"Big bear! Is it the kind with brown fur, a round face, and a cute nose?" Sulia's eyes lit up as she kept asking, "Can you describe it, Mr. Oliver?"
"Uh, I'm not too sure, Lady Sulia." Oliver was actually more afraid of this countess in front of him.
After all, Ryan was a Grail Knight, a hero and role model for humanity, and the chosen champion of the Lady of the Lake, the kingdom's guardian deity. For someone of Ryan's immense reputation and status, Oliver knew that certain things Ryan wouldn't manage in detail. The count himself had to govern his territory, lead troops into battle, and occasionally pray at the Lady of the Lake's high tower, always busy. As long as things were within a certain framework, Ryan generally wouldn't ask too many questions.
But Lady Sulia was different. Born in the court and well-educated since childhood, she knew exactly how to deal with merchants.
Since last year, when she began to infiltrate Ryan's forces, all merchants knew that compared to the count, the countess was not to be trifled with. Most merchants who frequently came to Jean Town respectfully acknowledged Sulia. Only one merchant named Antoine, thinking himself above such customs because he was from Estalia, refused to show respect to the countess.
Within a few months, Antoine's business failed, his capital chain broke, and he jumped into the sea to commit suicide under immense debt.
These two events seemed unrelated on the surface.
But Oliver didn't think so, which is why he always treated Lady Sulia with utmost respect. Merchants couldn't compete with nobles. It was somewhat tolerable in the Empire because not all nobles fought on the front lines, and big merchants enjoyed certain statuses. But in Bretonnia, knight lords were often powerful warriors, some even Grail Knights. Especially for Oliver, he could confidently say that even his entire guard couldn't match Ryan alone.
He owed his success to Ryan and could only respond with obedience and loyalty. He had already sent his children to Ryan's court, ensuring a bright future.
"Sulia, don't trouble Oliver anymore; he doesn't know either." Ryan gently held Sulia's gloved hand. The lady knight, obsessed with bears, had been bombarding Oliver with questions. Ryan knew Sulia loved little bears, their bedroom filled with bear dolls. Her favorite was a brown teddy bear the Lady of the Lake had sewn for her, which she named "Ryan" and often slept with.
It was no wonder she was excited at the chance to see a real big bear.
"You'll see it in due time."
That day, Ryan and Sulia toured many parts of the town. The so-called consolation and warning were secondary. Their joint appearance was a strong political signal: the count and his wife had a good relationship, a happy marriage without external interference, united and indivisible.
Even after dinner, Ryan and Sulia discussed the matter.
"The town is getting crowded; the carriages are slowing down." Ryan leaned on the soft sofa, with the dark elf Olica standing behind him.
"Yes, Ryan, your territory's population is growing too large." Sulia sipped her tea. "More isn't always better. I hear the security in Devon Town isn't good lately."
The county of Glamorgan included three towns: Jean, Sharon, and Devon. Jean had a Grail Knight squad and many troops maintaining order, the Lady of the Lake's high tower, and Veronica's Dawn Wizard Tower as deterrents, so security wasn't a problem. Sharon had the Sharon Forest Patrol maintaining order, but Devon's security was troublesome.
More isn't always better, and bigger isn't always better. Ryan pondered and continued, "That's why I mentioned attacking Mousilon earlier; I need more land."
"Ryan, are you going to war again?" The young maid Emilia worriedly asked, her delicate face showing some reproach. "You just returned to the territory; why not rest for a while?"
"Emilia wants you to spend more time with her," Sulia teased with a smile.
"Sister Sulia!" Emilia's face turned red.
"I can't fight even if I wanted to," Ryan laughed, knowing his maid cared for him. "Theresa is still recovering from serious injuries, and the territory just fought the northern barbarians last year; we need to rest. Attacking Mousilon requires long preparation."
Emilia's expression improved. She didn't like seeing Ryan frequently at war, her heart carrying lingering fears.
"By the way, I remember you have a barony claim as the Count of Glamorgan?" Sulia asked, recalling something. "Spire Palace?"
"Spire Palace is ruled by Count Orcason, a noble under a vampire count but not turned undead. It's at the intersection of Bastogne, Mousilon, and Poldero, essentially an enclave." Ryan frowned. "Richard's arrangement, likely to have me clash with vampires, benefiting both the kingdom and himself."
"It's not entirely an enclave. Spire Palace is on the north side of a strong stone bridge over the Grismore River, south of the Sharon Forest, not far from our settlements there. Duke Beshmond of Bastogne has no interest in that land and is fine with you occupying it." Sulia continued, "Spire Palace is heavily guarded by a semi-undead, semi-human force. Taking it will need long preparation, and once taken, you should appoint a baron there, or you won't manage it."
