Upon hearing this voice, Blackheart Rip's body instinctively tensed up. His expression quickly shifted from a slightly arrogant demeanor to one of respect and seriousness, as if he were facing a superior. He stood up, feigning a salute, and then quickly sat back down.
The person in front of him was Duke Ryan of Mousillon and the Lake Witch Morgiana. Today, Ryan was dressed in a simple ducal outfit, a deep red velvet coat with a hat trimmed with four strips of mink fur. His coronet, adorned with a gold band and eight red gold leaves, made Blackheart Rip feel a surge of envy. He knew that in the entire Old World, the most valuable titles were those of the Empire and Bretonnia. Despite his notoriety in the Border Princes, his title of Black Prince was recognized by no one except the lords of the Border Princes themselves. Even his imperial title of baron came with the prefixes "mercenary" or "border," indicating it was not a legitimate title.
The Lake Witch Morgiana was wearing a fluorescent light pink chiffon tiered gown today, with a slit that revealed a glimpse of her legs, wrapped in ultra-thin nude stockings. Her shimmering golden hair was held in place by a flower crown, and she was adorned with various gold and gemstone jewelry. Her exquisite face bore eyes that sparkled with a certain brightness, which dimmed as soon as she noticed Blackheart Rip. She looked at him as if he were something disgusting, and without saying a word, sat down next to Ryan when he took his seat.
Blackheart Rip didn't dare to meet Morgiana's gaze, which was full of judgment. As the worldly representative of the Lady of the Lake, Morgiana had independent judicial authority. Normally, Blackheart Rip, with his official status, would at least have the chance to defend himself if he got into trouble in the city. The city patrol or guard would give him an opportunity to present his case, either in the ducal court or the court of the Goddess of Justice.
Morgiana, however, was different. If she spoke against him, Blackheart Rip might not even get a chance to defend himself. The Grail Knights guarding Morgiana would act without question, and despite his legendary prowess, if Blackheart Rip resisted, his crimes would only be compounded.
"Sir Leitbert, you seem to be in high spirits, finding time to enjoy some potato stew and beef here?" Ryan, more relaxed, called out to the stall owner, "Give me a bowl as well... Morgiana, would you like some?"
"No need," Morgiana responded, disinterested in street food. She rarely ate meat, usually sticking to fish and eggs, and seldom touched other meats.
"Dukes have their duties, and I have mine," Blackheart Rip shifted his attention to Ryan, shrugging. "You're a busy man, Duke. I, Leitbert, am just a small man with small matters, taking a look around at your great achievements over the years, seeing if there's anything I can learn."
Ryan's expression didn't change, but internally, he noted how skilled Blackheart Rip was at seamlessly weaving flattery into his words, while subtly reminding Ryan that he'd been left waiting for days.
Sure enough, Morgiana's expression softened slightly after hearing this.
"Just returned to my territory, with much to do, I haven't had time to deal with you. But Sir Leitbert, you should have sought me out if you had matters to discuss," Ryan subtly turned the point back at Blackheart Rip.
Ryan's message was clear: I'm busy, and you should have come to me. You didn't seek me out, and now you're complaining about being ignored?
Blackheart Rip chuckled, pretending to focus on his food, chewing slowly and swallowing, while his mind worked rapidly. This cunning mercenary knew that Ryan had his reasons for taking him in, just as he had reasons for seeking Ryan's help. Whoever made the first move would be at a disadvantage.
"Coming right up, my lord!" The freeman stall owner was so excited he practically danced, spinning around several times before placing a large bowl of beef stew before Ryan. "Please, my lord, this one's on the house!"
The bowl served to Ryan was filled with beef, while Blackheart Rip's bowl was mostly potatoes and carrots. Silently cursing the stall owner for being a snob, the mercenary leader mulled over his next move and finally spoke up, "My lord, today seems like a good day—fine weather, fine mood."
