After learning that Alfred was safe, Ryan felt a heavy weight lift from his heart. "Are you certain?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Talleyrand replied, leaning on his cane and smiling at Ryan. "According to the latest reports, Patriarch Alfred will remain in Altdorf for some time. It is said that His Eminence, the High Priest, has announced his promotion to Cardinal. This is indeed good news, Your Majesty."
"It's not entirely good news, Talleyrand," Ryan said, his initial joy giving way to more measured thoughts. The Knight King frowned as he considered Alfred's promotion to Cardinal. "Do you know what this means? It means Alfred will have to permanently reside in Altdorf, serving as the High Priest's advisor and assistant. This means that the diocese of Western Bretonnia will need to appoint a new patriarch."
"That is correct. However, it seems that the Church of Justice is willing to bend some small traditions for this matter. It is possible that Alfred may simultaneously serve as Cardinal and Patriarch of the Western Bretonnian Diocese," Talleyrand said with a grin, still leaning on his cane. "I suspect His Eminence has arranged things this way."
"That's possible," Sulia chimed in before Ryan could respond. The queen, dressed as a knight, turned toward her husband. "But if this happens, it likely won't just be Alfred who comes back. He could bring an entire entourage—a large protective force, a complete administrative team, and even a battalion of battle priests..."
"Alright, alright, Sulia!" Ryan interrupted, sitting back down in his chair. He admired his queen's sharp political instincts, but at this moment, he wanted to avoid premature conclusions. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. If the Church of Justice provides Alfred with a ready-made administrative team, then we'll have reason to be cautious. But think about it, my dear. Is it possible that Archbishop Vikma is letting Alfred build his own team from scratch?"
"That's also possible," Sulia said after some thought. She sighed. "My concern is the tremendous losses. The Church of Justice must be severely weakened after these years of conflict. And with Alfred losing so many of the 800 people he took with him, what will happen to the local civilians? How will they be compensated? How will the grievances of the bereaved families be handled? This war brought no tangible benefits and had nothing to do with protecting the homeland. If Alfred cannot provide adequate compensation or appease the anger of the bereaved families, won't that burden fall squarely on your shoulders?"
"That's indeed a problem," Ryan acknowledged, his wife's words striking a chord.
The series of glorious victories in Bretonnia's grand expeditions had brought unparalleled benefits to its people. But it also had side effects: the Bretonnians had begun to take victory for granted.
Alfred's recent campaign, however, was far from convincing. Ryan understood all too well how easy it was to rally people around the idea of "fighting to protect our homes and interests." It offered not only a sense of purpose but also the possibility of social mobility, prompting people to participate enthusiastically.
But trying to convince ignorant serfs or even most freemen that they were fighting for "the welfare of humanity and the safety of order" was a near-impossible task.
Some might point to the past as evidence to the contrary, such as the collective victories achieved by the people of certain regions in his previous life on Earth. However, Ryan dismissed such comparisons. Ideals and spirit were undoubtedly powerful, but nothing motivated people more than tangible benefits. Land reforms, for instance, provided real, life-changing advantages to oppressed farmers, which was why they willingly followed.
Why had Ryan been able to subdue all the dukes of Bretonnia without spilling a drop of Bretonnian blood? Because he had brought tangible benefits and protections to the common people.
But Alfred's actions didn't align with this model.
"How many of Alfred's troops survived?" Ryan asked Talleyrand after some thought. "Is that information available?"
"It is," Talleyrand confirmed after glancing at the report again. "A total of 46 people survived and are currently staying with Lord Alfred in Altdorf."
"Promote all 46 of them. Elevate the surviving serfs to freemen and the freemen to honorary freemen," Ryan instructed calmly. "If there are already honorary freemen among them—if there are any—I will knight them. Let's organize these 46 individuals into a new team. They will form the foundation of Alfred's future administrative staff."
"Then they will need a name, Your Majesty—a name bestowed by you personally," Talleyrand said respectfully.
"Forty-six people, huh?" Ryan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. The number 46 stirred some vague memories.
"Let's call them… Nogizaka 46!"
Three days later, in Bretonnia, on the canal connecting the city of Gien to Mousillon, the royal banner of a sword-and-yellow fleur-de-lis fluttered in the wind.
Knight King Ryan was traveling to Mousillon to investigate the situation personally.
On the ship's deck, Ryan stood with Belegar, admiring the scenery along the canal. The first phase of the canal construction was complete, the second phase was nearing completion, and preparations for the third phase were underway.
