"Duchess, it's time to go. The entire city of Nuhr is awaiting your return." Grand Marshal Erstein addressed Emilia solemnly.
Emilia cast a lingering gaze over Ryan's domain for the last time. The landscape was lush and vibrant, with fields of winter wheat being harvested by serfs. The knights under Ryan's command were assembled, standing in neat rows, doffing their caps in salute to her.
No one had expected that the Count's head maid would turn out to be the Empire's Elector Countess. Yet, upon learning of this, everyone extended the highest respect to Emilia. The knights admired those who demonstrated perseverance and responsibility. Emilia had served as Ryan's maid for over eight years.
Now, Emilia had to return to the Empire. There, her vassals and subjects awaited her. They needed Emilia, and she had to fulfill her duties as the last legitimate heir of the Elector Count family.
Sulia was there, along with Teresa, Veronica, and even the rarely-seen dark elf Olica and the Lady of the Lake's sorceress Morgiana.
But the person Emilia's eyes were most drawn to was the Count, who stood with a gentle, slightly melancholic smile. Time had flown by. Surrounded by the elite Nuhr Iron Guard, the 25-year-old Emilia recalled her first meeting with Ryan at seventeen, seeing his youthful face and remembering the White Wolf Knight who was then just a kingdom knight of Nord and a member of the White Wolf Knight Order.
She had been a witness to Ryan's many legendary tales. Emilia thought she could remain a devoted spectator forever, but the moment of parting had come. Her eyes filled with tears as she reflected on the past eight years, recalling when she packed her bags at the Marienburg dock and followed Ryan home.
Emilia turned slowly, signaling the Nuhr Iron Guard and the knightly orders to clear the way. She approached Ryan. The man, with a doting smile, placed his hand on her shoulder and patted gently.
The Duchess clenched her teeth. She knew how vulnerable she felt around this man. If he asked her, if he pleaded with her to stay, she would abandon everything to remain by his side, even if it meant being a nameless maid for the rest of her life.
But he didn't. Instead, Ryan made it clear that the choice was hers. Whatever she decided, he would support her.
That's the kind of hero Ryan was to her—a man imbued with a sense of duty and purpose, a paragon of chivalry, the chosen champion of the Lady of the Lake, and a model for all knights.
If Ryan had begged her to stay like a desperate lover, she would have lost respect for him.
"...Thank you, Ryan. Without you, I wouldn't be who I am today." Emilia spoke her final words as the Duchess of Nuhr. "I will always be your little maid, Emilia. My man."
With that, Emilia stood on tiptoe and planted a gentle kiss on Ryan's lips. Then, she turned and left without looking back.
The Nuhr army departed in front of Ryan, who stood watching their retreating figures. He sighed deeply. Emilia's departure signaled her choice to leave behind a life of peace and leisure, opting instead to plunge into the turbulent politics of Nuhr. In the Empire's court, she certainly faced numerous adversaries. Though she bore the Elector Count's holy sword, "Flame of the West," her return would undoubtedly be fraught with bloody conflict.
But this was her decision, and Ryan had no right to interfere.
"Let's go back," Ryan said, turning to face the gathered women. Apart from the Lady of the Lake, who had been acting mysteriously, every woman connected to him was present today.
First to leave were the two sorceresses, Teresa and Veronica, who were busy with their magical experiments. Morgiana, the Lady of the Lake's sorceress, was preoccupied with investigating Mousilon, trying to locate the Holy Grail through divination.
Sulia and Olica stayed behind. Sulia, the knightly lady, gently wrapped her arm around her husband's, offering comfort. "This won't be the last time you see her. When the time is right, we can visit Emilia in Nuhr. She has already set up the teleportation array; it just needs Lady Elspeth to activate it on the other side."
"Actually, Emilia's timing could have been better," Ryan sighed, signaling for the knights to disperse before heading back to the winery. "But there's no helping it. This was the agreed-upon time, and Nuhr has already delayed as much as they could."
"Master, she's pregnant." Olica's words were blunt. The dark elf glanced sideways, her tone sharp. "It's obvious you've been spending all your time with her lately."
"Emilia was about to leave. It was only right to give her more time. I can only blame myself…" Sulia said, feeling somewhat resentful as she covered her own abdomen. Despite being married for over a year and having the longest time with Ryan, she had yet to conceive, even though her life rune had long since matured.
She also felt a subtle sense of crisis. If Emilia gave birth to a son, his noble status and rightful inheritance could make him the recognized heir, given both parents' identities. What if she couldn't produce a child? Would Ryan's titles and estates all go to Emilia's child?
"Don't worry, Sulia. Emilia's child will inherit her titles. All my titles will go to our children." Ryan saw Sulia's concern and reassured her with a smile. "You don't need to worry about that. I'm not going anywhere."
Sulia blushed and murmured, "I'm not worried about that. I'm worried about... what if I can't conceive?"
"It won't come to that. Emilia is... quite special." Ryan explained. "Her life rune matured just three weeks ago, and within days, she was already expecting."
"Master, why was it so easy for Emilia to conceive?" Olica asked curiously.
"Because she doesn't have chaotic magical elements in her body, making the process relatively straightforward." Ryan shook his head. "You're both different. Olica, you have a significant amount of dark magical power, and Sulia has accumulated a lot of the Lady's divine power."
The knight and the dark elf finally understood, especially Sulia, who blushed while wondering if the goddess had been possessing her too frequently.
"Alright, let's not dwell on this. Emilia was fortunate. You will both have your chance." Ryan gestured for them to head back. There was still much for the Count to handle.
... [Transition to Administrative Affairs] ...
In the Old World, east of Bretonnia, near the Grey Mountains, below the Blackstone Stronghold.
