The knighting ceremony that followed had nothing to do with the king. The ceremony, entirely managed by the Lady of the Lake, who was possessing the lake witch, took place under the admiring gaze of countless onlookers. She personally pinned the second-class Iris Medal on Ryan's chest.
Next, the goddess's divine power surged, and golden wings appeared on the Knight of the Holy Grail badge on Ryan's chest, a symbol of his promotion to a knight commander.
The ceremony continued with grandeur, made even more sacred and mysterious by the Lady of the Lake's presence.
Richard, along with all the other knights, knelt down. At this moment, he looked nothing like a king but more like a subordinate to the knights of the Holy Grail. His failure to become a Holy Grail Knight was a sore point for him. He had undertaken the quest for the Holy Grail three times, laying down his lance, mounting his steed, and embarking on the journey just like any other knight desiring the Holy Grail, even reaching the boundaries of the Empire.
For various reasons, he never succeeded.
Now, the Lady of the Lake was making it clear to him that she was not pleased with how he handled the matter.
What could he do? Watch his power dwindle? Watch the dukes of his country dictate terms in his own throne room?
In this kingdom, no one could defy the Lady's will, and so Richard could only kneel in submission.
After a complete and solemn knighting ceremony, the Lady of the Lake, instead of ending her possession, interestingly chose to stay and witness Ryan's performance.
Riding, swordsmanship, and lance - these three skills are fundamental to a knight. A knight being knighted must demonstrate strengths corresponding to these skills.
Under everyone's gaze, Ryan mounted his pure-blood elven warhorse and took a lance from his retinue. Skilled in horsemanship, he and his horse, Grapes, overcame various obstacles, charging straight towards the target.
Early at the gates of the palace, a series of iron rings had been arranged.
Ryan, not a regular lance user, never disappointed his goddess. The lance flashed, slicing through the air, and two iron rings were already hanging on it, followed by three, then five, and then eight.
After the charge ended and the horse reared, Ryan's lance bore twelve iron rings.
His skillful display conquered the admiration of all knights present in the palace.
Training with a lance is extremely difficult, requiring knights to start learning at the age of eleven or twelve. Using a two to three-meter-long weapon, both in Brittany and the Empire, knights are expected to accurately hit the enemy's weak spots in their armor while galloping at full speed - a task demanding years of training.
Thus, raising an excellent knight is a long process involving substantial resources and several years. Once trained, the knights' charge can turn the tide of wars.
The palace was filled with cheers, but the Lady of the Lake was not satisfied. Such equestrian and lance skills could be achieved by any Holy Grail Knight.
"Clang!" The Lady of the Lake drew her shortsword.
"Lady?" Her action caused tension and attention among the surrounding Holy Grail Knights. However, she smiled gently without giving any orders. Instead, she started to braid her golden hair with the shortsword.
With the shortsword, she cut a strand of her hair and in front of everyone, she made a small hair ring about five centimeters in diameter. Without a word, she casually threw the hair ring from the stands.
The golden hair ring flew out of the stands in the cool autumn air, followed by the gaze of countless knights.
Everyone watched with fervor and longing - if not for Ryan's performance, many young knights would have scrambled for the ring, a blessing from the goddess.
"Charge!" No one understood the Lady of the Lake's intentions better than Ryan. Immediately after her gesture, he urged his horse forward. His horse, Grapes, galloped, and the Holy Grail Knight and his steed charged again.
With the lance held high, it eventually leveled, a silver streak flashed past the stands, kicking up dust.
The Lady of the Lake remained serene, casually chatting with Morgiana, "Morgiana, did you enjoy last night?"
"My Lady!" The lake witch, possessed by the Lady of the Lake but conscious, was embarrassed by this question: "I only did as per your oracle..."
"Ryan is an exception. Many terrible corruptions and curses that even I can't remove, he can." The Lady's face grew serious: "Did he help you drive away the curse?"
"No, he said his strength was insufficient, but he placed a psychic seal on me, protecting me from further corruption." Morgiana spoke respectfully: "His psychic light purified the filth troubling me, I feel much better now."
"Without a doubt, he is the silver horse we need. Morgiana, you are my spokesperson, and he is my chosen. I hope you can get along." The Lady of the Lake issued another oracle: "Perhaps, the key to saving this kingdom lies with him."
