Afternoon, within the interior plateau of the Eight Peaks Mountain, in the gold-topped red and blue tent of King Ryan at Valley Town.
Inside the tent, the dark elf maid Olica and the Garland Witch Veronica lay upon a soft, large bed. Both women had flushed faces, a faint rosy hue adding to the vibrancy of Veronica's bright beauty and the seductive allure of Olica's delicate features.
Veronica was dressed in an elegant rose velvet elven one-shoulder gown, paired with black velvet lace stockings and a pair of black high-heeled shoes with red soles. Her long, slender legs wrapped in the silk stockings peeked from under the covers, while her brown hair draped down her shoulders. Completely exhausted, Veronica leaned against a pillow, her eyes closed, savoring the lingering sensation of relaxation.
Olica, though slightly more energetic than Veronica, was also content to remain in bed. She wore a black rose court dress, perfectly accentuating her exotic charm and dark allure. Instead of her usual white stockings, she had chosen sheer black silk stockings today, with delicate crystal sandals that revealed her toes and ankles. Wrapped in the blanket, Olica's amber eyes occasionally glanced at Veronica.
"Why are you looking at me? We've done this many times already," Veronica chuckled, clearly amused. She wasn't particularly shy in private, especially not now, as she relaxed fully. "If you have something to say, just say it."
"Aside from me, you've spent the most time with Morgiana, right?" Olica slyly blinked her wide eyes, her tone teasing, as she looked quite different from her usual maid attire, now exuding an undeniable allure.
"I've spent more time with you than with Morgiana," Veronica sighed, too tired to move. She relaxed into the bed, reflecting on the past: "Come to think of it, during both of Ryan's major expeditions—one to Estalia and the other to the Eight Peaks—it was the two of us who accompanied him."
"Have you noticed anything unusual?" Olica didn't follow Veronica's train of thought. Instead, she fixed her gaze meaningfully on Veronica's abdomen. "About your magic markings, mine, Morgiana's, or anyone else's?"
"Unusual?" Veronica looked puzzled, pressing her hand lightly on her abdomen as her face flushed again. "I haven't really looked closely. Aren't the markings the same for all of us?"
"Not exactly the same," Olica drawled lazily. "There are subtle differences. The markings Ryan gave each of us are unique, especially the one on Queen Sulia."
"You've seen Lady Sulia's?" Veronica perked up, curious. "I remember she's never—"
"As the master's personal maid, I occasionally catch glimpses," Olica shook her head. "What I'm trying to tell you, Veronica, is that these markings... they're special."
"I know they're special. If it weren't for these markings, I would've died in the Crystal Labyrinth of Tzeentch long ago," Veronica nodded, acknowledging the power that had saved her life. "So, what are you trying to say?"
"I'm saying you need to appreciate it more, Veronica. You know very little about the master's true secrets... very little," Olica sighed, kicking off her crystal sandals and wrapping herself more snugly in the blanket. She glanced at Veronica, hesitated for a moment, and then continued, "The power Ryan possesses is something even gods covet. If I'm not mistaken, you still want to become independent from him, don't you?"
"Independent? Sort of," Veronica paused at Olica's words, then laughed at herself. "How could I ever leave Ryan? I've only come this far thanks to his influence, power, and resources. There's no way I'd abandon my lover. But you're right about one thing—I do intend to become independent, but not from Ryan. I want to separate from the Garland Council. Whether it's Margarita or anyone else, I don't want to be bothered. I'm thriving under Ryan's protection, so why should I listen to orders from the council anymore?"
"I see," Olica wasn't surprised by this answer. As a powerful Dark Magic master, she knew well how potent Ryan's magic markings were. Even goddesses like the High Elf and the Lady of the Lake had fallen for Ryan, so it was no wonder Veronica, a highly talented mortal, couldn't resist his influence. After a moment's thought, Olica asked, "And what about Aurora and Teresa?"
"Them?" Veronica's expression soured slightly, as Olica had expected. After a pause, the Garland Witch carefully replied, "I understand that mother-daughter pair well. Teresa isn't the competitive type. She's content with her current situation and doesn't seem interested in challenging me. She's a good girl, and I don't bother her. As for Aurora... she's someone I need to watch out for. I can tell she's ambitious."
