Flames ignited within the great hall as the Lake Maiden's prophetess, Anala, gave Calder her final instructions before entering the fire with a sorrowful smile.
"No! Sister! No!" Calder reached out, but was restrained by those around him: "Calder! Stay calm!"
"No, sister, you don't have to do this!" Calder tried to speak further, but Anala's figure had already disappeared into the flames, her white silhouette withering away.
Before leaving, she bent over Ulysses, smiling as she gently caressed the serene face of the Grail Knight Commander. The flames blazed, consuming the power bestowed upon her by the Lake Maiden.
"It was her choice, Calder," Dalheid grasped Calder's garment: "You must respect her choice, in this kingdom, no one can command the Lady's prophetess…"
"I'm really all alone now," Calder despondently pushed Dalheid away and walked out of the hall alone.
He too had resolved to begin his own Grail Quest.
…
Post-battle Leonnaise was a ruin. Except for the inner castle area which remained unoccupied, the entire castle was in disarray. The barbarians looted and destroyed everything in sight. If not for the sufficient supplies brought by Ryan's army of knights, the castle might have faced the danger of running out of food.
Hubald led three thousand knights and their squires to pursue the fleeing barbarians. However, those barbarian tribes that had been routed took advantage of the knightly army's focus on the Scarlet Guard to flee early on dragon boats, leaving behind their old, sick, and weak. Hubald issued a simple command for these survivors: all were to be executed.
That night, atop a high tower within Leonnaise's inner castle.
A three-story tower in the inner castle was allocated to Ryan and his attendants, its interior decorated with exquisite luxury. Brittany's hero, dressed in a bathrobe, rested on a bed, his body bandaged in many places, a soft duvet covering him.
In his absence, Sulia commanded the knightly army, and no one dared disturb the rest of the Lake Maiden's Chosen Champion. The Countess was handling various affairs downstairs.
Ryan pondered the outcomes of the war.
Egil's death meant a great deal.
Egil was the King of Skarlings, the overlord of the northern wastelands, the leader of the Norsca tribes, the Tyrant's Chosen Champion, the hunter of countless terrible creatures, and the nightmare of the southerners. His death signified much.
Firstly, the barbarians had lost their leader. Undoubtedly, countless barbarian tribes had lost their chief. Egil had built a kingdom centered around the Skarlings tribe, with many smaller tribes paying tribute in peace and providing troops in war times. This kingdom was very strong during Egil's life, but with his death, everything would disintegrate instantly.
Secondly, Skarlings had lost all its elite forces in this war. Typically, the tribe controlled numerous smaller barbarian tribes through its elite and numerous armies. Now, with Skarlings' elite fallen, it might take three to five years, or even a decade or more, for the Empire and Brittany to feel less pressure from northern barbarian raids—a welcome relief.
Lastly, Brittany had to face its own predicament.
This chaos invasion had also inflicted severe losses on Brittany. Leonnaise had mobilized almost its entire duchy and still suffered over half its forces, including four Grail Knights like Ulysses who died, and the reinforcements brought from Corona lost more than forty percent. After this battle, the noble powers in the kingdom's north were severely weakened, and it might take them years to recover.
Ryan was still considering what he could gain from this war when there was a knock on his door.
"Knock, knock, knock—Ryan, it's me, may I come in?" A mature voice came from outside.
"Please come in." Ryan recognized the voice; his room on the third floor was filled with knights, and outside were barriers set by Veronica and Teresa, making it impossible for anyone to sneak in.
The tall, slender figure of the sorceress appeared behind the door. Teresa seemed to have just showered; her hair still had a glossy wet look, her cheeks were slightly flushed, and she wore a gray fine-striped gradient lapel dress by Gialan, her fair long legs peeking through the slit of her dress.
"You seem quite relaxed, your fiancée is still downstairs having endless meetings with a bunch of nobles." Teresa's silver eyes sparkled as she moved a chair closer, then pulled out a glass bottle and two wine glasses from behind her: "Care for a drink?"
"Teresa, I'm injured, I shouldn't drink," Ryan said, somewhat plaintively.
"This isn't alcohol; it's orange juice
, and I added a bit of medicine to it, guaranteed to help you heal faster." The sorceress gave Ryan a mischievous look: "You're injured, knight, have a drink."
"Alright, perhaps I assumed too much." Ryan accepted the glass, the taste was sweet and tangy with orange juice, and the deeper flavor clearly masked the medication, making it easier to drink.
After a glass of juice, Ryan put down the book and started chatting with Teresa: "Sulia is downstairs?"
"Yes, Mrs. Sulia... or rather, Lady Sulia is downstairs in a meeting. The war has yielded considerable spoils. I really wonder what kind of place the northern wastelands are. Why are the barbarians so poor in everything else but have such an abundance of precious metals? We found valuables worth over 30,000 gold crowns in gold, silver, and copper, and countless rare metals in the barbarians' camp. That dwarf you brought... Dugan, right? He said he'd never seen so much good stuff in his life." Teresa crossed one of her long legs, looking quite relaxed: "Sulia hopes to secure more benefits for you."
"The northern wastelands are a mysterious land, Teresa. It's barren, constantly buffeted by the winds of chaos, perpetually cold, with chaos corruption everywhere. Despite being filled with things twisted and altered by chaotic energies, it also hides treasures—exhaustible mines of gold, iron, and other valuable metals." Ryan smiled: "You see, even though Norsca often wars with the barbarians, trade also sporadically continues. Some southern tribes of Norsca trade large quantities of ore and metals with the Nords in exchange for food and necessities. Many trade posts are major sources of ore for the kingdom... it's just that no one talks about it openly."
