"Two hundred thousand?!" Ryan, seated at the head of the table in Christopher Castle within Hergig, felt the weight of the news pressing down on him. "We're facing an army of 200,000 Chaos troops? Are you sure?"
"This is the latest intelligence, Your Majesty," Aldebrand Ludenhof, Elector Count of Hochland, replied. The middle-aged man, with his sharp, hawk-like nose and deep-set, dark-circled eyes, looked utterly exhausted. A massive bald eagle, nearly 1.4 meters in length, perched on his shoulder. This remarkable bird, apparently imbued with heightened intelligence by the Winds of Chaos, watched the room sharply, its piercing gaze often settling on Talleyrand, the high elf steward behind Ryan. The elf shifted uneasily, well aware he was the weakest presence in the room, and that even the eagle could sense it.
"Wolfenburg is crammed with 300,000 refugees and 50,000 soldiers. The city isn't fully surrounded yet because the Chaos forces are still rampaging across Ostermark, committing horrific massacres. But reports suggest that their leader, Morkar, and his forces are now regrouping to lay siege to Wolfenburg," Aldebrand explained, spreading a map across the table. His eagle unfurled its wings and plunged its sharp beak into a bucket of fish nearby, swallowing a river fish whole.
For a brief moment, Ryan's mind wandered. He imagined a star-spangled banner fluttering behind the bird. Wouldn't that be perfect? In his mind's eye, a golden-haired, white-ringed figure was bellowing on stage: "If we can keep it under 100,000, we'll call it a win!"
"Ryan, this is a dire situation," Aldebrand pressed, his tone urgent. "Wolfenburg's 50,000 defenders include fewer than 20,000 combat-ready troops. The rest are newly conscripted, poorly equipped, untrained, and demoralized from repeated defeats. If the Chaos forces assault the city, Wolfenburg won't hold for long."
"They don't need to hold for long," Boris Todbringer interjected. The Elector Count of Middenland leaned forward, his voice gravelly. "Our reinforcements are only 150 kilometers away."
"And how long can they hold? A week? A few hours? There are 300,000 people in that city!" Aldebrand slammed his fist on the table. "Ryan…"
"Just call me Ryan," the Knight King interrupted with a wave. To his left sat Lawn and Bohemond; to his right, Morgiana. "I call Karl by his name too."
Surprised by the informality, Aldebrand paused, then nodded. "Ryan, we must relieve Wolfenburg. We cannot gamble with the defenders' remaining strength, or with the lives of 300,000 people. Boris, I understand your forces are exhausted from the forced march, so I'll lead Hochland's troops as the vanguard. I'll take 5,000 men and pave the way. You can follow."
"I don't like this plan, Aldebrand," Emil Warger, High Priest of Ulric, interjected. "Ulric teaches us to face our enemies with the cunning of a wolf. A lone wolf hunting a powerful enemy only meets death. We must act as a pack, unified in our actions."
"Exactly," Boris agreed. "Reikland, Nuln, and Talabecland are already mobilizing their forces at Talabheim. Let's wait for the armies of Helborg and von Erstein to arrive before committing to a major engagement."
"Splendid victories like the Battle of the Three Kings and Hergig already showcase the strength of our alliance," Boris continued. "Greenskins, beastmen, and even Chaos now hesitate to challenge us. But we've suffered heavy losses—our numbers are down to just over 50,000. Aldebrand, even with your 5,000, that's barely 6,000 troops. Do you think that's enough?"
"With our combined strength and so many powerful heroes, we can deal a decisive blow to part of the Chaos main force," Aldebrand insisted. "You all know the Chaos armies are endless. As long as Morkar lives, fresh forces from the Northern Wastes will keep pouring south. According to the dwarfs of Zhulong City, another 150,000 Chaos troops are gathering for another push!"
"Even so, you're asking 60,000 troops to face 200,000 Chaos warriors!" Bohemond countered. "Even with Wolfenburg's defenders, we'd barely number 80,000. That's too reckless."
"Do you see yourself as the commander, Elector Count?" Morgiana's voice was icy. "With just your 5,000 men?"
"Leadership of 5,000 does not entitle you to lead 50,000," Lawn added sharply. Though uncertain of Ryan's thoughts, he knew presenting a firm stance would leave room for the Knight King to maneuver and remind the Empire of Bretonnia's role in this alliance.
