It was early November, and as autumn slipped into winter, the capital city of Couronne grew colder. Victory in the Battle of Chantillon brought glory to five new knights who were awarded the title of Knight Errant in the Couronne Royal Palace. Ryan honored the Northern Army under Carad's command, personally awarding Carad the Grand Holy Grail Honor Medal and granting generous rewards to all the meritorious soldiers. The king ordered a celebration of the victory and reminded everyone to remain vigilant—Ulfrek and his fleet were still patrolling the Claw Sea, waiting for another chance to invade.
The spoils were distributed, the fallen were mourned, and Chantillon needed rebuilding, which would take one or two months under Lauen's jurisdiction. After convening a meeting, Ryan still had little information and conflicting reports. Some suggested that Ulfrek's invasion was a premeditated Norscan declaration of war against Bretonnia, while others dismissed it as a routine raid. Some claimed Ulfrek's forces had been abandoned by Chaos after failing to be selected in their war against the Dark Elves, prompting them to target Bretonnia.
The intelligence was an entangled mess. As Ryan reviewed the reports, he could barely discern truth from rumor. He tentatively concluded that this was more than just a raid and recalled earlier rumors from Aurora's network, suggesting that a powerful Chaos entity was amassing troops. However, no concrete evidence supported this, and that Chaos lord had reportedly set their sights on the Dark Elves, with clear confirmation.
Ryan knew of countless predictions about the emergence of the next Everchosen, enough to fill several chests. It wasn't as if the Old World hadn't tried to locate and eliminate him. The Empire had sent numerous forces—witch hunters, warrior-priests, entire companies—to track him down, but the outcome was always the same: either they disappeared, or they returned as raving heretics preaching Chaos' gospel.
Even Bretonnia had sent knights on expeditions to the Chaos Wastes. Many died, and others returned corrupted, chanting Slaaneshian doctrines until they were executed for heresy. Among these, the infamous Knight Errant Gillet knelt helplessly before the Slaanesh Greater Daemon Azazel and was beheaded, offering no resistance.
According to Ryan's intelligence, the only known person to have entered and left the Chaos Wastes intact was the Witch King Malekith, though Ryan learned from Lilith that Malekith hadn't exactly "returned unscathed." His survival owed not only to his Phoenix King bloodline but also to sacrifices made by Morathi, along with her dark dealings with Slaanesh, even offering an elusive Mage-Priest Slann.
Ryan wouldn't dare enter the Chaos Wastes himself, not out of fear, but because his presence as a Primarch would be akin to a blazing firefly in utter darkness—a husky among wolves. He'd attract every daemon in the vicinity. Even a Primarch couldn't survive such an onslaught indefinitely.
And as for Supreme Grand Master Kaldor Draigo, Ryan knew that the Warp and the Chaos Wastes were two very different realms. The Warp contained far more than just Chaos. Draigo's status as a demigod allowed him to persevere, though he too wasn't invincible. A single curse from M'Kachen the Daemon Prince had trapped him in the Warp. Though he killed daemons with ease, he was merely a pawn, as the Chaos Gods awaited his inevitable fall into corruption. The Chaos Gods permitted his actions, knowing he'd eventually succumb.
For Ryan, however, his nature as the Primarch of the Grey Knights meant his actions inflicted true and permanent destruction on Chaos entities. A daemon slain by him was utterly annihilated. His very presence eroded the domains of Chaos in a way that was irreversible.
Following the meeting, Ryan immediately made two decisions: he summoned Aurora and Theresa to Couronne to assign new missions, and he dispatched messengers to both the Empire and Kislev for further information.
Reaching the Empire took half a day; Kislev required three days. In the meantime, restless and confined by the formality of the Couronne Royal Palace, Ryan, clad in a hooded brown cloak, took Carad for a walk on the city outskirts. It was an opportunity to discuss the details of the recent battle and acknowledge his achievements.
Early winter cast a bleak gray across Bretonnia's skies, the landscape stripped of life, the vibrant greens replaced by the muted yellows of the harvested fields. Many peasants and freemen had either ventured into the city for work or sat by the manor houses sharing stories, some choosing labor in Chantillon's restoration, which Lauen had organized with decent pay and food. Among them, particularly those not in immediate need, gathered along the road or the manor gates, chatting about the recent bountiful harvest and the Battle of Chantillon.
