"Appearance fees? Compensation? Military expenses?" Sulia furrowed her brows slightly after hearing Beria's proposal.
Beria cautiously explained his plan.
The Ugol believed that the Tsarina's urgent recall of Rokossovsky's army to the Empire was likely for one of three reasons:
First, the situation in the Chaos invasion war was dire, and Katarin desperately needed more troops to protect and assist her.
Second, she was deeply dissatisfied with Rokossovsky's group and planned to call them back to deal with them slowly.
Third, Katarin didn't actually intend to recall Rokossovsky's army; she just wanted to use the pretext to negotiate with Bretonnia.
Based on Beria's judgment, all three reasons were likely at play. By issuing the official decree, Kislev would place itself in a no-lose position. Either they would regain control of Rokossovsky's forces or extract benefits—such as material or military aid—from the Knight Kingdom. At the very least, they could ensure Bretonnia owed them a significant favor.
Beria's plan was to first probe Katarin's true intentions. Was she looking for material and financial aid, or was she determined to bring the army back?
If it was the former, the situation would be simpler. Beria suggested offering some aid. Kislev was in dire straits, its lands devastated, its people displaced, and its society on the brink of collapse. Assistance could boost Bretonnia's reputation and prevent Kislevites from succumbing to Chaos or turning into bandits and marauders.
If it was the latter, Beria proposed flipping the narrative.
Demand payment from the Tsarina!
Bretonnia had deployed forces to Erengrad to rescue Kislev, crossing seas and enduring significant sacrifices. Hundreds of warhorses were lost, and costs were incurred for military expenses, provisions, and death benefits. Bretonnia could be magnanimous and only demand 30% compensation, which was quite generous.
But what about other costs?
The people they saved—that should be worth something. The valuable artifacts recovered—ancient relics, paintings, sculptures, books—these should have a price too.
There were also Kislev's operational costs covered by Bretonnia, including salaries, provisions, and evacuation expenses. Not to mention the upkeep costs for Rokossovsky's troops in Couronne—accommodations, provisions, and equipment replacements. Shouldn't all these be added to the Tsarina's tab?
Finally, Karad had been gravely injured in a duel with the Norscan High King Vamir Aesling, eliminating a terror that had persisted for centuries. Karad needed months of recovery, which was a significant loss for Bretonnia. His appearance and medical fees couldn't come cheap.
Beria tallied up the numbers. For example, Karad's appearance fee was 20,000 gold crowns. Bretonnia's military expenses amounted to 15,000, with death benefits at 8,000. Rescuing a single Bear Cavalry soldier could be priced at 100 gold crowns, a Winged Hussar at 50, a Red Navy sailor at 40, an Ungol horse archer at 15, a conscript at 5, and a civilian at 1 crown.
In total, Beria's calculations reached six figures, nearing seven.
"I doubt Katarin can pay that much," Sulia thought, finding the plan somewhat shameless.
"Exactly, she can't," Beria acknowledged, "which is why we should negotiate terms. If she can't pay, we'll be understanding. After all, Kislev is facing unprecedented hardship. We can allow them to uphold their proud mercenary tradition by earning their upkeep and wages as they go. Rokossovsky's forces could serve us, working off the debt day by day. At this rate, we could return the army to Katarin in about fifty years."
"Pfft~" The maids and attendants listening couldn't help but laugh. Even Sulia and Olica smiled faintly.
"You certainly have a way with words, Beria," the Queen said gracefully, sipping her tea. Sulia pondered for a moment before making a decision. "Unfortunately, we cannot adopt your plan."
"…It was just an immature suggestion. I await your criticism, Your Majesty," Beria quickly backtracked, glancing nervously at Sulia. Her expression showed only mild reproach, which reassured him slightly. He hurriedly apologized. "It was inconsiderate of me."
"You misunderstood one key point, Beria," Sulia said, savoring her Darjeeling tea before delicately spreading cream and jam on a scone. "If this were the Empire, such an approach might suffice. But we are Bretonnia, a proud kingdom of knights. Chivalry and honor are the foundation of our nation, the image we've cultivated over a millennium. Your plan is far too brazen; it would severely damage our reputation."
"I see now; it was thoughtless of me," Beria admitted, realizing his mistake. He had instinctively adopted the Kislevite mindset. Kislev's unscrupulous ways—like horse merchants painting decayed teeth white or labeling sickly mares as "shy"—were ingrained.
Such habits of deceit clashed with Bretonnia's ideals. Developing a sense of chivalry would take time, and even after years under Ryan's leadership, Beria himself had yet to fully embody such principles.
