"Just one sentence: 'Begone, greedy humans, Aisolorun does not welcome you!'" Francois laughed heartily. "Casfanon lost several soldiers, a courtier, and a group of ranger knights in this venture, oh, and his gifts, which the elves happily accepted."
The three Grail Knights roared with laughter. Berchmond slapped his thigh hard: "Serves him right! Any attempt to initiate communication with the elves is seen as malicious. Only if they propose a trade agreement does it work. Otherwise, I would have traded with them long ago."
Louis chuckled, stroking his goatee and shaking his head: "Knowing Casfanon, he must be furiously declaring war on the elves, right?"
"Casfanon? Our Duke of Paralon has indeed turned against the elves. But with Marinburg's debt collectors on his heels, I doubt he has the resources to wage war," Francois replied with a wry smile. "Richard is too preoccupied to care about that now. He's troubled about how to handle next year's Couronne Knightly Assembly. The royal treasury is strained, but for the sake of the kingdom's honor, the assembly must be held with grandeur."
"There will be a way. If Richard really can't handle it, Lady Morgiana will step in. But I'm more interested in why Ryan managed to get the elves to initiate a trade agreement," Berchmond turned to Francois: "Elves are stubborn. The last time we traded with them was over eighty years ago with Grail Knight Count Ledmond. After his death, no one could gain their trust."
"I'm not sure, but... perhaps we can analyze Ryan's background," Francois said gravely, squinting his eyes. "As you know, Ryan's origins are extremely complicated, beyond our imagination."
Louis and Berchmond pondered this.
"First, Ryan's biological parents are unknown. He was found by Norman, the Lord of Ottenne, at three years old and adopted. From a young age, he displayed exceptional intelligence and talent, which you know led him to become a White Wolf Knight with distinguished service," Francois continued.
"Yes, his birth and lineage are mysteries," Berchmond nodded.
"Then, in his Champion Duel against the northern barbarians, he was aided by the Lady and became her Chosen Champion. What happened afterward is known, but have you noticed how frequently the Lady appears around Ryan? Since arriving in Bretonnia, she descended once in Cacassonne when he was officially knighted, and Sulia told me she manifested again in the Couronne cathedral, and then in Morgiana's presence in the royal palace," Francois said, his ocean-blue eyes radiating wisdom. "Don't you think... it's too frequent?"
"Also, his brother in his domain, Angloran, is unfathomably powerful, yet I've found his past records and whereabouts completely blank, as if he appeared out of thin air."
"Indeed, wait... Francois, are you suggesting that Ryan..." Louis caught on, still sharp despite his resignation from secular duties.
"Let me continue," Francois gestured. "First, we can be sure Ryan is no heretic or alien, because he's the Chosen Champion."
Berchmond and Louis nodded in agreement. Since the Lady of the Lake acknowledged Ryan, his character and abilities were beyond doubt.
"Then, behind Ryan, there must be a powerful force supporting him. The appearance of his brother is evidence, and his biological father remains unknown."
Francois's voice lowered, tracing a pattern on the table: "Lastly, Ryan has a rare quality of being able to communicate and integrate with various groups, whether dwarves, elves, Empire folk, or Norscan yokels. Think about it, Louis, Berch, aside from Ryan, who in our nation can speak across so many forces? Elves initiating trade with him, dwarves accepting his invitation, high elf wizards showing goodwill in Boldro, his godfather being the Grand Master of the Griffon Knights, and his former membership in the White Wolves. In fact, after he left the White Wolves, the War God sent an oracle to their Archbishop that his departure was sanctioned, implying continued brotherhood between Ryan and the White Wolves."
"And he is also the Lady's Champion and Grail Knight."
Francois's analysis left Louis and Berchmond inwardly shocked. Indeed, Ryan was connected to all three major knightly orders of the Old World.
"So, Francois, you mean to say..." Louis inquired.
"My point is, I've already set my sights on Ryan," Francois suddenly shifted, revealing his slyness: "Those young people in our kingdom are either too naive or too indulgent. Finally, we have someone exceptional. Don't get any ideas. Keep your unmarried daughters away from him!"
The tower burst into laughter again.
...
Meanwhile, in the Duchy of Breliant, located in Bretonnia, Old World:
Breliant, known as the Jewel of Bretonnia, was indeed a beautiful city, situated on a narrow peninsula connected to the mainland. The entire peninsula was a hill, with castles built along it. The local farmers built houses with white stones and gypsum. The bay's sand was a premium glass-making material, a rarity in the Old World.