"Brother Ryan, I heard you financed this canal entirely through national bonds?" Belegar asked, intrigued. "Pledged against canal tolls and tariffs?"
"Why? Is there a problem?" Ryan grinned slyly. "I didn't have to spend a single coin of my own, and it even strengthened the credibility of our national bonds."
"Ah, yes, national bonds," Belegar said with a touch of regret. "Too bad this approach doesn't work for dwarves. You know how it is, Brother Ryan. Dwarven clans only recognize gold—or maybe mithril, vibranium, obsidian, or some other tangible resource. They'd never accept bonds as payment."
"Are you suggesting that humans are more inclined to trust each other?" Ryan said with a sly smile, easily interpreting Belegar's meaning.
"Ah, Brother Ryan is trying to tempt me, but as the true King of Eight Peaks, I won't fall for your schemes!" Belegar laughed heartily, stroking his white beard. "But Brother Ryan, there's something I need to discuss with you."
"Go ahead," Ryan replied casually.
"Duergar Ironhand mentioned to me privately that you seem to be deliberately suppressing the expansion of Mousillon's military-industrial complex," Belegar said candidly. "He remembers suggesting multiple times to establish more factories, hire more workers and apprentices, and expand into surrounding areas, but you've consistently refused. Why is that, Brother Ryan?"
"The reasoning is simple," Ryan said with a chuckle. "Unlimited industrial expansion is easier said than done. What happens if the goods produced can't be sold?"
"Why wouldn't they sell?" Belegar still didn't understand. "You have such a large country with a population of over eight million. Surely there's a market for the goods?"
"Yes, there are plenty of people. But what if most of them can't afford to buy anything?" Ryan continued with a smile. "Most people work hard just to put food on the table. How could they have spare money to buy weapons from a military-industrial complex? Should they stop eating? Stop farming?"
"Uh…" Belegar was momentarily speechless.
Ryan understood all too well the inherent deadlock of industrialization, which was why he was using administrative measures to curb Mousillon's industrial growth.
The industrial deadlock was straightforward: industrial production required robust agricultural support. During production, industry always leaned toward overproduction, seeking higher profits and producing excess goods.
When overproduction occurred, unsold goods would pile up. As industrialization advanced, labor costs would inevitably rise. At that point, industries would turn to foreign markets to dump excess goods, seek cheaper labor, or source more affordable raw materials to maintain profitability.
What if domestic demand was saturated? Then open up foreign markets.
What if domestic labor became too expensive? Then import cheap labor or migrants.
What if domestic raw materials became too costly? Then suppress raw material prices or import them.
And when these markets became saturated? When labor became expensive again? When raw material costs rose again?
The cycle would repeat endlessly.
How to address this? The historical answers were clear: triangular trade, colonial expansion, the opium trade.
But in this world, those paths were difficult to pursue. Triangular trade? Raid Ulthuan and Naggaroth for elf slaves? Invade Lustria to capture lizardmen?
Even setting aside the risk of rebellion and secession, overseas colonization required defeating powerful indigenous forces. While Bretonnia had triumphed over the Arabyans, the Tomb Kings lurking in the desert's depths were a different matter…
Would it be wiser to turn against the neighboring Empire, the dwarves, or the wood elves?
If industrial expansion stagnated, crises would inevitably arise.
Ryan also emphasized another point to Belegar: the importance of maintaining a prosperous agriculture sector and societal stability. Many underestimated agriculture's significance, but Ryan knew it was the foundation of a nation. Only with a strong agricultural base could the kingdom hope to survive the End Times. Agriculture came first; industry was secondary.
Ryan had long clashed with the merchant princes of Marienburg for this reason. Capital was never a benevolent force. Wealthy merchants prioritized profit above all else, often resorting to deceit and exploitation. Capital sought only two things: profit and self-growth.
For Ryan, prioritizing agriculture and suppressing excessive commercial and financial development were part of the same strategy.
To illustrate, he offered a simple analogy: "If I can live off rental income, why would I toil in the fields or work in a factory?"
Renting out property was too slow a way to make money. Speculating on real estate was quicker.
Even real estate speculation was too slow. Why not speculate on land rights instead?
And if land speculation wasn't fast enough? Then create and sell abstract concepts.
This game of passing the buck, finding the next fool to take the loss, was how property prices in Nuln had skyrocketed.
But when true disasters struck—when the End Times loomed—what would remain of these supposedly prosperous markets and inflated financial systems once their bubbles burst?
