Faced with Emilia's request, Ryan had no choice but to agree—both emotionally and logically.
After all, you wrote the love letter yourself!
This was the downside of that brilliant "love letter strategy." The Knight King had used the letter to tactfully summon Emilia to the front lines without offending anyone's pride—a clever maneuver that turned small gestures into big results.
But every strategy has its drawbacks. Now, Emilia was publicly responding to that letter, and Ryan had no grounds to refuse her, even within the confines of the military camp.
Lake God Prophetess Morgiana, however, was not pleased. Emilia's demand meant she would monopolize most of Ryan's time. "Emilia, this is not what we agreed upon! Now that Ryan only has you and me by his side temporarily, you should've discussed this with me first," Morgiana protested.
"Do you know a certain Wissenland proverb, my dear Morgiana?" Emilia replied with a smug smile. She lifted her chin slightly, exuding confidence. "A hen that can't lay eggs shouldn't hog the nest. Dear Morgiana, it's time to make room for those who can lay eggs, don't you think?"
Ouch.
Emilia's sharp retort not only targeted Morgiana but also implicitly mocked all of Ryan's partners except for Surya, his queen. Ryan, overhearing this, couldn't help but facepalm.
Morgiana's expression darkened; her fury boiled over, and the veins on her forehead were visibly throbbing.
Her inability to conceive a child with Ryan had always been a painful topic for her. While it was well-known that spellcasters weren't incapable of having children, their chances of success were notably low. Unlike the Ice Witches, who had secret potions and techniques to preserve fertility through magical means, most spellcasters could only pray to the gods for good fortune. Even the Lady of the Lake herself couldn't assist her first Chosen One in this matter.
The rare cases where casters like Karad could father a child with his wife Catherine were statistical anomalies.
"Are you declaring war on me, Emilia von Liebwitz-Bernadino?!" Morgiana growled, her face twisted with rage. "I demand an explanation!"
"My explanation is for Sister Surya, not for you, Lady Morgiana," Emilia quipped with a sly grin. She gestured toward Ryan, reminding Morgiana of the new alliance treaty they had just signed. "If you wish to sabotage the hard-earned peace between the Empire and Bretonnia, then go ahead. My Nuln Ironclad Guard and Blackstone Guard are stationed outside. Perhaps we'll finally see who's stronger: Ryan's Old Guard or my Nuln Ironclads?"
Morgiana's face turned livid with rage. She knew Emilia was untouchable—her power base as Duchess of Nuln gave her leverage to challenge even the Lady of the Lake's church and the Bretonnian kingdom itself. After all, she controlled the largest industrial city in the Old World: Nuln.
The damned letter! It's all because of that love letter!
I should never have let Ryan write it back then!
Morgiana's anger only subsided when Ryan moved behind her, gently wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her onto his lap. Seeing Ryan's warning glance, Emilia decided not to push her advantage further. She stood up and smoothed her dress. "It's settled, then, Ryan."
With that, Emilia left the tent.
"Ryan, look at this! Can't you rein in your little maid?" Morgiana huffed angrily, venting her frustration. She turned to Ryan and threw her arms around his neck, still fuming. "Did you see how smug she looked?"
"Alright, alright, Morgiana~" Ryan soothed her, lifting her gently so she sat facing him on his lap. The Knight King reached out, lifting Morgiana's long skirt to reveal her legs wrapped in sheer, flesh-colored stockings. Stroking her silk-covered calf, he spoke softly: "Didn't you notice? When we discussed advancing the campaign, Nuln's Grand Marshal Earlstein and his officers didn't seem too interested, did they?"
"This... seems to be true," Morgiana admitted, though she hadn't been paying close attention to such details. She leaned into Ryan's chest, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"The problem is simple: Nuln's army and merchants have limited interest in continuing the march into Kislev," Ryan explained with a wry smile. "The only effective way to secure their support without compromising too much is to persuade Emilia. As long as Nuln's beloved Duchess commits, we can ensure their assistance."
