Our Knight King, Ryan, found himself in a state of both suffering and bliss, as he struggled for air under the weight of a certain divine presence. Gasping, he managed to let out a muffled plea: "I can't breathe, my lady!"
"Still calling me 'my lady'?" The Lady of the Lake, visibly flustered, released her grip around Ryan's neck. She playfully tapped his forehead with a delicate finger before rolling to lie beside him. "Call me 'my wife' or just 'Lilith' in private. I've told you before."
Today, the Lady of the Lake was dressed in a stunning sheer gown of rippling white veils, resembling delicate water patterns. The gown showcased her divine grace, accentuating her slender waist and the ethereal beauty unique to a goddess. Adorned with golden fleur-de-lis and white silk ribbons embroidered with the chivalric virtues, she wore the platinum and emerald-studded Eternal Radiance Crown atop her cascade of golden hair, which spread across the bed like a waterfall. With a playful smile, she pinched Ryan's chin.
"Dear, while Berthold and the others are outside 'learning foreign languages,' why are you here suffering in this tent?" she teased.
Clearly in high spirits, Lilith effortlessly flipped herself onto the bed, joining Ryan on the modestly sized mattress. Resting on a plush pillow, she entwined her arm with his, pulling it close to her chest. Her sheer gown revealed a pair of impeccably smooth, silk-clad legs.
The divine beauty's legs were wrapped in ultra-thin white unicorn silk stockings, shimmering under the magical light of the tent. Relaxed and stretched out beneath the blanket, her knees bent slightly, highlighting their elegant curves. Her small, delicate feet, painted with a soft aquamarine nail polish, peeked out from under the hem of her gown. With a leisurely stretch, Lilith reveled in the rare alone time, playfully nudging Ryan with her stockinged foot.
"Hey, dear, why aren't you paying attention to me?"
"I'm busy with these documents," Ryan replied with a wry smile, holding up a thick scroll of parchment. Exhaustion was written all over his face.
"You're worn out. Let me help you relax," Lilith said tenderly, her heart aching at the sight of her champion's fatigue. She began massaging his shoulders and neck, and Ryan gratefully accepted her care.
He didn't blame her for her prolonged absence. After all, gods and mortals had their respective domains. The invasion of Morkar the Ironclad had been, at its core, a proxy war—a war fought by mortals. The Lady of the Lake intervening directly would have provoked the Chaos Gods to do the same, escalating the conflict to an unimaginable level.
Furthermore, they were fighting on foreign soil, outside Lilith's domain. The presence of Chaos corruption made it inconvenient and dangerous for her to appear. Gods, after all, could truly perish if slain by mortals. The fact that none of the Old World's deities directly descended to aid during the siege of Wolfenburg said it all.
"Morkar is dead, and the Chaos forces have suffered a devastating blow. But the Empire and our forces aren't in great shape either," Ryan remarked as he finished reviewing a procurement list.
With the Grail Day festival just around the corner, Morgiana had authorized a budget of 3,000 gold crowns for the Lake Priestesses, working with the venerable guildmaster of the Old Kruber Company to secure sufficient food, livestock, and wine.
Lilith glanced over the list and nodded approvingly.
Victory in war deserved a proper celebration, and if the Empire wasn't hosting one, then Bretonnia would. It was an opportunity to showcase national pride, bolster morale, and demonstrate the kingdom's strength. Grail Day was the perfect occasion.
Ryan had only learned about these arrangements after the fact. Skimming through the list, he confirmed that 90% of the funds had been allocated properly, with the remaining 10% presumably lost to "overheads." With a practiced hand, he stamped the document, signaling his approval.
Lilith set the parchment aside, her expression thoughtful. "Morkar's death was unexpected. His downfall... came too quickly. I'm not doubting your abilities, but with your current strength, defeating him should've required a grueling battle."
"I know I'm not as strong as Morkar, and he was a bit weaker than my brother," Ryan admitted with a nod. "But Morkar was blessed by the four Chaos Gods. Beating him would've been one thing, but killing him outright would've been nearly impossible. I was prepared to fight to the death if necessary, but then he... took his own life. Truly a remarkable man. Even in the end, he refused to be a puppet of Chaos. Both hateful and admirable."
After a brief pause, Ryan chuckled. "I think the one most grateful for Morkar's actions is Emperor Karl Franz."
Lilith shot him a playful glare before grabbing a scroll and, mimicking Ryan, slid under the covers to snuggle up beside him.
Working side by side like this felt strangely intimate. Ryan couldn't help but smile warmly as he occasionally stole glances and playful touches, which Lilith shyly allowed, knowing they were alone in the tent.
"François's forces are close, with Gérard serving as his deputy," Lilith mentioned casually. "Your Empire Duchess, on the other hand, is taking her sweet time, with all the pomp and splendor of her entourage."
