Imperial Year 2515, July.
Deep within the Drakwald Forest, in the land where sunlight dares not tread.
Even in the height of summer, the Drakwald Forest in Middenland remained shrouded in oppressive shadows and dense fog. Here, the sun never pierced the canopy, and darkness enveloped the forest in a suffocating embrace. The ground was a cold, lifeless wasteland, where all color seemed to have drained away into the decayed soil. Bone piles and massive spider nests littered this corrupted land, a desolate monument to its grim legacy.
Yet today, the forest was visited by a host of uninvited guests.
King Ryan stood atop a small hill in the dense woods, his radiant presence piercing through the unnatural fog like the light of the sun breaking through a storm. His sharp gaze fixed ahead as his regal cloak and white Grail cape billowed around his imposing form.
"I have made countless enemies in my time," Ryan declared with an air of calm arrogance, "but none who have not fallen before me."
The King exhaled softly, his pride radiating as he reflected on his storied past.
"They said Mousillon could never be reclaimed from the filth of its swamps and corruption!"
He recalled the Blitzkrieg assault on Spire Palace, the great battle against Tzeentch's armies, the epic clash at the Landuin Cemetery, and the fateful duel against the treacherous Mathubad in Couronne. Finally, Alfred's torch lit the path to the city's liberation. After 300 years, Mousillon was cleansed and restored.
"They said the Eight Peaks would never return to dwarf hands, forever lost to greenskins and skaven!"
The first battle at Giant's Tower, the siege of Karak Izor, the desperate fight at Ironrock Pass, and the ferocious assault at Valaya's Gate—culminating in the climactic Battle of the Gates of the Titans. Victory at last. The Greenskin Warlord Skarsnik and the Skaven Headtaker Queek fell, and after nearly 3,000 years, Karak Eight Peaks was reclaimed by the Angrund Clan, sparking the revival of the mountain kingdoms.
"They said that the Beastmen and Chaos could never truly be defeated in the forests and icy north!"
The Siege of Chantilon pushed back the World Walkers, the decisive victory at the Swamp of Sorrows shattered the Beastmen's main force, and Operation Bagration ended with Ryan slaying the Norscan High King Aesling. The Three Kings War saw Ryan slay two rival kings in one battle, while the Siege of Hochland decimated Slaanesh's armies. Chaos' main host was crushed at Wolfenburg, and the March Storm reclaimed Erengrad.
"And now? Now they have no words left!" Ryan's voice was filled with pride as he addressed his troops. "They fear me, as they fear the might of thunder and storm! I am Ryan-Malcador, the King of Kings!"
A wave of cheers erupted from his army, their morale ignited by his fiery speech.
Under the shadowy canopy of Drakwald Forest, firelight and ash illuminated the battlefield as the greenskins of the Black Pit fled in utter terror.
The orcs and goblins screamed in panic, scattering wildly. The hulking orcs trembled as they retreated, while goblins crawled and rolled on the forest floor covered in sticky webs. The Bretonnian army poured in from all directions, banners of the tricolor and the lion rampant filling the still air of the forest.
The knights dismounted to pursue the greenskins on foot, bashing them down with shields and driving swords into their chests. Musketeers unleashed volleys of gunfire, their bullets mowing down the fleeing green tide in waves.
Smoke rose in thick plumes as cannons roared, their thunderous shots ripping through the enemy ranks. The massive Arachnarok Queen, the embodiment of greenskin might, collapsed amidst the forest, its eight legs twitching in death throes. Riddled with cannonball wounds, its legs blasted apart, green ichor gushed from its shattered form. The monstrous spider let out piercing, desperate screams, calling its greenskin allies for aid. But by now, the greenskin horde was in full retreat, their morale shattered by the sight of the tricolor banner and the sword-and-fleur-de-lis crest. Even the most formidable savage orcs quaked in fear.
Many greenskins remembered all too well the terror inflicted by those "bear hats and tin cans" during the Battle of Middenstag just months prior.
The once-feared greenskin force that had ravaged Middenland, burning settlements and occupying forts, now fell apart at the mere sight of the Bretonnians.
What had reduced them to this pitiful state?
