Imperial Year 2520, June.
The world was growing increasingly chaotic and violent. Gusts of Chaos swept across the mortal realm, affecting everything. Starting from Nordland, crop yields began to decline, plagues spread rampantly, and the number of victims of the Weeping Pox steadily increased. Ultimately, the entirety of Nord was placed under martial law by the orders of Elector Count and Grand Duke Theodoric Gausser, who styled himself King of Nord. This stirred the elves of Athel Loren to act, who through their mysterious rituals, managed to lessen the disease's virulence.
Despite being the Empire's largest province by land area, Nord's actual controlled territory was less than a sixth of its theoretical expanse. Most of the province consisted of dense forests and rugged hills.
To the east lay Athel Loren, occupied by the Wood Elves. Unable to match the elves in battle, the Nords signed peace treaties and alliances with them. However, relations remained tense due to mutual disdain. Unlike Ryan, few humans excelled in diplomacy with elves. Furthermore, the Athel Loren elves were not true Wood Elves; they were descendants of High Elves who refused to return to Ulthuan but also did not harmonize with forest spirits, making communication with them particularly difficult.
(Athel Loren Elves: "Stupid humans constantly change leaders, and every new idiot refuses to honor previous treaties. What's the point?!")
To the west lay the Shadow Forest, a haven for Beastmen tribes, barbarian camps, and other malevolent creatures. No one could traverse it without the escort of a full regiment. Even worse, the Brass Keep resided within its depths. Any attempt at expansion there was suicidal. History recorded an Imperial army of 20,000 men and three artillery regiments sent to reclaim the Brass Keep—none of whom ever returned.
Gausser faced countless challenges. Even with aid from the Athel Loren elves, Nord still grappled with nearly 200,000 cases of the Weeping Pox. In the east, Nord's forces battled the Redhorn Beastmen. To the south, Nord and Middenland armies fought Festus the Leechlord and his Nurgle demon legions near Middendorf. Relations with the Athel Loren elves grew increasingly strained due to the influx of refugees seeking shelter in the forest, which disrupted the elves' isolationist lifestyle and led to multiple bloody conflicts. Meanwhile, the north was bombarded by waves of Norscan longships raiding coastal ports relentlessly.
And now, Gausser received startling news.
"The Bretonnians plan to march deep into Obien?" Gausser frowned. "Is this Sun King an idiot? The Empire has spent countless resources trying to uncover Obien's secrets, yet that cursed land is unsuitable for large-scale colonization or settlement. We only managed to establish a single outpost in the southeast marshes: Newland."
"Yes, Ryan-Malcador and his chivalric army intend to venture into Obien," one of Gausser's courtiers said obsequiously. "Thus, he requests reinforcements from you, the great and illustrious King of Nord, Elector Count, Prince of Sesenmund, Duke of Winter Castle, Prince of Marienburg, Protector of the North, Scourge of Skaling, Fear of Norsca, and the Glorious Theodoric."
"Reinforcements?! Is the Sun King's sword dulled, or is his warhorse starving? Why would he seek help from us Nordland bumpkins?" Gausser appeared baffled. "What troops could we possibly provide that would rival his chivalric forces?"
"He specifically seeks support from the Nord Marine Corps."
"Absolutely not!" Gausser roared, shaking his head vehemently. "The Nord Marine Corps is an elite force, handpicked to protect our coasts. How could we hand them over to that insufferable Sun King?"
"He's offering this price…" The advisor discreetly whispered a figure into Gausser's ear.
BAM! Gausser slammed the table. "Outrageous! Does he think Nord is full of mercenaries? That I, Theodoric Gausser, would sell my loyalty for gold? Do I look like a coin-pinching fool?!"
The Elector Count stood abruptly, his staff retreating in fear. Gausser's face flushed with indignation, exuding the aura of a veteran general and an Elector Count.