"You're absolutely right, Brother Ryan," Belegar said thoughtfully after listening. The King of Eight Peaks nodded silently, his mind racing with considerations. He now understood why Thorgrim Grudgebearer, after becoming High King, had repeatedly emphasized the importance of dwarves achieving self-sufficiency in food and ale production.
Thorgrim's beard may be long, Belegar mused, but Ryan's wisdom outshone it.
Mousillon's military-industrial complex followed strict dwarven rules: a ten-hour workday, two rest days every ten days, and holidays for all official festivals. The high labor costs were partly due to Ryan's insistence and partly to dwarven stubbornness. However, the result was that Mousillon's factories, except for a few key products, couldn't compete with Nuln's. Bretonnia couldn't rely entirely on imported firearms, so Ryan had to suppress industrial growth while subsidizing it simultaneously. The three chief engineers—Duergar Ironhand, Shelgo, and Kalashnikov—had voiced their frustrations, which Duergar had shared with Belegar, prompting this discussion.
Ryan squinted, his focus clear: build strong defenses, stockpile resources, and develop cautiously. Surviving the End Times was the ultimate goal.
At that moment, the world underwent another seismic shift. The Knight King instinctively turned his gaze northward.
Another of the world's Great Guardian Nodes had failed!
Meanwhile, in the northern seas, across from Bretonnia's coast, lay the enigmatic island of Albion, shrouded perpetually in mist.
North of the Great Ocean, west of Norsca's shores, Albion was a site of great significance. When the Old Ones arrived in this world, they quickly recognized Albion's potential. Its mild climate, fertile soil, and abundant crops made it an ideal location. The Old Ones established it as a key outpost.
At that time, humans already inhabited Albion. The Old Ones taught these primitive people prophecy and sacred words, transforming them into "Truthsayers." These individuals allegedly spread the seeds of civilization to others. However, no definitive evidence supported these claims.
Then came the cataclysm everyone knew: the collapse of the Old Ones' polar gates. Chaos flooded the world, and the Old Ones disappeared. No one knew whether they fled or perished, but before leaving, they left Albion two invaluable gifts: the Stone Circles and the Colossi.
The Stone Circles generated a massive barrier, preventing Chaos corruption from advancing beyond Norsca. The Colossi wielded immense power, repelling Chaos invaders until the Great Vortex was completed and Chaos retreated.
The cost, however, was immense. Albion became shrouded in eternal mist, its sunny skies and lush landscapes reduced to a memory. Torrential rains and storms turned the land into a muddy swamp. Isolated from the world, the Truthsayers' tribes suffered from inbreeding, growing increasingly ignorant and losing the Old Ones' knowledge. The Colossi, too, regressed into mindless brutes.
Thousands of years later, the original Daemon Prince, Be'lakor, arrived on Albion.
Be'lakor was the first Daemon Prince in the universe, once second only to the Four Chaos Gods themselves. Blessed by all four, he harbored ambitions of becoming the fifth Chaos God. But his hubris angered Tzeentch, who cursed him by stripping away his physical form. Be'lakor was reduced to a shadow, much of his power siphoned into the Chaos artifact known as the Crown of Domination. From then on, he became a tormented soul, oscillating between madness and clarity.
Be'lakor was left with one task: to guard the Crown of Domination and anoint the next chosen champion of Chaos, who would serve as the mortal vessel for the Gods' will.
This cycle repeated several times. Occasionally lucid, Be'lakor set his sights on Albion's Stone Circles. He corrupted the remaining Truthsayers, convincing them he was one of the Old Ones and earning their worship.
After corrupting some Truthsayers into Dark Emissaries, Be'lakor gained access to the Old Ones' energy within the Stone Circles. He came close to regaining his physical form but was ultimately defeated by a coalition of High Elves, humans, and Lizardmen.
But today, Be'lakor's seal was broken by a traveler. After decades of searching, this wanderer had finally found the original Daemon Prince.
"Where is the Crown of Domination?" the traveler demanded, his voice tinged with both satisfaction and irritation.
"Ahaha, another fool rushing headlong toward his doomed fate!" Be'lakor sneered, his terrifying form enough to freeze the hearts of mortals.
"I'll ask you one last time. Where is the Crown of Domination?" The Chaos blade Slayer of Kings emerged from its sheath, its bound daemon, U'zuhl, stirring with anticipation.
"Straight to the point, are we? Very well. The final artifact, the Crown of Domination, lies deep within the Chaos Temple in the northern World's Edge Mountains, past the Blades of Khorne."
"Take me there. Now."
"As you wish."
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