time to rest. Gisoleaux and Montfort suffered significant losses from Kemler's invasion. Even Ryan's father-in-law's Duchy of Winford needed time to recover. The Duchy of Parravon hadn't yet recovered from the Battle of Helm's Deep.
The two southern duchies were another matter. The Duchy of Brétonnia was in chaos without a duke (Duke Theodoric was still in prison), and Carcassonne's long border was barely defended without seeking reinforcements.
In such a situation, starting a war would be foolish. Even though the Lady of the Lake could issue a divine mandate for a new chivalric war, Ryan had to consider the kingdom's strength. He sighed deeply, "For now, we need to rest and recover, at least for a year. We can discuss military action after that."
"Don't worry, my dear. Father said he would support us; it just takes time," Sulia reassured him, indicating he should sit beside her. The lady knight playfully pouted, "Ryan, sometimes you should manage the internal affairs of your domain yourself instead of leaving everything to me."
Ryan smiled, holding his wife close on the sofa. Sulia slipped off her heels and nestled against him, her legs curled up. She complained lightly, "Apart from other matters, there are still minor conflicts between immigrants and locals. The dwarves and wood elves almost always clash when they meet, each with their own laws. The wood elves' law book needs three carts to carry, while the dwarves have countless stone tablets of laws. Every time there's a dispute, I get a headache just listening to the translators. I'm not like you."
Ryan laughed heartily. He had a knack for languages, fluently speaking both Elvish and Dwarvish, so communication was effortless for him, unlike Sulia. Holding her, he kissed her lips, "You should keep them apart, as far away from each other as possible."
"Besides that, you also need to manage Lady Teresa and Lady Veronica," Sulia whispered, curling up on the sofa. Ryan gently caressed her perfect black-stockinged feet. "What's wrong? Are they opposing you?"
"Lady Teresa and Lady Veronica respect me, but their apprentices are the problem. Those young witches seem used to using their magic for everything. They often misuse their powers near the town, causing conflicts with the serfs. When these conflicts arise, the serfs are afraid to offend the spellcasters, leading to simmering resentment that could cause major problems in the long run," Sulia explained with concern.
"How have you been handling it?" Ryan mused. This was indeed an issue.
"I know spellcasters have privileges. I can only give verbal warnings and ask Lady Teresa and Lady Veronica to handle it. Veronica is better about it, often confining her apprentices. But Lady Teresa tends to protect her young witches and even abuses punishment. There was a case where a serf hunter accidentally trespassed near her wizard's tower and was killed by her apprentices with ice arrows. Lady Teresa just brushed it off as nothing," Sulia said, troubled.
"Hah, sounds a lot like the mage apprentices at the White Tower of Hoeth in the Ulthuan Empire," the Lady of the Lake chuckled from her seat, fiddling with the baking tray. "Those mage apprentices are the same, thinking they're archmages after learning a few spells and eager to show off, often causing big trouble."
"Spellcasters are like that. The Lake Priestesses and the Lady's Priestesses also have this issue," Morgiana added. With Ryan frequently staying at the tower lately, she had received a lot of his attention. She often clung to him during Sulia's morning sword practice and training sessions, as well as during the afternoons when Ryan handled affairs alone.
"How did you handle this? Did you discuss it at the Winter Solstice Turkey Feast?" Ryan felt a headache coming on. Personally, Teresa and Veronica were his consorts, and he had intimate relationships with both. Professionally, their powerful magic and well-developed wizard training system were invaluable to the development and prosperity of his domain. Not to mention Veronica's magic workshop producing enchanted equipment and potions, and Teresa's ice magic boosting crop yields.
"We didn't discuss it at the feast," Sulia shook her head, adjusting her skirt to accommodate Ryan's touch. Blushing, she added, "In any case, Ryan, you'll have to resolve this issue."
"Yes, I'll call Teresa and Veronica to talk about it. Even spellcasters need to be under unified management," Ryan nodded. Spellcasters, due to their contact with magic winds, were particularly susceptible to corruption, and he needed to be careful.
"Those young witch apprentices will have a hard time finding husbands in the future," Sulia smirked. "Having seen the world, they won't settle for ordinary knight-errants or Kislovian hillbilly lords."
