As previously mentioned, the alliance between Manfred and Arkhan was fragile and perilous, with both seeking to use the other.
However, if we delve into the depths of their dark intentions, Manfred's schemes were far more sinister. Since his transformation into a vampire, Manfred had always been disdainful of the methods of Vlad von Carstein, the progenitor of vampires. In Manfred's eyes, Vlad's actions were too "righteous" and uninteresting.
It was precisely this righteousness that led to Vlad's grand plans always falling short.
For Manfred, there was no greater pleasure than stabbing someone in the back, watching them weaken bit by bit, and ultimately ensuring their complete defeat.
So, how could Manfred achieve his goal of unifying the world?
There was no rush. After being annihilated by the Grand Theogonist's "Liberation Spell" at the gates of Brunswich during the final stages of the Vampire Wars, and subsequently being slain by Prince Martin of Stirland in Hel Fenn, the cunning Manfred had resurrected in the shadows. He spent centuries observing the Old World. For a vampire of his stature, a few centuries were but a fleeting moment. Satisfied with the restoration of his power, the Vampire Count lay in wait for his next move.
The Great War taught Manfred one thing: if the elves, dwarfs, and humans united, even the apocalyptic armies of the Dark Gods could be repelled. Manfred would not make the same mistake.
Thus, he had to find a way to dismantle the Order Alliance.
This was why, despite not truly wishing for Nagash's resurrection, Manfred ultimately chose to cooperate with Arkhan and even put in some effort. Firstly, the von Carstein family had invested many years in this endeavor, and Manfred knew that to sow chaos across the Old World and achieve his ambitions in the cracks, he needed Nagash's power.
Secondly, he had to create rifts within the Order Alliance, weaken the military forces of the Old World, and diminish the powers that would obstruct his goals.
Of course, the reason Arkhan cooperated with Manfred was that long ago, after Nagash's first defeat, Arkhan had also attempted to break free from Nagash's control. However, the Lich King soon realized that whether undead or vampire, as creations of Nagash, they were destined to remain under the Undead Lord's dominion. Once he fully understood this, Arkhan resigned himself to serving Nagash faithfully.
Manfred, however, remained oblivious to this.
Now, within the fortress of Nagashizzar, the last Vampire Count stood in a decaying, necromantic wind-filled alchemy chamber. He took out a vial of pure elf blood, poured it into a bowl, and began to chant.
This bowl hailed from the ancient empire of Nehekhara. When the Nehekharan desert was still a lush rainforest and a battlefield for warring kings, and when Settra, the Tomb King, finally defeated all the Nehekharan monarchs to establish Khemri, the humans of the Old World were still playing in the mud. The thought of this made Manfred smirk. His fingers traced the ancient runes on the surface of the magical artifact as he adeptly used Chaos magic to perform a divination.
Yes, not necromancy, but Chaos magic. Over centuries of accumulation, Manfred had absorbed enough Chaos energy from the Chaos Wastes to master numerous Chaos spells. The last Vampire Count was well aware that Chaos magic brought corruption and the attention of the Dark Gods, but for someone as wise, powerful, and experienced as himself, what harm could it possibly do?
As expected, the moment the divination began, whispers of the Dark Gods filled Manfred's ears. Ignoring them, he focused on the visions unfolding before him.
In the distant and frigid Norsca, a massive barbarian army was gathering under the command of the Bride of Khorne, the Valkyrie. Hundreds of Chaos tribes—perhaps more—were praying before Khorne's throne. The Valkyrie was desperate for more skulls to offer as her dowry to Khorne. Having failed in her previous assault on Norsca, she had now amassed an even larger army. The whispers of the Dark Gods had transformed into a tempest of Chaos, and one after another, Chaos demon warbands emerged from rifts, roaring to sweep across the mortal world. Some Chaos tribes had already ventured south, attacking the Dark Elves' watchtowers and fortresses along the northern border.
