The next day, the Imperial Duchess arrived with her Nuln army, along with Talleyrand and Theresa.
After a brief handover of responsibilities, Veronica quickly departed, taking Aurora, Theresa, and the Garland Sorceresses—along with dozens of young magic-gifted girls and a significant share of war spoils—back to Bretonnia.
The camp was abuzz with activity as reinforcements from southern Bretonnia, led by François, merged into the main army. With their arrival, the Bretonnian forces swelled to over 40,000 soldiers.
Shortly thereafter, Nuln's elite guard forces arrived, spearheaded by Imperial Duchess Emilia. Dressed in an elegant black and gold robe made from fine silk and wood elf-spun fabrics, Emilia exuded regal grace. Flanked by her hundred-strong Nuln Ironclad Guard and a detachment of Blackstone Guards, her entrance was nothing short of imposing.
As her troops entered the ruined city, Talleyrand, the High Elf diplomat and Ryan's courtier, stepped out of his carriage. Upon seeing the devastated ruins of Wolfenburg, the elf wrinkled his nose in distaste. He immediately pulled out a scented handkerchief and pressed it to his face. Though much of the wreckage had been cleared, Talleyrand could still discern the aftermath of a ferocious battle.
"Perhaps I shouldn't have come here," the elf murmured, spraying himself liberally with perfume from a small bottle. Leaning on his cane, he made his way toward the camp. "But I came anyway—just as I came to the Old World. Always drawn where I shouldn't be."
Talleyrand noticed the Imperial Duchess heading straight for Ryan's command tent. Through the briefly opened flap, he glimpsed Bretonnia's core leadership gathered inside. Once Emilia and Nuln's Grand Marshal, Earlstein, entered, the tent's guards—Blackstone Guards and Old Guard alike—immediately closed the entrance and stood vigilant, barring any further entry.
"Heh, looks like I'm not getting in," Talleyrand muttered, tapping his cane lightly. "But one day, I'll have a seat at that table."
Intrigued, the High Elf turned to survey the camp.
The army was a motley collection of troops. Bretonnia's forces maintained relative order, thanks to the Grail Knights and Damsels overseeing them.
Wagons of supplies rolled into the camp, their flags bearing François's distinctive unicorn emblem and the pure white pegasus crest of his dukedom. Near the Old Guard's camp, Talleyrand saw Raymond, along with a few halberd sergeants and a squad of greatswords, enjoying their breakfast—a hearty meal of steaming meat stew and buttery bread.
Not far from them, a dispute was brewing. A group of Middenland swordsmen was arguing with a band of Ostermark militia over a crate of provisions.
The Ostermark group consisted of five or six boys who looked no older than sixteen and seven or eight elderly men well past their prime. The Middenland swordsmen, clad in standard provincial uniforms with breastplates, helmets, shields, and swords, looked far more imposing.
One of the Ostermark boys clutched a large sack filled with sausages and hams from the Empire's southern regions.
"Hand it over, kid," one of the Middenland swordsmen growled, his tone rough. "You need to learn that this is for the Empire's war effort. What's the point of giving good food to you lot? You think a bunch of old men and child soldiers will retake your lands and drive out the Chaos scum? Now, give it here!"
"This is mine! I got it first!" The boy, his face still bearing the faint fuzz of adolescence, clung desperately to the sack.
"Damn brat! By Ulric's beard!" The swordsman, a bald man with a long, unruly beard, shoved the boy to the ground and snatched the sack away. "Don't make me use force. Useless little runt!"
The four Middenland swordsmen marched off with all the provisions.
Raymond instinctively moved to intervene, but Talleyrand held him back. "My dear captain, please, calm yourself. If I'm not mistaken, that crate of food originally belonged to the Middenland men."
"How can you be sure?" Raymond asked, his voice sharp with irritation. "And what makes you think so?"
"I'm sure, but why should I explain it to you?" Talleyrand replied with a sly grin. "The matter is settled now. Remember, my good knight, this isn't your concern—it's mine. Best keep your righteous indignation in check. These are Imperial men, not Bretonnians. Helping those child soldiers and old men won't earn you honor; it'll get you court-martialed for misuse of force. Heh, heh, heh!"
With that, the High Elf diplomat turned on his heel and strolled away, his cane clicking rhythmically against the ground.
"Bloody pointy-eared bastard," Raymond muttered under his breath, seething.