"I understand, my Lady." Morgiana, never hearing such a clear oracle and being possessed for so long, felt strange. But as the Lady's spokesperson and a devout believer, she would only follow.
At that moment, a huge uproar drew the Lady's attention back to the arena.
Her chosen champion, Ryan, came before her with a smile, holding the lance.
On its tip, the golden hair ring shone brilliantly.
The sacred ceremony concluded amidst roaring cheers.
The next day, Morgiana, Duke Winfort, and Ryan led their remaining troops back to their domains to prepare for winter.
Ryan, once again showing his noble character, used the 1,500 gold crowns he received as a gratuity for the fallen soldiers.
Carrying only fifty new knight armors, they set off for home.
By early October, they returned to the Duke of Winfort's territory. With autumn deepening, the first snow in Brittany was just a few weeks away.
Traveling with Ryan were Duke Bodrick of Poitou, the sea god's chosen champion. He was a duke of a strong character, as tolerant as the sea, but also as merciless.
In the golden fields, Morgiana rode her unicorn "Sylvan," with Ryan, Duke Francois, and Duke Bodrick accompanying her. The four highest-ranking individuals traveled together.
As the Lady's spokesperson, Morgiana had always been unpredictable, a celestial and life domain archwizard who would often appear in Brittany to punish evil wizards or dishonorable knights, secretly helping oppressed serfs and knights on their Grail Quests.
Usually, she secluded herself in a wizard tower near Lake Cocytus in the Duke of Cocytus' territory. No one knew what she did in the tower.
There was an interesting story about Morgiana: She liked to turn those she punished into frogs, like insolent wizards or disgraced knights. As a result, peasant girls in Brittany often played "Kiss the Frog," hoping a maiden's kiss could lift Morgiana's curse and change their destiny.
Whether true or not, Ryan had no interest in trying.
"We've passed through Lyoness, heading south through Connacht next." Duke Francois, riding a warhorse, caught up, "That... cursed land, Mousillon."
"Recently, the Crimson Duke has been quiet. Our scouts haven't noticed any new movements," said Duke Bodrick, looking to be in his forties, though he was over eighty, a legend in his own right. Lately, he considered abandoning worldly affairs for a Grail Quest, but dark elf pirates, vampires in his territory, and the Crimson Duke's undead knights kept him busy.
Morgiana's expression was cold; she merely nodded.
Mousillon Castle, located at the mouth of the River Grismerie, sourced from the Arden Forest, once belonged to the thriving and compact Duchy of Connacht but now was overrun by undead. The castle, gradually sinking into the swamp, seemed to be repeatedly built upon due to some spells, always standing firm at the river's mouth.
Despite reluctance to admit it, Brittany had effectively lost this port city. After the Battle of Doltare, knights tried to reclaim it. The Crimson Duke was defeated repeatedly, but the knights failed to seize Mousillon.
Ryan once asked why. Francois told him with a bitter smile, "Facing a sixty-meter high, twenty-meter wide wall, it's hard to think of capturing it. Remember, the undead don't consider manpower or resources."
"I see." Ryan understood.
The undead didn't need to worry about manpower or resources. These tireless beings could indefinitely build upon the castle. Brittany's knights, already poor at siege warfare and lacking a good relationship with the Dwarves or cannons, could only return without success.
"So, when did the Crimson Duke appear? Why does he have such a title? Why does he claim to be one of the contenders for Brittany's throne?" Ryan, in his position, had every right to ask.
Morgiana turned to Ryan, a glint in her green eyes: "The Crimson Duke's real name is sealed by the Lady, but he is a genuine duke – the Duke of Aquitaine."
Dukes Francois and Bodrick fell silent, aware of the story, but Morgiana was the best to narrate.
"Duke of Aquitaine? I've never heard of it," Ryan said curiously.
"The Duchy of Aquitaine existed at Brittany's founding. The first Duke of Aquitaine, Fredmund, was a close comrade of Arthur and a Holy Grail Knight," Morgiana nodded. "The story starts about five hundred years ago. Have you heard of the Red Flame Crusade?"
"Of course!" Ryan nodded.
The Red Flame Crusade was a well-known story among knights.
