In late August of Imperial Year 2520, the Knightly Army began its journey home.
On the ironclad ship, Enterprise.
The deck was bustling with activity as squads of Old Guard patrolled. After leaving behind the foggy and rainy weather of Albion, everyone finally saw the clear blue skies and seas they had missed for so long.
From the time Ryan began his expedition to Albion in May until now, 80-90% of the time, the Knightly Army had endured the relentless rainy season. It had been a grueling ordeal for both body and mind.
Now, it felt as though the clouds had parted to reveal the sun, and everyone's spirits had lifted. With the victory in the war, the knights and soldiers aboard the Enterprise were in high spirits, chatting and laughing.
They talked about how dire the situation had been, how intense and chaotic the battle between the King and the original Demon Prince had been, and how awe-inspiring the giant crocodile that had emerged at the end was.
At this moment, a fast ship was approaching the Enterprise. On board were Bordeleaux Duke Bohemond, his son Fredemund, and the infamous Sartosan pirate queen, Aranessa Saltspite, who had been granted the official status of an Imperial privateer and a Royal privateer of Bretonnia.
Fredemund, the Baron of Bordeleaux, was now in his sixties, but thanks to the Grail, he looked no older than his thirties. Duke Bohemond, on the other hand, appeared slightly older. When he had drunk from the Grail, he was already nearing a hundred years old, and his appearance had been that of a man in his fifties. After drinking the Grail's waters, he had rejuvenated somewhat, now looking to be in his forties.
Currently, Bordeleaux was in a peculiar state of "co-rule" between father and son. Duke Bohemond had handed over most of the military authority to his son Fredemund, but he still held the title of Duke and was nominally the Marshal of the Manann's Fleet.
This relationship was an unstable "seesaw." As the heir and the one controlling most of the military power, Fredemund could stage a coup at any moment. Meanwhile, the father, having relinquished so much power, risked sowing the seeds of mutual distrust and potential betrayal.
It was only because both men, as Grail Knights, were not overly eager to be Duke, and because they both had long lifespans, that they could coexist somewhat peacefully.
The old Duke still didn't fully trust his son. While Fredemund had proven himself capable in military matters during his long Grail Quest, he was still inexperienced and unpolished in governance. Bohemond had been forced to teach Fredemund the intricacies of ruling, step by step, from the ground up.
In contrast, Aranessa Saltspite seemed much more at ease. She appeared to be a woman in her twenties, though her physique was robust. The Royal privateer captain's uniform given to her by Bretonnia fit her like a second skin—tight, worn, and ill-suited to her sharp, pirate-like ferocity. The decision to replace the captain's bicorne hat with a red bandana, however, had been a wise one.
"Father, His Majesty..." The three of them boarded the Enterprise but were stopped by Bertrand, the commander of the Old Guard, and his deputy, Raymond. Bertrand informed them that the King was currently meeting with his father-in-law, the second Marshal François de la Rouelle. The Grail father-son duo and Saltspite had to wait outside. Fredemund grew restless and tentatively asked Bohemond, "Why did he summon us so suddenly?"
"The war is over, and there are always matters to discuss," Bohemond replied. Since drinking from the Grail, the old Duke had become increasingly composed and serene. However, today, his demeanor was different. He gave his son a look that was both a warning and a hint. "Sit tight and wait for His Majesty's summons."
"Saltspite, you too. When you meet the King, do not be disrespectful. Do not bring your pirate habits before His Majesty," Duke Bohemond added, addressing Saltspite.
"Pirates respect strength, and the Sun King's power is recognized across the Old World," Saltspite replied, clearly impatient with the waiting. Pirates hated waiting, unless it was for prey to fall into their trap. "Duke, I don't think this is right. If there's an urgent matter, why make us wait here?"
"François is the second Marshal, the father of Queen Sylvia, the Duke of Quenelles, and a peak-level saint. Naturally, the King will see him first, then us," Bohemond patiently explained. "Just wait a little longer."
Saltspite only understood the last part about waiting. Remembering that Bohemond was the chosen champion and prince of her patron god, Manann, the pirate queen of Sartosa reluctantly nodded.
After waiting for another ten minutes or so, François emerged. The father-in-law was dressed in a blue-and-white ducal robe, with the unicorn, pegasus, and starlight emblems shining brightly. When he saw Bohemond, he smiled and said, "Sorry to keep you waiting, Bohemond, Fredemund, and Miss Saltspite."
"No problem," Duke Bohemond immediately stood up and smiled. "Is His Majesty doing well?"
"Of course, the King is under the Lady's protection," François chuckled, stroking his goatee. "His Majesty has been waiting for a while. If you're ready, go on in."