"Oh, is that so?" Ryan stirred the large chunks of beef in his bowl with a spoon, smiling, "Since it's such a good day, what proposal do you have, Sir Leitbert?"
"My lord, if you want me to rebuild a castle in the Border Princes and establish a territory, a title alone won't suffice," Blackheart Rip decided it was time to make his move. "I need men, and supplies."
"Mousillon is still under reconstruction; I can't give you much in the way of military funding," Ryan nodded slightly, beginning to formally discuss the matter. "As for manpower, the population of Mousillon Duchy itself is insufficient... How many men do you need?"
"At least a company of regular troops. I'm talking about fully armed veterans who have seen battle," Blackheart Rip said in a low voice. "And at least thirty guns, twenty horses, and, in addition, some civilians to help with settlement and enough provisions for six months."
"You're too greedy, Sir Leitbert," Ryan shook his head sharply, his tone cold as he addressed Blackheart Rip. "You're asking for too much. Until you prove yourself, I won't give you so much without reason."
"How much can you give me, then?" Blackheart Rip impulsively pressed further when Ryan denied his request but immediately sensed Morgiana's cold and warning gaze, forcing him to close his mouth.
Blackheart Rip had a nagging feeling that something was going on between Ryan, the Lady of the Lake's chosen champion, and Morgiana, the Lady's first chosen. It was an intuition honed over decades as a mercenary. Despite no overt displays of intimacy between Ryan and Morgiana, Blackheart Rip noticed subtle body language cues, like how they stood close together before sitting or how Morgiana naturally leaned toward Ryan once seated. Her gaze toward Ryan also hinted at something deeper.
"I can offer you a company of veteran soldiers," Ryan proposed. "They're seasoned fighters, nearing retirement age but unwilling to leave service. I have weapons, but you'll need to provide your own armor. As for the guns and horses, I can give you twenty short-barreled pistols, but no horses."
Getting a veteran company was an unexpected bonus, so Blackheart Rip adjusted his demands, "One company isn't enough. I need more people. They don't have to be soldiers, just anyone willing to follow me to the Border Princes for fortune—young men, women, anyone."
"I can't help with that, but I can give you a tip," Ryan acknowledged Blackheart Rip's need for manpower. "Try recruiting in Lionesse and Parravon. There are plenty of people there willing to take a chance, and at a low cost. You can get them to follow you for nothing more than a bacon sandwich."
"Then where's the bacon? Where's the bread?"
"Bread will come, milk will come, everything will get better."
The conversation between Ryan and Blackheart Rip paused for a while as they silently ate. After a long period of contemplation, Blackheart Rip finally spoke up again, "Besides that, what else can you offer me?"
"I can give you partial trade privileges. Our goods will be unloaded at Barak Varr, and you'll receive support from the Oliver Trading Company's Barak Varr branch. You can purchase goods at market price. How you handle these goods, how you sell them, I don't care. Just make sure you leave no evidence, understood?"
"Understood!" Blackheart Rip felt greatly reassured. This was essentially making him an agent to open new markets! This opportunity was far more valuable than the veteran company or the twenty pistols.
"Now, I have a few conditions, and I want you to listen carefully." Seeing that Blackheart Rip agreed, Ryan nodded slightly and pulled out a map, pointing to the Eastern Border Princes. "I'm giving you about a year and a half to two years. You need to become the most powerful warlord in the Eastern Border Princes!"
"I have confidence in that, but I don't have enough manpower!" Blackheart Rip felt a rush of excitement as he imagined the bright future Ryan was outlining, his blood pounding in his ears as he brought up the same request again, "I need more people!"
"No, Sir Leitbert, you've got the cause and effect backward. As you expand in the Border Princes, defending Bretonnia's interests, the kingdom will evaluate your worth in many ways. Only when your status rises will we consider sending more elite troops to support your campaign, help you seize control of the Border Princes," Ryan's voice held a certain captivating power, his every word filled with both hope and warning. "As you achieve more victories, we will allow more soldiers, even knights, to join your efforts. More elite troops will be available for recruitment, and if necessary, we might even send the Old Guard and Grail Knights to assist you."