However, this beauty attracted invasion from Estalia, the neighboring southern city-states.
The war between Breliant and Estalia started over thirty years ago, with Breliant initially the aggressor. Encouraged by Tyrant John II, the knights' code of honor was torn apart. They rampaged through Estalia, burning and looting.
The same year John II was overthrown by the Lake Prophetess and the Grail Knights, the Breliant-Estalia war shifted. A mercenary knight named Tobalo emerged, defeating the invading Duke of Breliant in a glorious duel. He then led an invasion into Breliant, turning the duchy into a battleground. Fierce mercenaries exploited Breliant's faltering serfdom, establishing footholds. Breliant, with six baronies, saw two constantly embroiled in enemy hands. Since Duke Theodoric's ascension, war never ceased.
In the frigid winter, Theodoric and his enemy, Count Tobalo, agreed to a temporary truce until February, bringing brief peace. Before the serfs could recover from war's scars and knights discard their damaged armor, the first snowfall arrived.
It was then that the Lake Prophetess Morgiana arrived in Breliant with a Lake Seer.
Holding a potion-filled grail and reins in one hand, and a runic sword in the other, Morgiana wore a grey bustier silk gown adorned with gold threads, silver chains, and golden fleur-de-lis emblems. Crowned with gold and belted at the waist, she exuded grace and beauty.
Covered in a blue cloak, her golden hair cascaded down her shoulders, her azure eyes cold and distant: "We've reached Breliant, Clement."
Following Morgiana, Clement, the Lake Seer, also wore a blue gown, differing with her hair bundled and covered, forming a large inverted triangle. Hearing Morgiana, Clement softly responded: "My Lady, shall we first seek the prodigy among the people, or visit Duke Theodoric in Breliant Castle to collect tithes?"
"...Let's head to the village first for the girl from the prophecy, then to the castle," Morgiana decided, intending to take the girl before visiting the castle.
"Understood," Clement replied succinctly.
Riding her unicorn, Sylfaen, with Clement on a mixed elf warhorse, they avoided main roads and crowds.
Still, Morgiana noticed Breliant's population dwindled after decades of war, especially in winter. The land was desolate, with abandoned farms and battlefields scattered with bodies, both mercenaries and Breliant infantry, creating a stench.
In the center, ghouls greedily feasted on the corpses, tearing flesh and gulping foul blood, until Morgiana's presence scared them away.
"Wind Blast!" Morgiana raised her hand, chanting magical syllables. A pure-energy tornado swept through the cold air, scattering snowflakes and rolling towards the ghouls.
The ghouls' screams faded as the tornado whisked them away. Morgiana, with a fierce expression, clenched her white-laced gloved hand in the air.
"Pop!" The ghouls instantly turned into blood mist, leaving no corpses.
"Hmph!" Morgiana's eyes filled with disgust and hatred: "Let's hurry. Nighttime is a haven for these undead."
"Move, Sylfaen, quickly." She urged her unicorn, understanding her urgency. Morgiana and Clement focused on hastening their journey.
Long ravaged by war, the once-dense population was now sparse. Many trees bore hanged serfs; Duke Theodoric was merciless, hanging anyone involved with the southerners.
Stealing, hanged. Harm to others, hanged. Resisting taxes, hanged. Displeasing a knight, hanged.
Thus, they saw many hanged serfs along the way, with vultures feasting on the corpses. Morgiana's face was grave as she pressed on.
After half an hour's trot, their destination village lay beyond a small hill. Ahead was a cemetery, beyond which lay a small forest. Morgiana signaled Sylfaen to slow down, sensing something unusual: "Clement? Is there supposed to be a graveyard here?"
"My Lady, something's wrong," Clement also sensed the anomaly: "There shouldn't be a graveyard here."
"There's someone there!" Morgiana reined in, noticing a serf emerging from the woods. Pale and filthy, he stumbled out in tattered clothes, despite the harsh winter: "Help! Help! Lady Sallia, save me!"
Pursued by a dozen zombies and several ghouls, he spotted Morgiana and cried out: "Help, Lady of the Lake!"
"Help!"
As the zombies closed in, Morgiana drew her rune sword: "Save him."
___________________
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