Questing Knight Calard marveled at the dwarven craftsmanship.
Beneath the peaks of the Grey Mountains lay expanses of cultivated farmland, where over two thousand serfs toiled diligently to atone for their deeds. They worked hard, grateful for Duke Hakon's generosity.
The Angrund Clan dwarves controlled the valley with just a few outposts, each manned by only 5-10 dwarves. These dwarves, equipped with superior firearms and various fortifications, could fend off an army of thousands!
Should the outpost dwarves encounter an overwhelming foe, they would light the signal fires, summoning the dwarven troops stationed within to strike a fatal blow. Knights from the nearby Duchy of Gisoreux would also rush to battle upon seeing the signal.
Some dwarven actions had impressed Calard greatly. Faced with unarmed escaped serfs, Belegar had ordered his men to train them in basic spear thrusts and how to use simple crossbows. The dwarven crossbows were remarkably user-friendly; the serfs only needed to learn how to load, aim, and pull the trigger. This straightforward training allowed them to quickly become somewhat effective.
Calard began to understand why the serfs in Ryan's territory had considerable fighting prowess.
But time was not on his side. Calard couldn't stay long. To continue earning the Lady's favor and attention, he had to press on. Sir Bertrand's human army had departed two weeks earlier.
Taking up his holy sword Durandal, Calard mounted his beloved horse, Galipar. After cleaning his tattered surcoat, he was pleased to find that Belegar had his runesmith, Srudd the Honest, reforge his knightly plate armor, adding three runes to protect this formidable questing knight. Out of respect for their shared battle at La Maisonnelle Abbey, the dwarves only charged Calard for the cost and an additional three hundred gold crowns—a very generous price for the dwarves.
With a substantial sum saved from his long quest, Calard saw no reason to hesitate in paying for the equipment that was his lifeblood.
Donning his armor and mounting his horse, Calard bade farewell to the dwarves and the valley's serfs, setting off alone on his quest.
The Grail Quest was a solitary journey. Within three hours, the signs of civilization and towns were far behind him. Now, Calard was surrounded by desolate wilderness. It was April, yet some areas of the Duchy of Gisoreux still had snow, likely the last gasp of winter. The soft, falling snow blanketed the ground.
Occasionally, Calard could see some sparse, barren farmland. However, he rarely saw serfs working the fields. Kemmler's devastation had scarred the duchy deeply, and it would take a long time to heal. Calard even doubted whether the damage caused by the necromancer would ever fully mend
. Yet, with Kemmler dead, life would eventually move on for the serfs and nobles alike.
Such is life.
What struck Calard as odd was the sudden influx of merchants. They were like sharks smelling blood, converging on the newly established trading posts. Along his journey, he encountered several caravans headed to trade, bringing furs, wines, and horses in exchange for dwarven weapons and Imperial black beer and grain.
This brought some semblance of life to the land.
The caravans were guarded by various troops—some from the Duchy of Gisoreux, others by the merchants' own guards. While this ensured safety in the wilds, it also frustrated Calard. How could he offer sufficient tribute to the Lady?
He decided to venture further into the wilderness.
Approaching the Arden Forest, Calard finally spotted his quarry. Amid the sounds of his horse's hooves, he saw a frantic woman fleeing through the woods, trying to escape him.
Calard quickly identified her. She wore a filthy green robe and a pointed wizard's hat. Seeing the questing knight, the woman screamed and ran wildly through the forest. Her face was etched with terror, and uncontrolled magical energy formed green waves in the air. Her gray hair reeked of curses. She attempted to disappear into the depths of the woods.
This was a wild mage—a woman who had awakened her magical talent without formal training. In common parlance, she was a witch.
Calard had recently witnessed a witch hunt in the valley below the Blackstone Stronghold. The witch, bound to a stake, awaited purification by fire. But she had shown no fear, laughing maniacally and using her magic to attack the serfs, cursing them and promising to return and destroy the land.
A dwarven cannon had promptly reduced her to ashes.
In this world, witches were not seen as a source of progress or benevolence. Corrupted by Chaos, any untrained mage would inevitably become a Chaos sorcerer, eventually transforming into a Chaos demon.
"Evil creature, servant of Chaos, die!" Calard spurred his horse into action. His purebred elven steed galloped through the forest, hooves pounding on the snow-covered, muddy ground. Thick branches obscured Calard's view. The witch chanted spells, causing thorns and spikes to grow wildly, nearly encircling him as she tried to vanish from sight.
She almost succeeded.
"For the Lady!" The questing knight gripped his sword tightly. The branches seemed to fade to nothing as the holy sword Durandal emitted the Lady's light. Calard unleashed his fury, slashing through the obstacles. Urging his horse forward, he signaled for a final charge. "Finish her!"
With the witch's terrified scream echoing, the horse surged like lightning through the forest. Durandal's blade tore through the thorns. In that moment, Calard's masterful swordsmanship shone. The blade smoothly sliced through the witch's spine. In a flash, her head fell to the ground, her lifeless body stumbling a few steps before collapsing into the mud, twitching slightly before going still.
"Humph!" Calard dismounted, filled with disdain. He examined the witch's body, knowing she was a minor threat. If such low-level sacrifices could satisfy the Lady of the Lake, the Grail Quest wouldn't be so arduous. Kneeling, he prayed to the Lady, recounting his minor victory, then prepared to continue his journey, seeking his next target.
But before his prayer concluded, the sound of hooves echoed from deep within the forest.
A figure entirely clad in green appeared before Calard. Mounted on a tall warhorse, the knight wore unique green armor entwined with ivy. He radiated a green glow and an aura of immense authority.
"You are?!"
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