The Winter Festival vacation ended swiftly, as it always seems to when one is on a break. In the blink of an eye, January arrived, and as soon as the snowy season of the Winter Festival concluded, Duke Casvan of Paravon finally led over one thousand five hundred knights and an army of ten thousand men ready to cross the Grey Mountains to attack the Empire.
With the army's departure hardly a secret among the nobles closely watching this war, Ryan, along with Francois, Gerard, and Julius, decided to cross the Grey Mountains as well, intending to observe the conflict firsthand.
It took the group two days of horseback riding to reach the edge of the Grey Mountains. Naturally, due to the presence of Francois and Ryan, the four knights were warmly welcomed by the locals wherever they went.
Barren fields, chilly air, distant mountains, and small towns—these were the sights Ryan encountered traveling with Francois and the others. Human towns and villages appeared like islands of civilization in the wilderness, relying on sturdy walls and guards to preserve the embers of civilization.
In this world, unlike the populous Empire Ryan knew from his previous life, even in populous Brittany, the country was structured around towns as strongholds with roads acting as lifeblood. Although there were more villages and hamlets, most of the area remained uninhabited wilderness, such as forests, swamps, and mountains.
At night, only city walls and the military could protect the citizens.
"We have now entered the territory of the Duchy of Paravon," Francois pulled on the reins of his steed, a pure-blood Elven Pegasus named Brag, who was among the strongest and most intelligent of all Pegasuses in Brittany, endowed with significant magical abilities. When surrounded by enemies, Brag could transform the holy energy within him into a burst of intense light, incinerating foes to escape combat.
Julius and Gerard, clad in shining blue and white enchanted mithril plate armor, nodded in agreement, while Ryan, in his gray psychic precision power armor, commented, "This place is truly desolate."
The fields of the Duchy of Paravon were barren, with only sporadic farmlands near towns and villages. By mid-January, the weather was bitterly cold, so much so that even Grail Knights like Francois and Ryan exhaled white breaths.
"The most famous feature of Paravon is its mountain ranges," Francois said while riding on Brag. A gentle smile played on his cultivated face. "The peaks of Paravon are known for producing the best Pegasuses in the Old World, surpassing even those from the Oracular Mountains in Wintefort in terms of stamina."
"Paravon's ducal line comes from Agilgar, one of the original twelve Grail Knights. He rode the progenitor of all pure-blood Pegasuses, Grofindel, and single-handedly annihilated over three hundred Greenskin brutes," Gerard added, having finally earned Francois' trust after a series of trials.
"For this reason, Paravon is a narrow stretch of mountainous land," Julius nodded. The future brother-in-law of Ryan seemed in good spirits as he explained, "More than sixty percent of Paravon's land is mountainous, with pitifully little arable land. Only near Paravon Castle and a small area of hills above the Aesolorn Forest is cultivation possible."
"Fertile land is scarce, and there's a lack of farmland..." Ryan muttered in understanding.
The four knights rode up to a town, the gate of which bore the name "Glenael."
Glenael was one of the three large towns in the Duchy of Paravon, with a population of over eight thousand. Located in the southeast of Paravon, north of the Aesolorn Forest and near the southern entrance to the Grey Mountains, it was a strategic passageway for Duke Paravon's army crossing the mountains to attack the Empire.
It was daytime, and the town gates were wide open. Upon seeing Ryan and his companions, the town guards immediately knelt: "Grail Knights, welcome to Glenael!"
"Welcome to Glenael, Lord Grail Knights! Welcome!"
"Bless you, Lord Grail Knights!"
"Seeing Lord Grail Knights brings a good omen for the year!"
"Hail to you, Lord Grail Knights!"
Almost all the townspeople, from civilians to guards, knelt down, cheering and hailing Ryan and Francois. The stories of the Grail Knights were well-known even in the remotest villages of Brittany, offering a ray of hope and comfort to the serfs living in poverty.
A thousand years after Arthur's reign, the spirit of knighthood had decayed into a mere formality, with many knights blindly adhering to dogmatic chivalry, treating serfs less like humans and more as tools for extracting wealth. In these morally corrupt times
, those who grasped the true essence of knighthood were precious. They truly upheld the spirit of knighthood, not as fanatical adherents of chivalric codes, but as souls who understood the deep meanings hidden within archaic texts, unshackled by doctrines that hindered personal thought.
They were the Grail Knights, the pillars and backbone of the nation.
"Make way! Make way for the grail knights!" While the serfs and freemen celebrated, the knights guarding the town galloped through the streets, shouting at the serfs to clear the way, lest they block the path of the Grail Knights.
The commanding officer of the guards swung his whip high, lashing it down hard on a few serfs reluctant to clear the path, their flesh ripped open and bloodied.
"Stop!" Francois shouted angrily, "What are you doing?!"
"Grail Knight, these serfs! They blocked your way!" the guard knight stammered, hastily explaining.
"Compensate these gentlemen for their medical expenses, Sir Knight," Francois commanded sternly, irritation flashing across his face. "Now!"
"Yes... Yes!" The guard knight quickly admitted his mistake, pulling out a handful of silver coins and tossing them at the faces of the injured serfs: "Here, quickly thank the Grail Knight for his grace and mercy!"
"Thank you, Lord Grail Knight, thank you!" The injured serfs, now unexpectedly wealthier, happily departed.
The guard knight, his face filled with fanaticism and admiration, turned to Ryan and Francois and asked, "May I ask, my Lords Grail Knights, what brings you to Glenael?"
Gerard and Julius were ignored. Francois' cousin and son exchanged looks, their eyes filled with envy and helplessness.
