Emmanuelle stood like a lioness, her golden hair elegantly styled in a regal updo, yet her fierce, sharp side was on full display as the Imperial Duchess. For the former maid, she'd had enough. What were Karl Franz, Grand Theogonist Vikmar, and Boris Todbringer thinking? What kind of mess were they creating?
If not for this pointless conflict, she would already be in Bretonnia, reunited with her husband and family!
But here she was.
The White Wolf Church was pushing the narrative that Charlemagne had been Ulric's chosen champion, trying to position the White Wolf Church above the Church of Sigmar. Had they forgotten? Ulric himself had allowed Charlemagne's coronation and personally placed the divine crown upon his head. This fact had been confirmed repeatedly.
And now Vikmar wanted to summon an army to fight outside the city walls to prove his point? Did he forget that the Savior Ludwig risked his life to reunite the two churches after hundreds of years of division?
And Karl Franz? Did he really think she, the Duchess of Nuln, couldn't tell the difference between silver and steel? She had held back, choosing not to expose the fact that the batch of Dwarf pistols he showed off was made of pure silver.
Good, good. All these men, with their hypocrisy and pretense, disgusted her. For the sake of the Empire's unity, she had swallowed her pride and come here to mediate. And yet Boris, that stubborn mule, had kept her waiting all day!
She suddenly felt a deep sense of exhaustion.
"You've wasted an entire day of mine—very well, that's just perfect. I'll return to Nuln, take Wissenland with me, and join the Bretonnian Kingdom. You can all continue your squabbles without me! As far as I'm concerned, there is no more Empire, it's divided!" Emmanuelle stood abruptly, her voice filled with fury. "You think I wanted to come here? You think I enjoy playing mediator? What do you take me for?"
Boris was equally stunned. The White Wolf Elector's jaw nearly hit the floor.
What was Emmanuelle trying to do?
She was threatening to split the Empire apart, to undo what the Savior Ludwig had painstakingly restored!
"Impossible! Nuln and Wissenland cannot possibly join Bretonnia!" Boris shouted instinctively, his voice booming like thunder. "You are the daughter of Andrea, the Duchess of Nuln! Nuln is the birthplace of Ludwig the Savior! How could that city, or Wissenland, ever break away from the Empire? You may marry Ryan, but what about your people? The people of Nuln and Wissenland? They would never willingly leave the Empire!"
"Why not, Boris? What ties Nuln and Wissenland to the Empire? Their pride comes from Ludwig the Savior himself. He was our Emperor. But now? The throne belongs to the Grand Prince of Reikland, and the capital is in Altdorf. If you declare yourself Emperor, the capital will be in Middenheim. What does that have to do with Nuln?" Emmanuelle retorted mockingly. "You are not our Emperor, and neither is Karl!"
"Don't forget, in recent years, Nuln has made a fortune from the orders from Ryan and his brother Fulgen. If constant civil wars and the nightmare of the Three Emperors Era return, what do you think the people of Nuln will do?" She sneered as she finished speaking.
"So, it's perfectly fine to raise a sword against us Ulricans, then?" Boris roared back. "Is that how you solve problems?"
"Who started this nonsense in Altdorf? Need I remind you again? You fool! Or perhaps you'd like to try pulling the same stunt in Nuln?" Emmanuelle shot back, her voice like a whip crack.
An indescribable fury surged through Boris' chest. Shock, confusion, anger, and disdain mixed as he shouted at the Imperial Duchess, "Betrayal! Treacherous betrayal! Emmanuelle, do you even realize what you're saying?!"
"Do you even realize what you're doing?!" Emmanuelle fired back with equal fury.
"Of course I do!" Boris gripped the arms of his chair tightly, glaring with his one eye. "I'm merely demanding the respect Ulric deserves! I'm doing this for the Empire and for Ulric!"
"And I am doing this for humanity!" Emmanuelle snapped. "There's nothing more to discuss between us. The people of Nuln and Wissenland will understand my choice. We will not stand with those who raise a blade against their brothers." Her lips curled into a cold smile as she gathered her skirts and stood. "So, it seems Middenland is ready for war, is it? Go ahead, give the order. Send your White Wolf Knights across the Reik River, bring war and civil strife to the Empire. Thousands of human soldiers will die in this senseless conflict, leaving Chaos, the Greenskins, and even the accursed von Carsteins to laugh in delight. All this over a petty squabble between two churches!"
"This is important! Without Ulric, there is no Empire!" Boris roared, standing as well. "I can't believe you're Andrea's daughter, the Duchess of Nuln! Do you not remember that Ludwig the Savior was only able to unify the Empire because of Ulric's blessing?"
