When Ryan received the news, he was inspecting the soon-to-be-completed Mousilon Arms Factory with the knightly nobles.
The Mousilon Arms Factory was funded by Ryan in his capacity as Duke of Mousilon, with technical guidance from Nuln. It was staffed with returning students from Nuln as the technical backbone, and supervised by the Church of the Lady of the Lake and the Church of the Goddess Valerina. An entire district of Mousilon had been designated as the factory site. It took several months to transport advanced technological equipment from Nuln and Altdorf, but finally, after a long time, production was ready to begin.
The primary firearms produced at the Mousilon Arms Factory included classic pistols, long-barreled muskets used by musket regiments, and revolving muskets or long-range sniper muskets used by Nuln's elite gunmen.
Thrown weapons included the famous grenades and incendiary bombs, along with Molotov cocktails, which Ryan had introduced. Ryan named them "Molotov Cocktails," and although no one quite understood why he used a Kislev name, the simplicity of their production and their immense destructive power made them invaluable on the battlefield.
In terms of artillery, the factory mainly produced mortars and giant cannons. The Dwarves had provided technology for organ guns, but flamethrowers were still too advanced for human technology. The factory lacked the equipment to produce the turbocharged technology needed for flamethrowers; even Nuln couldn't produce such devastating weapons. However, the factory could manufacture magical crystal cannons.
Chief Engineer Urban also had the capacity to produce Hellstorm Rocket Batteries, but he needed time to guide the technical processes and improve the equipment. Ryan hadn't introduced him to the public yet. The visitors to the factory were primarily knightly nobles and prominent merchants, gathered around Ryan, listening as he recounted stories from his youth.
"When I was making this engineering drawing, I used a quill to dip in ink, but the ink would often spill, and the drawing would need to be redone. The efficiency—efficiency, you see—was terrible.
"But now, it's different. Look at the Dwarven technology, it's really impressive."
"The things you've made for me are... exciting."
Halfway through the inspection, a servant delivered urgent news to Ryan: "Your Majesty, there is bad news!"
"What is it? Why are you in such a hurry?" Ryan, seeing the servant's urgency, motioned for the others to continue and led the servant outside for a private conversation.
The servant reported the complete destruction of the Garland Council.
After listening, Ryan simply nodded calmly. He asked a few detailed questions to confirm that neither Veronica nor Teresa had been harmed, then dismissed the servant.
There was no anger or sadness, no emotional outburst—only calmness.
And even a hint of secret joy.
The Knight King could immediately see and infer that, under such circumstances, Veronica, Teresa, and Aurora had no choice but to bring the remaining forces of the Garland Council to him.
Without exerting any effort, Ryan would inherit the entire legacy of the Garland Council and make it his own.
This thought even made him somewhat pleased, though he quickly found himself surprised by his reaction. The deaths of thousands of witches left him indifferent?
Ryan suddenly realized that certain ideologies and deeply ingrained beliefs had shifted since becoming king. The once hot-blooded, impulsive hammer of the north had turned into the knight king, who now understood the necessity of certain evils. He was beginning to grasp what was called the "Malcador mindset."
Was this the power and influence of the Sigilite subtly infiltrating his soul? Or was it simply his true nature?
He didn't know. Since receiving power from the Emperor and absorbing the last of Malcador's psychic energy, Ryan realized he was no longer the same person.
He now understood why the Emperor and Malcador had purged the Thunder Warriors, why they used but also restrained and monitored the Primarchs. He began to comprehend why the once-worshiping Primarchs had turned to betrayal.
"Well, at least Veronica and Teresa are fine. At least I am irreplaceable," Ryan muttered to himself, trying to convince himself, but he quickly gave up. In truth, the only ones he cared about from the Garland Council were Veronica and Teresa. Aurora mattered only half as much, primarily because Saint-level witches were so rare; any one of them was worth keeping.
