As evening arrives, after meeting with Elder Carolina and the Grand Sorceress Ernst, Theresa and Veronica head to the Ilona Restaurant for dinner.
Ilona Restaurant is a famous establishment within the Skyfort, specializing in fine wines and various delicacies from the mountains and seas. The restaurant sources its goods from Erengrad in Kislev, catering to the whole Old World. Recently, it has started offering rare items from Britannia, including the highly sought-after Wimfort wine.
Clearly, there is a deep connection between the restaurant and both Theresa and Aurora.
The witch had reserved a private room early, its dim yellow magical lights and silver candlesticks setting a luxurious scene. The appetizers on the table included frozen cod from Kislev and Wimfort wine from Britannia.
For nobility, a formal dinner typically involves thirteen courses, each with its own dining etiquette. However, outside the court, the protocol is relaxed to just five courses, starting with the appetizer followed by soup, a warm entrée, the main course, and dessert.
The clinking of cutlery on plates fills the room. Veronica, momentarily lost in thought in the enchanting ambiance, takes a sip of the aperitif, her lips looking enticingly delicate. "I remember having a candlelit dinner with him here at the Skyfort," she muses. "Trovi, you've never seen him at his lowest, have you? Do you know what he was like when I first met him?"
Theresa's eyes light up with curiosity. "What was he like?"
"Why should I tell you?" Veronica suddenly laughs. "I've known Ryan for seven or eight years. We've been through a lot together. Our relationship is deeper than you might think."
"How deep is your relationship with Ryan?" Theresa asks, taking a bite of the delicious buttered bread, eager to learn more.
"How deep? About twenty centimeters deep," Veronica casually replies, a hint of blush passing over her lovely face.
???
Theresa is confused by Veronica's response.
Veronica watches Theresa for a moment, her hands adorned with various rings linked together. "You haven't been with Ryan, have you?"
"Why… why would you suddenly ask that? What does it have to do with you?" Theresa blushes deeply, defensively saying, "That's between him and me."
"Heh, is that so? Well, let me remind you, Trovi. Ryan is not like other men," Veronica says intriguingly, enjoying Theresa's discomfort. "Given what's at stake now, I'll offer you some advice. To Ryan, concepts like duty and mission saturate his marrow—probably why the Lady of the Lake chose him as her Champion. If you were to become involved with him, he wouldn't just cast you aside; he'd take responsibility without hesitation."
"I understand," Theresa murmurs thoughtfully. The witch is actually quite eager to take that step with Ryan; upon her recent return to Garon, Aurora had looked at her disappointedly, commenting, "You were with Ryan for so long and nothing happened? My daughter, you are already thirty-two."
As the conversation unfolds, the main courses of braised chicken, red wine beef stew, and a seafood medley are served by the waitstaff. Veronica ceases the discussion, skillfully using her silverware to cut through the meats and seafood, seasoned perfectly.
Realizing Veronica has steered the conversation, Theresa quickly brings up her own agenda. "I wanted to discuss something with you."
"A discussion?" Veronica wipes her mouth with a napkin, unsurprised. "Is it about Ryan?"
"No, it's about the construction of my wizard tower."
"What does your wizard tower have to do with me, Trovi?"
"I have a proposal I'd like to discuss with you."
...
Old World, Britannia, Earl of Glamorgan, banks of the Hinnon River.
"Boom!" A giant rock by the river is shattered by a punch, its tremendous noise nearly reversing the river's flow.
Dressed in gray precision-engineered psionic armor, Ryan is sparring with his brother Angron.
Ryan's golden gryphon warhammer clashes with Angron's dwarven-crafted battleaxe, sparks flying. Each strike resounds painfully, Ryan's face as steadfast as a mountain. He grips his warhammer with both hands, unleashing a torrent of blows like a fierce wind.
These attacks could instantly annihilate many of the Old World's most formidable creatures, including many orc warlords and beast kings.
However, Angron stands firm, the Devourer gene progeny exuding an unbeatable aura. Angron effortlessly counters Ryan's fierce onslaught. As Ryan's barrage ends, Angron raises his massive fist, aiming straight for Ryan's face.
Ryan, prepared, dodges swiftly. Angron's fist smashes
a huge boulder by the river, sending stone shards flying.
"What?!" Angron can't believe his attack missed. Ryan, recovering from his dodge, spins in mid-air, his warhammer ablaze with golden flames, swooping down towards Angron's shoulder.
"Thud!" The golden eagle on Angron's shoulder armor is scraped, narrowly avoiding a direct hit from Ryan. Angron, ever agile, sidesteps, his battleaxe slicing a long gash across Ryan's psionic armor. Blood stains Ryan's chest.
"Ugh!" Ryan grunts, retreating rapidly as a brilliant white psionic lance forms in his hands.
"This is… Father's technique!" Angron recognizes the move's potency, preparing to defend as he stands his ground.
"Go!" Ryan, clutching his chest, hurls the psionic lance at Angron. As Angron attempts to block, the lance shatters, splitting into several spears targeting Angron's vulnerabilities.
Face, shoulders, underarms, abdomen, joints—each point faces an assault.
But Angron, unyielding, begins to spin rapidly, a fearsome whirlwind enveloping him. The air scorches as his axe slices through, the sonic barrier shattering.
Whirlwind Slash!
The psionic spears are either deflected or destroyed.
"Whoosh~" Angron stops spinning, standing firm as Ryan reappears before him, his warhammer aflame, descending from above.
"Clang!!!" Ryan's all-out strike finally pushes Angron back.
The brothers' battle continues on the riverside, the ground pockmarked with deep craters. It's February, and the river remains frozen, but their fight has already shattered the ice, revealing flowing water beneath.
"Hey! Brothers! Stop a moment!" Just as Ryan and Angron are locked in fierce combat, a voice calls from the side: "Hold on, my brothers."
"That voice is..." Ryan and Angron pause: "Magnus?"
As the brothers recall, the voice of Magnus, the Red, former prince of the corrupted Warp entities and progenitor of the Thousand Sons, emerges. Since his purification by Ryan, he has been out of contact.
"Hey, brothers, it's me, Magnus. Long time no see, I'm calling you from afar."
"Magnus, brother? Weren't you taken back to Terra by Father? Why are you here?" The appearance of Magnus halts their fight; they lower their weapons. Ryan begins to repair his damaged psionic armor, while Angron gives him a thumbs-up, acknowledging his progress.
"Father is a deceiver, my brothers. He tricked me into returning to Terra, then made me the Star Torch Watcher, locking me on the Golden Throne to maintain the Star Torch for him! I only managed to contact you during his brief absence from the palace!" Magnus speaks through gritted teeth. "He promised to make me a Warlord, the big liar!"
"Hey, Magnus, Father never said he'd make you a Warlord," Angron chuckles, pointing at Magnus's apparition. "Clearly, maintaining this call is draining for you, so keep it short. What do you need from me and Ryan?"
"Right, brother, you can't keep this up for long," Ryan adds, narrowing his eyes.
"Well… Ryan, Angron, sitting on the Golden Throne, I've had a lot of time to think," Magnus, knowing the strain of the call, heeds Angron's advice for brevity. "A millennium has passed, and humanity is in dire straits, constantly on the brink of destruction. The Empire Father built has turned into a crumbling, corrupt wasteland. I've thought long and hard, and we can't go on like this. We need a complete change."
"A complete change?" Ryan asks, puzzled.
"Yes, a complete change," Magnus's apparition flickers. "Have you ever heard of… the Second Empire?"
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