"Regardless, your efforts on the Kislev mission have been commendable," Sulia acknowledged. "Ryan and I are aware of your contributions, especially in persuading Chief Engineer Kalashnikov to relocate the Kirov factory to Bretonnia. That must have taken considerable effort."
"Your Majesty and His Grace face far greater challenges. My efforts pale in comparison. Serving Bretonnia is an honor, and I strive to fulfill my duties without troubling you," Beria responded humbly.
"Ryan chose well. You're reliable, Beria," Sulia praised. However, she had a deeper question. "But I imagine you encountered many difficulties—both with your own men and with the suffering Kislevites. How did you manage to make them comply and come to Bretonnia?"
Beria took a deep breath and thought carefully. "First, respect. Second, honesty. By addressing issues with these principles, I earned their understanding."
"Such truths are the result of humanity's long experience," Sulia remarked calmly. Then her tone sharpened. "But truth is often trampled and forgotten. People justify their actions with double standards and tirelessly defend their own positions. Don't deflect with platitudes, Beria!"
Cold sweat formed on Beria's brow. He knelt, silent.
"Sit back down," Sulia gestured, softening her tone. After a moment's thought, she continued. "I want real answers, Beria, like Felix the Iron once counseled the Tsarina."
"If Your Majesty insists, I will be candid," Beria said, steeling himself. He clenched his fists, recognizing the Queen's test.
"Speak freely. You are pardoned," Sulia granted.
"In the Old World, the feudal system forms the foundation of our order. Kings and emperors delegate territories and powers to vassals and ministers, creating a family-like structure," Beria began. "My troops are like children of the household, while the King and Queen are the grandparents."
"And I, Beria, am the wife caught in between. My duty is to act as a proper wife—managing the soldiers and obeying orders from the King and Queen. When conflicts arise, I endure grievances and conceal difficulties whenever possible. But if I must choose, I would rather disappoint the children than disobey the grandparents' orders."
After finishing, Beria looked up for the first time, his gaze clear and determined.
Sulia and Olica were moved.
This was Beria—his mindset and bureaucratic philosophy.
Indeed, wasn't everyone a beleaguered spouse trying to balance conflicting demands?
Rokossovsky, Beria, Lawn, even Sulia and Ryan—all faced such struggles.
Even the Imperial Regent Roboute Guilliman was, in some ways, a "spouse" caught between the Imperium's billions and the Emperor of Mankind.
"Managing both sides well," Sulia mused, understanding Beria's sincerity. She finally smiled, nodding in agreement. "Very good, Beria. Ryan and I did not misjudge you. You are trustworthy. You're right—we are like a family. As the grandparents, we must lead responsibly, avoiding favoritism that causes suffering to our children or spouses."
"Your Majesties have always been exemplary grandparents," Beria said earnestly. "Since becoming His Grace's subordinate, my life has brightened, as if doves carrying olive branches of peace now soar overhead. May Your Majesties enjoy happiness and may the Crown Prince grow into a great Knight King like his father!"
"Hahaha~" Sulia laughed heartily. "All right, Beria, there's still much for you to handle—reorganizing Rokossovsky's army, allocating supplies and jobs, and settling the immigrants."
"Your Majesty may command me as you see fit."
Olica whispered something into Sulia's ear, prompting the Queen's eyes to brighten.
"Also, your earlier proposal isn't entirely without merit," Sulia added.
"Please clarify, Your Majesty."
"I've heard that it was the Red Navy's mutiny in Erengrad that prompted Rokossovsky to execute the Cheka officers enforcing execution orders?" Sulia asked.
"…Yes, that's correct, my lady. The Red Navy, often influenced by the Empire, elves, and dwarfs, didn't fully recognize the Tsarina's authority. Additionally, their higher education and sailing expertise meant they
often gathered to sing 'La Marseillaise,' composed by His Grace," Beria explained cautiously.
"In that case, could such a mutiny happen again?" Sulia inquired nonchalantly.
"Of course not! Bretonnia provides abundant provisions, fair rewards, and incorrupt leadership under His Grace Ryan, whose reputation commands global respect…" Beria trailed off as realization struck him. He became ecstatic. "Oh! Yes, Your Majesty, I understand what to do!"
"Good. I leave it to you," Sulia said.
"Yes!"
After Beria left, Sulia and Olica exchanged glances. The dark elf licked her lips. "A real talent, my lady. He'd thrive even in Naggaroth; the Witch Kings love people like him."
"Now the Tsarina's problem is resolved," Sulia nodded calmly. "Ryan can proceed without concerns."
"His army should have reached Hergig by now, right?"
"Yes, they are reportedly already engaged with Slaanesh's legions besieging the city."