As peasants discussed the triumph, unaware of the two Holy Grail knights listening nearby, Ryan couldn't help but grin. "You're famous now, Count Carad."
"Only thanks to your wise leadership, Sire," Carad replied, noticing the king's interest in the villagers' conversations. "Your Majesty, don't you think we should immediately deploy the Sea God Fleet against Ulfrek and his army?"
"After such a defeat, Ulfrek would struggle to regain his strength," Ryan replied, shaking his head. "Carad, have you ever had a sense that something feels... off?"
"What do you mean, Sire?" Carad asked, following Ryan's steps, both appearing as simple travelers.
"Typically, there are two outcomes when Bretonnia faces a marauder invasion," Ryan explained, pointing toward the distant manor. "Either the marauders loot to their heart's content and retreat, or they lose the battle and fight to the bitter end. Have you ever known Norscans to willingly withdraw after a defeat?"
"Actually, yes," Carad recalled. "Do you remember Egil Red-Eye? He could've stormed Lyonesse but opted instead for a duel over a boy."
"Precisely." Ryan gazed across Couronne's plains. "To a Norscan, nothing is more glorious than raiding in the name of the Dark Gods. I grew up in Nordland—I know their mindset well. But if a Norscan behaves uncharacteristically, it means there's a purpose far greater than their usual pursuit of glory. Ulfrek's retreat implies he may be obeying orders from a higher authority, perhaps even direct commands from a god."
Carad nodded, understanding Ryan's reasoning. But Ryan could sense Carad's skepticism—he knew the Count felt this conclusion was almost too obvious.
Ryan chuckled. "But here's a bigger question, Carad: why did Ulfrek choose not only to retreat but also to loiter along our coasts? Why not either sail home or attack another target? His actions are wasteful, something the gods detest."
"That's... true." Carad hesitated. "What's your view, Sire?"
"This suggests we're missing a larger plot. So, I'm eager for more intelligence from the Empire and Kislev," Ryan replied, nodding toward a group of minstrels approaching the manor. "But I can't shake this feeling."
"A feeling, Sire?"
"That Ulfrek's actions are meant to divert our attention, to keep our forces occupied. If we rashly deploy the Sea God Fleet, we risk playing into his hands."
"Understood!" Carad nodded in agreement.
As they watched, the minstrels struck up a lively tune, having reached an agreement with the manor folk. Their band included a trumpeter, a singer, an accordionist, and a marimba player. After a merry introduction, the singer began to sing, his voice heartfelt as he recited a ballad.
"From Alençon to Chantillon Bay, to Chantillon Bay~"
"All of Bretonnia stands under attack~ stands under attack~"
"Count Carad will lead the Bretonni to victory~ lead the Bretonni~"
"Tell them we are fearless~ we are fearless~"
The accordionist played a cheerful tune.
"The Norscan tribes awake~ awake~"
"Don't touch our land~ our land~"
"Count Carad will lead all Bretonnians~ lead all Bretonnians~"
"Tell them we are fearless~ we are fearless~"
The manor folk joined in, singing of Carad's exploits with pride, celebrating his victory over the marauders.
"Already a song in your honor, Carad?" Ryan laughed heartily. "When did this start?"
"It started right there in Chantillon. Some traveling poets stayed nearby during the evacuation and watched my duel with Ulfrek. After our victory, they composed this song, 'Remove Chaos,'" Carad explained, blushing slightly. "It's spreading through Couronne, Le-Angouleme, and Lyonesse."
"It's well-deserved," Ryan said, though he felt increasingly thirsty as the song continued. "Sometimes it's best to mingle among the people, to know what they're thinking."
Just then, a veteran of the Old Guard cavalry rode toward them, breaking the peace. "Your Majesty! Urgent message from the Empire, signed by the Emperor himself!"
"Hand it over," Ryan ordered, motioning for Carad to join him.
As the two Holy Grail Knights read the message, their expressions grew dark. Ryan's grip tightened, causing the parchment to crumple slightly. They exchanged a charged glance, and all their thoughts crystallized into one word:
"Damn!"
"Summon every Duke immediately! Call them to Couronne for an emergency council!"
"Yes, Sire!"
As Ryan absorbed the news, a similar urgency gripped the Empire's capital, Altdorf
, where the Imperial Council had convened. Every Elector Count, military commander, and magical representative was present.
The Imperial Council's emergency session had begun.
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