"Oh, oh, oh!" Blackheart Rip's hands trembled, and his voice quivered, "Thank you for your favor, my lord. I, Leitbert, will surely…"
"But I must warn you, Sir Leitbert, you must demonstrate your value. You'll start with just these men—a company of veterans and a few poorly equipped soldiers. You must show us that you
can do it, that you have the ability to become the most powerful lord of the Border Princes. Only then will we consider allowing you to recruit more troops to aid you."
Blackheart Rip was genuinely excited now.
Clearly, Ryan intended to use him as a pawn to gain control of the Border Princes' market, population, and vast resources!
But what did it matter? Being a pawn meant he had value! This was his chance to rise again, and he had to seize it firmly!
The most powerful lord of the Border Princes—a title filled with allure.
"I, Leitbert, swear allegiance to Duke Ryan in the name of Sigmar and Shallya!" Blackheart Rip didn't hesitate. He knew that the more decisive he was at this moment, the better. "I am willing to accept this task!"
"Good. I've already instructed Carstenberg to prepare some logistics supplies for you, enough to last a few months." Ryan accepted Blackheart Rip's oath of loyalty, drawing the Sword of Vengeance and placing it on Blackheart Rip's shoulder, "I hereby appoint you as the Captain of the Bretonnian Independent Regiment, with the title of Border Baron!"
"Yes!" Blackheart Rip responded loudly.
"Let me ask you a question, Leitbert. What are you?" Ryan asked next, his blue eyes flashing with a sharp light, "Answer me, what are you?"
What am I? Blackheart Rip felt sweat forming on his bald head.
What am I?
Why did Duke Ryan choose me? What's the reason?
He quickly reviewed his past experiences and shouted, "I am a human!"
"Very good. Always remember that you are a human!"
After the ceremony was complete, Blackheart Rip lost all interest in his meal and hurried off. Ryan had given him a tight deadline, so he needed to move quickly. He had to take command of the veteran company, recruit new soldiers under the title of Captain of the Bretonnian Independent Regiment, and set sail for Barak Varr before the seas froze. If he missed this window, he'd have to wait until spring or risk crossing the Gray and Black Mountains under treacherous conditions.
As Blackheart Rip hurried away, Morgiana frowned and spoke up, "I don't understand why you'd give an opportunity to such a cunning mercenary. If your goal is to expand into the Border Princes, you have plenty of loyal men to send, or I could provide some from my side. Why entrust this task to him?"
Ryan let out a long breath as he sat down in his chair, "Morgiana, it's different. The Border Princes have their own set of rules, and outsiders unfamiliar with these rules won't survive. Understanding them takes years and comes at a high cost. For example, if I sent Hex to the Border Princes to establish a territory, he might get his throat slit on the first night."
"Couldn't a Grail Knight handle it?" Morgiana asked, understanding Ryan's point.
"A Grail Knight wouldn't be easily killed, but someone steeped in chivalry would never become a leader in the Border Princes," Ryan nodded. "In the Border Princes, survival hinges on a few key traits: a steady hand, a ruthless heart, and a sharp blade. Chivalry doesn't fully apply there."
"That's why we need Blackheart Rip. He's spent decades in the Border Princes, rising from a common mercenary captain to the Black Prince. He knows the rules inside and out, and during Tamurkhan's rampage through the Border Princes, Blackheart Rip was the only one to mount effective resistance. This gives him a certain reputation and influence. Sending him there now, while the locals won't welcome him with open arms, they won't resist him either."
"We just need to support him from the shadows," Ryan concluded. "Of course, there's another important reason beyond grooming a proxy."
Ryan pointed to a spot on the map, "We need to start preparing to fulfill our earlier promise."
"Prepare to help Belegar and his Angrund clan reclaim the Eight Peaks Mountain!"
"Sending Blackheart Rip is the first step in preparing for this war!"
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