Hunt Marshal Markus Wulfhart was one of the two relatively easily mobilized Saint-level powerhouses under Emperor Karl Franz, as he was directly subordinate to the Emperor.
Wulfhart, dressed in blue noble attire with characteristic lantern sleeves and tight-fitting trousers, clearly indicated his Middenlander identity. His speech, laced with a strong Northern Empire accent and many ancient Thuringian terms, made him stand out awkwardly at the banquet. However, the Marshal, who hailed from a peasant background, seemed uninterested in blending into the aristocratic circles. Instead, he focused on eating and drinking, gulping down bottles of the finest sparkling wine and champagne from Couronne as if they were water.
Even so, Wulfhart was still accorded ample respect. As a low-tier Saint-level powerhouse who had once slain an Emperor Dragon with just three arrows, his strength alone made aristocratic etiquette seem trivial. In this dark world, heroes were what truly mattered.
"Greetings, Lord Ryan," Wulfhart nodded to Ryan, his thick beard speckled with champagne and food crumbs.
"Wulfhart is one of the people I trust the most. I don't need to elaborate on his illustrious deeds, as you surely know them," Karl Franz said loudly, his spirits high. "When I received Alaric's letter, I almost considered sending him on the expedition."
"Alaric?" Ryan asked curiously.
"The Empire's Lustria expeditionary force!" Karl Franz raised his glass. "Alaric brought good news: our expeditionary force has successfully established a foothold in Lustria. Now, they're just waiting for our reinforcements! He mentioned in his letter that although they've had decent gains, their exploration hasn't been smooth. They're lacking enough firearms and siege weapons. The Reikland Lord's Council is currently debating whether to send stronger and more elite troops to support the expedition."
"Oh? Then congratulations are in order, Karl. Lustria is not an easy place to conquer," Ryan smiled.
"But Alaric's gains are truly astonishing. If you ever get the chance, you should see them—all fist-sized gold nuggets, heaps of silver, various jewels and minerals, and even obsidian!" The Emperor became more excited as he spoke. "Alaric believes that leaving such wealth in the hands of the Lizardmen is a waste, that only our Empire can bring true civilization and order. Don't worry, Ryan, your brother—Fogen, is it?—we won't harm him. I've even prepared a countship for him. He can come to my court and be a count whenever he wishes. You won't blame me for overstepping, will you?"
"Hahaha, Karl, let's just drink," Ryan chuckled without directly addressing the matter. "So, are you planning to send your Hunt Marshal on the expedition?"
"Of course not." The Emperor noticed that Ryan's reaction was a bit unusual, but Karl Franz, in his high spirits and slightly tipsy from the wine, didn't think much of it. "Wulfhart is indispensable in the Old World."
"That's a shame," Ryan replied, spreading his hands with a look of regret. "Lustria will be missing a champion."
"Hahaha!" Karl Franz didn't insist on Wulfhart joining their stroll. The Emperor and Ryan found a corner in the palace garden, where Karl Franz chuckled self-deprecatingly, "Ryan, do you know why His Holiness, Vikmar, didn't come?"
"Busy with affairs?" Ryan and Karl sat together on a stone bench. Ryan thought it was indeed unfortunate that Archbishop Vikmar hadn't come. If he had, Morgiana might have had a chance to meet with him, potentially yielding other benefits.
"I went to the Great Cathedral of Sigmar to invite him," the Emperor shook his head. "I told him that perhaps he should accompany me to visit Couronne. Vikmar gave me a little time to persuade him."
"And you failed?" Ryan was intrigued.
"I told His Holiness that it was an invitation from the Green Knight, sanctioned by the Lady of the Lake, and that she believed you and I must stand united. Vikmar was furious. He said that as Emperor of the Empire, I should be ashamed to believe the words of a foreign deity instead of basking in the absolute justice and righteousness of Charlemagne's glory! He then told me to get out, to take my heretical nonsense out of the Great Cathedral of Sigmar, or he'd have me thrown out," the Emperor recounted bitterly.
"Hahahaha!" Ryan burst into laughter, easily imagining the Emperor's embarrassment. Vikmar, known as 'The Resolute,' never wavered once he made up his mind. Karl Franz had likely been half-escorted, half-dragged out by the Flagellants and Warrior Priests.
"Do you ever encounter such situations with the Lady's Witch?" The Emperor was evidently very interested in how to balance royal and religious power. In both the Empire and Bretonnia, religious authority often overshadowed royal authority. In a world with true gods, managing relations with the church was an intricate art.
