The atmosphere inside the ship's cabin meeting room was thick with tension.
Tyrion's stance was unmistakable: if the War Lord said there was a traitor, then a traitor there must be.
Bellerion and Sea Lord Aisling were both unmistakably allied with Tyrion. Bellerion had served as his lieutenant for years, and Aisling, also from the kingdom of Cothique, shared enough mutual ties with Tyrion to place them in the same camp. As for Isadore, the Everqueen's chief handmaiden, her loyalty was clear.
Ryan was no longer the young, impulsive knight he had once been; now a king, he couldn't quite grasp why Tyrion was so insistent on his claim, though he nodded for him to continue. Meanwhile, Sulia's thoughts raced through the possible implications.
What were these high elves planning?
Could they intend to throw blame for the recent losses onto them? Sulia considered the possibility. The High Elves had lost significantly at the Battle of Dragon Fjord, and internal conflicts had only intensified. Someone needed to take the fall, and from her perspective, Ryan and his allies seemed like the perfect "convenient target" as outsiders. Teclis had warned them that bringing along dwarves and a dark elf might complicate matters. After all, dwarves and dark elves were two of the three beings High Elves detested most.
With Olica present, it wouldn't be unreasonable for Tyrion to use her as an excuse to stir trouble with Bretonnia.
But Sulia then reconsidered. If Tyrion truly intended to place the blame on them so openly, it would be beyond foolish, and Tyrion was no fool. Two critical points held him back: First, it was Teclis himself who had introduced Ryan and vouched for him. If Ryan and his group were indeed traitors, it would cast the Teclis brothers in a poor light. Second, Ryan's backing by Lilith and Teclis's influence meant that Tyrion had no reason to suspect his own allies.
With her mind clear, Sulia addressed him directly. "Lord Tyrion, have you uncovered something specific?"
"Yes." Tyrion, oblivious to the many scenarios Sulia had imagined, nodded earnestly. "I believe that intelligence from the War Council has been leaked."
"A leak?" Ryan frowned and thought back. "Lord Tyrion, that is a serious accusation. We all know that aside from a select few, like Imrik and the dragon princes, most members of the council are either appointed by you or Teclis. If there truly were a spy—"
"No, I'm not saying there's a traitor within the War Council itself." Tyrion shook his head and nodded again, speaking with growing conviction. "Ryan, Sulia, consider this: for a long time, our War Council struggled to develop a strategy due to traditional Asur divisions. If there were a traitor within, they would have struck when our armies were most vulnerable in Lothern. The undead would have targeted our weaker defenses."
"But that didn't happen. Both the undead and our cousins waited," Tyrion continued. "Things only shifted once we learned that undead and dark elf forces were gathering just outside Ulthuan's waters. Remember that? At that time, we held an emergency council. Every prince in Lothern was present, including His Majesty Finubar and his full court of advisors."
"The War Lord is right. It was at that gathering that we set the course and strategy," Aisling chimed in, visibly frustrated. As the only high elf commander who attempted to pursue Lokhir Fellheart's fleet, he was angered by the lack of success, especially as Imrik would not relinquish command of the dragon princes. Studying his map with a pencil and compass, he added, "I'm convinced our plans were on our cousins' desks before we had even left that room."
Ryan understood. "So you're suggesting… that within Finubar's court, among his advisors or servants, there is a spy?"
"Finubar's court is made up of representatives from every kingdom in Ulthuan, many of whom have questionable backgrounds," Tyrion nodded, thinking everything through. "We have no say over who Finubar appoints to his court, though we may offer advice."
"But if one of the Phoenix King's advisors is a spy, then why hasn't Finubar been affected?" Ryan asked, still confused.
"Normally, Finubar never leaves Kosheer's side, and, as I said, the emergency was unprecedented," Tyrion replied, clearly growing frustrated. "Typically, Finubar doesn't attend War Council meetings, leaving everything to me. At most, he brings Kosheer along. But that day, with the sudden news and the urgency, he brought his entire court and servants along! Why couldn't he just stay safe in the Phoenix Court and wait for us to return victorious?"
Ryan kept silent but thought to himself that Finubar might indeed need to start preparing a formal declaration. Sulia, on the other hand, thought back to her previous arguments with Ryan, holding back a smile. Without that past conflict, their relationship wouldn't have reached its current level of understanding.
"When Finubar appointed me War Lord, I thought the Asur's greatest enemy was the Druchii across the sea. Then, after driving them from Ulthuan, I thought Chaos was our greatest threat. With the Great Vortex secure, the monsters in the Annulii became our next menace. Now we have undead, greenskins, skaven—every threat imaginable." Tyrion's tone grew angrier, though he remained controlled. "But now I see our real threat isn't from the outside; it's within Lothern, right there in the Phoenix Court and War Council! Among these self-serving princes and conniving courtiers, some of whom pass secrets to the dark elves!"
Ryan suddenly chuckled. "So, what will you do about it?"
"What else?" Tyrion said, fired up as he rose to his feet. "I'll tell Finubar, our Phoenix King, that his court is overrun with weeds!"
"And how will you handle this?" Ryan asked, still smiling.
"Simple! We march back to Lothern and root out every last one!" Tyrion declared, clenching his fist. "Only once the weeds are pulled can I lead our armies north to secure the Isles and the Phoenix Gate!"