As Talleyrand wandered the camp, he deftly mediated several disputes. However, the more he saw, the graver his expression became.
The Empire was vast, its provinces many, each proud of its unique culture and traditions. Internal rivalries were inevitable, and mutual understanding was scarce.
Nowhere was this clearer than in Nuln. Talleyrand knew all too well how Nuln residents viewed the rest of the Empire: as either fellow Nulners, the people of Altdorf, or mere countryside bumpkins.
"Different nations, different cultures... How can they ever unite under one banner?" Talleyrand mused, his mind racing. "Even the mightiest of emperors struggled to hold the Empire together. And Ryan... does he seriously think he can annex Kislev—a land with a different culture, race, and religion?"
The High Elf's mind churned with possibilities. If Ryan truly intended to march north and invade Kislev's Chaos-occupied territories, what was his endgame?
Did he really believe he could restore Kislev's borders, establish a puppet government, or even fully integrate the frozen kingdom into Bretonnia?
Ridiculous. If unification were that simple, Ulthuan would have been one cohesive nation long ago.
Still, Talleyrand couldn't help but see an opportunity. If he could assist Ryan in navigating this monumental challenge, it might secure him a coveted place among Bretonnia's inner circle.
Inside Ryan's command tent, the discussion was heating up. Emilia, the Imperial Duchess, maintained her characteristic poise, smiling faintly but withholding her opinion.
"I have no intention of annexing Kislev outright," Ryan said, addressing Emilia. "We'll abide by the Old World's traditions. Any new Kislevite government will be chosen by its people. But if you ask me whether our kingdom would support such a regime, my answer is a resounding yes."
"And what about Katarin?" Emilia's smile was knowing, her red-lace-gloved fingers supporting her chin.
"We recognize Katarin as Kislev's rightful Tsarina," Ryan replied, spreading his hands innocently. "We've maintained diplomatic relations and mutual recognition. Why wouldn't we acknowledge her?"
"But if she demands to reclaim her territory?" Emilia pressed.
"Erengrad has always been an autonomous city," Ryan countered smoothly. "If the time comes, we'll hold a public referendum to establish a Grand Duchy of Erengrad. It will have its own administration and military, under our protection. Even the Tsarina must respect the will of Erengrad's people and its Duma council. Naturally, we'll make our stance clear."
Emilia crossed one booted leg over the other, her sharp mind weighing Ryan's proposal.
Erengrad's strategic and economic value was undeniable. As a major port, it was a hub for trade in furs, whale oil, exotic treasures, and northern goods. Controlling it would yield immense profits.
Moreover, Ryan was right: the Empire needed a buffer zone to shield its core territories from Chaos incursions.
"I admit, your plan has merit," Emilia said, stifling a yawn behind her ornate fan.
Ryan felt a twinge of unease. Emilia's nonchalant demeanor hinted at potential resistance. Bretonnia's forces, while well-armed, still relied heavily on Nuln for artillery and financial support.
"Will you support us, Emilia?" Ryan asked directly, sensing her leverage.
The Duchess's blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh? So you're asking me for a favor, Ryan?"
"I'm requesting your assistance, Emilia." Ryan smiled, though his tone carried a hint of frustration.
"In that case, I have two conditions," Emilia said, raising two fingers.
"First, I want joint command of the expedition. I'll lead Nuln's Ironclad Guard, Blackstone Guards, and my personal troops alongside you."
"Agreed." Ryan nodded—this was a reasonable request.
"Second," Emilia continued, her tone sweet but firm, "once Erengrad is secured, I want a district of the city designated for Nuln. Additionally, any future duchy or governing body must include a permanent seat for Nuln's representatives. Trade tariffs will favor Nuln, with the first year entirely tax-free."
"Agreed." Ryan nodded again, finding her demands fair.
"
Then it's settled!" Emilia declared with a triumphant smile.
As the others filed out, the tent was left with only Ryan, Morgiana, and Emilia.
Alone at last, the Duchess's cheeks flushed as she approached Ryan, raising three fingers.
"One more condition, my dear husband~"
"A third condition???" Ryan's instincts screamed of impending trouble.
"Ryan, let's have another child!" Emilia said, her smile both radiant and mischievous.
"???"
______
(≧◡≦) ♡ Support me and read 20 chapters ahead – patreon.com/INNIT
For every 50 Power Stones, one extra chapter will be released on Saturday.