Karl Franz had always been curious and somewhat envious of Ryan's seemingly close and cooperative relationship with Morgiana. During the earlier banquet, Morgiana had sat to Ryan's left, the two of them frequently interacting. The normally cold and distant Lake Witch had been gentle with Ryan, often whispering to him and looking at him in a way that was noticeably different.
"Not really, it's rare," Ryan shook his head. "When Lady Morgiana has an issue, we usually discuss it together. She respects my decisions."
"How do you manage that? Could you share some tips?" Karl Franz pressed. "I spend a lot of energy on this every day."
"Uh..." Ryan thought that his method might not be quite applicable to Karl Franz. The Duke of Mousillon pondered for a moment, letting the Emperor believe he was deep in thought before slowly saying, "Have an open and honest conversation, just the two of you, in a private setting where you won't be disturbed."
"Could you be more specific?" the Emperor asked. He had plenty of opportunities for private talks with Archbishop Vikmar, so Ryan's advice seemed too general.
"Alright, Karl. Here's a suggestion: find a time to meet with His Holiness Vikmar in the palace or the cathedral's gymnasium or fighting arena. Engage in a serious match of wrestling or hand-to-hand combat. Regardless of the outcome, then arrange a private barbecue, drink and eat together, create a relaxed atmosphere, and seize the opportunity to have an open conversation. It should help," Ryan advised earnestly.
"Is that so?" Emperor Karl Franz found the suggestion odd, but he figured it wouldn't hurt to try. "Alright, I'll arrange something when I get back. Cheers, Ryan, to our respective nations!"
"Cheers!"
Besides the friendly conversation between Karl Franz and Ryan Malcador, the entire Couronne Palace was buzzing with excitement. Historically, such high-level banquets, bringing together nobles from both the Empire and Bretonnia, were rare. Despite their mutual disdain, the fact remained that the two nations shared common roots. Bretonnians originally came from Bretons who crossed the Grey Mountains. Their cultural differences were primarily due to the greater influence of Elves on Bretonnian culture. Apart from their different religious practices—Lady of the Lake worship in Bretonnia and Charlemagne worship in the Empire—their folk beliefs were nearly identical, and their official holidays were very similar.
Even so, cultural barriers often led to mutual hostility, with territorial disputes and conflicts of interest flaring up repeatedly over the millennia.
It could be said that humans can never fully understand each other, and finding common ground while maintaining differences is the best one can hope for.
François, Bodrick, and Marius found themselves in deep conversation. Their territories encompassed the best vineyards in the Old World, and it was clear that the two dukes and the elector shared a profound knowledge and passion for winemaking and management.
Elector Boris Todbringer of the White Wolf and Duke Berchmond of Bastonne were also getting along well. Their personalities were similar, and they bonded over their shared experiences in the never-ending wars against the countless Beastmen tribes in Middenland and Drakwald Forest. The Duchy of Bastonne also faced annual Beastmen invasions from the Arden Forest, giving them plenty to discuss on how to combat these monstrous foes.
Meanwhile, within the palace, Ryan's wife, Sulia, the Imperial Empress Helena, and Imperial Baroness Emmanuelle were sharing their experiences on child-rearing, while Luitpold II ran around with young Frederick and little Devonshire.
"Sulia, it's been so long!" Emilia warmly linked arms with Sulia. "You're about to become queen! Wow, I'm so envious!"
"Thank you." Although Sulia couldn't deny wanting to be queen, she sensed something underlying Emilia's words and awkwardly withdrew her arm. "I haven't had a chance to congratulate you yet, Emilia! Didn't you bring her along?"
"Yes, but Rem is still too young," Emilia shook her head, her delicate and beautiful face flushed with pride. She boasted to Sulia, "Tomorrow, I'll bring Rem to the palace to play with her brother Devonshire. How about that, Sister Sulia?"
"Uh... of course, you're welcome, Emilia." Sulia couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy at Emilia's gloating tone.
Earlier this summer, Emilia had given birth to a beautiful girl for both Ryan and herself, just as she had told Ryan. She named the girl Rem and bestowed upon her the title of Princess of Nuln. Although Princess Rem had accompanied Emilia on this trip, she did not attend the banquet.
Noticing Sulia's slightly discontented expression, Emilia felt a surge of satisfaction. She once again linked arms with Sulia
. "Sister Sulia, Sister Helena, I brought many gifts from Nuln this time, all for you. Come with me to see them!"
Emilia had indeed brought many gifts, and Sulia could feel her sincerity. She didn't refuse.
"Sure!" Helena quickly agreed, and the three most powerful women in the Old World headed toward another room in the palace.
