For Alfred, Head of the Freya's Old Church District, his role was unique. On the one hand, he was a man of the church and Patriarch of Western Bretonnia; on the other, he was the district's de facto leader. This created a political structure resembling a fusion of state and church authority. Alfred held significant power, which had sparked some dissent among Bretonnia's knightly nobility and the Lady's Church, who felt Ryan had granted him too much authority.
Ryan, however, was unconcerned. First, he trusted Alfred; second, the Old Church District was granted to Alfred as a benefice rather than hereditary land. Ryan had made it clear it wouldn't pass down to Alfred's heirs. Moreover, the Church of Sigmar strictly forbade clergy from holding hereditary estates, a rule Archbishop Vikmar and Emperor Karl Franz upheld. They refused to allow the church to extend its secular power further, even as some high-ranking clerics pushed for reform.
Despite this, the Old Church District under Alfred had attracted a large number of Empire immigrants. Alfred's status and Sigmarite authority naturally drew them in. In support, Archbishop Vikmar had even sent a small squad (twelve men) of Knights of the White Wolf and a group of Sigmarite priests and holy warriors to assist Alfred.
"That young man from Kislev came with his family but doesn't have many skills." Alfred, dressed in his immaculate Patriarchal robes, introduced the boy's background to Ryan. Now in his forties, Alfred retained his fervor and vitality. Underneath his robes was a set of exquisitely crafted plate armor from the Brunswicker armory. "At first, he tried his hand at some winemaking and vodka distillation, but his grapes couldn't compete with Bretonnia's, and the locals don't drink much vodka."
Alfred continued, slightly embarrassed. "Then he realized people enjoyed watching his antics, so he adapted to their tastes. He performs whatever they find amusing, and, over the last few months, business has picked up. Some say he's discovered the secret to wealth in Mousillon."
"People's need for validation is common," Suria said with a smile, holding Ryan's arm. "I also like it when Ryan compliments me."
"Exactly, my lady," Alfred agreed with a shrug.
Led by the Old Guard, the group made their way toward Alfred's castle. Curious townsfolk gathered to watch, cheering as they passed. People showered them with flowers and ribbons, some even offering eggs and bread, though the Old Guard declined these gifts since Ryan hadn't said anything.
Alfred's fortress was named Justice Keep, a three-tiered fort built into the hillside with a dual role as both military stronghold and religious sanctuary. Part castle, part barracks, it had over seventy rooms and was more like a monastery than a home. Here, Ryan encountered someone he hadn't expected.
The figure was bald, clad in a tattered warrior-priest's robe with freshly polished armor underneath. He held a radiant, golden hammer and carried an air of determination bordering on arrogance. Despite Ryan and Suria's presence, he offered only a curt nod.
The man had come to bid Alfred farewell. "Thank you for your help, my friend. I think it's time for me to go."
"Luther, I suggest you stay here," Alfred replied earnestly. "You know how many people in the Empire want to cause you trouble."
"I will become a nightmare for every corrupt cleric, a judgment upon the unfaithful, and a bane to Chaos worshippers. They should fear me, not the other way around." The warrior-priest's aura radiated an unmistakable sanctity, reminding Ryan of many past allies. "But I can't stay here long, Alfred. I'd bring you too much trouble. I wish you fortune in your judgments... and to you, King Ryan, may you continue to fight evil, but beware of straying from the righteous path."
With that, the warrior-priest left, carrying only a single pack and scrolls at his waist.
After he was gone, Ryan turned to Alfred with curiosity. "Luther Huss? What's he doing here?"
"He killed several bishops and priests in the Empire who had been skimming tithe and offerings," Alfred explained with a sigh. "Despite ample evidence, he was met with backlash and formal accusations. Many in the Empire want him dead, so Archbishop Vikmar advised him to lay low. He thought he might find an opportunity to preach here."
"Do you support him?" Ryan asked thoughtfully.
"I sympathize but don't support him," Alfred replied. He signaled Ryan to step aside, leading him and Suria to a secluded balcony. Once they were alone, he continued in a low voice. "Do you know what he suggested to me?"
"What? Overthrow the corrupt Church of Sigmar?" Ryan replied with a smirk.
"He proposed that I start a new Sigmarite order here in Bretonnia, in the Freya's Old Church District," Alfred said with a wry smile. "A pure faith purged of corruption, relying only on Sigmar's teachings and urging believers to experience Sigmar's guidance directly, free from the clergy's mediation."
Ryan stifled a laugh. "Does he want to start a Reformation or split the church into East and West? Are you the 'Western Orthodox,' and what would that make them, the 'Sigmarite Reformed?'"
"Reformation? East-West schism?" Alfred asked, puzzled.
"If you agreed, we'd be finding a new patriarch for this district," Ryan mused privately, but he trusted Alfred. He knew Alfred had risen from humble origins as a common paladin and understood where his loyalties lay.
"Al, I'll call you that like Ryan does." Suria stepped in, gesturing for a servant to bring forward lavish gifts. "Congratulations on your marriage. Though my gift is a little late, Ryan and I wanted to show our appreciation. Please accept these tokens of our goodwill."
Alfred accepted the gifts at Suria's insistence, while Ryan asked, "So, Al, what do you plan to name your child?"
"Name?" Alfred laughed heartily and pointed at Ryan. "You're hoping to be godfather, aren't you?"
"Why not?" Ryan countered.