"Oh, so our Knight King is quite the martyr, isn't he?" Morgiana replied acidly, though she clearly understood his reasoning. "What a selfless man."
"Hahaha!" Ryan laughed heartily at her sarcastic remark.
"Alright, Ryan," Morgiana said, her emerald eyes gazing into his. She gently pressed her forehead against his. "Take care of me first. Then, tonight, you can go keep your Imperial Duchess company."
"Mm!" Ryan found himself silenced as Morgiana leaned in, wrapping her legs tightly around him.
It seemed that, for the time being, our Knight King would be facing battles of a different sort.
The Lion Crosses Ostermark; Warhorses Gallop into the Snowy North
Late March, the Old World. Imperial Border, Kislev's Chaos-Occupied Territories.
Cannon fire thundered across the battlefield, and lightning illuminated the skies.
In the ruins of the town of Zepin, a group of Chaos marauders and warriors fled in abject terror, their bodies battered and bloodied.
"The Southerners! The Southerners are here!"
"Save us! True Gods, have mercy!"
"No! No!"
The Chaos forces were in complete disarray. Under the relentless assault of the human armies, the once-invincible marauders who had marched south under Mortkin's banner were being crushed like insects beneath an iron tide.
Nuln's Greatswords swung their factory-forged zweihanders, slicing through the heavy armor of Chaos Warriors. Bretonnian knights impaled marauders on their lances, while their warhorses shattered the feeble Norse shield walls beneath their iron hooves.
There was no mercy, no chivalry—only slaughter.
This Chaos force consisted of three Norse warbands and two Kurgan tribes hastily cobbled together. Under normal circumstances, they wouldn't have broken so easily. However, when several banners entered the battlefield, they fell into a panic.
They were terrified.
They had seen the personal banner of Knight King Ryan and the tricolor flag of the Old Guard.
Beyond the ruined town, on the snow-covered plains, the Old Guard stood immovable, arranged in flawless square formations in their winter green double-layered coats and bearskin hats. To their right were the equally imposing formations of Nuln's Ironclad Guard and the Blackstone Guard.
Flanking them were two elite knightly regiments led by Morgiana and her twelve Grail Guardians, along with three elite infantry regiments from Nuln and several knightly orders commanded by Nuln's Grand Marshal Earlstein and Duchess Emilia's personal champion, Theodore Bruckner.
The Bretonnian-Nuln Joint Artillery Corps was pounding the enemy with relentless barrages.
This combined force of 10,000 soldiers, personally commanded by Ryan and Emilia, needed no further proof of its might. In the entire Old World, few armies could match its discipline and combat effectiveness.
Standing at the edge of the battlefield, Ryan and Emilia observed the battle through their spyglasses.
"Dear, it seems your 'friend' doesn't want to fight anymore," Emilia remarked, lowering her spyglass. Her cheeks were flushed, her voice brimming with warmth and affection. She felt a comforting heat in her abdomen—the new runes inscribed within her granting her strength and vitality.
"My friend?" Ryan asked, slightly confused as he put down his own spyglass. "Who do you mean, Emilia?"
"That Slaanesh Champion, of course!" Emilia giggled. "I can tell that all he's thinking about now is running away."
"..." Ryan rolled his eyes at her playful teasing and returned to observing the battlefield.
The level of resistance hardly warranted deploying the Old Guard, nor did Ryan feel the need to personally intervene.
The Chaos remnants were in full retreat. The Slaanesh Champion leading them screamed orders for his war chariot to move faster—faster!
"Run for your lives!"
"Bang!" A volley of musket fire from Nuln's handgunners struck the Slaanesh Champion in the back, leaving a smoking hole in his shoulder. Purple blood spurted onto the snow.
Despite this, the Champion's agility allowed him to escape, along with a small group of Chaos Knights. Neither human infantry nor heavy cavalry could catch him in the treacherous terrain of the ruins.