"Indeed." Ryan nodded, planning to grant titles. One's energy is limited, especially in this dangerous world. The feudal system is necessary; long borders need defense against many invasions, straining even the strongest nation. Undead, chaos, greenskins, and even human civil wars, this world never stops burning.
As night fell, Olica and Emilia served Ryan and Sulia into the bedroom. The room, warmed by a lit fireplace and filled with a faint fragrance, was cozy. As they settled in bed, Ryan held Sulia close. Wearing a red velvet nightgown showing her beautiful figure, Sulia pleaded, "Ryan, my husband, can we rest today?"
Ryan, holding his wife, smugly said, "Alright, we'll rest today."
"Since our marriage, you've been with me almost daily. What about Theresa and Veronica?" Sulia, lying on his chest, happily asked, "I know you care about me, but..."
"You're the lady, Sulia." Ryan stroked her golden hair. "Not just you and me; everyone in my territory must know you are the countess."
Sulia nodded, recalling her father François' teachings. She could tolerate other women around Ryan but must maintain the primary-secondary, guest-host, new-old hierarchy.
Since their marriage, Ryan's devotion solidified her position. The count declared that the lady was the lady, and the stability of the inner household was paramount. Only with Sulia's unshakable status could she suppress female courtiers and maids.
After a moment of intimacy, Sulia voiced a concern. "Ryan, I'm worried about something."
"What is it?" Ryan held her tighter.
"Father said Skaven are a vengeful race. We destroyed their plans in Helmgart and nearly annihilated a clan. I'm worried they might retaliate against your territory." Sulia's noble face showed anxiety.
"Let them come." Ryan seemed unconcerned. "I'm not afraid of assassinations, and with your father's gift, neither are you."
"But what about your troops and people?" Sulia still worried.
"Brother is here." Ryan smiled, refusing to elaborate.
The next morning, in the Old World, Bretonnia, Glamorgan County, Red Fish Village.
Primarch Angron of the World Eaters woke from his dream.
Angron's eyes were unfocused, recalling ten thousand years ago when he followed Horus to attack Terra, remembering his conversation with Sanguinius on the palace walls.
He urged Sanguinius to surrender, but Sanguinius refused, and the siege began, engulfing everything in flames.
The memories were painful. Every time Angron dreamed of them, he felt heart-wrenching pain.
But today was different. As Angron woke on his three-meter-long, two-meter-wide dwarf-made iron bed, a feeling of clarity washed over him, quickly spreading through his body.
At first, Angron didn't understand. Then, his body's response told him why he felt this way. The World Eaters Primarch joyfully raised his large hand. "Come!"
With a whoosh, his pair of axes, "Ripper" and "Butcher," flew into his hands. Gripping his treasured axes, Angron let out a sky-piercing roar. "Ahhhhh!"
The roar shook the stone house, sending nearby serfs flying, though Angron controlled his strength to avoid killing anyone.
He was finally restored to his peak strength!
After a controlled roar, fearing he might collapse his house, Angron stopped, washed with some water from a bucket, and opened the door.
The village elder trembled before Angron's mansion, kneeling in fear. "Lord... Lord Angron, what happened?"
"Oh, nothing, just a bit of joy." Angron smiled indifferently. "Sorry for the trouble, work hard, and you'll have a better year next year."
The elder thought, who wouldn't work hard with this giant knight around?
Angron was the village's guardian. Despite his temper, he treated the villagers well. Seeing the elder still there, Angron knew he had a request. "What is it? Speak."
"The villagers saw a huge horned beast and rotting trees in the deep forest! Lord Angron, we're worried..."
"No problem, leave it to me." Angron, eager to chop something, thought.
"Thank you!" The elder knelt again in respect.
Ignoring the elder and villagers, Angron strode
towards the distant forest.
After hours, Angron found signs of corruption deep in the forest. The stench, rotting trees, and melting flesh of the land led to a giant beast moving towards Ryan's territory.
Even Angron, rarely disgusted, felt extreme aversion. The creature corrupted everything, exuding terrifying evil, slowly decaying its surroundings. It looked like a giant bipedal horned beast with a rat's face and massive horns, embodying "destruction" and reveling in filth and decay.
This was a Chaos Greater Daemon! It seemed to be a Skaven daemon, called the Plague Lord? Angron felt no fear or tension, only ease and joy.
He wanted to chop something, and here it was!
The Plague Lord, summoned by the Great Horned Rat, was plotting to destroy the land, embodying the Great Horned Rat's will. It came for revenge against Ryan.
It would start with the bald human!
"The Great Horned Rat will bring judgment to all who defy it! Yesyes! Bald human, diedie!" The Plague Lord roared, fixing its nightmare gaze on Angron.
Angron drew his axes, recalling last night's dream.
The World Eaters Primarch roared his own battle cry.
"For the blood of Sanguinius!!!"
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