"Hmm." Teresa seemed a bit distracted as she looked at Ryan, her expression behind the butterfly-patterned glasses a mix of pride, worry, and confusion.
Ryan noticed and took the initiative: "What's on your mind, Teresa?"
"Nothing... Have you advanced to the sanctum?" The sorceress stared at the handsome man reclined against the headboard, finally voicing her question: "I can feel it, your power is stronger."
"Yes, why does that surprise you? I've been at the peak of legend for a long time." Ryan took Teresa's cool hand: "Is my breakthrough really that strange?"
"Thirty years old, and you've become a sanctum powerhouse. Apart from Emperor Ludwig the Savior a hundred and sixty years ago, there's been no one else... Moreover, Ryan, your breakthrough is different from what I imagined." Teresa appeared pleased with Ryan's initiative, holding his hand in return and speaking softly: "Do you know how my mother broke through the peak of legend to reach the sanctum?"
"I'd love to know more."
"My mother locked herself at the top of the wizard's tower for nearly three months. The frost energy spilling from there extended winter by three months until a column of light enveloped the wizard's tower. Only then did she break the ice, emerging to announce her advancement to sanctum. Ryan, your sanctum advancement was as easy as eating or drinking. Apart from the brief surge of powerful aura from you at that time, I almost couldn't confirm you were already a sanctum powerhouse." Teresa shook her head, holding Ryan's hand: "You're truly special, really."
Sanctum represented the limit of human potential; advancing to sanctum meant reaching the life limit in some aspect. Each sanctum powerhouse was a precious resource for their power, not to be used unless absolutely necessary.
From another perspective, it's incredibly difficult for a mortal to reach such limits, similar to the hundred-meter sprint. Ordinary athletes can run it in thirteen to fourteen seconds, school and provincial teams can do twelve seconds, national teams eleven seconds. The time only shortens by seconds, but the effort and cost involved increase exponentially.
But Ryan, the Emperor's son, was naturally free from such constraints. For mortals, the threshold of sanctum might seem distant, possibly requiring lengthy accumulation and a shift from quantitative to qualitative changes. For Ryan, none of that applied. Once his strength and growth were sufficient, he naturally broke through.
"Everyone is different, Teresa, don't push yourself." Ryan spoke gently: "Just be yourself, we are partners."
Teresa heard Ryan trying to change the topic, but she liked the count's attitude now. She no longer dwelled on the issue, her tone turning a bit reproachful: "Are we still partners? You have so many women around you now, a fiancée, a business partner, two personal maids, our contract ended in Marlinburg, I'm just an expired partner, oh, and a thirty-something old woman~"
"Don't say that, Teresa, thirty is just the start of your best years. Since
you came to find me, our contract has continued, and there's been new progress." Ryan adjusted his position to make the down pillow behind him more comfortable: "I never go back on my word."
"Also, my sorceress, don't underestimate your charm." Ryan closed his eyes, inhaling the fragrance emanating from Teresa: "The scent of lavender on you is so lovely... you're like a snow lotus on the mountain, it's not easy to witness your beauty, dear Teresa, you look beautiful tonight."
"Ryan~" Teresa's eyes flickered, the sorceress clearly touched by Ryan's words. She had intentionally taken a bath, changed into a beautiful dress, and applied perfume before coming to see him.
The sorceress carefully checked Ryan's wounds, chiding: "Are you planning to fool me from start to finish with sweet nothings? I'm not like Amelia, that little girl you can make happy for days with a few compliments."
"Miss Teresa, sweet nothings also depend on the audience. Clearly, in your case, I just unconsciously spoke what was in my heart. I am a knight, and honesty is a virtue." Ryan continued smiling: "And you, you make it easy for me to uphold this virtue, you are my lucky star."
… Teresa's expression changed several times, eventually giving in with resignation: "I'm really no match for you."
Her cool lips pressed against Ryan's, and the room quieted, leaving only the sounds of entwined mouths.
"Thump~" A few minutes later, the door was knocked again: "Darling? May I come in?"
"Come in!"
Veronica, dressed in a pure black mini dress, pushed the door open. She noticed Teresa's flushed face smoothing out the creases in her dress, and the witch laughed teasingly: "Ha ha ha~ It seems I've interrupted you, Trevik. Maybe I should step out, give you five more minutes?"
"Veronica!" Ryan called out discontentedly: "You coming up now, I need to make it clear!"
"No way, darling, Mrs. Sulia and I, along with Trevik, have all stressed that you are injured, and none of us should stay overnight with you." Veronica quickly shook her head, kissing Ryan on the cheek: "But obviously, someone wanted to sneak in."
"That's not true, I just didn't want Ryan to be lonely, I came to talk to him." Teresa appeared very calm, fixing her dress: "You must have something to discuss, right?"
"Yes, there's good news, Ryan. Didn't you always say you wanted to forge a suitable axe for brother Anglaron, but lacked the materials?" Veronica, still smiling, leaned on Ryan's shoulder: "Now we have them."
"Mithril?" Ryan perked up: "You found mithril?"
Not only Anglaron was without a suitable weapon, his hammer had also been shattered, and he needed a new war hammer.
Ryan needed mithril too.
"Yes, we not only found a lot of mithril in the barbarians' camp, but... darling, guess where else there's mithril?" Veronica playfully teased.
"Could it be…?"
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