Sensing resistance from both Boris and Ryan, Aldebrand's enthusiasm dimmed. Reluctantly, he shifted tactics. Forcing a smile, he said, "We're all tired. I've arranged accommodations and a venison feast for you all. Rest for now, and join me in the banquet hall at nine."
"It's eight now. We might as well rest," Ryan quipped, adding a lighthearted remark to diffuse the tension.
The meeting ended, and the leaders dispersed. Ryan signaled Lawn and Bohemond to oversee troop arrangements while he and Morgiana headed to their temporary quarters.
The castle was modest, its facilities more akin to a hunting lodge than an Elector's palace. Everywhere were trophies of Aldebrand's hunts—exotic beasts' heads, pelts, and paintings of his exploits.
"No wonder people say Aldebrand is more a hunter than an Elector," Ryan mused, admiring a fearsome beast's mounted head. "He sees prey and rushes in without thinking."
"He expects us to be his army," Morgiana grumbled, placing her Grail of Potions on the table. "We started with 38,000. After everything, we're down to 30,000, yet he's already pushing us back to the battlefield."
She gestured subtly, her irritation plain.
"Wait for me! A cripple needs care too!" Talleyrand hobbled after them, leaning on his cane. "A master needs his servant, and I am indispensable—like a fine Lusarlus vintage at a banquet!"
Ryan and Morgiana chuckled, and even the Hochland steward escorting them laughed quietly. A high elf serving humans so proudly was a rare sight.
The room, though not luxurious, was warm and welcoming. Furs lined the stone floor, and the walls bore longbows and rifles, alongside a massive stag's head. Morgiana inspected the bedroom, nodded approvingly at the large bed, and returned.
After dismissing the steward, Morgiana grumbled, "The Empire is shameless. We just saved Hergig, and now they demand more."
Ryan said nothing as Talleyrand opened a window. Snow fell outside as jubilant citizens paraded Chaos banners through the streets, burning them at the castle gates amid cheers.
"Ulric protect us!"
"For Taal's Fang!"
"This was a glorious victory!"
"Hergig, the 'Light of the East,' is a ruin," Talleyrand remarked coldly. "A shadow of its former glory. Don't you think, Your Majesty? Your Highness?"
"Hergig was prosperous once. Gerthwo ruined it," Ryan said, recounting its decline from a beacon of Imperial strength to a city riddled with poverty and war.
"That's why Aldebrand won't risk it further," Talleyrand noted slyly. "Boris, meanwhile, knows Middenheim is far sturdier."
Ryan nodded. "But even Boris won't risk war at Middenheim's gates."
"Exactly," Talleyrand said, his tone serious. "We must rest here, observe the situation, and plan carefully. First, establish command—will Boris and Aldebrand accept Ryan's leadership? Second, wait for southern reinforcements to arrive."
Morgiana frowned. "But that's not the knightly way."
"Throwing lives away isn't knightly either," Talleyrand countered, smiling. "Our forces are exhausted. They're treasures, not to be squandered. Unless you expect another miracle like the Battle of the Three Kings…"
"Chaos isn't greenskins or beastmen," Ryan said gravely. "Three Kings succeeded because of clear advantages. Today's Chaos forces are unpredictable."
Talleyrand persisted, "Then let's avoid unnecessary risks. This isn't our war to lead—we're here to assist."
After a long pause, Ryan agreed. "You're right. Let's wait for reinforcements."
"Shall I fetch paper and ink, Your Majesty?" Talleyrand asked.
"I need to write Emilia a letter," Ryan said suddenly.
"A letter?!" Morgiana's cheeks flushed, torn between embarrassment and irritation. He's never written to me!
Talleyrand, however, understood immediately. "Right away, Your Majesty!"
While Ryan began drafting his letter, Aldebrand was in another part of the castle, pleading with
Boris.
"You have to support me! We can't let Ryan command our troops!" Aldebrand urged.
"Show me," Boris said gruffly.
"Show you what?"
"Show me a victory like the Battle of the Three Kings. Until then, I'll follow Ryan's command—because he delivers victory."
Aldebrand was left speechless. He knew he could never match such a feat.
"Then watch and learn!" Boris bellowed. "Until then, follow Ryan's orders!"
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