"Is this really your choice? Ulric gave rise to the Empire, Charlemagne built and expanded it. These two churches should be as close as brothers! But now?" Emmanuelle's face flushed with rage. "Fine, keep bickering! Bicker until every last follower of Ulric and Charlemagne has bled to death. I'm done. I see what kind of people you Ulricans are now. I won't stand for it any longer."
"Stay where you are!" Boris grabbed the hilt of his runic sword, Legbiter. "I can't let you leave, you traitor to the Empire!"
"Traitor?!" Emmanuelle drew her own runic blade, Western Fire. Unlike Boris, she fully unsheathed her sword, and golden flames enveloped its edge. Even in the dim light of the Electoral Palace, the runes on the blade shone brilliantly.
Seeing Emmanuelle draw her sword, Boris' years of military experience and instinct kicked in, and he unsheathed his own blade.
"Clang!" In an instant, the two runic swords clashed.
The sharp, clear sound of divine weapons meeting echoed through the hall, fueled by the rage of the two Electors.
Outside, the Nuln Ironclads and Teutonic Guards heard the commotion from the hall.
Almost simultaneously, the Teutonic Guards raised their two-handed axes and warhammers, while the Nuln Ironclads lifted their long rifles. Nuln's champion and Saint-ranked warrior, Theodore Bruckner, strode forward, gripping his sword. In response, White Wolf Knight-Commander Axel and Duke Blücher of Karonburg also placed their hands on their weapons.
But no actual fighting broke out. After seeing Boris parry her strike, Emmanuelle let out a bitter laugh. She raised her sword, holding it upright with one hand as she spoke softly, "Look at this rune, Boris. Can you tell me what it means?"
"Of course I know! I've been trained to wield this sword since I was three! And so have you!" Boris also lowered his sword, suppressing his anger as he spoke in a low voice. "No Elector is ignorant of the meaning of the runic blades. They are symbols of power and status!"
"A gift. Given by High King Kurgan Ironbeard and Master Runesmith Alaric the Mad, presented to the Empire. Back then, we stood side by side, as twelve Electors, receiving these blades." Emmanuelle's face grew pale as she gritted her teeth. "The Empire was founded for what? To honor Charlemagne's achievements, or to give thanks to Ulric?"
With a cold clang, Emmanuelle drove her runic blade into the floor of the palace. Her voice was filled with disappointment. "Consider this my gift to you, Boris. If the reason for the Empire's existence has changed, then I no longer need this sword."
She turned, lifting her skirts as she yelled, "Theodore, Wagner, Jubal, we're leaving!"
"Yes!" Nuln's champion, the master engineer of Nuln, and the commander of the Nuln Ironclads responded. With their protection, the Imperial Duchess stormed out of the palace, leaving her runic sword behind.
Emmanuelle's sheer force of will was so overwhelming that even the rough and unrefined Teutonic Guards and White Wolf Knights were stunned into silence. None dared stop her.
Watching her leave, Boris' fury gradually subsided. The Elector slowly lowered his runic sword and signaled for everyone to leave the room. Alone, he sat in his chair, deep in thought.
It was as if he had been transported back two thousand years to the time when Charlemagne, the chieftain of the Carolingian tribe, and Ozhund, the mad king of the Thuringian tribe, climbed a snow-covered mountain to duel before Ulric's sacred fire. That duel decided who would lead humanity.
Were they fighting for personal gain or power?
No, they fought for humanity's survival, to prove who was the best warrior
, the one who could guide humanity through the darkness and the threats that surrounded them.
That was the reason the Empire was founded.
To celebrate the unity of humanity, the twelve chieftains' descendants gathered together, making a vow with their runic swords. No matter what challenges came, humanity would remain united, fighting for the Empire and for mankind.
Back then, the twelve runic swords had clashed in a grand celebration. What a glorious sight it must have been!
Since then, the Empire had gone through much, suffering through endless turmoil. Emperor Boris the Fat, corrupted by greed, died when his neck fat suffocated him. The Black Death and the war with the Skaven had nearly destroyed the Empire, until Middenland's Emperor Mandred, the Vermin Slayer, defeated the Skaven. Yet even this great Emperor was eventually assassinated by the Skaven, plunging the Empire into division and chaos.
The Three Emperors Era and the Vampire Wars had left deep scars. It wasn't until the Great Holy War that the Empire was once again unified.
And now, just a few short centuries later, was the Empire about to fracture again? Because of him? Because of Ulric?
Boris reached out and grasped the runic blade Emmanuelle had left behind—Western Fire. The sharp blade, the burning flames, and the glowing runes illuminated the darkened palace.
Of the original twelve founding provinces, only ten remained.
The province of Drakwald had been destroyed around the year 1110 of the Imperial calendar. The Elector, Werril, and his heir had died fighting Beastmen. The last claimant, Duke Konrad Alderich, succumbed to the Black Death. His runic sword, Beastslayer, was returned to the Imperial court, and Drakwald Province was overrun by Beastmen, becoming today's Drakwald Forest.
