As Emmanuelle's only son, Frederik was well aware that his mother, due to her wandering childhood and numerous brushes with misfortune, was a woman deeply lacking a sense of security.
This sense of security could only be provided by his father, the Sun King, Ryan. Ever since Emmanuelle had followed Ryan to Marienburg, she had finally experienced a life of peace—a life where she felt protected and free from worry. This new life brought her immense happiness. If it hadn't been for the necessity of revealing her true identity and her obligation to return to Nuln out of family honor and a strong sense of responsibility, she might have truly spent her entire life as a maid by Ryan's side.
Every time Frederik thought about this, he felt deeply frustrated. In his eyes, both his father and mother had made fatal mistakes in this matter. His father, for instance, had such a beautiful woman by his side but had never taken the initiative to make her his own. If he had just acted sooner, he could have become the Duke of Nuln, the Grand Duke of Wissenland, and an Elector Count!
And his mother was no better. She had kept her identity hidden, only wanting to live a quiet life. If she had just revealed who she was earlier, things might have turned out differently. Instead, it wasn't until Judge Theodore Bruckner and Lady Elspeth came knocking that she was forced to come clean.
If it hadn't been for her last-minute decision to go to Ryan before leaving, Frederik might never have been born.
Frederik harbored a deep resentment over this. He had never liked Queen Sulia, not one bit.
But at this moment, Frederik knew that he absolutely could not let his mother run off to find his father. Emmanuelle was the backbone of Nuln, the spiritual pillar of its people. Her years of governance had been highly effective, and the people of Nuln loved her. They loved that she could secure large quantities of grain and orders from Bretonnia, and that she could summon reinforcements with a single word.
At this critical juncture, Emmanuelle absolutely could not leave Nuln! Absolutely not!
Nuln needed her!
Frederik used every ounce of his strength to convince his mother to stay in Nuln and stabilize the situation. Emmanuelle, after repeated pleas from her son, finally relented and asked for Ryan's opinion.
Ryan's opinion was the same: Emmanuelle had to stay in Nuln to maintain stability.
As Ryan had hoped, Frederik, now grown, stepped forward. The young Baron pounded his chest and declared that he would protect his mother from now on.
At the same time, from that day onward, a strikingly beautiful and commanding young woman appeared by Frederik's side. She was said to be the new Northern Falcon of the Myrmidia Cult, responsible for overseeing all Myrmidian organizations and armies within the Empire.
However, the chaos in the Empire was growing increasingly severe. The news that followed only added to Frederik's mounting pressure.
Emperor Karl Franz had allegedly murdered his own nephew to secure his succession! The entire city of Altdorf was in an uproar. While everyone knew that the nephew was unpopular and unattractive, that didn't justify killing him!
Yes, after the guards arrived, Karl Franz's mutated nephew had reverted to a normal appearance. But before the Emperor could announce the results, rumors spread like wildfire throughout the city.
A conspiracy! A murder! Our Emperor killed his own nephew to secure his throne!
There were many holes in this story, but people were all too willing to believe it. When it came to rumors about the upper echelons of society, the masses were always the most inclined to believe in conspiracy theories.
Even Maximilian, who had lost his grandson, began to suspect that perhaps Karl, after thirty years as Emperor, had changed.
The Emperor's political enemies and the merchant princes of Marienburg seized the opportunity, and soon an impeachment motion targeting his title as Prince of Reikland was brought before the Reikland Diet. The Emperor was overwhelmed and had to personally appear in court to explain himself.
Middenheim was in chaos. The riot at the Elector's Palace had left over a hundred dead. Elector Count Boris Todbringer, though not seriously injured, was deeply shaken. During the assassination attempt, Boris had been too despondent to believe that even his own intelligence minister had betrayed him, and he hadn't been carrying a weapon.
Even so, Boris, who had been shot in the left lung, recovered in just two to three weeks. The resilience of a Saint-level warrior was truly extraordinary. Even though the Purple Hand had acquired Dwarven rune-piercing bullets from Marienburg, as long as the shot didn't strike the heart or head directly, it was nearly impossible to kill Boris with a single bullet.
However, after losing both his sons in quick succession, Boris Todbringer grew increasingly despondent and withdrawn. The Elector wept bitterly for his sons, and the successive blows left him completely disinterested in governance or battle. Meanwhile, the nobles of Middenheim were busy with internal strife—Boris now had only one daughter, Katy. Whoever married her would become the next Duke of Middenheim and Grand Prince of Middenland.
