This year, the summer in Brittany was relatively cool, unlike the usual sweltering heat, which was good news for the serfs of the Glamorgan Earl's domain. Unusually, the knights did not hold large-scale hunting or training activities this year.
Due to the northern chaos invasion during this spring, the knights of the entire earldom had already received ample training. Now they needed rest, and the northern refugees who had fled at the beginning of the year had begun to adapt to life in the earldom. With hard work, the domain's products were increasingly abundant, with serfs' homes starting to accumulate enough food stores to last two or three months.
This was a rare occurrence in Brittany.
Five new villages had been established in the Charlon Forest, with new residents moving in gradually. After repeated eradication efforts, the beastmen tribes in the forest could no longer stir up any trouble. Of course, the Earl had also ordered that residents should not venture too deeply into the forest, as clearing the forest was a lengthy process.
As usual, in the afternoon, Ryan found some free time. The Earl himself seemed to be leisurely sitting behind his office desk, working seriously.
But in reality, he was slacking off. His maid Olica and Emilia were serving in the room. Ryan's banner officer, the Holy Grail Knight Armand, Sir Gerold of Winfort, his brother-in-law, the Marquis of Winfort Julius, and Count Garon, who was preparing to start his own Holy Grail Crusade, were all in Ryan's office. The group was sharing chilled watermelon, enjoying the air conditioning made by Theresa, quite comfortably.
"Ryan, you really know how to enjoy life. I always thought that Sir Francois's construction of a cooling courtyard in the castle was extravagant enough, but you even thought of using magic to cool the air," Gerold said as he held a chunk of chilled watermelon, biting into it with juice dripping down his face.
"Castles are fine in winter, but they're not great to live in during summer, so I had to make some changes," Ryan replied, his expression slightly troubled. He had spent two days emerging from the tower of the lake nymph, thankful for his recent advancement to the holy domain, which far surpassed the strength of ordinary legendary heroes. Otherwise, he might not have been able to handle Morgiana. The Lady of the Lake was quite clingy in private and was willing to cooperate with him. The two had discovered many new positions.
Ryan had discussed this matter in private with Olica under the covers, knowing that he could only discuss it with a dark elf.
Olica had said, "Master, it's really comfortable to be with you, especially when absorbing spiritual energy. Every time I can't help but... In this regard, I and Morgiana feel the same, and Morgiana... She must be in her forties by now, some things once opened, can't be closed again."
"Alright." Ryan didn't say more.
Over time, Ryan had started to have his own circle of friends. He had gathered young talents from Brittany, all in their thirties and forties. He noticed that Garon's expression was very depressed, obviously deeply affected by the deaths of Ulysses and Annara.
Garon was not broken by this setback; he became stronger and more determined.
"By the way, I remember that Duke Connet Launcelot-Cornwall launched another attempt at the knightly crusade to reclaim Mousilon?" Ryan tried changing the topic. "How's it going?"
After defeating the chaos invasion, since the army had assembled a large force at Couronne, Richard simply ordered Duke Launcelot to lead over ten thousand troops to campaign against Mousilon, hoping to quickly reclaim the city of curses.
According to rumors from Couronne that Francois had heard, Richard was considering abdicating, planning to pass his crown to Launcelot-Cornwall. If Launcelot could reclaim Mousilon and be named as Richard's chosen successor, his ascension to the throne would almost be guaranteed.
Richard's plan was also very clear, and the entire kingdom knew that a vast vampire army mysteriously vanished on its way to Ryan's domain, significantly weakening Mousilon's vampires, who could no longer launch attacks and had to focus on defending their territory and recuperating their forces.
So, Richard's plan was, since Ryan's actions had significantly weakened the vampires of Mousilon, to let his nephew Launcelot be the one to "pick the peaches" and reclaim Mousilon.
"Not bad, Duke Launcelot indeed led an army of over ten thousand into Mousilon," Garon nodded, his tone somewhat melancholy. "But like the outcomes of centuries past, Duke Launcelot's army once again returned from Mousilon without success. Duke Launcelot had planned
a siege, but ultimately chose to retreat."