In the hot and rainy Lustria, swarms of Skaven were gathering, chittering incessantly as they prepared for their own Great Horned Rat Crusade to deliver a fatal blow to the cold-blooded Lizardmen. The seal of Zha'haz'khad had been broken, and hordes of Chaos demons were pouring out. Just as Manfred was gleefully observing, a purple-golden phoenix arrived. Alone, it faced an entire legion of Chaos demons. Minutes later, a guard of phoenix flame-wreathed warriors arrived to protect their invincible leader, engaging the Chaos demons in battle. Flames engulfed the forest as the fight raged on.
It seemed these demons were no match for these humans!
Manfred clicked his tongue in displeasure and continued his divination, turning his gaze westward to the Old World.
Bretonnia, with its picturesque landscapes and towering castles, was peaceful and serene. When Manfred attempted to focus on where Ryan was, a blinding white light filled his vision, signaling immense danger.
He couldn't look any further!
Damn you, Ryan! I curse you to have sons without assholes and daughters without dicks!
Shifting his gaze, the image of Silver Pinnacle appeared before Manfred. There, Neferata, the Blood Queen of Lahmia, was licking her wounds. Manfred couldn't help but stare a little longer, his expression bitter and disgusted.
When I rule the world, I'll throw you into the Chaos Wastes for the Dark Gods to feast upon!
The final scene was the capital of Ulthuan, Lothern. There, the Everqueen Alarielle and Phoenix King Finubar's daughter, the young Queen Alarielle the Radiant, was preparing to depart. Surrounding her were several Dragon Princes, regiments of spearmen, archers, and Lothern Sea Guard, a unit of Ellyrian Reavers, two court mages, a group of tree spirits, a unit of Sisters of Avelorn, and three giant eagles. This was the entire entourage of the young Queen Alarielle.
Who do they think they're fooling? Manfred couldn't help but smile.
Is this it? Really? Just this?
With such a meager force, they think they can stand against my legions of Sylvania and the dozens of undead armies of Nagashizzar?
This young queen was the key to breaking the Order Alliance and resurrecting Nagash.
Just as he was about to continue observing, the scene shifted. A skeleton wearing the Lich King's crown and wielding an ancient tomb blade appeared before Manfred. It was Arkhan, his voice calm and courteous: "How goes it, Manfred? What's the progress?"
"I've secured the loyalty of the armies of Nagashizzar," Manfred replied with pride. "As for that immensely powerful and pure soul, she's already preparing to journey to the Old World."
"I see," Arkhan nodded. "Lord of the von Carsteins, I thank you on behalf of the Undead Lord for your contributions."
"It is my duty. The von Carsteins are forever loyal to the Undead Lord," Manfred said with utmost sincerity. "While I labor for the resurrection of the Undead Lord, my Lich King, what have you been doing?"
"I've been gathering an army deep within the Grey Mountains and Black Mountains," Arkhan's tone remained gentle. "Our master's staff remains trapped within La Maisontaal Abbey. I must retrieve it."
"Then I wish you success," Manfred added in his heart: I hope you die there and never return.
Manfred had already planted several vampire spies around Arkhan, ready to betray him at any moment.
Arkhan's hollow eyes burned with soulfire as he gazed at Manfred, who carefully controlled his expression, ensuring not a single muscle betrayed his thoughts.
"You must be prepared. When you capture the young Everqueen, the High Elves will not sit idly by," Arkhan said after a few seconds of silence. "Tyrion, Teclis—they will rally all their forces. Humans, dwarfs, and elves will come."
"Let them come!" Manfred spat venomously. "I need more recruits anyway."
"You cannot face three forces simultaneously," Arkhan said politely. "I must remind you, my Count, as you know, Kemmler is dead, Mallobaude is dead, and with the fall of Mousillon, we have no influence or power left west of the Grey Mountains."
"Bretonnia? They're too far from Nagashizzar. By the time those chivalric fools arrive, we'll have completed the ritual," Manfred sneered. "As for Karl Franz and his Empire? If they could unite, perhaps they'd pose a threat, but that's impossible."