As for Aurora's antics, did Ryan really not know? Of course, he knew. He simply tolerated them because she was a Saint-level witch. Witches of that rank were expected to have eccentricities, and as long as they were helpful when needed, that was all that mattered. Every Saint-level witch had their peculiarities—Morgiana, Olica, and even Aurora. Veronica had fewer quirks, but that was only because Ryan had protected her well. Yet even Veronica had her eccentricities.
So why did he tolerate Aurora's behavior despite knowing it? Because her quirks were part of a larger pattern within the entire witch system. What witch wasn't eccentric? Teclis had blown up a wizard tower, and three provincial regiments had been sent to Obin Isle. Gelt spent his days fooling people with fake gold. Gregor Martak lived in filth and grease, ignoring all administrative orders except those concerning the fight against evil. And the Lady of Nuln, Elspeth, terrified the city with her obsession with death magic.
Morgiana—well, she used to be a hot-tempered, stubborn Lady of the Lake before getting together with Ryan. Now, she clung to him all the time, constantly wanting to be near him.
Even among the Primarchs, how many were as perfect and level-headed as Guilliman?
Well, liking Eldar doesn't count as a flaw, Ryan thought as he stroked his chin.
Disliking the Emperor and Malcador's approach didn't count either.
So, in that case, I guess Guilliman and I are flawless~.
"Your Majesty, the Queen has asked me to inquire if the inspection will continue?" Old Guard deputy commander Davout approached the daydreaming king, asking respectfully, "Lady Sulia is waiting for you."
"Of course, continue." Ryan nodded, signaling for the inspection to proceed. He collected his thoughts.
It would take at least a month or two for Veronica and Teresa to return to Bretonnia. Ryan still had plenty of time to arrange everything, but one decision was already made in his mind.
If the remnants of the Garland Council wanted to rebuild with his help, they could.
But Veronica must be the new Speaker.
And they must submit completely.
Later, Ryan continued his inspection of the factory. Nuln's chief engineer Maybach and the famous engineer Bentz agreed to stay for two months to offer technical guidance. The costs were high—Ryan had to pay double their usual salary—but everyone agreed it was worth it.
That evening, Ryan, along with his wife Sulia and his maid Olica, stayed at the newly built palace in Mousilon.
By nightfall, Mousilon was eerily quiet. The murky, bubbling waters of the Grismerie River flowed through the city. Old Guards escorted the king as he made his way to the new palace, still under construction.
Ryan had already gifted Melrowen Castle to his standard-bearer, Armand. He had chosen a new location in Mousilon for his palace, as the city's interior was largely empty, with few residents. Ryan had easily acquired 50 hectares of land to build his new royal palace, but for now…
"Your Majesty, is this your new palace? It's quite... unique," Sulia teased, stepping out in black silk stockings and white iris-studded high heels.
The new palace occupied only three hectares of land, with just three buildings in use: the main hall, the annex, and the garden pavilion, with only fifty rooms available.
"No matter how small the place, it's still home," Ryan casually replied, knowing Sulia was joking.
"Anywhere with you is home, my champion~," Sulia blushed, sending Ryan a playful wink.
Ryan understood. He led his wife, who was hosting a goddess in her body, toward the bedroom. "Well, let's head back to the room. Is there something new you need to talk to me about?"
"Can't I come to you even if there's nothing new?" The Lady of the Lake smiled, linking her arm with Ryan's. Olica followed behind them, gesturing for the Old Guards to stand down.
The new palace bedroom featured distinct Elven and Baroque influences, with bright and rich colors. The room wasn't very large, with simple decorations like iris and gold cup patterns on the walls. The Lady of the Lake appeared in the room, wearing a soft, wintry gray pleated gown. Her golden hair flowed down to her ankles, and her radiant face bore a light touch of makeup. Her slim neck and delicate shoulders were exposed, as was the deep cleavage of her chest. Like Sulia, the goddess wore black embroidered stockings that showed off her long legs. As the goddess sat down with Sulia, both beauties smiled at Ryan.