"Retreat?" Julius crossed his arms, his stern face recently softened somewhat, apparently pleased about his sister's upcoming marriage. He always felt that Sulia could only marry a young, capable Holy Grail Knight.
"Yes, retreat," Gerold nodded along. Francois's cousin explained with a bitter smile, "Duke Launcelot won every encounter after entering Mousilon and defeated every vampire raid, but ultimately he couldn't overcome the entire population of vampires in Mousilon. Even though Duke Launcelot personally fought and killed a Black Grail Knight and led a hundred personal guards to break through five hundred undead Black Knights, the sheer corruption of vampires in Mousilon and the resistance from all its residents made logistics and supply for the entire knightly army extremely difficult."
Armand nodded in agreement, the last of the Aquitaine ducal bloodline continued, "The huge losses and logistical failures drained the knightly army's vitality. After repeated harassment and attacks by vampires, the army became too weary, eventually forcing a retreat. Before retreating, Launcelot left two thousand troops to strengthen the posts and quarantine lines around Mousilon."
"Hmm," Ryan pondered a series of issues.
Mousilon was indeed a tough nut to crack. Beyond the city's several dozen-meter-high walls, the land's corruption was severe. The vampire corruption spread over Mousilon's land made it difficult for any army to stay long in that area. As Launcelot's forces advanced, they were forced to stop every few kilometers to recuperate.
Moreover, as Ryan saw it, whenever Launcelot's army reached a place, they would storm into towns like a whirlwind, establishing "Holy Grail Courts" and executing all known vampires and humans corrupted by vampires by fire.
This method was righteous and aligned with the chivalric code, but Launcelot's approach meant he was making enemies of all of Mousilon, plunging into a quagmire of guerrilla warfare.
Vampires themselves varied significantly; there were ambitious schemers and those who just wanted to live quietly. Some high-ranking vampires lived no differently from humans, not all vampires were plotting to destroy humanity, and many had rooted themselves within human societies, including in Mousilon.
Launcelot's method of burning everyone he saw was certainly a thorough way to address the problem, but its severity made every resident of Mousilon feel threatened, forcing everyone there to oppose the knightly army.
In this situation, without a quick way to conquer the cursed city of Mousilon and with the supply lines constantly under attack, the army was fatigued, leaving retreat as the only option.
Richard's plan for Launcelot to pick the peaches failed, and the indecisive war was forced to a halt, leaving Brittany too exhausted to continue.
In the end, Richard gave Launcelot a regency title, starting to have him assist with administrative duties, and as for when to bring up succession again, that would wait for another opportunity.
"Mousilon really is a tough bone to chew," Julius said disappointedly. "After this chaos invasion, the kingdom's power has greatly declined, and who knows when we can muster the strength to reclaim Mousilon again."
"Another campaign? Uly, I think reclaiming Mousilon isn't really the problem," Ryan stroked his chin, thinking aloud. "I think even if we fight several more times, the outcome will be the same. First off, how do we breach Mousilon's several dozen-meter-high walls? With trebuchets? Moreover, if we attack Mousilon again, we'll definitely have to face severe vampire corruption. Until we figure out a way to deal with the corruption, we can't just march out. Right now, the most important thing is to recuperate."
"…Hmm." Julius could only nod. "That's all we can do now."
"The kingdom's north has suffered heavy losses; it might take five to ten years to recover to its previous scale," Holy Grail Knight Armand also said. "And after two wars, the kingdom's nobility has developed a war-weariness. Reclaiming Mousilon needs to be considered slowly."
"Hmm." After finishing the watermelon, several knights took their leave, leaving only Ryan, Olica, and Emilia in the room.
The Earl was still deep in thought, pondering many things before shaking his head: "The matter of reclaiming Mousilon will have to be planned for the long term."
