To be honest, in the Great Dragon Fjord naval battle, even though the two ironclad ships commanded by Ryan and Vulkan fought bravely and managed to sink seven enemy ships (five of which were destroyed by Enterprise), they didn't play the decisive role they had anticipated.
According to Tyrion and Aisling's plan to attack the Ship Graveyard, the idea was to have the two ironclads charge forward first, absorbing the brunt of the enemy's attacks, while the Star Dragon fleet would follow, encircling and overpowering the enemy. However, this plan never materialized as the attack on the Ship Graveyard never got underway.
Ryan's original plan was not to hide the ironclads in the harbor as mere targets, but rather to deploy them at the center of the battle line, maximizing their firepower and resilience, while allowing the high elf fleet to execute fast assaults, quick maneuvers, and flanking moves. But this plan also failed due to two main reasons: first, the Chancellor Shaer never relayed Ryan's suggestions to the War Council, so they were unaware of his tactics; second, the battle was a complete surprise, which meant the ironclads were caught at the back and couldn't fully engage. The sluggish ironclads, outmatched in speed by both the undead fleet and the maneuverable dark elf ships, had no chance to engage in close combat, rendering Ryan and Vulkan's personal prowess nearly useless.
On top of this, Ryan and his allies were taken aback when the undead pirates unveiled cannons capable of piercing obsidian armor! Although Enterprise was unharmed, Saint Sophia had been struck hard, with her bow compartments, side decks, accommodations, and bridge set ablaze. Fogen's elite Ashen Legion soldiers suffered minor casualties, and the proud Primarch was left embarrassed. Disheartened, Vulkan signaled Ryan via psychic communication before retreating to Lothern for repairs.
The high elf fleet also suffered significant losses, with ten Star Dragon ships sunk, five critically damaged, and seven moderately damaged. Despite achieving a decisive victory, sinking 36 of the undead and dark elf fleet's ships and nearly obliterating the Nor count's flagship Blood Reaver, the remaining Blessed Scourge Tower escaped. The high elf fleet, however, would be too depleted to press further northward for the time being, and the count of Noctilas might need years to rebuild his undead fleet.
Ryan realized that if not for Imrik's last-minute intervention with the Dragon Riders, it would have been unclear who would have emerged victorious.
Now, the Knight King found himself caught in another dispute.
"Your Majesty, I must publicly accuse Prince Imrik of Caledor. Had it not been for his slow response and inadequate support, our Asur would have claimed victory much sooner!" Tyrion, the War Lord, declared in front of everyone, practically pointing his finger at Imrik. "I believe he bears undeniable responsibility for the heavy sacrifices in this battle!"
"Your Majesty, I must also accuse War Lord Tyrion, whom you appointed," retorted Imrik, holding the Spear of Stars. The ancient artifact, forged from the core of a fallen star by the Old Ones, could pierce through any armor. Caledor's Prince was riding high; with over a hundred dragons in his command, he no longer needed to boast about the former glory of his lineage.
Though he knew the horn of the silver dragon Yseramar could only briefly awaken the dragons—unlike his ancient star dragon mount Minatnir, which loyally followed the dragon princes—he was confident Caledor's revival was inevitable.
"I accuse the War Lord of foolish, failed tactics and strategies that led to our misfortune and ambush. As the War Council leader, he should take primary responsibility for the losses!" Imrik pointed at Tyrion, his tone arrogant. Even when Finubar tried to interject, Imrik cut him off forcefully. "Whether or not Caledor participates in the war is our choice. Tyrion didn't respect our honored tradition, and we had no obligation to join!"
"Defending Ulthuan is the duty of every elf!" Tyrion gripped the Sword of Sunflare and countered, "Imrik, everything we do is to protect Ulthuan! Your previous refusal to join the War Council led to heavy losses, and although I prioritized solidarity against external threats, that doesn't mean I condoned your actions. Do you understand the gravity of your error? Do you have any right to stand here so smugly?"
"And what right do you have to self-righteously spew such nonsense, Tyrion? Your pathetic tactics and flawed strategy are to blame for our disastrous opening. Had it not been for Finubar's heartfelt plea for my assistance, I would have let you perish by the hands of the undead pirates!" Imrik sneered. "Tyrion, without Caledor, you'd be dead today!"
On Mathlan, accusations flew back and forth between Tyrion and Imrik, and it became clear that the Phoenix King needed to return to Lothern immediately to address the matter. Finubar departed, leaving behind an enraged Tyrion and a smug Imrik.
When Ryan boarded Mathlan, he witnessed Tyrion and Imrik arguing, cursing each other as they walked towards Lothern, where they would ultimately appeal to the Phoenix King's judgment.
Ryan exchanged a glance with Sulia, sharing a sense of exasperation. The political structure of the high elves dictated that Tyrion, as War Lord, was obligated to hold Imrik accountable for his inaction. Similarly, Imrik needed to challenge Tyrion's decisions to affirm his contributions and solidify his influence.
Over a hundred dragons soared above them, with Minatnir, the ancient star dragon, spreading its massive wings and emanating an intimidating aura over Mathlan's elven forces.
