Alaric had been feeling down recently.
His daughter, Calorona, had been missing for a long time. He didn't know if she had gone off in a fit of pique or was on some mission, but she was indeed missing. Athel Loren was an enormous magical forest, and Alaric, as Queen Ariel's chosen champion and the lord of Talsyn (the King's Glade), was usually busy. After inquiring with the goddess Isha and confirming that Calorona was still alive, he reluctantly set the matter aside.
Elven family relationships were not as tight-knit as those of humans and dwarves. Wood Elf culture inherently valued both freedom and isolation. With their incredibly long lifespans, they had ample time to seclude themselves in their own affairs. Even family members could go decades without seeing each other. Calorona was an adult and had the right to make her own choices, and as her father, Alaric had no right to interfere.
But that didn't stop him from feeling frustrated.
The second issue troubling him was the Moon Goddess Lilith, who had given him a majestic antlered helmet and then vanished without a trace. Alaric had already chosen a rendezvous spot and composed a poetic confession, but he never got the chance to use them. He prayed repeatedly for the goddess to respond, but Lilith seemed too busy and gave no reply.
What was wrong? Had he done something wrong? Where had he failed his goddess? He would do anything to know.
Alaric pondered these questions while wearing his dazzlingly green-lit antlered helmet.
The third issue was the task he had been given. Queen Ariel had learned that Ryan and Belegar were forming an allied force to launch an expedition to Eight Peaks Mountain, where the Ancestor Shrine of Angrund was said to hold numerous elven gems, some dating back to ancient times.
During the era when elves and dwarves had forged an alliance against Chaos, when Malekith still served as the diplomatic envoy at the Everpeak, these gems had been stored in the shrine. Even after the alliance between elves and dwarves had shattered, Eight Peaks Mountain, as one of the oldest dwarven fortresses, still housed many elven relics in its ancestral shrine, including murals depicting the friendship between the two races.
Ariel believed it was time to reclaim the lost glory and ancient history of the elves. The Wood Elves would also participate in this war!
The rightful elven lineage resided in the Wood Elves!
Alaric had come to discuss the terms of this joint operation. He firmly requested that once Eight Peaks Mountain was reclaimed, the elves must receive the elven gems, the ancient murals, and any other elven relics. In return, Alaric would lead Queen Ariel's personal guard, the Talon Eagles, and a large force from the King's Glade, numbering about three thousand troops.
Do not underestimate the Wood Elves for sending only three thousand troops. Elven armies were always small. Ryan was not certain how many Wood Elves lived in Athel Loren, but he guessed the population could be no more than a million or two at most.
Alaric briefly explained his intentions. Ryan could see that he was in a foul mood and in a hurry. Ryan had planned to invite him to stay for lunch, but Alaric declined and privately asked if he could visit the Lady of the Lake's tower to see Lilith again.
Ryan explained that Lilith was not there; she had only met with him on a whim the last time.
After a few brief words, Alaric left. He and his troops would not sail to Sea Gate Pass with Ryan but would instead use the roots of the World Tree to reach the frontlines at an opportune moment.
Alaric had barely stayed for a few minutes before leaving. After he departed, Veronica rested her delicate, sweet face on her hand and remarked, "Another elf with arrogance ingrained in his bones. Ryan, you have a real knack for dealing with elves. I've noticed that you get along well with all these strange races—elves, dwarves—while your brother, the one named Fulgrim, seems to have even managed to get along with the Lizardmen. I truly admire your family."
"Dealing with these different races isn't hard. First, you have to be strong enough, and then you need to understand their way of communicating and their taboos. Every race or country has certain things they prefer not to talk about or can't bring up. We have to learn to find common ground," Ryan explained as he gently pulled Olica, who was standing nearby, into his lap. The Dark Elf let out a small yelp but settled docilely against his chest. "Master~"
"You were able to pick up such a powerful companion at the Marienburg talent market? I don't know whether to call it your luck or misfortune," Veronica said, clearly still bitter about the situation. If she hadn't been forcefully reassigned by Aurora through the council's orders at the time, Ryan would never have ended up with a Dark Elf maid. She would have arranged for a much older and less attractive maid instead, ensuring Ryan wouldn't have developed any further relationships.
