The next morning, Ryan woke from his dreams, taking a long breath. He noticed Morgiana was already gone, likely off to lead her morning prayers and rituals. Sharing a tent with Ryan always seemed to improve her sleep quality, so he paid little mind to her absence.
Veronica, however, was awake. The Garland Speaker, still achy from the night before, wore a rosy, radiant expression. Her sweet almond-shaped eyes skimmed over a spellbook, but when she noticed Ryan stirring, she kicked him playfully with her silk-covered foot.
"You lazybones, time to get up! There's plenty waiting for you outside."
"What's so important?" Ryan groaned, flopping back down. "Has Bertrand's report arrived?"
"Yes, it has," Veronica replied, absently twirling a lock of Ryan's black hair in her fingers. "Aurora herself brought back the battle report and spoils. She even rode for miles to deliver it personally. I must say, she's quite eager to curry favor with you, my dear king."
"Eager? Ha! She just wanted to escape the vanguard forces and their camp. She probably missed her enchanted Frostwind chariot," Ryan quipped, folding his hands behind his head.
"Fair enough," Veronica said with a smirk. "I can't blame her. I've been enjoying my own Light Chariot for the whole march. Oh, and she calls me 'Madam Speaker' now. 'Hello, Madam Aurora.' 'Yes, Madam Speaker.' Heh heh."
"Wow, such authority. Guess you can change your own bedsheets then," Ryan teased.
"Hey! Where did that come from?" Veronica's cheeks turned scarlet, and she playfully thumped Ryan on the head with her fist. "Ever since you marked me with that soul rune, you know I can't... control myself!"
"Why didn't anyone wake me if there's a report?" Ryan continued to tease her, their casual rapport free of reservations due to their unique bond.
"It's not urgent. Morgiana decided to let you sleep," Veronica said, leaning back against the pillows. "Now that you're awake, you should go check it out. I'm staying in bed a little longer."
"And I'm the lazy one..." Ryan muttered, finally getting up.
After a quick wash and a light meal, Ryan got to work. Though the day was meant for rest, his duties as king never truly ceased. Logistics needed calculating, supplies had to be allocated, and decisions required his oversight. While Ryan didn't micromanage to the level of a Zhuge Liang, his practical experience and sharp eye for detail ensured his commands were precise. Imperial supply reports, often rife with discrepancies, rarely escaped his scrutiny, much to the chagrin of bureaucrats accustomed to skimming profits.
But first, Ryan had to review Aurora's report.
Cheers echoed through the camp as wagons rolled in, laden with the severed heads of beastmen. Soldiers gathered to spit on the trophies, shouting praises for the king and blessings for the Lady.
From one wagon, four Old Guard soldiers unloaded the head of Drakwald's Beastlord Supreme, Graktar. Bertrand's black arrow protruded from the creature's right eye socket, deeply embedded in its skull—a fatal shot.
"You're finally up, Ryan?" Morgiana was overseeing the burning of the beastmen's heads, her Grail Guardians following her orders. She greeted Ryan softly. "This is the report from Bertrand's forces."
"They've done well," Duke Berchmond bellowed, pounding his massive mace into the ground. "Now this is what I call a victory! Smashing!"
"With this, our path to Middenheim is clear," said Regent Lauen, nodding in approval. "Hagen and Bertrand have exceeded expectations. Graktar's death is a monumental blow to the beastmen."
"Let me see," Ryan said, taking the report to read.
---
The Battle of Painful Marshlands
The human forces, numbering only 12,000, had defeated a beastman army of 45,000. This was made possible by a pivotal event during the earlier Battle of Bergen.
At Bergen, Ryan's main chivalric army had shattered over 50,000 beastmen, forcing their remnants to retreat eastward. The retreating horde inadvertently stumbled upon the imperial and Bretonnian vanguard, who had moved to intercept after hearing of the battle.
The beastmen, disorganized and desperate, became easy prey. Bertrand and Heinrich Todbringer quickly recognized the opportunity but acknowledged the risks: while the beastmen were in chaos, their numbers still posed a significant threat.
The decision was made—attack.
