In the early winter of the Lady of the Lake's high tower, inside the fourth-floor bedroom.
A soft yellow magic lamp illuminated the serene room, which was filled with the faint scent of irises—the goddess's natural fragrance, mixed with high-quality incense from the High Elves. Outside, the cold wind howled, but the goddess's divine power enveloped the entire tower, making the inside and outside of the valley feel like two different worlds.
After revealing her plan, the Lady of the Lake looked at Ryan with eyes full of anticipation, waiting for his response.
Ryan stared at the Lady of the Lake, looking somewhat troubled and confused. After about a minute of contemplation, the Lady of the Lake grew impatient. She reached out and pinched Ryan's face, displeased, "What's this? My champion, are you starting to ignore my words now? Have you used me up and decided to turn your back on me?"
"...My Lady, it's just that I'm not sure exactly what you intend to do," Ryan said, holding the Lady of the Lake's delicate hand in his palm, his expression filled with helplessness. "Are you planning to create a new deity, seize Asurya's divinity and authority, or start a divine war?"
"You know my original New World plan," the Lady of the Lake understood Ryan's concern and sighed softly. "My original plan was to choose Araloth as my husband. He had the potential to become a god, and he had a daughter with the Wood Elf lord Wendelrith, named Carona. This girl also carried Araloth's bloodline. If the plan succeeded, in the New World, Araloth would become the new Asurya, I would be the new Asurya's wife, and Carona would be the ruler of the New World and my daughter. I could then hide in the shadows."
Ryan remained silent, and the Lady of the Lake knew he was a bit displeased. Secretly delighted, she continued in a calm tone, "I don't regret changing my mind and choosing you afterward. What I'm saying is that my original plan required the existence of a new Asurya. The Phoenix Fire and Asurya's Flame represent the elves' primordial power. As long as the flame doesn't extinguish, the elves can continue to exist, and we can truly harness the power of the High Elves."
"I understand that much, but how exactly are we going to create a new Asurya?" Ryan nodded, agreeing with the Lady of the Lake on this point.
"We'll have a child!" the Lady of the Lake said confidently, finally revealing a satisfied expression as her plan began to take shape. "That's the only way to create a new Asurya! We'll seize Asurya's sacred fire, and then we'll have a baby who will become the new Asurya!"
"...." Ryan was left speechless.
"Listen, Ryan, the End Times is a period of endless calamity and destruction, but it also presents opportunities and a reshuffling of power in the world," the Lady of the Lake said, standing up from the sofa chair. She floated gracefully over to Ryan, sitting on his lap, lightly swinging her smooth silk-clad feet under her skirt. She leaned close to Ryan's ear and whispered, "This plan will require a lot of preparation. Listen to me, we should do it like this…"
(Whispering...)
As Ryan listened, the confusion in his eyes began to fade, and they gradually brightened.
This plan sounded feasible!
The Lady of the Lake softly finished outlining her entire plan. She wrapped her arms around Ryan's neck and whispered, "What do you think?"
"It's a great plan," Ryan sighed, holding the goddess in his arms. "I can only say that your plan seems sound overall. If we can survive the End Times, both you and I will be the biggest beneficiaries. But the only issue is, how can you be sure that Malekith is the true Phoenix King?"
"I can't tell you that just yet, but I can tell you this, dear Ryan, my chosen husband: the High Elves value bloodlines far more than you can imagine. Ulthuan is not the idyllic paradise humans think it is; it's full of open and hidden struggles," the Lady of the Lake explained seriously as she changed her sitting position, curling up in Ryan's embrace. "Malekith is the child of the first Phoenix King, Aenarion. He is loved by Asurya and is destined to be the true Phoenix King. That's all I can tell you."
"Alright, I don't really understand your elven ways, but why didn't you tell the High Elves this truth at the time? And even after the great mistake was made and the elves split, why didn't you reveal the facts to the public?" Ryan held the Lady of the Lake close, letting her find a comfortable position as he continued to express his doubts. "It was all just a misunderstanding..."
"I told you, Asurya wouldn't allow it," the Lady of the Lake shook her head. She continued, "To put it simply, Ryan, do you know about the 'Fall of the Eldar'? Did your father ever tell you?"
Ryan's pupils widened in shock, genuinely surprised this time. "Could it be…"
"The Lord of the Phoenix, Asurya, died once, during the Fall of the Eldar. Asurya truly perished, completely disappearing," the Lady of the Lake sneered coldly. "But as you can see, he was resurrected, fully and completely. That's why Asurya is indifferent to the End Times or the world's destruction—because no matter how many times he dies, he will be resurrected, as long as a cycle completes."