"If I had stayed with him during the Winter Veil, he wouldn't have had any reason to get involved with a little maid or develop a relationship with a Dark Elf maid. And he certainly wouldn't have ended up entangled with the Duke's daughter."
"Ryan is a chosen one, Veronica," Sulia interjected with a knowing smile. She was well aware of Olica's situation. "Would you like to know the full story?"
"Of course," Veronica replied, intrigued.
"I sent several people to investigate the situation in Marienburg after the fact. Olica had been captured during a raid on the Nordland coast and was being escorted back to Ulthuan by a High Elf fleet. She was supposed to be taken back to Ulthuan as a prisoner," Sulia explained, sipping her tea gracefully. "But when the High Elf fleet arrived in Marienburg for supplies, they discovered a High Elf prince in the slave market. He had been captured in battle and ended up on the slave market in a dire state. His name was…"
"Prince Yvraine, son of Phoenix King Finubar the Seafarer," Olica lifted her head from Ryan's chest and continued the story. "His identity had been confirmed by Marienburg, which put the High Elves in a dilemma. Marienburg demanded an exorbitant ransom or an equivalent item in exchange for Prince Yvraine. Since the High Elves weren't willing to pay the high price and the auction was about to begin, they had no choice but to offer me as a substitute. Male elves are far less valuable than female elves on the slave market. When Marienburg saw that the High Elves were willing to trade a female elf for him, they quickly agreed."
"That's the truth I uncovered. Olica, you were indeed fortunate, truly fortunate," Sulia remarked, her words carrying a deeper meaning. The Duchess had always been suspicious of Olica's identity, and it wasn't until they were returning from Nuln to Bretonnia that Olica finally revealed her connection to the Pale Queen. Only then did Sulia relax somewhat.
"My luck is also my master's luck," Olica replied, nuzzling against Ryan's neck and falling silent.
"With the Wood Elves, you now have over thirty thousand troops," Sulia said as she gently lifted her tea cup. "Aside from that, what about the mercenary leader you hired, Blackheart Rep? What support can he offer?"
"Blackheart Rep has established a foothold in the Border Princes. He's secured the trade routes between Sea Gate Pass and the Border Princes, allowing our supplies to flow continuously into the region," Ryan said, stroking his stubble thoughtfully. "He's done well so far, and we've sent him two reinforcement units. He's currently established a base in the eastern city of Rovska within the Border Princes, but I'm not entirely sure about the situation there. We're still waiting for updates."
"For now, focus on your coronation. Leave these matters to me and Karsonburg. Ryan, my husband, becoming king is your most important task right now," Sulia said after a brief pause, still feeling uneasy about the cunning mercenary leader. "Ryan, you can't rely solely on Blackheart Rep. You should have other contingencies."
"His army is supplied by us, his provisions come from us, and his wizard advisor was sent by Veronica. Many of his officers are our people, and Bordeleaux has even sent a squad of Seagod Knights to assist him. It's unlikely he'll betray us," Ryan said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He accepted Sulia's caution without hesitation. "But don't worry, I never planned for Blackheart Rep to be the main force. His role is only to act as a distraction."
"As for the days following the coronation, Sulia, I'm planning to host a grand Royal Knightly Tournament," Ryan said seriously. "It will be a declaration of my authority."
"That's an excellent idea. I've discussed this with the Lady, and we both agree that holding a Royal Knightly Tournament is the best way to assert your authority and demonstrate your military strength," Sulia said, nodding approvingly.
Ryan's expression turned a bit strange.
He couldn't help but think that his court had a peculiar atmosphere. Devonshire had two mothers—Sulia and Lilith.
This made him think of empress dowagers and the idea of regency.
Well, I'm confident I can manage them.
"Then it's settled. The prizes for this tournament will be more lavish than ever," Ryan said, setting the
tone for his coronation. "I'm even worried that knights from the Empire, the Wood Elves, and the southern realms might be eager to participate."
"Let them come! This tournament will show the Old World who holds the mightiest knights!"
… The Regency Dividing Line …
Meanwhile, in the Old World, Empire, outskirts of Altdorf.
A group of ragged refugees was slowly entering the city under the watchful eyes of the guards.
Among them was a brown-skinned man with a shaved head, dressed in a coarse linen shirt with a leather jacket over it. A longsword and a flintlock pistol hung at his waist. He looked up at the towering walls of the Empire's capital and smiled faintly. He didn't quite look like a refugee, nor did he fully resemble a nobleman. After presenting a passage document from Middenland, he was quickly allowed entry.