"François only has 15,000 troops, but they're fresh reinforcements," Ryan noted, smiling at the news before his brow furrowed. "Still, that might not be enough for our plans..."
"What about Rokossovsky's forces?" Lilith interjected knowingly. "You have 28,000 soldiers, François has 15,000, and with the Empire and dwarven troops... isn't that enough?"
"The Empire's forces are stretched thin. Based on discussions Louen had with Karl Franz and the emperor's letters, their immediate priority is to reclaim all Imperial territory and expel Chaos forces from their borders," Ryan explained. "As for the dwarves, Thorgarim has already signaled his intent to return to Karak Kadrin. Their aid is invaluable, but they can't help indefinitely. Kadrin itself isn't exactly peaceful, constantly fending off greenskin sieges."
"And what about your Empire Duchess? Would she—and by extension, Nuln's armies—follow you beyond Imperial borders?" Lilith teased. "I know you can persuade Emilia. Convince her, and the army will follow."
"...From the rear, Sulia sent two urgent reports," Ryan said, grabbing two more scrolls. The endless administrative tasks were driving him mad. "Lilith, take a look. Both are related to Kislev."
Lilith skimmed the reports.
The first detailed a mutiny among Kislevite forces in Bretonnia, orchestrated by Belial. The Red Navy, incensed by the Tsarina's "royal decree," led the revolt, placing General Rokossovsky under house arrest (though Sulia diplomatically referred to it as "temporary reassignment as a senior military advisor"). A new commander, Bear Cavalry General Georgy Konstantinovich, had assumed leadership. Ambitious and politically savvy, he had shown exceptional performance during the siege of Erengrad.
The mutiny was no accident; it was Belial's doing. Despite the challenges, the plan appeared to be succeeding. Discontent among Kislevite soldiers had been brewing for some time, and Belial had provided the spark. Many now openly expressed interest in joining the Urgoll Legion to serve under Ryan.
This army, after a period of rest, was set to travel by sea to the northern Ostland port of Norden to rendezvous with Ryan's forces.
The second report was more concerning, detailing corruption at the Kirov Armory in Erengrad.
Of the supposed 1,378 workers, fewer than 300 were qualified engineers or craftsmen. The rest were fictitious names or unskilled laborers hired by those pocketing their wages. The extent of the decay was staggering, with bribes, nepotism, and embezzlement hollowing out the once-proud industrial institution.
Ryan's face darkened as he read. "The former Red Tsar, Boris, bled Kislev's industrial backbone dry, leaving it a hollow shell. Lilith, tell Sulia to deal with this ruthlessly. Keep the 300 qualified workers; send the rest back to Kislev. Let them beg their Tsarina for wages."
Lilith nodded. "Don't be upset, Ryan. Sulia will handle it."
Running a kingdom was no easy task. Ryan let out a weary sigh, passing Lilith the star fragment brought by Araloth.
"By the way, Lilith, Bertrand deserves more than the standard Grail honors for his contributions. What do you think of bestowing the Lady of the Lake's Highest Order? Would you present it yourself?"
"Of course," Lilith replied with a playful smile, leaning closer. In a low voice, she whispered, "And what about my medal?"
"Your medal?" Ryan blinked, confused.
"The one you branded on Sulia," Lilith said, her cheeks flushing. "You've yet to... finalize it. You spend so much time on Sulia's matters, but don't forget about me."
"I... uh..." Ryan's
face turned green, realizing what she meant.
Before he could protest further, a shadow loomed at the entrance of the tent. Startled, Lilith dove under the blankets, her divine shyness getting the better of her.
Ryan quickly resumed his usual lounging position. "Who's there?"
It was, of course, Morgiana. The Fay Enchantress entered with her sacred Grail in hand.
"I've finalized the arrangements for Grail Day," she announced. "We'll distribute jam pies, roasted meats, and wine to every soldier. Knights will also receive honey-cream pastries, and the Old Guard will enjoy maple croissants. As for refugees, I propose..."
Ryan's expression grew increasingly strained as Morgiana spoke, her sharp eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"You're hiding something from me, aren't you?"
"Of course not!" Ryan denied, visibly flustered.
With a swift motion, Morgiana yanked the blanket away, revealing...
"What is this?"
"Uh, this..."
A pair of white unicorn silk stockings fell to the floor.
Soon, the tent was shrouded in mist.
The Next Morning
The grand Grail Day celebration commenced amidst the ruins of Wolfenburg. Knight King Ryan delivered an inspiring speech.
Curiously, Ryan had shaved his beard clean, leaving not even a trace of stubble.
It was... unusual.
But before anyone could dwell on it, the festivities began in earnest.
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