Meanwhile, High Elf Archmage Teclis was conversing with Veronica and Teresa. Teclis's voice was devoid of emotion, and his expression remained neutral. He carefully observed Veronica's spellcasting and her ability to manipulate the Winds of Magic, nodding slightly. "Not bad, Lady Bernadotte. You've made significant progress in magic since our last meeting."
"Thank you, Lord Teclis." Veronica seized the opportunity to flaunt her recent advancement to Saint-level and her newly acquired abilities. She bowed respectfully and seriously. "It's all thanks to your guidance. I'm very grateful."
"My guidance only provided you with a key, teaching you how to open the door to the room. What you find inside is up to you." Teclis leaned on his Moon Staff of Lileath, his fish-like eyes turning to the cold, beautiful sorceress in a formal gown who looked both frustrated and disappointed. "As for you, Lady Trovik, don't be discouraged. The path to becoming a Saint-level sorcerer is unique and difficult to replicate. Your focus now should be on accumulating enough magical knowledge and power. As for how to refine your bloodline, I will take some time to consult the books at the Tower of Hoeth. You can also ask your mother how she achieved it."
Ice Magic doesn't belong to the eight Winds of Magic, so even though Teclis was a High Archmage, his knowledge of Ice Magic was limited, as the Elves generally didn't regard it highly.
"My mother had a fortuitous encounter. She found an ancient ruin in the wilderness of Kislev and absorbed a vast amount of pure Ice Magic energy from a pillar there," Teresa shook her head in disappointment. "But such ancient ruins have been mostly discovered and depleted over nearly a thousand years of Kislev's history. It's almost impossible to find another."
"Perhaps you can find a substitute," Teclis suggested, carefully assessing Teresa's magical power. "I need some time to look into it and to consult Belenar, to see if he has any relevant information."
"Thank you very much," Teresa said, bowing in gratitude. Teclis nodded, then turned and headed toward the garden.
"Hmph~ My little princess, it seems you're having a rough time. Hurry up, show your respect and loyalty to me, a full Elder of the Garland Council!" Veronica's attitude changed dramatically as soon as Teclis left. Hands on her hips, she smugly taunted Teresa.
The Garland Witch was dressed in a pale purple velvet evening gown, the neckline of her dress propped up to showcase her pride. The slit in her gown was high, revealing long, slender legs wrapped in sheer flesh-colored stockings, topped with garter straps featuring butterfly designs. Her fair feet were adorned with open-toe, fish-mouth heels, her toenails painted a bright red. Her radiant beauty and sweet almond-shaped eyes were filled with the joy of triumph.
"Hmph! Veronica, just wait!" Teresa's evening dress was shorter than Veronica's, but otherwise similar. Unlike Veronica, she wore gray tights, and her neckline was not as low. The sorceress was so angry at this provocation that she wanted to stomp her foot, but she had no way to retaliate for the moment.
"Back then, I was always thinking about how to crush you underfoot," Veronica's taunt quickly softened into a sigh of resignation. "But now we're on the same side. It's really boring... Trovik, where's your mother?"
"My mother?" Teresa's expression turned subtle. "Look, over there."
Veronica followed Teresa's gaze and her expression also became somewhat nuanced.
Aurora was dressed in a light blue off-the-shoulder evening gown, her legs wrapped in black transparent stockings, and her feet in black pointed heels. She sat on a sofa in a corner, and next to her was Valmir von Zhukov, Elector of Wolfenburg and Grand Duke of Ostland, who was showering Aurora with attention. The Elector's eyes gleamed green as he continuously offered her drinks and sought topics of conversation, while Aurora, out of politeness, engaged in dialogue with him.
"Oh, that old lecher," Veronica covered her face with her hand. Elector Valmir was a formidable figure in military prowess, administrative skill, and personal valor, which was why the Emperor chose him to inherit the title of Elector and Grand Duke after the previous Elector's family line ended.
But Valmir had a flaw—he often couldn't control his lower half. In addition to his two legitimate sons, Oleg and Vasily, he publicly acknowledged at least ten illegitimate children and had many public mistresses, with countless more in private. Veronica knew that the female ambassador from Kislev to the Empire was one of Valmir's lovers, and at least a dozen female members of the Garland Council had claimed to have had relations with him.
"Dear Teresa, are you about to have a new father?" Veronica teased.
"...Veronica, let's go over there." Teresa frowned. "My mother is in high spirits today and has had a lot to drink. It wouldn't be good if she made the wrong decision."
"Alright, alright."
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