"Mm-hmm," Olica smiled sweetly. "I have a suggestion, Veronica. Interested?"
"What kind of suggestion?" Veronica's curiosity was piqued.
"Why don't we strike first against Aurora?" Olica grinned mischievously. "Someone is willing to lead the charge against her."
"You mean... Morgiana?!" Veronica immediately understood.
"Exactly. So, are you in?" Olica already knew the answer.
"Count me in!" Veronica grinned in return. "I'm curious to see what the legendary elder of the Sanctuary will look like once we've dealt with her."
"Don't worry, I have plenty of methods..."
—Dividing Line of Schemes and Plots—
Half an hour later, in the main hall of the king's tent, Ryan sat lazily in his seat. On his left and right were François and Karad, respectively, with François' chief lady-in-waiting, Chaix Morningstar, standing behind him. Also standing nearby was Catherine, Veronica's apprentice, who had recently been promoted to the rank of legendary witch and now spent much of her time by Karad's side.
Arrayed before them were Ryan's noble knights, including:
- Tulles de Shanger, the newly appointed Marquis of Loire and a Holy Grail knight.
- Julian Cajun, the newly appointed Count of Rennes and a Holy Grail knight.
- Larotte, Count of North Mousillon.
- Alfred, head of the Freyja Cathedral District and Templar Grandmaster.
- Hex de Heiss, the Baron of Devon.
- Armand, the Standard Bearer of Bretonnia and Holy Grail Knight.
- Juan Carlos, Baron of Biocari and Sun Watcher.
- Lucien, Baron of Spire Palace.
- Durant, acting commander of the Bretonnian Independent Regiment.
- Bertrand, commander of the Old Guard.
- Deys, commander of the Rangers known as the "Green Wind."
- Belial Gulag, the new commander of the Ugol Horse Archers.
This was Ryan's new inner circle, following the deaths of Richard, Baron Olivier, and Baron Lops in battle. These men would continue to serve Ryan faithfully, and the succession of the fallen knights' titles would be addressed upon Ryan's return to Bretonnia.
Today's grand assembly was to welcome the envoy of the High King of the Dwarves. Ryan made sure to give the dwarven envoy the respect he deserved, and the envoy, coming from the Everpeak, felt suitably honored. The envoy wasted no time, stating directly that the High King had anticipated Belegar's pride and overconfidence, and thus had instructed the envoy to seek the assistance of Belegar's knightly allies.
Unlike elves, dwarves tended to be more straightforward in their negotiations. The envoy explained that the High King hoped Ryan would leave behind a contingent of soldiers to garrison the Eight Peaks and assist the dwarves in defending it.
The High King, Thorgrim Grudgebearer, understood well that it was impossible for the dwarves to fully reconquer the mountains. However, if Belegar and his people could hold the Eight Peaks, it would greatly relieve the pressure on the northern dwarf kingdoms in the World's Edge Mountains. But this was a task Belegar could not manage alone.
The Angrund clan, after years of wandering and decline, now had fewer than 30,000 dwarves, with only around 10,000 still clinging to the dream of reclaiming the Eight Peaks. Of those, Belegar commanded barely 3,000 warriors, which was far too few to defend such a vast fortress.
"So, His Majesty the High King hopes we can station some of our forces here to assist King Belegar in defending the Eight Peaks Fortress?" Ryan, sitting in the seat of honor, frowned.
"Exactly. The High King, in his great wisdom, sees the importance of securing the Eight Peaks. Right now, Everpeak cannot spare additional troops, and the Iron Peak army is only temporarily stationed here. You've defeated the greenskins and the Skaven, but that doesn't mean they won't return," the envoy replied.
"I'm well aware of that," Ryan nodded, exchanging a look with François that expressed mutual concern.
"I disagree, Your Majesty," at that moment, Baron Hex of Devon stood up, visibly agitated. His face, scarred from the Battle of Mousillon, twisted in anger. "We've already lost too much in helping the dwarves reclaim the Eight Peaks. Out of the 40,000 we originally sent, we barely have 20,000 left, even including the troops stationed at Iron Peak and Castle Dragonhorn. Too many brave knights and peasants have sacrificed themselves in this war. Now, the dwarves want us to keep pouring troops into this endless meat grinder
? Absolutely not!"