Hearing François's words, Bohemond's expression immediately darkened.
As soon as François left, Saltspite instinctively stood up to head into the King's suite. Bohemond quickly stopped her, shaking his head. "Wait."
"?" Saltspite paused. "Didn't that Duke just say..."
"I told you to wait!" Bohemond's voice turned stern. "What did I say earlier?"
"...Understood." The three of them had no choice but to continue waiting.
After another three minutes, Belial finally emerged from the room. The sinister Ungol leader, the chief political officer of the 1st Guard Lancers, was dressed in a crisp military uniform. He addressed the group, "His Majesty summons you."
"Yes." Bohemond then signaled for Fredemund and Saltspite to rise, but Belial immediately blocked Saltspite's path. "Before you meet His Majesty the Sun King, Miss Saltspite, I need to confirm something. Have you truly learned how to properly greet His Majesty?"
"Are you questioning the authenticity of my privateering license?" Saltspite shot back without hesitation. "Then, Mr. Belial, who do you think is at fault here?"
"Hmph." Belial frowned. He glanced inside the room and finally stepped aside. "For a pirate queen, the standards can be a bit more relaxed. But remember to show respect, or I'll make sure you understand that there's only one sun in the Old World's sky."
The three of them finally entered the King's suite aboard the Enterprise.
The suite was as lavishly decorated as ever. Unusually, today, neither Queen Sylvia nor Ryan's favorite handmaiden, Olica, nor his chief court sorceress, Veronica, were present.
Wait, that wasn't entirely accurate. Bohemond noticed that the King's dark elf handmaiden was half-lying on a sofa chair, fast asleep. On the table beside her was a stack of magical scrolls—most of them looted from Albion. Veronica wasn't present, but her black, red-soled high heels, adorned with diamonds and rubies, were placed conspicuously by the bedroom door.
Ryan sat on the main sofa, looking somewhat fatigued. When he saw Bohemond, the King nodded. "My Duke, please sit."
"Thank you, Your Majesty." Bohemond took his seat without hesitation.
"Fredemund, and Miss Saltspite, you've worked hard. Please sit as well." Ryan then called out to Belial at the door. "Belial, fetch the wine from the top shelf. The first bottle, the Conti from Avelorn."
"Yes." Belial immediately retrieved the wine and poured a glass for Ryan, Bohemond, and the other three.
"I must thank you, Bohemond, Fredemund, and Miss Saltspite." The Knight King raised his glass with a smile. "Over the past month, the Manann's Fleet has been working tirelessly—transporting supplies, engaging in naval battles with the undead, and ferrying loot. You've all worked hard."
"The Manann's Fleet was established to serve the highest interests of the Knightly Kingdom and the principles of chivalry," Bohemond quickly replied. "This is our duty. We cannot claim to have worked hard. Please, Your Majesty, do not say such things."
"Nonsense." Ryan took a sip of wine, his expression sincere. "Especially when we were in dire straits at Kongquata, surrounded on both sides. If it weren't for the Manann's Fleet delivering supplies and reinforcements in time, and fighting off Count Noctilus's undead fleet, I truly don't know what we would have done."
Aranessa beamed with pride. Her ship, the Swordfish, had not only sunk two undead battleships but also defeated a barbarian dragon ship fleet north of Albion—a fleet from her father's tribe.
Fredemund looked puzzled, as if he didn't quite understand what Ryan was getting at.
Bohemond, however, paled upon hearing the King's words. He immediately grabbed his son and Saltspite, signaling for them to kneel!
"Ah, no need to kneel, no need. What are you kneeling for? You've all contributed greatly to this Albion Crusade." Ryan seemed to sense the old Duke's intention and stopped him, then smiled. "Those who have contributed should be rewarded, and those who have erred should be punished. My Duke, Fredemund, and Miss Saltspite, don't you agree?"
"According to the Pirate Code, indeed," Saltspite answered promptly.
"See, even the Pirate Code says so, and the Code of Chivalry is no different." Ryan laughed heartily, pointing at Bohemond and Fredemund, looking quite pleased. "You are both Grail Knights of the Lady, and thus paragons of chivalry. It seems the Pirate Code and the Code of Chivalry share some common ground, don't they?"
"Uh... yes." Bohemond was now sweating.
