By September, the palace in Couronne was no longer unbearably hot.
"Your Majesty, Your Majesty, it's time to get up. Breakfast is ready."
On the massive bed in the royal master bedroom, Ryan was gently woken from his sleep. Someone was urging him to rise, but the King of Knights remained in a half-asleep daze.
Mmm, the scent of irises. It must be Sulia, Ryan thought groggily.
And to my right? Mmm, roses. That must be my personal cuddle pillow.
He rolled over and wrapped his arms around Olica, intent on going back to sleep.
"Your Majesty, my Lady, it's time to wake up!" The voice grew slightly stern as it addressed their refusal to rise. "Breakfast is ready. According to protocol, the King and Queen must get up now. If you wish to rest, you can do so this afternoon."
At that moment, Sulia, lying on Ryan's left, also opened her eyes. The Queen of Knights yawned delicately and stared blankly at the ceiling for a moment before being prompted to rise by Sylvie, the head maid. Sulia had grown accustomed to such punctual routines. She tried to get up but realized her legs were weak and sore. Her face flushed with embarrassment as she inwardly blamed Ryan for overexerting her the previous night—and for roping Olica into the affair during her moment of vulnerability.
She scolded herself for letting her guard down after being apart from Ryan for so long. Next time, she vowed, her time with her husband would belong solely to her.
Well… maybe she would share with the Lady.
Remembering last night, Sulia's gaze shifted to the head maid, Sylvie, who stood by the bedside. Sylvie, Ryan's chamberlain and Sulia's personal maid, was dressed in a traditional black-and-white maid outfit. Unlike Olica, who exuded an aura of seduction and mystery in the same uniform, Sylvie's attire gave her a dignified, authoritative air.
Sulia vaguely recalled that Sylvie had also been dragged into last night's events by Olica. "Sylvie, what time is it now?"
"It's already 8 a.m., my Lady," Sylvie replied, her face flushed but her demeanor professional. "Even after such a long campaign, it's time to get up."
"Indeed, my dear, it's time to rise," Sulia said, allowing Sylvie to help her up. She then joined her in urging Ryan to leave the bed.
Resigned, Ryan sat up. The King stretched, his mind still foggy, before heading to the washroom under Sylvie's watchful guidance.
"Your Majesty," Sylvie began as Ryan stood before the mirror, brushing his teeth with high-grade elven toothpaste. Her face was unusually red, though her tone remained serious. "Your Majesty..."
"Just call me Ryan," he interrupted, smiling at her through the mirror. "I like it when you call me that, Sylvie."
Sylvie, with her disciplined and commanding demeanor, was the polar opposite of Olica, whose playful nature often tempted Ryan to tease her.
"Ryan… I understand that your campaign was exhausting, but this is the royal palace, not elsewhere. Many matters require your attention, and many eyes are watching you," Sylvie said, clasping her hands in front of her. Despite being in her early thirties, her legendary rank and Ryan's spiritual markings kept her youthful appearance akin to a young maiden of twenty. Her maid uniform, which extended just a few inches past her knees, modestly revealed her elegant legs wrapped in translucent brown garter stockings and ending in polished brown leather shoes.
"You've already planned out my schedule, haven't you?" Ryan sighed, brushing his teeth with resignation.
"After breakfast, Your Majesty, you must meet with my father, Vincent," Sylvie stated earnestly. "He'll report on this year's agricultural yields and developmental plans. Following that, you'll need to review the new research budget from Mousillon's second chief engineer, Urban. Then, there's the routine reception for Couronne's local officials…" She paused before continuing, "This afternoon, there's an afternoon tea gathering and the routine court meeting, and in the evening, a victory banquet."
"Alright, alright," Ryan muttered, rinsing his mouth. "Am I always this busy?"
"Not always," Sylvie hesitated before replying. "But the Queen believes that the post-campaign workload must be completed over the next few days. Afterward, you'll have more leisure time."
"There's always something to do," Ryan sighed, finishing his morning routine.
After washing up, Ryan donned his royal attire, while Sulia dressed in one of her favorite outfits: the same white military blouse and blue pleated skirt she had worn to greet Ryan the previous day. Her flawless, long legs were sheathed in sheer black lace stockings, complemented by blue stiletto heels. Together, the King and Queen enjoyed a quick breakfast before heading to the study to manage state affairs. Olica stood silently behind Ryan, while Sylvie attended Sulia.