"So that's why!" Ryan finally understood why the human gods were desperately trying to stop and fight Chaos, while Asurya remained indifferent.
After explaining all this, the Lady of the Lake leaned softly against Ryan's chest, gently teasing him, "Ryan, I've told you everything I can, and I've given you everything I can. I've bet everything on you. You won't disappoint me, will you?"
"You've always been using me," Ryan said, gazing down at the goddess's beautiful face. "But I've always been using you too. We're inseparable now."
"In the end, we came together. I've always believed it was fate's choice," the Lady of the Lake lazily nodded, playing with Ryan's black hair. "Your coronation is set for next year on Lady's Day. Morgiana has already arranged everything. I trust you won't disappoint me. This kingdom will be reborn and transformed under your rule. The successor of Landuin, the man I love, Ryan, I've entrusted everything to you. Whatever the future holds, we will face it together."
"Yes, I promise, my Lady," Ryan whispered his promise, his expression softening. "We will face it together."
"We've been talking for quite a while," the Lady of the Lake smiled. "Tonight, you're with Morgiana?"
"Sort of..." Ryan answered somewhat awkwardly.
"Then I won't disturb you?" the Lady of the Lake poked Ryan's cheek with her finger. "Unless you promise not to misbehave. It's not time for us yet. Wait until you're crowned king, okay?"
"Alright! I promise!" Ryan laughed, lifting the goddess into his arms in a princess carry as he headed downstairs.
"By the way, Ryan, while you were away, two beautiful noble ladies were sent from Lionesse, intending to serve as your maids. But Morgiana sent them packing," the Lady of the Lake giggled, holding onto Ryan's neck. "Morgiana was unusually angry. She warned Duke Adalhard of Lionesse, asking if he didn't want his life anymore or if he didn't want to be a duke."
"Pfft, hahaha~" Ryan couldn't help but laugh as he carried the Lady of the Lake downstairs. "It seems Lionesse is short on money and supplies again. They're probably too embarrassed to ask for another loan since they haven't paid off the previous one, so they came up with this idea."
"This just shows how famous you are, my champion," the Lady of the Lake chuckled with a hint of something more in her voice. "There have been rumors among the kingdom's upper echelons that you're perfect in every way, except that you have a bit too much interest in women. Some even think you might actually be Slaanesh's chosen champion."
"That's because they don't understand what Slaanesh is," Ryan retorted. "Slaanesh's core doctrine is to tolerate all sins, pursue all thrills, and try all taboos. It has little to do with relations between men and women. At most, I have a few women. I don't understand why they make that connection."
After thinking for a moment, Ryan sighed and shook his head, "But it's not surprising. Extreme ideas are always the easiest for the masses to accept. Even a slight bias makes many people eager to define and label others, which is normal."
"In any case, I'll always be behind you, my champion," the Lady of the Lake smiled softly, nodding.
"Thank you for your trust, my Lady."
...Knights and Chivalry Division Line...
Three days later, in the Old World, in Mousillon Duchy, Genev.
Following Ryan to Bretonnia was the decision of Blackheart Rip. This mercenary baron made the decision after much consideration. Blackheart Rip was now a man alone. The mercenary company and small territory he had fought for over decades had been reduced to nothing by Tam
urkhan's invasion. Now, without soldiers and land, seeking help and support from the Imperial court would only bring him humiliation.
The Empire's nobles were incredibly pragmatic. Without soldiers and land, Blackheart Rip's baron title would eventually be revoked. This cunning mercenary leader knew better than anyone that the merits he earned in the Battle of Nuln wouldn't earn him support from the Imperial army. At best, Emilia might give him a reward and a knight's title.
But that wasn't what Blackheart Rip wanted. He wanted to gather an army, return to the Border Princes, rebuild his princedom, and once again become the Black Prince, Leitbert! Not just some mercenary leader, Blackheart Rip.
That's why he set his sights on Ryan. He thought Ryan might be able to help him, and maybe Ryan's Bretonnian Kingdom needed a representative for their interests in the Border Princes?
Blackheart Rip was prepared to become a pawn. He was convinced he had value, and he had some merits, which gave him a bit of leverage. Just as he anticipated, Ryan agreed to take him in.