"He grew up in Nord, fought for Nord, and has always been our pride and my dear friend! Talking about money is an insult to our bond!" Gausser declared righteously. "Send my orders immediately! The Nord Marine Corps is to mobilize at once, and the navy will escort them to Obien to support our loyal ally!"
"Yes, sir!"
Obien Island: The Foggy Lands – Imperial Province Newland
Under a gloomy sky, heavy rain poured relentlessly over Newland's camp. The First and Second Sea God Fleets barely managed to dock at Newland's port. The imperial province now bristled with tents. After ten days at sea, the Bretonnian army arrived, establishing camp upon landing.
With the help of the Old Guard, Ryan's royal red-blue-and-gold tent was swiftly set up. During this process, Ryan, accompanied by Olica and several marshals, took the opportunity to tour the imperial outpost.
Newland's commander, Harald III "The Merciless," was a Nord. If anyone remembered, he was a distant relative of Willard "The Woodcutter," whom Ryan had encountered during his adventures in Nord. Harald descended from the famous Harald Goldmane, a Nord lord honored for his valor in the Great Chaos Invasion.
"Newland has over 7,000 residents and 1,000 soldiers," Harald explained. Clad in waterproof eel-skin armor, he stood in contrast to most locals, who used simple rain gear. "To the north lies the strait, the northwest holds Bog Swamp, and the southwest has Mire Swamp. We control roughly 50 square kilometers, primarily forest. Manpower is limited, so we avoid unnecessary expansion. If barbarians appear, we usually retreat to hidden sanctuaries left by the Old Ones."
Ryan nodded thoughtfully. Controlling only 50 square kilometers with 8,000 people made the area seem vast and sparsely populated. Watching the rain pour down, Ryan's psychic shield shimmered sky blue, repelling the downpour. "Does it rain every day here in Obien?"
"Almost. From October to March, it rains six out of seven days. April is slightly drier, but rain every two or three days is normal," Harald replied. "During this season, we grow shade-loving crops, but fishing and foraging provide most of our sustenance. If you intend to venture into Obien's interior, you'll face thick fog, making navigation treacherous. We can provide guides to assist you."
Ryan and his marshals nodded, recognizing Newland's strategic value. Their inspection of the local troops revealed them to be mostly militia, competent only in basic defense or law enforcement, with limited combat potential.
"What support does the Empire provide here?" Ryan asked.
"Former Royal High Wizard Cernus-Gelman frequently explored Obien's depths in search of its secrets. The imperial court heavily supported his efforts," Harald explained. "But every expedition suffered heavy losses. Twice, only Cernus himself returned, gravely wounded. After Gelt became High Wizard, Obien's exploration was deemed wasteful. Cernus has only visited once in recent years due to budget cuts, but he left us with a cryptic remark."
"What was it?" Ryan asked, intrigued.
"'No stone circles, no Great Vortex.'"
This mysterious statement left Ryan pondering. Were the stone circles linked to the Great Vortex?
With no further leads, Ryan dismissed Harald to rest.
"This terrain is nearly impassable without magic," Francois commented, kneeling to inspect the sodden ground. "This battle will be difficult."
"Our target, Concotta, lies 120-150 kilometers south of the Beast Mountains, deep in the fog," Karad added, struggling with a rain-soaked map. "The rain will be a significant hindrance, Your Majesty."
"Concotta holds ancient secrets and wealth," Ryan replied, shaking his head. "But let's not rush. We'll camp here for two days, await supplies, and let the soldiers acclimate to the rainy conditions."
"Yes, sire." The marshals agreed. Francois stroked his goatee thoughtfully. "Should we consider splitting our forces?"
"We'll decide after the scouts return," Ryan replied. "This terrain is unfamiliar. Unlike Lawn's coastal raids, we're pushing inland. For now, we wait."
"And in the meantime, let's investigate these stone circles."
As the Bretonnian army settled in, morale dipped. Compared to the pleasant climate of Bretonnia, Obien's chilly, damp June—hovering around 12°C—was miserable. Soldiers huddled around fires, while knights built elevated camps to house their horses in makeshift stables.