It was said that the neighboring kingdom of Bretonnia had relocated thirty thousand people from Altdorf, but in truth, the city was quickly filled again by refugees, peasants seeking opportunities, speculators, and adventurers from all directions. The streets remained crowded, and the bald man squeezed through the throngs of people, his expression turning mocking and amused.
Soon, he found his way to a slum area within the city, where the stench of filth and sweat, along with the musty smell of unwashed bodies, filled the air. The crowds had already left for work, leaving behind women and children in the slum.
In the Imperial Year 2510, my neighborhood was declared the worst in all of Altdorf.
Why, you ask?
The bald man opened the door to a private residence.
Violent crime is rampant, and the population living below the poverty line is the highest in the Empire.
The bald man gathered his belongings and quickly left the room, noticing that the streets were already packed with people despite it still being morning. The influx of people into the city showed no signs of stopping.
Yet despite the harsh reality, people flocked to the city.
All around, new workers were being recruited. The meager wages of a few copper coins a day were enough to drive these peasants and refugees to fight for a chance.
This city always offers a glimmer of hope, whether it's a lie or an illusion.
But that hope seems within reach, just enough to make people chase after it blindly.
The smile on the bald man's face grew more twisted and grotesque. He quickly crossed a dirty, foul-smelling ditch, disappearing around the corner of a tavern like a ghost. When he reappeared, he was fully dressed in the uniform of a Reiksguard, his increasingly frenzied expression hidden behind the visor of his winged helmet.
Emperor Karl Franz's retinue was clearing the streets. Today was the emperor's day to go hunting outside the city. The Reiksguard followed behind him, accompanied by a detachment of the imperial household troops, the Gryphon Greatswords. The bald man, now mounted on a warhorse, joined the procession from the street corner. Reiksmarshal Helborg glanced at the Reiksguard and, after confirming his insignia and identity, signaled for him to catch up. "Schmidt, you're late. Hurry up."
"Yes," the Reiksguard replied tersely, quickly catching up. His eyes, hidden behind the visor, were fixed on the emperor, protected by the Reiksguard at the center of the formation. Karl Franz was conversing with his standard-bearer, Ludwig Schwarzhelm.
In the Reiksguard's pocket was a pale blue dagger coated with a deadly poison. He tightened the reins and picked up his pace, a smile on his face twisting into a grotesque, inhuman mask of flesh.
This city is filled with dreams, and I am the dreamer.
The emperor's party entered Reikswald Forest and began the day's hunt. After three hours of hunting, the Reiksguard formation had become disorganized, with everyone seeking their own trophies. The Gryphon Greatswords were scattered, and the emperor, who had just finished a difficult hunt, stepped away from the protection of the Reiksguard to inspect his kill.
Emperor Karl Franz, breathing heavily, surveyed his prize with satisfaction. He felt tired, but it was worth it. As he bent down to carve the hind leg of the stag with his knife, the Reiksguard silently drew the dagger from his pocket and began to approach the emperor, step by step.
Wake up, false emperor, ruler of the weak empire founded by the false god Sigmar.
I will burn this city and your petty empire to ashes!
"Schmidt? Look at my trophy…" Emperor Karl Franz had just turned to speak to the Reiksguard when he caught sight of the dagger in his hand. "What?!"
"Clang!" The sacred sword of the Elector Count, Dragon Tooth, symbolizing the Grand Prince of Reikland, was drawn. The emperor's combat experience and the swordsmanship he had learned at the Royal Military Academy saved his life. Dragon Tooth clashed with the dagger, and the corrosive light of Chaos sorcery met the runic power of Dragon Tooth in a sharp clash. The Reiksguard's voice, no longer human, issued from behind the visor. He grabbed the emperor's arm, forcing the blade of Dragon Tooth through his own body!
Karl Franz was horrified and immediately tried to back away from the dagger aimed at his chest or face. But the attacker's immense strength caused him to lose balance and fall to the ground. Now the emperor had nowhere to run!
"Die, false emperor!" The Reiksguard raised the dagger and brought it down toward Karl Franz's chest.
"Praise be to the Dark Prince Slaanesh!!"
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