On the surface, Francois' predictions proved accurate.
During the afternoon session, Morgiana relayed the message she had received from Ryan after their communication.
The King and the Lady had approved the northern knights' plan for the Obian campaign.
Ryan had also become aware, through Morgiana, of the dukes' reluctance to build new fortresses. Reflecting on this, the Knight King wondered if he had been overly eager. He had previously advocated for conserving manpower, yet here he was, pushing for major infrastructure projects and military campaigns at the same time.
No, he mused, he could not afford to act like the ancient emperor Yang Guang, who exhausted his people with too many projects. Large campaigns and large construction efforts could only be done one at a time. He had spent years laying a strong foundation for Bretonnia, and he didn't want it undone in haste.
Ryan also realized he had underestimated both the northern knights' eagerness for battle and Lawn's urgency to prove himself as regent. Faced with the pressing demands from Lawn and the northern nobles, Ryan agreed to the Obian expedition, but he imposed three strict conditions.
First, they were to collaborate with the native True Word tribes and the Empire's garrison in Newland to fully understand the geography and unique aspects of Obian before launching any attacks.
Second, Ryan required that the northern knights independently organize their forces and supply logistics for the campaign, and that the war must conclude before the spring planting season.
Third, he specified that the campaign should focus on plundering Obian's resources and weakening the barbarian forces, not on penetrating too far inland or getting mired in prolonged battles.
Though strict, these conditions didn't dampen the enthusiasm of the northern knights. They were thrilled that the King was finally giving them the green light for a full-scale offensive. They immediately appointed Lawn as commander-in-chief of the Obian Expedition, preparing a force of twenty thousand for the mission.
Obian Island lay roughly 500 kilometers from Bretonnia's shores, requiring a two-week voyage to reach it. With December already underway, and the spring planting due to start at the end of March, the northern nobles had little time to spare.
Meanwhile, Ryan issued a different directive for the southern nobles: they were to construct a permanent fortress along the Black Mountains, on the road leading to Tilia and the Withered Marshes.
The Knight King expressed concern about the Skaven ratmen in the south, and most of the dukes agreed with him. Unlike the Empire, which largely denied the Skaven's existence, Bretonnia, with the help of the wood elves, was well aware of the ratmen threat and had fought them numerous times in the past.
Thus, a national strategy of offense in the north and defense in the south was established. In addition, Ryan ordered Morgiana and Lawn to send more scouts to monitor the movements of the Norscan and northern barbarian tribes. Dangerous as it was, this reconnaissance was essential.
Shortly after her discussion with Lawn, Morgiana asked Ryan one final question during their communication.
"When will you return?" she asked with a hint of melancholy.
"About two more months," Ryan replied, gazing into the reflection in the water.
"Come back soon," she said, her voice betraying a mixture of longing and frustration. "It's not that I need you here with me. Usually, I could rely on Sulia to handle things while you're away, but this time, you've taken her with you, and the dukes are struggling to make decisions."
Ryan smiled wryly at Morgiana's expression. The Lake Witch, usually so cold and imperious, displayed a rare softness only with him. He knew she was counting the days until his return.
But a promise was a promise, and Ryan nodded. "Understood. Please continue to monitor the barbarians closely."
Once the communication ended, Ryan put the mirror away. Sulia, who had been sitting beside him the entire time, looked at him warmly. Sensing her husband's troubled thoughts, she leaned into him with a gentle smile. "What's on your mind, my love?"
"I think I may have pushed too hard," Ryan admitted, caressing her legs, encased in soft black velvet stockings. He held her close on his lap, savoring the comfort she brought. "I was too impatient, almost to the point of making a grave mistake."
"You mean the fortress construction?" Sulia immediately understood. With a delicate finger, she tapped his forehead. "You were too hasty. We've just finished the massive project of the Randuin Canal, which connects the northern Sannes, Grismerie, and Chinon rivers all the way to the southern Berleon River. That alone was a monumental achievement. You should give everyone time to rest before moving on to the next big project."
Ryan nodded, realizing the wisdom in her words. "Yes, I need to be more like Li Zhi and less like Yang Guang."
"Who are they?" Sulia looked puzzled.
Ryan chuckled and explained the ancient story from the distant lands of Cathay. Embracing his wife, he narrated the tale while their maid Olica entered and eagerly listened as well.
After finishing his story, Ryan decided to go for a walk and left the royal suite.
As he stepped onto the deck, he ran into Talleyrand, who greeted him with a beaming smile. "Your Majesty, what a pleasure to see you this fine day! Your presence has brightened the skies."
Ryan glanced up at the overcast, stormy skies, unsure whether Talleyrand was flattering him or subtly mocking him. "How are you finding your quarters aboard the ship, Talleyrand?"
"Better than the cattle sheds at Charace, that's for sure," Talleyrand joked, adding quickly, "I mean, of course, that Charace's estate is hardly fit for cattle."