"Your Majesty, your tent is ready," reported Raymond Montbatten, deputy commander of the Old Guard. "The rain is heavy. Please take shelter inside."
"What about the others?" Ryan asked. "Make sure no one stays wet for too long. Have everyone take hot baths if possible."
"Yes, sire." Raymond withdrew.
Lifting the tent flap, Ryan pondered his strategy.
First, let's deal with the nearby barbarian settlements openly and decisively!
The order was issued. Within days, the Bretonnian knights struck like wolves, razing and plundering every barbarian village near Newland. Over a thousand tribespeople were slaughtered mercilessly.
Once again, the knights cast aside their chivalric ideals. Their brutality eclipsed even that of the barbarians, exacting vengeance for two millennia of blood feuds. Village after village was destroyed, yielding ore, furs, gold, and silver to fill Bretonnian coffers. Praise the Lady.
News of the attacks reached Harold Grimson, self-proclaimed King of Obien, who could no longer remain idle.
Deep in Obien: The Ancient City of Concotta
Tens of thousands of barbarian warriors gathered under Harold Grimson's command. A low-tier Sanctuary warrior, Harold had missed Lawn's last expedition to Obien while answering Archaon's call, leaving his coastal lands vulnerable. By the time he arrived, Archaon was dead, and Harold was forced to retreat.
Revenge! This was Harold's only thought.
In the chaotic council hall of Concotta, Harold sat on a high throne. To his left was Xanrik, Tzeentch's Champion, and to his right, Egrimm van Horstmann, the former Imperial Light Wizard. Harold's brothers, Gwenn and Leofwyn Grimson, sat below.
"Brother, you must strike now!" Gwenn urged sharply. "The knight king and his forces are vulnerable. Crush them before they entrench themselves!"
"Time waits for no one," Leofwyn added. "Delay will bring nine outcomes, each spawning nine more, most unfavorable to us. Do not let them advance!"
Their urgency clashed with opposition from Xanrik and Egrimm. Be'lakor's demon legions were still en route, as was the Worldwalker Legion under Wulfrik the Wanderer.
"No!" Xanrik stood abruptly. "We must wait for all forces to arrive!"
"King Harold, you lack the strength to face the knight king alone," Egrimm added. "Patience is key."
"Wait?" Harold roared, standing. "Should I watch as these southerners burn my people and lands to ash?"
Harold's seer predicted several days of clear skies, a rare break from Obien's perpetual rain. "If we wait, the southerners' firearms will devastate us. We must strike while the rain neutralizes their cannons and muskets! Our warriors excel in close combat, each worth three or five of theirs!"
"If we let the knight king entrench, it will be our end." Resolving himself, Harold issued his orders: "Summon all warbands, auxiliaries, and tribes. We march to battle in the swamps near Newland!"
Harold and his brothers departed, leaving Xanrik and Egrimm to exchange uneasy glances.
"Do you think he'll win?" Egrimm sneered. "I doubt it."
"Harold's logic isn't without merit," Xanrik replied. "If Ryan-Malcador fortifies Newland into a permanent stronghold, we're in trouble. Better to test their strength now."
"And our plan?" Egrimm hissed. "Concotta is where we've prepared the Sun King's demise!"
"No matter Harold's fate, we'll dictate the outcome," Xanrik assured. "The trap is set. All roads lead to the same end."
"All glory to the Changer of Ways!"
"Praise the Raven God!"
Harold Grimson led a barbarian army of 26,000 toward Newland, determined to crush the Bretonnians.
In Newland, Ryan received word of the advancing barbarian horde.
"Summon everyone. Call a war council. The barbarians are coming."
______
(≧◡≦) ♡ Support me and read 20 chapters ahead – patreon.com/INNIT
For every 50 Power Stones, one extra chapter will be released on Saturday.