Upon arriving in Bretonnia, Blackheart Rip was astonished by the prosperity and bustling life. He even saw the legendary Wood Elves openly walking in the streets, selling goods. He was amazed by the dwarven waterworks and the developed livestock industry, and even more impressed by the excellent security throughout the land.
After being settled in, Ryan didn't inquire about the mercenary leader again, and Blackheart Rip wasn't surprised. As a newcomer, being cold-shouldered and "left out" for a few days was normal. When he had sent a messenger to Brunswick with tribute, the messenger had been left waiting for an entire month before being received by the Emperor's court officials.
Taking advantage of this downtime, Blackheart Rip relaxed and began to explore Genev.
In the early winter, the streets were still crowded. Aside from the regular shops, there were also many vendors selling their goods in the open, some making lamb soup and pancakes as they went. The clean and tidy streets were filled with townsfolk discussing the kingdom's recent events, with certain words constantly on their lips.
"Old Guard!" "Honors!" "Knighthood!"
"Thirty members of the Old Guard are about to receive knighthood! This is the first time in Bretonnia's history; even serfs can rise to become knights!"
"Long live the Duke, long live the Lady!"
The lively atmosphere of conversation filled the entire town. After work or during downtime, people gathered in the bars and meeting places of Genev to discuss the Old Guard's upcoming honors!
Occasionally, a Grail Knight or a member of the Old Guard would pass by, causing people to swarm them with admiration and praise.
Blackheart Rip responded to this with a sneer of disdain.
A pack of lapdogs, barking excitedly for a few scraps of meat their master threw their way.
Thirty knightly titles might seem like a lot, but how many people were in the entire kingdom, and how many could join the Old Guard?
The mercenary leader thought it over and found no fault with it. Serfs needed hope for advancement, just as lapdogs occasionally needed a bone. It made sense.
After touring the city, Blackheart Rip was fairly satisfied with its prosperity. Although there were still many poor people, as long as they were willing to work hard, they could have enough to eat, keep warm, and even save enough to visit the pub for a drink now and then. That was enough.
Before he knew it, Blackheart Rip had approached the Old Guard's barracks. Naturally, the barracks were off-limits for visitors, and Blackheart Rip could only stand at the entrance, watching from a distance. Even his prolonged gaze drew wary looks from the guards, though they recognized him from his valor in the Battle of Nuln.
Blackheart Rip noticed several vendors setting up near the Old Guard's barracks, particularly those selling food. They carried pots, pans, and other utensils, setting up stalls to cook on the spot.
"What's this all about?" Blackheart Rip asked, intrigued. He approached one of the stalls, where a freeman, dressed cleanly in a fur-lined coat and apron, responded with a smile. "You must be an Imperial knight, sir. We're selling food!"
"Selling food? To whom?" Blackheart Rip continued.
"To the Old Guard!" The stall owner chopped large chunks of cooked beef and placed them in a pot, simmering them with carrots and potatoes, the pot bubbling with the sound of cooking. "The Old Guard has some free time after their drills in the evening, and that's when we sell our food! I make some really good stuff, sir knight. Would you like to try some?"
"Sure, give me a bowl!" Blackheart Rip handed over a silver coin.
"Coming right up!" The stall owner scooped a full bowl of potato stew with beef from another large pot. He took the silver coin and skillfully pocketed it. "Enjoy, sir knight. Would you like a drink? Local ale, brandy? Imported black beer from the Empire, or vodka from Kislev? I've even got mead."
"No thanks," Blackheart Rip said, taking a spoonful of the stew.
"Potatoes cooked tender, with beef," the mercenary leader muttered, chewing the delicious food in his bowl, nodding in approval. "This is the life the peasants dream of."
"Isn't it?" The stall owner continued preparing his dishes, skewering chunks of chicken, duck, pork, beef, and lamb on bamboo sticks for marinating, while opening a bag of bread. "Life is getting better and better!"
"How much do you earn a year doing this?" Blackheart Rip asked casually.
"About 25 to 50 gold crowns!" The stall owner replied gleefully. "I don't always work here. I usually go where there are lots of soldiers after a battle. When they've got coins in their pockets, they're generous spenders, and I naturally make more."
That's more than many mercenaries earn in a year of risking their lives! Blackheart Rip felt a pang of discomfort.
"Good afternoon, Leitbert." At that moment, a familiar voice approached, and the newcomer casually sat down next to Blackheart Rip. "You've really got time to relax, sitting here eating potato stew with beef in front of the Old Guard's barracks?"
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