"Well, no issue, though Grandmaster Hans Leitdorf has already claimed the spot," Alfred replied. "Ingrid is away at a spa retreat, but if you have a good name, I'd like to hear it."
"How about Bruce Wayne?" Ryan suggested, recalling a name from a distant memory.
"Bruce Wayne?" Alfred nodded approvingly. "Sounds noble—a fine name!"
That evening, Ryan stayed at Justice Keep and shared a simple meal with Alfred. He spent the following two days inspecting the district. Overall, he was pleased with what he found; Alfred navigated the Church's complexities well, and his position, backed by Ryan and Archbishop Vikmar, ensured any dissent was swiftly dealt with.
Two days later, the king's retinue departed for Mousillon. On the way, Ryan was conversing with the Lady of the Lake and Suria inside the carriage when a galloping messenger bearing an official seal approached urgently.
"Halt!" barked one of the Old Guard as the messenger approached. "State your business!"
"I have urgent military news for the king!" the messenger replied breathlessly.
"What's the news?" Ryan took the letter from Davout and scanned it, his face growing stern. "As if we'd ever get a moment's rest."
"What's happened, Ryan?" Suria asked, leaning out of the carriage.
"Our reprieve is over, Suria," he replied grimly. "Trouble is brewing in the North."
"Change course immediately. Arrange for a ship to Korone!"
"Yes, Your Majesty!" came the swift response.
--- *Onward to Korone* ---
A week later, Ryan arrived in Korone.
It was early November, and after discussing the defense of Chantillon with Carad and Lauen in Korone's grand palace, Ryan's brow furrowed. "What are the Norscans planning? Have you scouted their next move?"
"The marauder fleet hasn't gone far, Sire," Lauen replied, still basking in the recent victory but with a hint of worry in his tone. "The dragonships are roaming the Sea of Claws, seemingly scouting for another target. I've ordered the coast to be on high alert."
"Is there no way to deal with these marauder fleets?" Ryan's frustration was evident. "I was hoping for a peaceful Winter Solstice, but now this?"
"Le-Angoulême's navy lacks the strength to handle such a massive dragonship fleet," Carad added. "Even with their losses, the Norscans still have five to six hundred ships, at the least."
"Our recommendation is to request support from the Sea God Fleet in the South."
Ryan shook his head. "If we move the fleet north, the marauders will flee. We need a comprehensive plan... and to understand why they're here in the first place."
"It seems to be Chaos's will," Carad said gravely. "During my duel with Ulfrek, he seemed to mistake me for you. From what he said, his army's objectives were to attack Korone and to challenge you. His retreat suggests the former goal is more important."
Ryan felt a gnawing unease. The Norscans were supposed to be fighting the Dark Elves, so why had they turned to Bretonnia?
Fortunately, the preparations had paid off. Although Chantillon had suffered heavily, the residents had been evacuated early, minimizing losses. Ryan made arrangements, then asked Lauen, "There must be other reasons Norsca would attack us. Any
word from the Empire or Kislev?"
"No news yet, Sire," Lauen replied, then paused, mentioning, "Though we did hear a curious report from Marienburg."
"Marienburg?"
"Yes, during a recent trade and tariff negotiation. Empire, dwarf, and high elven representatives were attending what was supposed to be a routine meeting when suddenly several Tzeentchian demons and cultists appeared! Grand Duke Schultz displayed unexpected power, and without him, the entire delegation might have perished."
"Why was I not informed?" Ryan demanded.
"Because the message only arrived an hour ago, Sire," Lauen replied. "We've only just received it."
Ryan's unease deepened. A web of deception seemed to be tightening around the Old World.
Belial, who had been silent, seized the opportunity. "Sire, this is a conspiracy. Think about it—if the Tzeentch cultists had succeeded, what would the aftermath have been?"
"A tangled, unsolved mystery. With everyone dead, we'd face a diplomatic crisis with the Empire, the elves, and the dwarves." Ryan realized the severity. "This is a nightmare scenario."
"Indeed, Sire. This is only the beginning!" Belial declared.
At the same time, in Altdorf's imperial palace, Emperor Karl Franz was contemplating how to use the autumn's bounty to improve life for his people when devastating news shattered his peace.
Kislev lost the Battle of Zedrevka? Casualties are at eighty thousand? The Tzarina ordered a full retreat, abandoning Kislev to seek refuge in the Empire?
Chaos has a force of two hundred thousand heading south, with another hundred thousand massing for an assault expected by mid-January?
Two to three million refugees are surging toward the northern Empire, and the provinces of Ostland, Nordland, and Ostermark can't absorb them?
A new Everchosen has arisen?
The Tzarina herself is en route to Beccafen?
The Emperor was shell-shocked by the relentless series of catastrophic reports. His vision darkened.
"WDNMD!" he roared, finally losing his composure. "Armand!"
"I'm here, Sire."
"Summon the Imperial Council immediately! Inform every elector and have them drop whatever they're doing and teleport to Altdorf, *immediately!*"
"Also, transcribe this report and send it to Korone, Mousillon, or wherever King Ryan may be. Get it to the College of Magic and halt every experiment if necessary!"
"Yes, Your Majesty!" Armand exited hastily.
Karl Franz slumped into his throne, his strength drained. His vision darkened as he murmured, "May Sigmar protect the Empire."
_________________________
[Check out my Patreon for +200 additional chapters in all my fanfics! $5 for all!!]
[w w w . p a t r e o n .com / INNIT]
[+100 PowerStones = +1 Chapter] [+5 Reviews = +1 Chapter]