"Ryan, vampires aren't so easy to deal with," Emilia shook her head. "Ever since the Empire lost the province of Sylvanias five hundred years ago, it has never successfully ruled over that place again. The vampire wars exhausted the Empire, and all the vampire castles in Sylvanias were razed to the ground, but since then, no noble has wanted
to govern Sylvanias. Now all that remains are ruins and a few villages, and the Empire only sends people in to collect taxes each year, with no one daring to venture into Sylvanias."
Ryan grimaced at her words, realizing that Mousilon was in a similar situation.
It's easy to corrupt a land with vampires; it just takes time, and the shadows and death can affect a place, leaving neither the living nor the dead in peace.
So, how about purifying a land?
Purifying a land requires decades or even centuries of effort and many large-scale spells.
Whether it's the Empire or Brittany, they face the same problem: it's easy to defeat vampires, but difficult and time-consuming to cleanse a land corrupted by vampires.
To put it plainly, this land is stubbornly dirty.
So, how can I reclaim Mousilon?
Ryan looked out the window, lost in thought.
After a long while, Ryan couldn't think of any particularly good solutions. He suddenly felt that someone might be able to offer him some advice.
The Earl grinned mischievously and said to Emilia, "Emilia, thank you for your hard work. You can go rest now."
"Okay." The little maid saw Ryan's strange smile. Having followed Ryan for several years, Emilia knew what Ryan was up to. With a slightly resentful glance at the Earl, she curtsied and then exited the room.
The dark elf noticed Ryan's gaze on her, and Olica's cheeks gradually reddened: "Master... Master?"
"Heh heh, Olica, I have something to discuss with you," Ryan said with ulterior motives as he swept the dark elf into his arms, kissing her cheek. "Old method, I'll talk in the room~"
"Ah! Master~" The dark elf wrapped her arms around Ryan's neck, shyly speaking: "Master, you're always like this."
...
It had taken Bellegar over a month to escape from Haimen Pass to Karak-Windfort. By then, King Angland's funds were nearly depleted, and the group was quite ragged. They had traveled through the geomantic veins, crossing the Black Mountains and the southern end of the Grey Mountains, finally reaching Windfort.
Along the way, this band of several hundred had fought several battles. Inside the geomantic veins, many green-skinned fortresses were encountered, but for some reason, most of the green-skinned tribes they met seemed listless and lacked fighting spirit. The green-skinned fortresses were all battered, as if recently plundered, allowing Bellegar's group to relatively easily repel the enemies.
Now, Windfort was in sight.
King Rorek Granitehand of Karak-Windfort, upon hearing that Bellegar was bringing his people to seek refuge, opened the city gates and warmly welcomed the group with the etiquette between kings, arranging accommodations for them. That evening, Rorek held a grand banquet to welcome Bellegar's arrival and tactfully avoided mentioning Bellegar's expedition to the Eight Peaks, undoubtedly providing much solace to Bellegar's troubled heart, somewhat alleviating the bitterness of defeat.
Among the dwarves, there were differences; those closer to the World's Ridge Mountains in the east tended to be more stubborn. Kings like those of Karak-Ironpeak and Karak-Hornfort still did not trust firearms, preferring to fight with crossbows, axes, and hammers.
Dwarves closer to the west, however, tended to be more tactful and adaptable due to their more frequent contacts with humans. King Rorek of Karak-Windfort was such a person. Located in the middle of the Grey Mountains, situated between the Empire and Brittany, and frequently trading with both nations as well as shipping goods through Marienburg, these dwarves were more adept at diplomacy and speech.
"Bellegar, my friend, what winds have blown you here?" Rorek said to Bellegar at the banquet. "A rare guest indeed!"
"The situation is such that the Angland clan didn't fare well on our expedition, and I decided to preserve our clan's strength for future battles," Bellegar stroked his white beard, the King of Angland's white beard bound with coarse cloth and some copper rings, showing no outward signs of distress. "I'll be troubling you for a while, Rorek."
"Of course."
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