The threat of the Beastmen was even pushed to the side as everyone focused on Boris's position.
It was the same situation as when the entire Empire had been searching for Emmanuelle.
The disappearance of Elector Count Helmut Feuerbach of Talabheim also threw the great city of Talabheim, known as the Eye of Taal, into chaos. Most of the noble families immediately began vying for the position of Elector Count and Grand Duke, leading to intense internal strife and daily bloodshed.
And yet, at this critical moment, Taal, the patron god of Talabheim, remained silent. Even the Knights of Taal's Wrath were discussing whether to send someone to Bretonnia to seek the opinion of Bertrand the Brigand, the chosen of Taal.
Nuln had become the only one of the Empire's four major cities (not counting Marienburg) that remained relatively stable. Even so, Frederik declared martial law over the entire city and personally led elite troops to conduct a thorough investigation.
At this point, everyone pinned their hopes on Grand Theogonist Volkmar the Grim to step forward and stabilize the political situation. But then came bad news: there were signs of massive undead movements in Sylvania. The Grand Theogonist decided to send the legendary witch hunter Gunther Stahlberg to lead a thousand-strong army of Sigmarite troops into Sylvania to investigate.
Due to the lingering effects of the martyrdom at Talabheim, the Sigmarite Church prioritized dealing with the undead and was powerless to address the Empire's current state of chaos.
Amidst the rising tide of chaos, the High Elves, having suffered a defeat at Nagashizzar, arrived in the Empire in disarray.
War Lord Tyrion had barely taken out the alliance treaty to demand an army from the Empire when he realized that the Empire was in complete disarray. Everyone was preoccupied with their own affairs. When the High Elves arrived in Nuln, the city was under martial law. Emmanuelle met with Tyrion and Teclis, politely but firmly stating that they might not be able to provide assistance, as she herself had nearly been burned at the stake during the internal strife.
Tyrion, who had little interest in firearms and cannons to begin with, led the High Elf army to the Imperial capital, Altdorf, only to find Emperor Karl Franz embroiled in countless controversies.
"It seems that the humans cannot provide us with sufficient aid," Tyrion said to Teclis. "Forget it. Let's return to Ulthuan."
"To raise another army?" Eltharion the Grim, the first to understand Tyrion's intentions, asked. He knew Tyrion well; they had been close friends for two to three hundred years.
"Brother, aren't you going to... seek aid from the Knightly Kingdom?" Teclis was also surprised by Tyrion's decision.
"Being rejected once is already a great humiliation. We've already asked once," Tyrion shook his head. "Should the Asur beg the monkeys repeatedly?"
At these words, everyone nodded. Indeed, giving the humans a chance to participate in the rescue of the Everqueen was already a great honor. The Bretonnians had spurned that honor. Should the Asur lower themselves to beg again?
What would become of the dignity of the Asur?
"We could consider other options," Teclis hesitated for a moment before speaking. "For example, we could find out what Ryan needs. If it's a matter of an exchange, a favor for a favor, it would be much easier to negotiate, and both sides would save face. What do you think, brother?"
"Forget it," Tyrion found Ryan's face utterly detestable, and as the War Lord, he had every right to make this decision. "Everyone knows about the news from Tiranoc. Ryan's son, Devan, is like a leech clinging to Alarielle. Alarielle is the future of the Asur. Asking for help from humans is one thing, but asking for help from Bretonnia? Who knows what that little leech might do next."
Teclis didn't seem surprised by Tyrion's decision. The Loremaster had much to say, but in the end, he realized that all he could do was agree to Tyrion's request.
The White Tower mages conducted another divination and confirmed that Alarielle was still alive and that the undead had no immediate plans to sacrifice her.
Time was of the essence. After confirming this, Tyrion immediately ordered the High Elf army to depart from Marienburg and return to Ulthuan. The War Lord planned to raise another army and return to the Old World to rescue his daughter.
The chaos in the Old World did not affect King Ryan of Bretonnia, who was spending the winter at the Palace of Fontainebleau.
As the year 2521 of the Imperial Calendar began, Ryan was strolling through the streets of Mousillon with his wife, Sulia.
Of course, while it appeared to be a leisurely stroll, the couple was actually discussing and exchanging various pieces of intelligence, preparing for the upcoming campaigns and military deployments.