"Nothing is impossible," Arkhan remained patient, even informing Manfred: "He has a good relationship with Teclis."
But Manfred read more into it: "You have a plan?"
"Yes," Arkhan nodded. "It could be considered Mallobaude's final legacy to us. It can only be used once, at the most critical moment, to distract that troublesome Knight King. But not now."
"Tell me, Arkhan, are all nine sacrifices truly indispensable?" Manfred changed the subject, realizing Arkhan wasn't willing to reveal all his cards. No matter, he'd figure it out himself.
"...Eight would suffice, but no fewer," Arkhan hesitated slightly before speaking the truth. "Our master, the destined lord, is no longer like a mortal. He is more akin to a god. The resurrection of a god requires sufficient energy, sufficient sacrifices. Otherwise, problems will inevitably arise."
"Good, let us continue our work," Manfred sneered. "You go and organize your army to retrieve Nagash's staff from that Knight King, while I will lead an unprecedented horde of Greenskins to attack the Empire directly through Black Fire Pass. Karl Franz and his Empire will be thrown into chaos."
Clearly, Arkhan had taken on the more troublesome task, but the Lich King did not refuse.
"So be it."
---
Meanwhile, in the winter of 2519 IC, in the duchy of Mousillon, Bretonnia, at the Château de Fontainebleau.
On this day, Countess Emmanuelle of Nuln arrived with half the court of Nuln and Wissenland, several master engineers, the Grand Marshal of Nuln, generals, and important merchants, making a grand visit to Bretonnia.
This time, Frederick, now a capable warrior at 16 years old, finally reunited with his father after two years. Standing at 1.85 meters tall, Frederick had grown into a robust young man. Seeing his father leading the welcoming party, with Queen Sulia and his half-brother, 13-year-old Devonshire, by his side, Frederick couldn't help but feel some resentment.
Why hadn't his father chosen his mother instead of this female knight?
Clearly, his mother was the better choice!
And it was his mother's fault for not revealing her identity to his father sooner, allowing this woman to take her place! Otherwise, how could she have won?
Frederick harbored these thoughts, but at 16, he was already quite composed, not letting his emotions show. Moreover, his admiration for his father remained strong, as Ryan's brilliance was simply too dazzling.
Many children go through a similar process as they grow up:
At 5: Dad is amazing! He can do anything!
At 10: Sometimes Dad isn't as all-powerful as I thought.
At 15: Poor old man, he's falling behind the times. How ignorant and outdated.
At 20: Good heavens, what can this old guy even do? He should be in a retirement home.
At 25: There's something I need to discuss with the "old man." Maybe he can give me some advice.
At 35: Dad's actually pretty impressive!
But for Frederick, his growth process was more like this:
At 5: Dad is amazing! He can do anything!
At 10: Dad is amazing! He can do anything!
At 16: Dad is amazing! He can do anything!
And so on.
From childhood to adulthood, his father had never let him down, so his resentment was merely a minor grudge.
"Devonshire, come here and call me 'big brother'!" Frederick, jealous of Devonshire, said with feigned arrogance.
"Pfft! No way!" Devonshire stuck out his tongue but still hugged Frederick. "Welcome to the Kingdom of Bretonnia, Frederick."
Accompanying Emmanuelle were her two daughters: 12-year-old Remy and 4-year-old Rita.
On Ryan's side, Sylvia brought 3-year-old Cecilia, while Erona and Theresa carried 2-and-a-half-year-old Shire. The scene was lively, with the three little girls chasing each other around, Remy staying close to her mother, and the two boys locking horns, their rivalry evident. They quickly decided to "spar" in the training yard.
But this wasn't the main event. As the ships of Nuln docked, a colossal war machine was unveiled before everyone.
This massive war machine was the result of over a decade of production and development commissioned by Ryan, based on the Steam Tank and Land Ship. Countless resources and the collaboration of numerous experts from the Nuln Gunnery School, Nuln Engineering College, and Nuln University had finally brought forth this ultimate war machine.
The Emmanuelle-class Land Cruiser.
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