"Sulia, why didn't you bring little Devonshire this time?" The Lady teased, linking arms with Sulia. "That's not very motherly of you!"
"A mother needs her own private space, and Devonshire needs his," Sulia responded. Unlike many others' expectations, she didn't cling to her son. She fulfilled her duties as a mother but also valued her own personal space.
"Hey, I'm Devonshire's mother too. I just visited him—he was having a great time playing on the swing with little Frederick and Rem in the castle
," the Lady of the Lake proudly declared, hands on her hips. "Ryan, you can't say I'm an irresponsible mom!"
"Seeing your child once every couple of months? You're a real heartless mother," Ryan teased, pulling up a chair. "Now, what is it, Lady? You always have something important to discuss when you appear."
"Indeed. This time, there are a few matters to address. The first is that our wedding is scheduled for October, on the Lady of the Lake Day," the goddess cheerfully said. "Everything is ready; you just need to show up. We'll keep it simple and discreet, without too many people knowing."
"Understood." Ryan nodded, his gaze softening as memories surfaced. "I'm fine with that."
"Second, when do you plan to go to Ulthuan to steal the Lexicon Scrolls?" The Lady of the Lake grew serious as she held both Ryan's and Sulia's hands. "If you're ready, it's best to act quickly. No one knows what the Asur are planning."
"We're waiting for Fulgrim. My power alone isn't enough for this feat, and neither is Fulgrim's," Ryan said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Ideally, we'd have a legitimate reason to enter Ulthuan. An official invitation from the High Elves would be perfect. Lady, could you get Teclis to help us?"
"You want to involve Teclis again?" The Lady pondered before reluctantly agreeing. "I'll speak to him, but keep in mind, Teclis is merely the Supreme Magister of the Hoeth Tower Council. Ulthuan's true authority lies with the Phoenix King, Finubar, and the Everqueen, Alarielle. While the Everqueen rarely involves herself in politics, Finubar and Tyrion, the War Master appointed by Finubar, must approve it. Or, at least, we'd need the support of Prince Imrik of Caledor and the cold-hearted Prince Eltharion, the only two who can stand up to Tyrion in the War Council."
"Alright, Lady, please speak with Teclis first. It would be best if we could orchestrate something that makes the proud High Elves invite us themselves. That way, we have a legitimate reason to set foot on Ulthuan," Sulia agreed.
"We?" Ryan turned his attention to Sulia, wondering if she intended to accompany him to Ulthuan.
The Lady's emerald eyes sparkled, and she deliberately interrupted Ryan's thoughts: "Besides that, there are three more things I need to discuss with you."
"Go ahead, Lady," Ryan said, holding both the Lady's and Sulia's hands, their fingers intertwined.
"The third matter is that the ironclad ship you ordered from Haimeng Pass has been launched. Belgar has finally finished his business and has sent his son, Sorgrin Ironhammer, with forty bearded Dwarves to sail to Bretonnia to help you settle accounts with the Marienburg merchants," the Lady of the Lake said. "High King Sorgrin's envoy will soon arrive in the Imperial capital to deliver the High King's inquiry."
"The Dwarves' sense of time is... I bet those Marienburg merchants have already forgotten the whole thing," Ryan joked.
"Fourth, your brother Fulgrim has successfully retrieved my Sunfire Amulet. He's also managed to create a diversion, making Count Noctilus of the Shipwreck Graveyard Maelstrom think it was all the High Elves' doing... His phoenix crest and Phoenix Guard's naming conventions do resemble those of the Asur," the Lady complained. "While I'm happy the amulet is back, remember to return it to me after you've used it."
"I'll consider it," Ryan replied with a mischievous grin.
"As for the fifth matter... the warriors you've been cultivating under the Lily Island lake are nearing maturity. Even with my full effort, five out of every ten died from the 666 psychic blasts you unleashed. Only five boys—no, now they're grown men—have survived your trials."
"Five, you say?" Ryan nodded solemnly.
These five original Grey Knights still had one final step left.
The implantation procedure.
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