The greenskins nearest to the Bretonnian lines screamed and scattered like insects under a burning torch, fleeing deep into the forest. Panic spread like wildfire through their ranks. The spiders and their forest-dwelling masters retreated into hollow trees and muddy burrows, hiding until they vanished completely. Even the spiders prowling the forest's edge turned tail and fled.
"Victory! Victory! Victory!"
"Glory to the Lady! Glory to the King! Glory to Bretonnia!"
The Bretonnian troops, torches blazing, stood triumphant over their spoils—a subdued and dying Arachnarok Queen. Once the unstoppable symbol of the Black Pit greenskins' power, it now lay as a mere defeated relic, reduced to ashes by the King's command.
Standing atop the forested hill, Ryan raised his hand, his voice echoing across the dark woods: "Burn it!"
"Burn it! Burn it! Burn it!"
The Bretonnians hurled torches at the Queen's body. Flames engulfed the monstrous spider, its screeches fading as the inferno consumed it. Finally, only ash remained.
Dukes Berchmond and François led their forces deeper into the forest. Meanwhile, Ryan's Old Guard advanced in tight formation beside him, their faces illuminated by divine light. These battle-hardened veterans, though accustomed to victory, still relished the triumphs they achieved under their King. Together, they pressed onward, ready to carve out yet another glorious chapter in their storied history.
The black bearskin caps of the Old Guard, the high tricolor banners, and the burnt husk of the Arachnarok Queen seemed to proclaim the end of the Black Pit greenskins' thousand-year dominion.
All because they had faced the greatest knightly kingdom. All because they had faced him—the great King Ryan-Malcador.
Now, the Bretonnian army stood less than five kilometers from the greenskins' sacred site, where the shrine of the Spider God lay.
The Next Day: Deep Within the Black Pit
The once-revered sanctuary of the Black Pit greenskins was now a smoldering ruin.
Smoke, fire, and despair enveloped the land. The greenskins' former glory had been reduced to ashes. Humanity had come for vengeance, and these so-called "shrimps" were merciless and overwhelmingly powerful.
So powerful that the greenskins had neither the will nor the courage to resist. Only slaughter remained in their wake.
Grib-Toughclaw, the newly crowned Spider King and Chosen of the Spider God, led the remnants of the goblin spider riders in a desperate attempt to rally. The ironclad "shrimp" knights were everywhere. Grib tried to reach the Spider God's central shrine deep within the Black Pit, hoping to unleash the deity's final, most devastating power—the cursed energy of the Bad Moon—to obliterate the Bretonnians.
But before he could reach his goal, he was intercepted by a contingent of knights clad in golden armor—the Grail Knights of the Red Dragon Brotherhood, led by none other than Duke Berchmond.
Berchmond, a descendant of Arthur the First Knight King and a near-demigod in strength, grinned as he raised his mighty Red Dragon Staff. "It's him! My brothers, the Spider King is here! There's no need for chivalry with such filth—charge!"
The Red Dragon knights roared in unison: "For the Lady and the King! For Bretonnia!"
The Spider King hesitated, momentarily trembling before bellowing, "For the Black Pit! For the Spider God! Boys, charge!"
As the goblin spider riders clashed with the Grail Knights, Grib began chanting an ancient incantation.
The battlefield darkened as the Bad Moon's eerie green light bathed the forest. A massive spectral spider emerged from the moon's glow, its form composed entirely of pure moonlight.
The Bretonnian army momentarily faltered, soldiers instinctively retreating at the sight of the unknown entity. Emboldened, the Spider King screeched, "The shrimp are scared! Follow the Spider God's lead! CHARGE!"
The Bad Moon's curse initially proved devastating. Bretonnian soldiers caught in the spectral spider's path were reduced to ash by green flames. Goblin shamans cackled maniacally, praising their god.
But soon, a clear, feminine voice rang out across the battlefield: "Lady's Light!"
The Lake Witch Morgiana and her Prophetesses had arrived. Pure beams of divine light radiated from the Lady's chosen, piercing the Bad Moon's curse. The platinum brilliance of the Lady's light clashed with the sickly green glow of the Bad Moon, creating rippling cracks in the sky
above the Black Pit.
Between the Spider God's power and the Lady of the Lake's divine radiance, there could be no doubt as to the victor. Overwhelmed by the Lady's light, the Spider God's spectral form twisted and dissipated, vanishing entirely.