Ryan laughed, appreciating Talleyrand's humor. He noticed Olica stepping out from the suite. Talleyrand instantly froze at the sight of her, visibly uneasy. "Why so tense, Talleyrand? Is Olica that intimidating?"
Does he know who this maid really is? Talleyrand thought, eyeing Olica warily as she cast him a warning glance. He forced a smile, bracing himself on his cane. "It's simply the Asur way, Your Majesty."
Ryan seemed satisfied with this explanation, and they strolled along the deck together, Talleyrand responding with quick wit to Ryan's questions—even deftly answering Ryan's joke about who he'd save if both Ryan and the Phoenix King fell into the sea.
A short while later, they encountered an injured Old Guard soldier named Yves. The soldier, from Montfort, had been severely wounded in the recent naval battle at Dragon Fjord but was now recovering thanks to the elves' superior medicine.
"Look, Your Majesty. That soldier over there—he's a crippled man with a strong spirit," Talleyrand noted humorously before pointing at himself. "But I've been lame for decades, not just in body but in soul."
"Everyone has the strength to face their circumstances," Ryan replied solemnly. "Physical limitations aren't a reason to hold back, Talleyrand. I believe you can find a valuable place for yourself."
"Certainly, but not in Ulthuan," Talleyrand replied. "In Ulthuan, I'm nothing but a cripple, in every sense of the word."
Ryan nodded. Talleyrand's sentiment resonated, for the Asur did indeed prize beauty, and the sharp-tongued, lame Talleyrand had faced rejection in his homeland.
"But in the Old World, in the human world, I'm not just whole—I'm even considered superior!" Talleyrand laughed wryly. "Humans are accustomed to the elegance and wisdom of elves, so in your world, I find a place where I can belong. It's a good trade."
Ryan admired Talleyrand's adaptability, though he kept his expression neutral.
"Talleyrand?"
"Yes, Your Majesty?"
"Would you be interested in serving as my ambassador to Nuln?"
"It would be my honor and pleasure."
---
Months passed, and with the arrival of spring in Imperial Year 2514, Ryan returned to Bretonnia, ushering in the kingdom's most glorious era.
This era, known to future historians and writers as the "Golden Age," saw profound transformations.
Politically, the Great Knight King "Unifier" Ryan Macador continued his deep reforms. He limited the power of the high nobility, eased tensions between the serf and knight classes, and eliminated numerous heavy taxes, significantly improving the lives of ordinary Bretonnians.
In terms of governance, the bureaucracy that Ryan had long envisioned began taking root. Assisted by the major churches and noble houses, circuit courts and officials now took charge of local legal matters, stripping village elders and minor nobles of judicial authority.
Ryan also began revising Bretonnia's laws to protect the rising class of freemen and self-sustaining farmers, restricting noble privilege and curbing their exploitation of serfs. He officially enshrined the notion that "incompetence is a crime" into law: noble families failing to produce competent knights within four generations faced losing their lands, with options to become freemen or serve in the Araby Expedition.
Economically, the Lady of the Lake delivered a bombshell.
After a thousand years, the Lady's Church announced a tax reduction, lowering the tithe from one-tenth to one-fifteenth of income.
The impact of this seemingly small percentage shift was immense, costing the Church hundreds of thousands of gold crowns annually. Across the kingdom, people knelt in gratitude, with many serfs shedding tears of joy, worshipping the Lady with renewed fervor.
Militar
ily, the Obian Expedition led by Lawn was a resounding success.
In January 2514, the northern knights' 25,000-strong expeditionary force, escorted by the Sea God Fleet and the Le-Angoulême Fleet, landed on Obian Island. They faced the Norscan tribe of Vanaheimling, a force of over 10,000 barbarians, hundreds of chaos warriors, and scores of chaos monsters.
Expecting a fierce resistance, the knights found the Vanaheimling defenses surprisingly weak. The initial battle on Ghoul Isle was barely a challenge, with only a handful of barbarian skirmishers defending it.
Lawn cautiously advanced into the barbarians' heartland, but met only minimal resistance. Leading a charge with his Grail Knights, he slaughtered the few chaos champions who dared to oppose him.
With minimal opposition, the expedition turned to plundering Obian's rich resources, especially its magical ores and silver. Soon, every ship capable of carrying cargo made multiple trips to haul the spoils back to Bretonnia.
Driven by greed, Count Clément led over two thousand soldiers deeper into the foggy heart of Obian, only for his entire force, including hundreds of knightly retainers, to vanish without a trace.
Determined to uncover the fate of his men, Lawn led a specially selected force of three thousand knights, supported by powerful magical wards, into Obian's dense fog. They found only horrifying chaos rituals, which drove dozens of men mad. Forced to retreat after heavy losses, Lawn declared the campaign a victory and prepared to return.
The regent, though triumphant, felt a deep unease. What could the northern barbarians be planning?
"This discovery in Obian's depths must be reported to His Majesty Ryan and Lady Morgiana immediately!"
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