Night fell in late September, Imperial Year 2515, in the Kingdom of Bretonnia. Within the luxurious master bedroom of Clément Castle—known as the Palace of Rouen—the King and Queen shared a rare moment of peace.
"I have to admit, Baldwin's father certainly knew how to enjoy life," Ryan remarked as he relaxed in an exquisitely crafted armchair, one of many extravagant furnishings left behind by the fleeing Clément family. Fresh from a bath, the King of Bretonnia held his wife Sulia in his arms, inhaling the faint, intoxicating fragrance of her golden curls.
"After all, the Clément family is one of Bretonnia's oldest noble houses, with a thousand years of history. It's not surprising they've accumulated such luxuries," Ryan added with a smile.
"My father used to tell me that true strength comes from within—a strength of character and skill—not from these external trappings," Sulia replied softly, her voice delicate and tired. She leaned against her husband's chest, her body completely at ease after their shared bath. "But knights with the virtues and strength of my father are rare. As time passes, noble families inevitably succumb to corruption and decadence."
Ryan nodded silently, holding Sulia closer. After her bath, she had changed into a white embroidered gown adorned with golden fleur-de-lis patterns. Her radiant, fair skin glowed in the soft light of the oil lamps, and the high slit of her gown revealed her long, shapely legs encased in black, shimmering stockings. The stockings, made from enchanted spider silk by Olica's Pale Court, were the latest creation of Ryan's palace—a part of the "Stellar Aurora Series." Their translucent, silky texture, combined with an enchanting glossy finish, perfectly accentuated Sulia's elegance and beauty.
This wasn't a practical outfit for lounging after a bath. It was purely for Ryan's enjoyment, a detail Sulia understood all too well.
Seated on the former Earl's throne, the two shared a quiet conversation. Ryan mused, "It's said that noble families rarely last beyond five generations. By the third or fourth, most begin to drift away from their roots and the people who support them, becoming increasingly rigid and decadent. The only thing that has sustained our nobility for a thousand years is the Grail system."
"The Grail Quest…" Sulia nodded thoughtfully. "It forces knights who have lost touch with their people to witness firsthand the hardships and struggles of the peasantry. The quest strips away the complacency that comes with privilege, reminding knights that everything they have is not theirs by right but earned through the sacrifices of others. Years, sometimes decades, of pilgrimage renew the virtues of knighthood. This tradition is the foundation that has kept Bretonnia's nobility from collapsing under its own weight."
Ryan agreed. "In the Empire, noble houses rarely last more than a few generations. Even the Elector Counts' families have changed countless times over the centuries. None of the current Elector Counts are direct descendants of Charlemagne's original Twelve Electors. Some aren't even distantly related. When nobles fail in a world like this, where external pressures are so immense, it often spells their complete annihilation."
The saying "The fortune of a gentleman lasts no more than five generations" applied universally. No matter how vast the wealth or power of a founding ancestor, by the fifth generation, decline was almost inevitable. In this light, it was remarkable that Bretonnia's knightly families had persisted for a millennium.
Two key reasons explained this resilience:
First, the immense external threats of this world forced Bretonnia's knights to continuously adapt, self-select, and eliminate the unworthy. While commoners measured a generation in twenty years, a knightly generation spanned thirty to fifty years due to their longer lifespans.
Second, and more importantly, the power to bestow the Grail was never monopolized by the nobility. It rested solely with the Lady of the Lake. This ensured that no amount of nepotism, scheming, or politicking could secure a Grail for an undeserving knight. Every aspirant had to endure the Grail Quest and prove themselves worthy of the Lady's blessing.
Yet, despite these safeguards, the decay of Bretonnia's nobility was an ongoing challenge.
Sulia's "risky suggestion" stemmed from this understanding. Duke Talbot, a staunch traditionalist, was unlikely to recognize the deeper issues plaguing Bretonnia's aristocracy. Instead of seeking genuine public opinion, he would likely confine himself to the sentiments of his vassal lords. As long as his subordinate nobles shared his discontent with Ryan's reforms, he would consider himself justified.
"This is a fundamental difference in perspective," Sulia explained, leaning into Ryan and allowing him to idly caress her silk-clad legs. Her cheeks flushed slightly as she continued, "But this is also why I have confidence in you. You might not have the full support of the knightly nobility, but among the peasants and freemen, you are a god in their eyes, my love."
"I'm no god," Ryan replied wryly. "I'm merely standing on the shoulders of giants."
The decay of the nobility wasn't a problem that appeared overnight. It was the result of generations of growing detachment from the common people.
Ryan often found himself in awe of a certain librarian from his previous life. Despite the complexities of his time, that man had truly immersed himself among the people, identifying the root causes of societal problems and formulating solutions that addressed those issues at their core. By contrast, many so-called reformers achieved little beyond superficial changes, often benefiting only the elite.