"Speaking of which, both the Pirate Code and the Code of Chivalry have long histories. The Code of Chivalry originated from the second Knight King, Louis the Rash, while the Pirate Code is said to be even older." Ryan leaned back on the sofa, continuing casually. "Many people like to say that some things have become outdated and are no longer useful, that they should be changed. But to me, old things have their own charm. For example, shoes. New shoes may be beautiful, stylish, and fashionable, but they can also be uncomfortable and need time to break in. Old shoes, on the other hand, slip right on. Don't you agree? Oh, my apologies, Miss Saltspite. Did I offend you?"
Saltspite's ankles were adorned with spiked wooden pegs. The pirate queen of Sartosa was displeased but, remembering Ryan's power, reputation, and the warnings from Bohemond and Belial, she shook her head.
"Of course, old shoes and old clothes may be comfortable, but they can't stay old forever, can they? When things get too old, they wear out, and patching them up just makes them look unsightly. At that point, even if it's reluctantly, they must be replaced." Ryan nodded at Saltspite. "For example, Miss Saltspite, your privateer captain's uniform looks rather worn."
"As a daughter of the sea, these are trivial matters. They don't affect my ability to fight or command," Saltspite replied bluntly.
"But don't forget, you are an Imperial privateer captain and a Royal privateer of the Knightly Kingdom. Wearing such shabby clothes still reflects poorly on your image." Ryan clapped his hands, and Belial brought over a brand-new privateer captain's uniform. The King smiled. "This time, try not to get it dirty so quickly. These outfits are expensive."
Saltspite was utterly confused. Did the Knight King summon them all the way here just for this? To give her a new outfit?
"Take it. It's a sign of His Majesty's care and recognition," the old Duke interjected.
Saltspite reluctantly accepted the gift, muttering a thank you.
After a few more words, Ryan, who seemed to be in low spirits, gently encouraged the three of them before dismissing them.
The King's behavior left Saltspite baffled. As they left, the pirate queen of Sartosa complained, "That's it? Praising us, giving me a new uniform, and making us come all this way for that?"
Bohemond didn't look at Saltspite but instead focused on his son, Fredemund. "Fredemund, do you feel the same way as Saltspite?"
"I feel like His Majesty's words carried deeper meaning, but I can't quite figure it out," Fredemund also shook his head.
"Sigh..." Bohemond let out a long sigh. "This is why I can't confidently hand over Bordeleaux to you yet, Fredemund. I have a task for you, to be completed within three days."
"Father?"
"Go and carefully recall our conversation with His Majesty today. Think hard about what the King was really saying to us." Bohemond shook his head repeatedly. "And don't disappoint me or His Majesty again."
With that, the old Duke seemed in a foul mood and refused to say more.
Meanwhile, inside the King's suite, Ryan dismissed Belial and leaned back on the sofa. His spirits were low. The injuries he had sustained in the battle with Be'lakor were severe, and his psychic energy had been completely drained, even overextended. The Knight King stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.
"Do you think he understood your hints, master?" Olica, who had been feigning sleep, suddenly opened her eyes. The dark elf was weak, but her amber eyes still gleamed with intelligence.
"Guess!"
"I won't guess, master." Olica rolled her eyes at Ryan and turned her head away. "Master, do you have anything else to do later?"
"There's still a pile of documents on my desk." Ryan's desk was indeed stacked with paperwork.
"But master... my magic..." Olica pouted.
"Oh, right!" Ryan quickly interrupted her. The Knight King stood up and retrieved a large paper box from the side of the room. The box was emblazoned with Ryan's family crest and the Lady of the Lake's symbols—the fleur-de-lis, the Grail, and the mist. Ryan said playfully, "Olica, you've been a great help during this Albion expedition. I must reward you properly!"
"Master..." The dark elf looked at the large box in Ryan's hands. At first, she was excited, but upon seeing Ryan's mischievous grin, Olica seemed to realize something. She rolled her eyes at him. "Master, you're not going to give me... that again, are you?"
"Exactly! Olica, you guessed right!" Ryan laughed mischievously. "These are the latest stockings that the Lady and I have developed and produced! Twelve pairs in total—white, flesh-toned, coffee, gray, black, and light blue!"
"Master... you're hopeless." Olica squinted at him, her face full of disdain. "Perverted master."
"Come on, Olica, try them on?" Ryan pulled out a pair of stockings from the box and handed them to Olica. The dark elf took a pair of ultra-thin, gray Lycra stockings with a starry aurora pattern and prepared to model them for her master.
"Huh?!" Olica's eyes suddenly widened.
On the right thigh, extending into the hem of the skirt, and on the left calf, extending to the ankle, there were two identical golden spirit patterns!
The design and pattern of these spirit patterns were strikingly similar to the one on her lower abdomen!
"Master?! What are these patterns...?" Olica looked at Ryan, her expression changing.
"Hehehe, guess!"
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