"While you were away, Ryan," Sulia began with a warm smile, glancing at her husband seated across from her, "I practically replaced the entire palace staff over the past six months. Now, the palace is filled with people loyal to us. You no longer need to worry about outside interference."
"Didn't you encounter any trouble?" Ryan asked, flipping through a document. It was a report from Kandereva, the kingdom's Chief Justice, concerning sentencing guidelines for crimes committed by the army. Kandereva was infamous throughout the Old World for his impartiality and harsh punishments. However, he had a penchant for wood elf fruit wine, and those who bribed him with large quantities could often negotiate reduced sentences or even acquittals.
"No significant issues," Sulia replied tenderly. "With you and the Lady backing me, everything was resolved smoothly. Many palace traditions are merely customary. But you're different, Ryan—you don't need these customs to validate your authority."
The couple worked together on state matters, discussing and resolving issues collaboratively. Occasionally, their opinions diverged, but Sulia usually deferred to Ryan, who, in turn, reconsidered his stance if necessary.
Olica, seated beside Ryan, remained silent, her amber eyes filled with admiration for her master. The dark elf diligently served tea and organized documents.
Sylvie, too, felt a profound sense of satisfaction witnessing her mistress and the King working harmoniously. The palace, once cold and distant, now felt alive and secure. Though she couldn't articulate it, Sylvie was genuinely happy about Ryan's victorious return.
Ryan, however, couldn't help but sigh as he faced the mountain of paperwork.
He could, theoretically, delegate everything to his newly-formed bureaucracy, spending his days indulging in luxurious decadence, hosting banquets, and attending to his queen and his personal maid.
But Ryan knew that such behavior would foster laziness. Over time, he'd grow dependent on his officials, who, in turn, would amass unchecked power. Left unsupervised, they would establish "norms" and "unwritten rules," exploiting the system for personal gain.
Thus, Ryan insisted on personally reviewing many matters and conducting surprise inspections.
After a productive morning, Vincent, Sylvie's father, arrived to present a report. Once a shadow of his former self, Vincent had regained his vigor under Ryan's leadership and now served as a key agricultural advisor.
The news was good: Bretonnia had become the largest and most critical agricultural exporter in the Old World. In the aftermath of the Chaos Invasion, Bretonnia now produced 60% of the continent's grain, leading in wheat, barley, corn, and fruit production. Its livestock and poultry output comprised 50% of the total, while its wine industry held an 80% market share, dominating human commerce.
"This is excellent news," Ryan said, smiling. Agriculture was the backbone of Bretonnia's economy, and its flourishing state provided a stable foundation for future development.
After the report, Ryan handed Vincent a new task: overseeing a delegation of Norse dwarfs traveling south to inspect the brewery left by Belegar, King of Eight Peaks.
As Vincent left, Olica teased Sylvie, licking her lips. "He's quite the caring father, isn't he? Seeing his daughter cherished must bring him peace of mind. Master, Sylvie is also one of your court attendants. Don't neglect her, alright?"
"Olica!" Sylvie blushed furiously, especially when Sulia covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. Flustered, the head maid marched over to confront the dark elf.
But Sylvie, for all her dignity, was no match for Olica. Like a butterfly, the dark elf evaded her approach and playfully poked Sylvie's waist.
"Just you? Can't even handle our master's affection?"
"Ah!" Sylvie's legs buckled, leaving her kneeling on the floor, trembling with frustration.
Ryan pretended not to notice and continued his work.
Meanwhile, Sulia casually mentioned a request from Bertrand: "He suggests a rule banning women under forty from entering the Old Guard's barracks as cooks or attendants."
Ryan chuckled, shaking his head. "There are around 500 to 600 unmarried Old Guard members, but at least 100,000 to 200,000 women in Bretonnia want to marry them. Bertrand's right to enforce this."
Sulia nodded before presenting another matter. "Fugen
and Julius sent word. Soon, some Asuryan envoys will arrive to consult with you about dealing with the Slaanesh daemon prince, Shalaxi Helbane. They call themselves… the Death Reapers?"
Ryan narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Death Reapers? Understood."
"Oh, and there's one more piece of news," Sulia added with a mischievous smile. "Your brother Leman Russ visited last month. He and Angron had a duel in the wilderness near Bordeleaux. Both were beaten bloody, but Angron ultimately won and tossed Russ into the sea."
"Hah!" Ryan couldn't suppress his laughter.
"Serves him right!"
"Why didn't Angron smash his wolf hammer and give his brat Vasily a proper lesson while he was at it?"
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