"The Champion got away," Ryan said, lowering his spyglass again. "Typical Slaanesh cowardice—they're as fickle as the wind! No matter. Within an hour, Zepin will become another symbol of victory in the March Storm campaign!"
The human forces pressed on, routing the remaining Chaos troops. The Norscan banners—bearing mutated skulls, mammoths, and the Eight-Pointed Star—were torn down from the ruined gates and replaced by the Lion of Bretonnia, the Fleur-de-Lis, and Nuln's Black-Gold Scales and Lion banner. Soldiers cheered their victory, chanting the names of Ryan, Emilia, and Morgiana.
However, Ryan
's expression remained neutral. He issued orders for the Old Guard to sweep through the town's ruins.
The harsh reality of northern Kislev became increasingly apparent. Although it was late March, temperatures in the region hovered between -5°C and -10°C. Snow fell heavily, blanketing the land.
The challenging weather and dwindling Imperial supplies further complicated the campaign. Much of Ostland and Ostermark had already been devastated, leaving no local resources to requisition. The army frequently had to halt its advance to await supply convoys, and sometimes even retreat slightly to regroup.
While the troops had been outfitted with winter gear and heating equipment, many Bretonnians and Nulners—accustomed to milder climates—found themselves freezing. Morale began to waver, and grumbles spread through the ranks.
"Why are we here, fighting for Kislevites to reclaim their lands?" some soldiers muttered.
Fortunately, many Kislev refugees volunteered to act as guides or joined the logistics corps, driven by the hope that Ryan—a paragon of virtue and justice—truly sought to aid Kislev's restoration.
This is the power of reputation, Ryan thought. The kingdom's centuries-long effort to cultivate the image of chivalry and honor was paying dividends.
Yet challenges persisted. Zepin was merely an insignificant town within the occupied territories, and worse, it was supposed to have already been cleared of Chaos forces.
Inside the camp, Ryan, Emilia, Morgiana, and their officers convened to discuss strategy.
The army had been divided into several contingents:
Ryan and Emilia's Main Force: ~10,000 troops. Duke Lawn's First Army: ~10,000 troops. Duke François's Second Army: ~15,000 troops. Duke Berchmond's Third Army: ~12,000 troops. Earlstein's Nuln Army: ~7,000 troops.
"We still encountered a Chaos force of significant size in an area that should've been cleared. This suggests gaps in Lawn and François's sweeps," Ryan pointed out, studying the map. "François has pushed too far into the tundra."
"The Duke is eager to prove himself," Bertrand remarked. Freshly decorated with the Supreme Lady's Medal, Bertrand spoke with newfound confidence. "He's driven to penetrate deeper into the snowfields, seeking surviving villages and shelters in the forests and mountains."
"I understand his intentions," Ryan sighed. His gaze fixed on François's vanguard, which had advanced near the former Kislevite fortress of Zorn. "But I fear he may run into the main force of Chaos remnants under Tzeentch's champion, Harl the Eternal Eye."
Unfortunately, Ryan's prediction was all too accurate.
Near Zorn Fortress, Mien Forest
François's Second Army faced severe challenges as they advanced into Kislev's frozen wilderness. Unseasonal warming brought rain and sleet, turning the roads into muddy quagmires.
The army's supply wagons and reinforcements bogged down in the sludge, creating logistical chaos. François was forced to halt his advance and wait for supplies.
The miserable conditions and lack of plunder sapped morale among the knights and soldiers. Even Bretonnia's hardy warhorses suffered, many losing weight or sustaining frostbite.
François deployed patrols into the forest to scout for better campsites.
Unfortunately, they stumbled upon Harl the Eternal Eye's Chaos forces—a scattered yet sizable remnant army.
Two patrols were annihilated. Captured survivors revealed François's location.
Harl acted decisively. He ordered his forces to regroup and launched a rapid offensive against the weary and demoralized Second Army.
An ambush was imminent.
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