The allied forces established a defensive perimeter at the edge of Painful Marshlands, launching a surprise assault. Graktar attempted to rally his troops but was thwarted when Aurora unleashed a devastating spell.
Her magic drained the cold from the marsh, turning its solid ground into thick mud, trapping the beastmen. Immobilized, they became easy targets for artillery, crossbows, and firearms.
Once the beastmen were stuck in the mire, Aurora cast another spell, freezing the marsh again. The beastmen were left frozen in place, helpless as the allied forces charged in.
Graktar led a desperate counterattack with his best warriors, but Davout, commanding the Old Guard, personally led a counter-charge. His rallying cry inspired the troops: "Bravery finds glory; cowards die in shame!"
The morale boost tipped the scales. As the Old Guard clashed with the beastmen elites, the Eye of Taal glowed, signaling divine intervention. The ancient god of nature's fury empowered Bertrand, imbuing him with greater strength. This divine act also spread a fervor among the imperial troops while demoralizing the beastmen.
Bertrand seized the moment, firing his enchanted black arrow into Graktar's eye. The Beastlord Supreme fell, and the beastmen scattered in panic. The allied forces pursued them relentlessly for ten kilometers, stopping only at the edge of the Black Forest.
---
"Well done!" Ryan exclaimed after reading the report. He immediately issued rewards for the key players in this resounding victory.
- Bertrand: Awarded the title of Wartime Marshal, ennobled as Baron of Nottingham, and granted the Grand Grail Honor Medal.
- Davout: Ennobled as Knight-Lord of Mousillon, awarded the Grand Grail Honor Medal.
- Duke Hagen: Granted fifty dwarven armors, thirty elven warhorses, and the First-Class Grand Cross Medal.
- Aurora: Granted fifty kilograms of magical ore, five thousand gold crowns, and the First-Class Grand Cross Medal.
The remaining soldiers and knights also received honors and promotions.
Despite the celebrations, some felt envious. Duke Berchmond, though satisfied, yearned for more glory. Regent Lauen, though bolstered by his success in the Albion campaign, still craved battlefield achievements.
Earl Devon Hex, leading a 3,000-strong infantry force, was particularly eager. Approaching Ryan, he suggested: "Your Majesty, with the vanguard's success, should we press forward and eliminate the beastmen threat for good?"
"The beastmen are no longer a concern. Our priority now is reaching Middenheim," Ryan replied, spreading a map on a snowy table. He addressed Hex and Lauen: "How is troop morale? Fatigue?"
"Adapting to the cold and gloom has been difficult, Your Majesty," Lauen admitted. "Rest is necessary."
"Then we rest today. Tomorrow, we march. We must reach Middenheim and join forces with Boris Todbringer's army before chaos regroups," Ryan commanded.
---
The Meeting at Fasskalrag
After five days of marching, Ryan's forces arrived at the foot of Fasskalrag, the holy mountain of Ulric. There, the Bretonnian army of over 30,000 met the Middenland army of similar size, creating a formidable 70,000-strong force.
Cannons boomed, trumpets blared, and drums rolled as the two armies united. Surrounded by Grail Knights and Teutonic guards, Ryan and Boris Todbringer approached each other.
"Boris! It's been too long!" Ryan greeted with a smile.
"Ryan-Marcador, Your Majesty, your arrival guarantees our victory!" Boris replied warmly, extending his hand.
The two clasped hands firmly, a symbolic gesture of unity. Together, their armies would alter the course of the war.
This historic meeting became known as the Meeting at Fasskalrag, marking the turning point in the Great Chaos Invasion.
As Boris leaned closer, he said, "Ryan, there's someone who wishes to see you."
A figure emerged from the ranks—a frail old man with a familiar face. Ryan froze, his breath catching.
"Father!" Ryan exclaimed, stepping forward, but the old man hesitated, bowing respectfully.
It had been many years since they last met, and the sight of his foster father in such a state filled Ryan with a mix of joy and sorrow. For a moment, the battle and the chaos faded away. At the foot of Ulric's sacred mountain, two paths, two histories, converged once more.
_________________________
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