The dwarven envoy frowned, wanting to retort, but upon recalling the heavy losses Bretonnia had suffered, he simply sighed and nodded in understanding.
Though dwarves were known for their bluntness and fiery tempers, not all of them were poor diplomats. Some within Everpeak understood the need for tact in delicate negotiations.
After a moment of thought, the dwarven envoy sweetened the deal: "The High King promises that if you station troops here to assist in defending the Eight Peaks, Everpeak will pay their full wages, provide equipment, and cover all supplies. We'll pay according to the Imperial mercenary standard. How does that sound?"
"Oh?" At this, the eyes of the gathered knights lit up with interest. They exchanged excited glances.
Belegar had already made a similar offer earlier. "Brother Ryan, can you leave behind a few troops to help us out? Don't worry about money or gear—we have plenty. All we need are some strong lads, like your Old Guard."
Seeing the positive reaction, the envoy nodded in satisfaction. Humans, as a species, valued material gain, and even the supposedly virtuous knights of Bretonnia were no exception. The High King, with his long beard and keen wisdom, had quickly grasped humanity's weak spot.
Sensing he had their attention, the envoy added, "And should you help us, the dwarves will never forget your sacrifice. The High King has also promised further rewards in the future."
"Hmm… Your Majesty, given these terms, perhaps it wouldn't be unreasonable to leave behind some troops," François finally spoke, his elegant demeanor ever composed. The Duke of Winford addressed Ryan with a measured tone. "We could employ a volunteer or recruitment system. Those willing to stay could remain, but how would we manage the supply of food? Our logistics are quite different from the dwarves'."
"That's already been accounted for," the envoy replied quickly, seeing that the negotiations were going well. "The Eight Peaks plateau was once a large grazing land, and there are many areas suitable for farming. The High King has already prepared livestock suited for the plateau, as well as crops such as barley and wheat. We're ready to provide everything you need."
"His Majesty the High King is truly thorough in his planning," Ryan smiled and nodded. "We're grateful for the High King's generosity, but this is a serious matter. Could we have some time to discuss it among ourselves? If I recall correctly, even your dwarves often consult your guilds and engineers before making major decisions, right?"
"Of course, but please make your decision quickly," the envoy urged. He then signaled to two dwarven rangers, who brought forward a chest. "This is a personal gift from the High King to the Bretonnians, especially to you, King Ryan, as thanks for your help in accomplishing what seemed impossible. Please accept it."
When the chest was opened, inside was a gleaming morning star, radiating the Lady's divine light.
"Francis's Morningstar! The lost artifact from the Great Expedition of Aqshy!" Karad, recognizing the weapon, gasped in awe. "How is this here? This weapon can triple the wielder's strength and can shatter magical weapons and trinkets with the Lady's holy power! This is a symbol of the Great Expedition's unmatched glory! Lady bless us!"
"Now, do you believe in the High King's sincerity?" The dwarven envoy, pleased with their astonished reactions, smiled smugly. "This is but one of many treasures from the High King's vaults."
"Thank you. We graciously accept this gift," Ryan nodded, feeling a deep sense of respect from the artifact.
With the envoy gone, the tent was left buzzing with discussions about whether to leave troops behind. Given the generous terms offered by the High King and Belegar, most of the knightly nobles and commanders leaned toward the idea of stationing a garrison at the Eight Peaks.
"Durant!" Ryan called out after a brief discussion with his men.
"Here!" Acting Commander Durant stepped forward from his position at the back of the room, his expression serious.
"You and your Independent Regiment will follow the original plan. Stay behind at the Eight Peaks. Move the people of the Principality of Blitzka here. From now on, this will be your base."
"Understood!"
"As for the knights, those who wish to remain may do so, but it won't be forced."
"As for the rest of the troops, we'll discuss further."
Ryan gazed out into the distance, beyond the tent.
The great expedition to the Eight Peaks was over.
It was time to return home.
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