If the Bilbalian envoys had merely been earnest and sincere when pleading with the tribe for aid—maintaining the bottom line of a civilized great nation not losing face to a small barbarian tribe—
Then by the time Demontrei fell and the Siege of the Bulwark of Saint Monna broke out, the Estalian envoys had already staged several desperate "weeping at the court of Qin" scenes before the Round Table Council.
However, the knights' attitude was incredibly cold, and resolute:
Their refusal to deploy troops was extremely firm; they absolutely would not deploy troops.
The specific reasons could not be disclosed, as they involved the secrets of a secluded nation.
But out of goodwill, they were willing to try recruiting volunteers and chivalric knights for the Estalians across their lands.
They were also willing to dispatch Alberic de Bordeleaux, descendant of the former rulers of the Duchy of Bordeleaux and inheritor of the legendary Trident of Manann used by the hero of the Great War.
Arthur de Bordeleaux and his small but highly elite knightly fleet, which had unclear ties to the Sea God Manann, would help escort and guard the shipping lanes.
At the very least, they could slightly suppress the pirate attacks, preventing them from being so unbridled, and secure the sea route from Bilbali to Marienburg for the Estalians.
As for directly deploying troops, they could only apologize...
The Greenskin offensive exceeded the Estalians' expectations.
Even the most pessimistic general could not have imagined that when an entire army of two hundred thousand pressed forward with devastating force...
Setting aside Demontrei, which was crushed like a small sampan rammed by a galleon,
Even the heavily relied-upon fortress—which constantly housed over fifty thousand defenders, more than a third of the forces the Northern Council could currently mobilize—
A fortress originally planned to hold out for half a year to a year, and at least four months at minimum...
Nearly fell a month and a half after the siege began.
It took the self-sacrifice of two Grand Mages, who had trained with the High Elves before returning to Estalia.
They pushed the Eight Winds' power beyond their limits, dragging themselves and the enemies at the wall into the violent storm of the Winds of Heavens and Metal.
This cleared a massive number of enemies gathered at the walls, allowing the defenders to reorganize a counter-attack and reclaim the ramparts.
The two mages, along with the apprentices assisting them, were swallowed by the violently out-of-control Winds of Magic.
Their bodies were either completely annihilated or turned into puddles of golden slurry.
Finally, with no other options, the Estalians—despite having been rejected by Al three times already—anxiously sent a fourth mission into the Piña Forest.
Driven by a disadvantageous war situation that felt like the God of Death demanding their lives, they brazenly decided to try one more time.
They were rejected by Al once again.
This time, the envoy wept in front of the boy, sobbing about the kinship of the Southern races.
While Al felt a slight pang of sympathy, just as he had stated during his peace talks with the Great Warlord:
When the Orcs reach the walls of Bilbali, Al will not send a single Beastman north.
He truly meant it.
He would wait until the Greenskins were about to reach the walls of Bilbali, and then he would deploy troops to—attack the Greenskins' rear.
Under the banner of being an ally, a savior, and a united front against the Greenskins, he would rapidly sweep the South.
He would expand in a snowball effect, take Magritta, emulate the Greenskins by commanding all regions under a banner of absolute justice, and form a grand army to march north, trapping the Greenskins in the North for a decisive battle.
Simultaneously, relying on human believers who had converted to the Four Mothers, he would establish a preliminary rule over the Southern lands he occupied.
Finally, he would win the decisive battle against the Greenskins, turning the tide, saving the falling building, and claiming the merit of saving the nation, protecting the people, and preserving the state for the Estalians.
With such achievements, the officials would urge him to ascend the throne.
Ten thousand people would petition that the tribe's great benevolence could not be repaid, and since they were already so deeply intertwined, they might as well become one family, rewarding Al with the title of Prince.
Thus, it would be logical, aligning with the will of heaven and the people, emulating Aenarion and Sigmar—truly the Mandate of Heaven...
Of course, it couldn't be ruled out that the Estalians might have a tiny, very small bit of reluctance and resistance to accepting a "Beastman" as their ruler.