The province of Solland collapsed in 1708, crushed by the Greenskin warlord Gorbad Ironclaw. Elector Eldred and his entire family perished, and Solland was absorbed into Wissenland. The runic sword Avenger was lost for centuries before being found in a Greenskin lair and now served as the weapon of the Reiksmarshal.
Tragedy had struck again and again. Had humanity ever truly learned from its mistakes?
No, Ulric above, I cannot make the same mistake as my ancestors! Boris closed his eyes, a sense of realization dawning on him. He began to pray. "Ulric, God of Winter, Lord of the Hunt, Father of Wolves, guide me. What should I do?"
As if in response, a chilling wind blew through the tent, carrying with it a faint, ominous whisper. The divine light of the Wolf God briefly shone around Boris before fading.
Minutes later, the bright flames of the White Wolf surrounded Boris. He had been blessed.
"White Wolf's flame!"
"God's will!"
"Ulric has blessed us!" Cheers erupted from the Teutonic Guards and White Wolf Knights outside the palace. Inside, Boris finally smiled. He reached out, picking up Emmanuelle's runic sword. Amid the cheers, he turned to his standard-bearer, Tuggenheim. "How long has it been since the Duchess left?"
"Fifty minutes, godfather," Tuggenheim replied respectfully.
"Send riders, on fast horses, and return this runic sword to Emmanuelle. It rightfully belongs to her!" Boris handed the blade to his godson. "You deliver it yourself. Go quickly, along the Reik River towards Marienburg."
"Yes, sir!" Tuggenheim immediately took Western Fire, feeling the ancient sword's power as he called for a group of White Wolf Knights and mounted his horse.
"Wait!" Boris suddenly called out. After a moment of hesitation, he finally said, "Forget it. I'll go personally!"
"What? Godfather, this?!" Tuggenheim and the White Wolf Knights were astonished. "How could you do that?"
"This is Ulric's will. Go ahead and prepare," Boris said, his remaining eye now filled with calm rather than anger. "The Empire cannot repeat the mistakes of the past."
In the end, Boris and the White Wolf Knights rode along the banks of the Reik River, catching up with the Imperial Duchess.
"The Empire will not divide, nor will we repeat the errors of our ancestors," Boris said, handing the runic sword to Emmanuelle. "Take back your sword."
The Duchess nodded, but instead of taking the sword, she pulled the reins of her elven steed. "Have you truly made up your mind, Boris?"
"I have. Now, Karl Franz and Grand Theogonist Vikmar must understand your intentions," Boris replied coldly. "They must act accordingly."
"Ha, just tell them what we talked about," Emmanuelle replied, taking back her sword. "Idiot. You wasted my whole day."
"Hahaha! I must admit, I'm not sure what you've learned from Ryan," Boris said, laughing. "I owe you a favor, Emmanuelle. And there's one thing I'd like to say."
"What is it?" The Duchess sheathed her sword and asked offhandedly.
"Never cross a woman," Boris chuckled. "Especially one who's been separated from her husband for a long time."
"You scoundrel!" Emmanuelle was infuriated by Boris' teasing, nearly ready to strike him again.
But regardless, her mission was accomplished.
The Empire's internal strife had been quietly quelled. Middenland withdrew its forces from the border and expressed a willingness to reconcile. Boris wrote letters to the other Elector families, revealing his conversation with Emmanuelle.
The entire nation was shocked.
Faced with the potential secession of Nuln and Wissenland, Grand Theogonist Vikmar recognized the gravity of the situation.
Under no circumstances could Nuln be allowed to leave the Empire. The Church of Sigmar had to concede on this matter. Otherwise, Vikmar would face the same risk of schism within his own church—let's not forget, Nuln also had its own High Priest, Kasimir IX.
If Nuln seceded, it would mean the Church of Sigmar was also split, a consequence Vikmar could not afford.
In the end, both sides apologized. Grand Theogonist Vikmar begrudgingly compensated for the damages, reaffirming religious freedom. The Church of Sigmar acknowledged the legitimacy and equal status of the White Wolf Church, while the White Wolf Church recognized the divinity of Charlemagne. Both sides withdrew from the border, and a massive crisis was averted.
In the annals of the Empire, this famous negotiation became known as the "Treaty of Karonburg" or the "Sword-forged Treaty." Later generations would praise Emmanuelle's courage and wisdom in verse: "The Duchess's sword secured the realm, and the Empire's long song quelled the strife."
Afterward, Emmanuelle finally embarked on her long-awaited journey to Bretonnia to reunite with Ryan.
No mortal knew that in the depths of the void, the golden shadow of the Emperor had been watching Emmanuelle's every move.
The Master of Mankind, in a rare moment, nodded in approval, a faint smile crossing his face.
"Aye."
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