"Roman cuisine, authentic Roman cuisine!"
On the bustling streets of Mousillon, a vendor dressed in a red, narrow-sleeved robe and a tall Arabyan hat adorned with silver-plated scabbards embedded with rubies and turquoise was hawking a type of food: "Authentic Roman cuisine, come take a look, don't miss out!"
"Hey, isn't that Arabyan shawarma?" Ryan, holding Sulia's hand, noticed the rotating spit of lamb slowly roasting on a vertical grill. The vendor was using a knife to slice off the golden, crispy outer layer of the meat.
"Yes, sir," the vendor smiled. "This is called kebap, a traditional Arabyan dish."
"Let's have one," Ryan smiled.
"Your Majesty, isn't eating street food unsanitary?" Lady Silvia, the head maid, who was following Sulia, asked. She wasn't wearing her maid uniform today but instead a deep red blouse and a brown pleated skirt, with a coat over it.
"It's fine. It's good to try something different once in a while," Ryan said nonchalantly. "Silvia, pay the man."
"Three copper coins each, thank you."
"Make that two... Silvia, do you want one?"
"No, thank you," the head maid quickly declined.
"Then two it is."
Six copper coins were handed to the vendor. A thin flatbread was wrapped around the seasoned roasted meat, and with each bite, the soft, chewy bread and the crispy, flavorful meat created a perfect harmony.
"It's nice to try exotic foods like this once in a while," Sulia said, taking small, elegant bites of the shawarma. The lady knight held her husband's arm and asked with a smile, "But why is it called Roman cuisine?"
"Who knows?" Ryan took big bites of his shawarma as the couple continued their stroll through the streets of Mousillon. "Things aren't looking good for Louen."
"Yes," Sulia's expression turned serious at the mention of this topic.
In recent days, military reports had arrived from Kislev.
In the autumn of 2520, the Giant King Throgg led a 30,000-strong Chaos army southward from the Mourn Mountains into the Troll Country. Louen personally commanded a combined force of Kislevite locals, Bretonnian troops, and Ostland soldiers, totaling around 25,000 men, to meet the invaders. The two sides clashed repeatedly in the Troll Country, with neither gaining a decisive advantage. Ultimately, Throgg failed to secure a major victory.
The Chaos invasion was firmly contained outside the Troll Country.
However, as winter set in, two more Chaos armies invaded. They were the 15,000-strong Norscan army led by Surtha Lenk and the 18,000-strong Kurgan army led by Erlfric Kinevulf, attacking from the High Pass and the Mourn Mountains, respectively.
If it hadn't been for the Greenskins of the Troll Country suddenly banding together to resist the unexpected Chaos forces, Louen's human army might have been completely routed. However, the humans only gained a brief respite—one night, a young vampire named Erika appeared before Louen and informed the Bretonnian Marshal that Chaos had convinced the Greenskins of the Troll Country to turn on the humans. The Greenskins were quickly tempted by the promises made by Chaos.
At the critical moment, Louen led the Kislevite army out of the encirclement by Chaos and Greenskins. The Greenskins soon realized they had been deceived, and the fighting resumed. The entire Troll Country became a battleground between Greenskins, Norscans, and Chaos forces.
However, when news arrived that Vilitch the Curseling, a mere herald of Archaon, was leading a 30,000-strong Tzeentchian army to the edge of the Mourn Mountains, Louen realized the true crisis had arrived.
By now, half of Kislev's territory had fallen, and the forces of Order had lost all lands north of the Lynsk River.
To make matters worse, the Dwarfs of Kraka Drak reported that four Chaos armies, each over 100,000 strong, had been assembled north of the Mourn Mountains.
And this was only a small vanguard of the forces Archaon the Everchosen had gathered for the End Times.
From the Chaos Wastes, from Norsca, from the Kurgan Steppes, three massive columns of troops, each hundreds of kilometers long, were converging on the Brass Citadel in the Chaos Wastes, ready to heed Archaon's call.
Yet Louen did not receive the expected reinforcements from the Empire—for reasons already mentioned. Boris was too despondent to govern, Talabheim was in chaos, and no one was organizing troops or responding to Louen's pleas for aid.
"Send messengers to Kraka Drak and Louen," Ryan made a decisive call.
"It's time to prepare the 'Great Retreat Plan.'"
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