"And what does that have to do with me?" Ryan retorted. "Veronica put everything she had on me early on, and Teresa nearly died for me twice. If it weren't for these reasons, I wouldn't have accepted them. Sacrifice and reward go hand in hand. If their apprentices only see their mentors being with a hero like Ryan Makado without considering what their mentors gave up, they're not seeing the whole picture."
Their conversation reached the ears of Morgiana and the Lady of the Lake. Morgiana, recalling something, clamped her legs tightly and remained silent, while the Lady of the Lake smirked self-deprecatingly, thinking that she had also invested everything in Ryan.
In the end, Sulia reaped the benefits, although sharing with her was also nice. Still, the Lady felt a bit resentful, but she had to accept it, especially given Ryan's father's stance.
"Don't be too hard on them. They admire you," the gentle and graceful Sulia defended the young witches. "Young girls always dream of being princesses, especially witch apprentices."
"Haha, you're right, Sulia. I shouldn't view them so negatively. It's just that, growing up in Nord, I've seen a lot. Nord isn't a place with a gentle folk. It's a land constantly at war with northern marauders. The people there are fierce and calculative. Although Nords are known as the most honest people in the Old World, it's only because they're bad at lying. It's a harsh land," Ryan chuckled. "From a young age, children who awakened magical talents had only two fates: being taken by the Imperial College of Magic or the Arcane Council, or being burned at the stake. I had to carefully hide my psychic abilities to avoid being roasted."
Hearing this, the Lady of the Lake, Morgiana, and Sulia couldn't help but laugh.
After a while, the pizza was ready, and the Lady of the Lake indicated it was time for lunch.
"I wonder how Bertrand and the others are doing," Ryan mused as he tasted the dishes prepared by the Lady of the Lake and Morgiana. "I hope everything goes smoothly."
"It will, Ryan," Sulia smiled radiantly. "You have
to believe in yourself."
...
In the icy winds and snowy landscape of the Winter Solstice, a group of dwarves and a human army were on the march.
The dwarf army was led by Bellegar, King of Eight Peaks, with about 800 troops and five heavy cannons, slowly advancing through the wilderness.
The human army was commanded by Sir Bertrand, the "Green Arrow," with over 400 soldiers and about 100 Ulgol horse archers. The expedition knight Karad was also with them, believing he should assess the damage Kemmler had inflicted on the Duchy of Gisoreux and assist Duke Harken in resolving the issues.
"We're about a day's journey away. King Bellegar, where do you plan to rest?" Bertrand, now in a fine green leaf scale armor—a creation of the wood elves—tried to slow his speech so that Bellegar could understand his Low Gothic with a hint of an accent.
"Dwarves don't need rest... well, we'll find a place to camp when it gets dark," Bellegar grumbled. "Or you can go ahead, and we'll catch up."
"No, we'll follow your lead," Sir Bertrand responded cautiously.
The knight was suddenly annoyed as the Ulgol horse archers began singing, drowning out his words.
"We Kislovites will punish the world!"
"From the Lynsk River to the Sea of Claws!"
"The Old World will echo with our songs!"
"Capital, Vodka, our Ursun Bear!"
"All who stand will unite!"
"We've become one people!"
"Bow down with gratitude!"
"To the toughest country in the Old World!"
"Ura! Ura!"
The serfs whispered among themselves, "Strange Ulgol people."
"It's not strange. The Ulgols and Kislovites form the Kingdom of Kislev, the northernmost realm of order in the Old World. They've been trying to recover from the Great War for 160 years, with countless filthy creatures inhabiting Kislev's wilderness, and no nobles able to drive them out," Karad, the expedition knight, explained. "The last king (self-styled Tsar) Boris Bokha led all Kislev's forces in a twenty-year-long 'Great Purge,' reclaiming much of the kingdom's frozen wastelands and eastern forests. But in the end, just as the purge was about to succeed, Bokha was killed in battle by a Kurgan tribe worshiping Chaos while crossing the Lynsk River into the northern troll lands. His sacrifice brought the kingdom its current brief peace."
"A remarkable man!" Bellegar exclaimed. "There are men among humans worthy of respect. Ryan is one of them, and so was that king."
"Roar~" As they chatted, a deafening dragon roar echoed from the peaks of the Grey Mountains. A huge dragon swooped down from the high mountains. "Roar~ Roar!"
"Wyvern!!!"
"Prepare for battle! Prepare for battle!"
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