At the heart of the battlefield, Duke Berchmond faced the Spider King in a decisive duel. Unlike his predecessor, Snagla Grobspit, Grib-Toughclaw lacked the combat prowess to stand against the Red Dragon Duke. His poisoned spear failed to penetrate Berchmond's master-crafted dwarven rune plate. In desperation, he tore at the Duke's cloak but achieved little else.
"In the name of the Lady, die, you filthy green scum!" Berchmond roared, swinging his Red Dragon Staff in a vicious arc. The blow shattered the skull of Grib's monstrous spider mount. As the beast collapsed, Berchmond delivered a second strike, ensuring its death.
Enraged, the Spider King hurled his god-blessed poisoned spear at the Duke. Berchmond, unfazed, calmly caught the spear with his enchanted cloak and shield, blessed by the Lady herself. With contempt, he snapped the spear in two, drew his blade, and plunged it through Grib's feathered mask, piercing his skull.
The Spider King was dead. With their leader slain, the greenskins and spiders scattered, abandoning their sacred land.
"Victory! Victory!" Berchmond triumphantly held up the Spider King's severed head with his blade. "We are victorious!"
The Bretonnian army erupted in thunderous cheers, their voices shaking the Black Pit.
"In the name of the Lady, I declare this land ours!" Ryan proclaimed proudly. "Soldiers, knights, take anything of value—leave nothing behind!"
"Long live the King!"
The looting began.
The Spider God's shrine was toppled, every greenskin hideout and spider nest ransacked. The ravenous Bretonnian army swarmed through the Black Pit, slaughtering greenskins and seizing treasure.
The Black Pit's thousand years of accumulated wealth—including countless spoils of war taken from the Empire over centuries—now belonged to Bretonnia. Gold and jewels were pried from statues, silver enamel was packed into bags, and serfs eagerly unraveled thick spider silk in search of valuable fibers. More discerning free folk sought out spider nests, collecting high-quality spider silk and webbing for fine garments, cloaks, and even luxurious spider-silk stockings.
"Bertrand, take the Old Guard and raid the Spider King's palace," Ryan ordered from a hilltop. "Take whatever you find, but leave the innermost cave untouched. That's mine."
"Yes, sire!" The Old Guard charged ahead. Their greatswords smashed through the palace doors as the elite soldiers began their own treasure hunt.
How much wealth did Bretonnia gain from the looting?
The exact total remains unknown, as Ryan ensured that the Bretonnians "quietly enjoyed their newfound riches." However, scattered accounts give us a glimpse of the spoils.
In his journal, Old Guard Sergeant Bogest wrote:
"As we left the Black Pit, I took stock of my loot. My bag contained hard bread, two jars of honey, three packets of biscuits, a bag of sugar, a bag of salt, two bottles of Imperial beer, and a length of Cathayan silk embroidered with gold dragons and phoenixes. I also had several fist-sized gold nuggets, a pouch of assorted gems, three green enamel trinkets made by greenskins, a damaged gold mask, and a bag stuffed with coins—gold crowns, gold marks, ducats, silver shillings, even coins from Tilea and Estalia. There were too many to count.
In addition, my uniform and baggage cart carried several items: silk dresses, five wolf-fur coats, four silver-plated spider figurines from the Black Pit (each weighing several pounds), three Kislevite snuffboxes, and an ornate spittoon from Erengrad's black market, said to belong to the late Tsarina Katarin. The spittoon was adorned with seven gemstones and carved from alabaster. I washed it several times.
Lastly, I carried two fine satin shirts and a silk vest that a former Kislevite noblewoman traded me for pork ribs, bread, and a jar of honey. Draped over my shoulders was a sable cloak, lined with two bags of premium spider silk and webbing, perfect for making stockings to please my wife back home. Hidden inside the cloak was a lacquer box taken from the Spider King's palace. Hopefully, it will fetch a good price."
While the Bretonnians plundered, Ryan ventured into the Black Pit's deepest recesses.
And there, as expected, lay a legendary relic of the Old Ones.
______
(≧◡≦) ♡ Support me and read 20 chapters ahead – patreon.com/INNIT
For every 50 Power Stones, one extra chapter will be released on Saturday.