Especially when this "Beastman" brought along a group of aggressive, highly capable kin who didn't look particularly easy to get along with.
But that was fine; Al was very open-minded about this.
When the time came, if you didn't urge him to ascend, there would be others who would.
Once he entered Magritta, there would naturally be Patriarchs and Priests to debate theology on the tribe's behalf.
As long as the cause was just and the majority could pinch their noses and accept it, that would be enough.
Al had already considered it: if Saint Monna fell, Sahagan likely wouldn't last much longer either.
At that point, the Estalians would definitely send envoys to weep and beg again, and he could finally relent.
However, he absolutely had to obtain the most important thing first...
"A Legitimate Title!"
He had discussed this issue with Misha, Kael'thas, and even the former Paladin Claudia, whose current promiscuous behavior made her look somewhat unreliable (completely ignoring that he was the reason she became this way).
How could he rule those Estalian cities he would later reclaim under a title that was hard to nitpick, while minimizing irritation and not making the Estalians feel betrayed, used, or re-enslaved by an alien race?
Misha and Kael'thas proposed many ideas, but in the end, it was Claudia's words that enlightened Al and hit the nail on the head.
"In order not to have a ruler over their heads, even a nominal one, there was once a farce where they elected a pig as City Prince. The citizens and more than half the council even agreed to it, stopping only because the Church vehemently opposed it."
"So no matter what title you use, even if Bilbali and Magritta jointly elect you as City Prince, in the end, the Estalians will never like a system and a monarch that wants to control every aspect of their lives. Many city-states envy neighboring Tilea, where cities are highly autonomous and only nominally unified."
"Your best method is exactly like your previous laissez-faire behavior toward those gentry elites: let the Estalians eat a mouthful of toxic shit. Let them be thoroughly disgusted and harmed, and then serve them what you want to do. Quickly establish a new system that people can accept and endure in the short term."
"Do it as fast as possible. Even if you have to use swords to force them, destroy opposing cities like Cerebrio, or even use your 'silenced' fucking to fuck the major city-states led by Magritta and Bilbali into submission—making them submit to your authority."
"Then, gradually reel in and strip away the power of the city-states and kingdoms using the growing number of Four Mother believers, achieving your grand unification. Restore trade, colonization, and expansion, letting the Estalians feel that everything is improving and recovering. Even if it's not as glorious or loose as before the war, it will be enough to achieve your desired goal."
After hearing this, Al excitedly slapped Misha's thigh, quickly stood up, walked to Claudia, grabbed her hands, and said with earnest eyes and deep emotion:
"Having my dear Claudia is like a fish finding water, like a tiger growing wings!"
The Paladin cast a sarcastic glance at the boy, then with great interest scanned his body up and down—mostly down—almost blatantly demanding him.
With his scions present, Al naturally wouldn't be so deranged.
If he kicked them out now with, "Papa and Claudia are going to study governance policies, you guys go out first," it would be too obvious.
So Al had to turn back to his seat and discuss the concept Claudia proposed in detail with his two scions, supplementing and pre-planning various aspects.
The Paladin curled her lip in boredom, sat on Al's desk—her plump buttocks unceremoniously pressing down on Al's manuscripts and documents—and casually picked up a book to flip through.
It happened to be the "History of the Southern Kingdoms Since the Great War," authored by an Imperial scholar.
The page she opened to happened to feature an illustration depicting Bilbali's northern "Eagle's Nest"—which was also the largest temple of the Goddess Myrmidia in Bilbali.
Holding a sword, with wings on her back, the sacred and majestic statue of the Goddess stood atop the temple, overlooking the entire city.
A trace of complex emotion surfaced in the Paladin's beautiful eyes, her fingertips involuntarily stroking the illustration gently.
A moment later, she abruptly snapped the book shut with a bang that drew Al's attention.
She then jumped off the desk and walked toward the back of the hall without looking back, tossing out the sentence: "Remember to come find me later," before leaving.
Al withdrew his gaze, pretending nothing happened, and continued his deep discussion with Kael'thas.
Misha, however, cast her gaze toward the desk, noticing the closed book.
"History of the Southern Kingdoms Since the Great War."