"Do you hear me? I am talking reason!"
Ryan and Sulia felt the overwhelming dragon's aura, though they were unaffected by it. However, they could only shake their heads at the scene, noting how central authority had enabled Ryan to unify the Knight Kingdom under a centralized system.
In short, whether the high elves won or not, their leaders first needed to ensure blame was apportioned.
Ryan had no interest in Tyrion and Imrik's dispute. He greeted Tyrion, asking whether they intended to continue advancing or return to Lothern, while reminding him that Enterprise had run out of ammunition.
Surprisingly, Imrik acknowledged Ryan. The Caledor prince, seeing Ryan and Sulia aboard, greeted him, "Well, Knight King, your ironclad's performance was... acceptable. Average, at best."
The backhanded compliment stunned the high elves.
Prince Imrik of Caledor, praising someone? Had he been replaced by a trickster?
Surrounded by the high elves' astonished gazes, Imrik first shook his head, then nodded, reluctantly abandoning his argument with Tyrion. He ordered the dragon princes to retreat but issued one final threat to Tyrion: "Finubar will settle this when we reach Lothern."
"I'll be waiting." Tyrion felt a deep anger surge within, and in his mind, an uncontrollable voice murmured.
"Kill him!"
"Kill all who defy you."
"Kill everyone."
"Offer me their blood and glory."
The thirst for blood tormented Tyrion's mind, especially in such trying times. His hand trembled as he gripped the Sword of Sunflare. Unlike Teclis, who led a tranquil life under Lilith's protection, Tyrion was constantly haunted by Khaine's whispers and his insatiable desire for blood.
In those nights with the Everqueen, Tyrion could ignore Khaine's whispers, but once away from Avalorn's gentle embrace, Khaine's voice grew louder.
He envisioned the world ablaze under Chaos, saw the mocking faces of the dark gods waiting to devour his people's souls, and his servants tearing reality apart in their quest to conquer the world.
Resistance was futile. Mortal defiance merely prolonged suffering. Khaine promised power through slaughter, fulfillment of desires. All it required was a sword—a sword awaiting its next master on the desolate Isle of Khaine: Widowmaker.
No, that's not a power I should wield, that is...
"Lord Tyrion? War Lord, are you listening?" Ryan's voice broke through Tyrion's thoughts, and the War Lord looked up instinctively.
Ah! The radiant, orderly matrix before him seemed to illuminate the void, driving away Khaine's rage and whispers.
So that's why Lilith chose Ryan, he thought, his moment of disorientation passing. He turned his gaze to the Bretonnian Knight King and his queen, forcing a smile. "A glorious victory, Your Majesty. What do you need?"
Tyrion felt a pang of frustration. The proud War Lord didn't enjoy the presence of another impressive man, especially one like Ryan.
"What should we do next?" Ryan asked, sensing the cursed presence of Khaine around Tyrion. He unleashed his psychic power to dispel Khaine's influence briefly. "I suggest that despite our victory, we suffered heavy losses. Enterprise is out of ammunition. Let's retreat."
Ryan's words struck a chord with Tyrion, who knew that the high elves couldn't continue fighting. With dark elf forces pressing the northern front and Tethlis' prophecy of an impending Chaos invasion across Ulthuan, pursuing the Ship Graveyard at all costs would be pointless.
The War Lord nodded reluctantly but wanted to avoid conceding too easily. After all, Ryan had proven his worth in battle. Tyrion extended his hand. "More or less, but we do have a few details to discuss. Please, come inside the cabin, Your Majesty, and Your Highness."
As they entered Mathlan's meeting room, Ryan noted that the Everqueen's chief handmaiden, Isadore, as well as Sea Lord Aisling and Tyrion's chief lieutenant, Bellerion, were already present.
"Your Majesty, I believe that withdrawing, regrouping, and fortifying Ulthuan's defenses is the only viable course of action," Tyrion said, gesturing for Ryan and Sulia to sit across from him.
"I agree," Ryan replied, sitting beside Sulia. "The undead pirates have suffered heavy losses, and Blood Reaver was badly damaged. Count Noctilas won't be able to pose a threat for at least another decade. But we're also unable to advance, especially with Saint Sophia heavily damaged."
"No, no, no!" Tyrion waved dismissively, cutting Ryan off mid-sentence. The War Lord gestured for him to listen.
Having spent considerable time with the high elves, Ryan was familiar with their ways. He motioned for Tyrion to continue.
"I've been thinking carefully," Tyrion said. "The alliance between the undead and our dark cousins, along with this sudden ambush, all point to one conclusion. There's a traitor in our midst, someone who has leaked our intelligence and movements, which led to this unexpected assault. And this gave that stubborn fool Imrik his moment to shine!"
"A traitor?" Ryan mused. It was true that the timing of the ambush had been remarkably precise, as if the enemy had known their plans and routes. "Who do you think it could be?"
"Oh, it's quite clear," Tyrion's sharp gaze suddenly focused on Ryan and Sulia.
"No doubt about it! The traitor is…"
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