"I am Ryan Macado, the Champion of the Lady," Ryan stated simply.
"And I am Francois, Francois Antre Tankred de Wintefort," Francois introduced himself calmly. "Pleased to meet you."
"Ah! The Champion of the Lady and Lord Francois, it's an honor to meet you!" The guard knight gaped, taken aback.
"We have received an oracle from the Lady, requiring us to complete a mission, so we will be staying here tonight," Ryan explained matter-of-factly. "The details of the mission are confidential; you only need to escort us to an inn in town."
"Yes!" The guard knight was about to ask further but stopped upon hearing it was an oracle from the Lake Fairy. He led Ryan and the others towards a place within the town: "Please, follow me!"
Ryan's white cloak of the Grail and Francois' blue and white Pegasus cloak fluttered in the air as they followed the guard knight, leaving behind enough tales for the townspeople to discuss for days.
...
Three hours later, Glenael, Baron Fist's mansion.
This was a small two-story mansion where the guard knight, who was also Baron Fist, resided. Having heard of Ryan and Francois' great reputations, the baron quickly vacated his winter mansion for Ryan and his party to stay, moving back to his castle.
After settling their belongings and equipment—Ryan and Francois both had space rings, so their load was light—Ryan fed the pure-blood Elven warhorses with fodder and black beans. He looked up at the night sky shrouded in clouds and dense fog, exhaling a breath of cold air, then added some hay to the stables: "Come on, Grapes, eat well and grow strong~"
"Neigh~" Grapes seemed to understand Ryan's words. The pure-blood Elven warhorse gently tapped Ryan's arm with his hoof, neighing discontentedly.
I am already a mature warhorse, no need to tell me.
"Ha ha ha~" Ryan laughed, patting Grapes on the mane, and the horse contentedly rubbed its face against Ryan's.
"Ryan, are you done? Come inside," Francois called from the doorway, the duke beckoning Ryan: "They don't really know how to cook; we'll need your help."
"Right, coming." Ryan patted Grapes' head one last time before turning to enter the mansion. Inside, the kitchen was bustling with activity; two pots of stew simmered on the stove, and a fire in the center of the room roasted pies and a pork leg.
In Brittany, it was believed that only nobles had the right to "waste" food and enjoy various spices.
Among those present, only Ryan and Francois had the experience of traveling extensively. Ryan had traveled as a ranger and kingdom knight, while Francois had journeyed as a pilgrim knight on the Grail Quest until he was recognized by the Lady of the Lake and became a Grail Knight.
The two men stood together in the kitchen, cooking. Francois, with great interest, said, "It's been months since I've cooked myself. It's always better with you, Ryan. Sulia mentioned that you are quite a cook; I'm looking forward to tasting your skills."
The kitchen was clean and tidy, the thick grease on the floor bearing testament to many previous meals prepared here. The stove was hot, and the bubbling stews emitted a comforting sound. Utensils hung from the walls, with a row of spoons of varying sizes in front of Ryan, while in front of Francois were garlic, onions, several strips of smoked bacon and fish, along with a few spices.
"Thump, thump, thump~" Francois, handling a chef's knife, chopped cabbage finely. Ryan, meanwhile, was busy with a large ladle, expertly seasoning the stews.
"Last year, how much did your domain bring in?" Francois asked casually. As Ryan was now family, the duke felt no need for formalities and skipped the small talk.
"About four thousand five hundred gold crowns, of which two thousand are for various stipends and military expenses, and five hundred for my personal expenditures. We have about two thousand left," Ryan nodded as he answered. "Besides, the amount of food we have to send up, including several tons of wheat, barley, rye, soybeans, radishes, peas, and lentils, is substantial. I had to arrange for two new warehouses to be built."
"If your territory were faced with war now, how long could you sustain?" Francois continued.
"With the grain and savings in the castle, about a year and a half. If we include my personal wealth, around three years," Ryan replied while stirring the tasty stew. He spoke offhandedly.
"That's quite impressive, Ryan. To manage your domain to such an extent in less than a year is remarkable. Blessed be the Lady!" Gerard, handling a long wooden handle attached to a flat, round end, stood by the oven, flipping the bread baking inside.
Julius was still on the first floor, grilling the pork leg.
"Make sure to keep up your food reserves and ensure you have enough gold in reserve," Francois advised, nodding in approval of Ryan's financial and administrative skills. He spoke in a mentoring tone, "Adequate food reserves will ensure that your army always has sufficient fighting strength, and gold reserves allow you to summon troops and pay them promptly, and even hire mercenary forces from the Empire in emergencies. Remember to clear out old grain every three years; near the end of its term, distribute it as relief or festival gifts to your subjects. It would spoil anyway, might as well let them have a good meal. Don't sell these grains to merchants; they would just resell them to the serfs for a profit."
"I understand," Ryan nodded, fully aware of these considerations: "This is thanks to trade with the wood elves and the workshops of the dwarf brothers, which bring over fifteen hundred gold crowns a year. This has attracted merchants and outsiders to settle in my lands."
"The nobles of the duchy often come to your lands for medical care," Francois said with a smile. "In the name of the Lady, disease and corruption are well managed."
"If not for the wood elves' medicines, the hospital couldn't have been established." Ryan transferred the stew into a large copper pot, thinking to himself that the baron must indeed be wealthy to own such a pot.
A grand meal was prepared, and the four knights settled down to dine in the mansion's ground-floor dining room. Francois brought out a bottle of appetizer wine.
"Thanks be to the Lady for this meal."
"Dinner is served!"
Just then, the mansion's front door knocked.
"Thud, thud, thud~"
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