"The enemy within the Phoenix Court…" Ryan mused.
With this stance, Tyrion had effectively brought Ryan and Sulia into his fold.
"Indeed, the enemy is within the Phoenix Court!"
---
Back on Enterprise, Sulia arranged the watch, leaning on Ryan's shoulder as they discussed the meeting in low tones. "What do you think of him?" she asked.
"He's a man with a genuine sense of duty and a desire to protect Ulthuan," Ryan replied thoughtfully. "For all his faults, Tyrion fulfills his role as Ulthuan's defender. He is indeed worthy of his lineage as one of Aenarion's last descendants. His sense of duty is clear."
"Yes, I admire that about him," Sulia nodded, though after a moment, she added, "But his approach… don't you think he takes things a bit far?"
"Too far? You mean his unilateral decisions, his desire to curtail Finubar's authority, or his plan to purge the court?" Ryan glanced at her with a knowing smile, already guessing her thoughts.
"I mean, if you had a subordinate like him, wouldn't you have disciplined him by now?" Sulia said, her blue eyes narrowing playfully. "Then again, you're in a different position than Finubar. You're a true all-rounder, excelling in governance, military prowess, and personal combat. It reminds me of your brother… Guilliman, was it? Doesn't he have a similar background to you?"
"Not quite," Ryan shook his head. "Guilliman had far fewer threats when he reached Macragge. He didn't have Chaos, greenskins, or undead to contend with. Plus, unlike me, he's vulnerable to control-based spells due to his weak resistance to magic, while I might have the highest resistance among my brothers. But in exchange, my physical resilience is weaker, though I am immune to corruption."
"You won't end up as big as Angron, will you? I don't think I could handle that," Sulia teased, a hint of shyness in her voice.
Ryan chuckled, turning his gaze toward the distant, ever-twisting vortex.
If not for the Old Ones' Great Guardians, Angron and Vulkan's power would be limitless. Primarchs were, in essence, fragments of the Emperor in flesh, avatars constrained by the Old Ones' protections. Ryan himself was more a servant of the Emperor than his equal, the only Primarch left with the ability to procreate—others were merely functionally human.
"If I had someone like Tyrion as my right hand, I'd make him war commander and let him act autonomously," Ryan mused, returning to the topic. "But only if I had the strength and wit to keep him in check. But Finubar is in a different situation, and high elf politics are unlike ours."
"Endlessly inefficient, full of infighting and posturing?" Sulia interlocked her arm with Ryan's. "How has such a system lasted thousands of years? Even Bretonnia doesn't have that."
"There's no ideal political system—only systems suited to those who run them," Ryan said knowingly. "You think the high elves are chaotic? The Phoenix Throne's history is a hundred times longer than that of the Soviet Union."
"The Soviet Union?" Sulia asked, unfamiliar with the term.
"Ah, nothing, just a slip of
the tongue," Ryan coughed, glossing over it with a laugh. "Anyway, that's not our concern now. Our primary goal is still to obtain the Scrolls of Truth."
"And how will you do it?" Sulia agreed, "You and Vulkan?"
"Exactly," Ryan said, gazing over the sea as he wrapped his arm around his wife. "Right now, we have the best chance. Remember Teclis's message?"
"Night of Sorcery?"
"Precisely. During that time, Vulkan and I will teleport into the inner city and head for the Shrine of Asuryan, the Phoenix Pyramid," Ryan murmured, his brow furrowing. "As for what comes next, we'll take it step by step."
"Hmm. If you need support, I and the Lady will do everything we can. But… what about Olica?" Sulia asked thoughtfully.
"Olica will be creating a diversion for us," Ryan replied, nodding. "She's already in position."
And so, days later, the combined fleet returned to Lothern.
Upon arriving, Tyrion's first move was to confront Imrik in the Phoenix Court, where, before an assembly of over a hundred elven princes, they engaged in a fierce public exchange, criticizing each other's failures in the recent war. Outside, dragon princes and silver-helmed knights stood ready on opposite sides, waiting for the outcome.
Finubar exhausted himself mediating the two. With his unparalleled charm and the looming threat of external danger, both sides refrained from escalating to violence, focusing instead on bolstering their court influence.
In the end, both sides reached a reluctant truce through the Everqueen's envoy, Isadore.
As Tyrion prepared to "weed out" the Phoenix Court, he met resistance from Finubar, who permitted only a limited investigation of his advisors and only with concrete evidence to support claims of espionage. Frustrated, Tyrion's efforts stalled.
Meanwhile, the War Council, including Teclis, Imrik, Aesarian, and even Isadore, insisted that now was not the time for internal purges, as the Night of Sorcery and the threat of Chaos were imminent.
As November drew to a close, the Night of Sorcery approached.
That afternoon, in the inner city of Lothern, in a hidden corner of the Crystal Palace.
Brilliant psychic light flickered in the corner, the psychic matrix functioned perfectly, and the warp jump activated.
Ryan Malcador, Primarch of the Grey Knights, and Vulkan, Primarch of the Emperor's Children, appeared in the light.
"The operation begins!"
"Our target is clear: the Phoenix Pyramid in the Temple of Asuryan to retrieve the Phoenix Scroll of Truth!"
"Code name: Saint Gilles!"
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