About five hundred years ago, Brittany and the Empire were attacked by Arabians from across the sea. The Arabian cavalry massacred civilians, inciting outrage across the Old World.
(The unspoken rule in human warfare was to avoid civilian casualties and rarely kill nobility, usually opting for ransom.)
The Empire and Brittany assembled a knight army that swept through the Arabian invaders. Under the Holy Grail Knight King and the Emperor's call, a grand crusade was launched, with tens of thousands of knights participating.
The knights fought overseas, utterly destroying the desert civilization. Returning with endless gold and spoils, they brought back the Arabian King Jafar's head and boundless glory.
"The Crimson Duke was the last Duke of Aquitaine, answering the Lady's call to war," Morgiana continued, skipping some parts: "But on the return journey, the duke fell ill."
"Injured in the desert and contracting a severe disease, he was feverish and unconscious but stubbornly survived until he returned to Brittany, only to die in his bedroom."
"A grand funeral marked his passing, but that was not the end. A mysterious undead knight appeared in his lands."
"Three nights later, in a rainy night, the Crimson Duke revived. No longer a noble knight of the Lady, he became a hideous undead, slaughtering his family and knights, resurrecting them to form his undead army, declaring Aquitaine a land of the undead. The serfs, noting his blood-red appearance, named him the Crimson Duke."
"I see," Ryan acknowledged, gesturing for Morgiana to continue as Francois and Bodrick sighed softly.
"The alerted Holy Grail Knight King led an army to defeat the Crimson Duke. The undead crumbled. Under the Lady and the current lake witch's lead, the Crimson Duke was sealed, Aquitaine Castle razed, and its lands salted with blessed salt by the Holy Grail Knights. Due to the Aquitaine family's fall, the dukedom was abolished, and its lands divided among the Dukes of Poitou, Berleon, and Bastonne."
"This should've ended, but two hundred eighty years ago, during the Doltare incident, the current lake witch was imprisoned, and the wicked wizard released the sealed Crimson Duke... He was defeated again, but this time the knights failed to capture him, continuing the situation to this day," Morgiana shook her head: "To this day, the Crimson Duke claims to be the Duke of Aquitaine, contesting for the throne."
"The Crimson Duke is like a tumor in the kingdom. We must patrol with scouts and establish outposts near Connacht," Francois agreed: "Every year, countless serfs flee to Connacht, finding refuge and work, making Mousillon economically prosperous."
Ryan now fully understood.
It seemed Brittany's knights couldn't seize Mousillon Castle, but the actual reason for the Crimson Duke's rise was the crumbling serfdom system.
The knight kingdom was declining, with a greater crisis looming. He couldn't be complacent with small victories. Ryan had much to do.
...
Meanwhile, at the Ghal Maraz Mountains, Skyhold Castle, the headquarters of the Garland Council.
Another boring winter night at Skyhold Castle, nestled a kilometer high, mostly covered in snow and ice. Legend says Magritta, the Council Speaker, chose this location due to the cold climate suppressing the volatile magical elements in female spellcasters.
It was Theresa Trovick's twenty-eighth year at Skyhold. After completing a tedious but necessary task of checking the castle's seals, the Garland Councilwoman returned to the wizard tower she shared with her mother. Exhausted, she entered her room, tossing her leather boots at the door and her coat on the hanger, collapsing lazily on the sofa.
"Knock knock," a few minutes later, her door was knocked: "Miss?"
"What's the matter?" Theresa was irritable. Since traveling with Ryan, her temper had slightly improved, at least not venting on apprentices or servants.
"You have a letter." The witch apprentice knew her mentor's temper, or rather, few in the Garland Council were known for good temper: "May I come in?"
"Yes."
The door opened.
"I don't want to see it now. Put it on the table," Theresa waved, signaling the apprentice to leave the letter and go.
"But... this is an express mail from Brittany, addressed to Holy Grail Knight Ryan Macado," the apprentice carefully placed the letter on the table, adding softly seeing her mentor's disinterest.
Hearing "Ryan," Theresa sat up abruptly.
"Give it to me! Now!"
The witch is back! Will the sorceress be far behind?
___________________
(Support with power stones, comments or reviews)
If you guys enjoy this story, In support me on Patreon and get access to +200 advance Chapters
Read Ahead
Patreon.com/INNIT