"The next step is straightforward," Sulia said softly. "Knowing Duke Talbot as I do, he will undoubtedly deploy his elite forces to intercept you. Le-Angoulême's knights aren't particularly numerous, and gathering them all at once takes time. That leaves his most likely choice for this task…"
"The Le-Angoulême Blue Kraken Marine Corps!" Ryan concluded, his confident smile returning. "That unit is composed almost entirely of veterans from my past campaigns. On the day of battle, I'll address them personally. With just a few words, I'll have the Blue Kraken Marines surrender on the spot. Le-Angoulême's forces will crumble without a fight!"
"'An old man like me'?" Sulia teased, laughing at Ryan's choice of words. "You're not that old, my dear."
"But I'm wise," Ryan quipped, his hand slipping slightly.
"Stop it, you rascal!" Sulia swatted at him playfully, her cheeks burning. "You just enjoy seeing me flustered, don't you? I know those looks you make me give you in private! If anyone else saw, how could I continue as your Queen with dignity?"
"You're my Queen—my one and only Queen," Ryan replied, effortlessly lifting her into his arms.
Outside the door, Sylvia exhaled softly. Tonight, it seemed, was another night reserved for Sulia.
Feeling a mix of relief and disappointment, Sylvia turned to leave. As a maid and courtier, she knew her place. Unlike Veronica or Teresa, she wasn't one of Ryan's favorites. She counted herself lucky that Ryan's inner circle was relatively small, granting her occasional opportunities to serve.
Just as Sylvia was about to depart, she found herself face-to-face with Olica. The dark elf's mischievous grin sent a chill down Sylvia's spine.
"You... When did you get here?" Sylvia stammered, instinctively stepping back.
"The Master is occupied with the Mistress tonight," Olica said, her amber eyes gleaming with amusement. "Which means I have you all to myself."
"What are you talking about? Stay back!" Sylvia's hand darted to the hilt of her sword, but before she could draw it, she collapsed, her body betraying her.
"Let's get along, shall we?" Olica purred, her voice dripping with wicked delight.
Two Days Later: Le-Angoulême Castle, The Palace of Corduin
Deep into the night, hurried footsteps echoed through the corridors. Edward, Duke Talbot's Minister of Internal Affairs, barged into the Duke's chambers without waiting for permission.
"My Lord! My Lord!" Edward shouted as he burst into the room.
"What is the meaning of this?" Duke Talbot groaned, rubbing his temples. "Edward, you'd better have a good reason for this interruption, or I'll have you removed from your post!"
"Your Grace," Edward panted, his face pale. "The King and Queen are less than ten kilometers from the castle. They'll arrive at our gates by morning!"
"What?! That's impossible!" Talbot shot up from his bed, his heart pounding. "Didn't I send Robert with the entire army to stop them?"
"Robert surrendered, my Lord," Edward reported grimly. He detailed the complete collapse of their forces: the Blue Kraken Marines, along with most of the freeborn and peasant soldiers, defected the moment they saw Ryan. Even a significant number of knights and squires joined the King's side. Robert had no choice but to lay down arms and raise the white flag. Not a single casualty was reported.
"Why?! Why would they betray me?!" Talbot roared, smashing an ornate porcelain vase in frustration. "I've fed them, paid them, led them! They owe me their loyalty! How could they do this?!"
"Your Grace, there's no time for this. We must
decide—do we flee, or...?"
"Flee?!" Talbot slapped Edward across the face. "This is my land, my castle, my inheritance from Corduin himself! I won't abandon it!"
Edward hesitated, then bowed deeply. "Then we await the King's arrival."
Dawn broke over Le-Angoulême Castle. Ryan stood beneath a golden canopy at the city gates, his forces—now swelled to over ten thousand—arrayed behind him.
Alone and unarmed, Duke Talbot stepped out to meet his King.
"Talbot," Ryan said, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You're braver than I expected. At least you didn't abandon your people."
"I am Corduin's heir," Talbot replied, his voice trembling but firm. "Do what you will with me, but spare my family and my people."
"Bretonnians do not kill Bretonnians," Ryan declared. "Surrender, Talbot. No one in Le-Angoulême will suffer for your mistakes—not your soldiers, not your knights, not your peasants, not even you."
After a long silence, Talbot fell to his knees. "I surrender... and pledge loyalty to your reforms. May the Lady forgive my arrogance."
Ryan extended a hand to Talbot. "Rise, Duke Talbot. Together, we'll build a new future."
Cheers erupted as Le-Angoulême's gates swung open. Ryan's triumph was complete—another victory without a single drop of bloodshed.
The news spread like wildfire. With Talbot's capitulation, resistance to Ryan's reforms crumbled across Bretonnia. By autumn of Imperial Year 2515, Ryan had solidified his central authority, setting the stage for the challenges yet to come.
The King had united Bretonnia. Now, he turned his gaze toward the End Times.
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