From the very beginning, Ryan had no intention of severely punishing Duke Talbot.
The reason was simple and already discussed before: Duke Talbot's opposition to Ryan was entirely within his legal rights.
As everyone knew, when Bretonnia was founded, it was essentially a loose confederation of twelve duchies. The first King of Knights, Arthur, became the leader of this grand alliance to fend off invasions and, after leading the Twelve Great Founding Wars, was crowned as King.
Duke Talbot's frequent references to the "Knights' Covenant" harkened back to this founding principle. Bretonnia's political system was inherently a loose alliance: autonomous during peacetime, unified under a single command during wartime. The dukes enjoyed substantial autonomy, and a king's ability to govern the dukes depended largely on the knights' chivalric ideals and the personal prestige of the king.
This structure greatly limited royal authority and had, historically, kept Bretonnia from expanding its territory significantly. Past conflicts with Estalians or the Empire brought minimal gains, and ventures into Athel Loren's forests typically ended in disaster.
Of course, centralization and autocracy set a high ceiling for national strength, while feudalism set a low floor. In Bretonnia's history, there were at least two instances where a king died unexpectedly, leaving the kingdom leaderless and vulnerable to invasion. Each time, the kingdom was saved by the dukes electing a new king and rallying their forces to fend off the threat, much like the Empire's system of Elector Counts.
On the road back to Couronne, Ryan and Sulia stayed overnight at a luxury inn. The couple sat across from each other, discussing the next steps in Bretonnia's domestic reforms.
"There's another reason I chose to pardon Duke Talbot," Ryan began, setting down his cup. "I wanted to set an example for the other conservative dukes. If I didn't hold Talbot accountable for his open defiance, then Adalhard, Fauconberg, Cassvon, and Huebald would understand my message: that my prestige is unmatched, and the outcome of opposing me is to end up like Talbot. But by sparing Talbot, I've shown that as long as they align themselves with my reforms, past transgressions will be forgiven. That way, they'll have no reason to continue resisting and will naturally pivot to supporting my agenda."
Sulia raised her teacup delicately, savoring the imported Assam tea. The queen had been basking in Ryan's affection daily, her complexion glowing and radiant with vitality. Dressed in her favored white military jacket, navy pleated skirt, and black tights, she exuded elegance and authority. Listening to Ryan, she furrowed her golden brows slightly. "I understand your reasoning, my dear, but what if they only feign compliance?"
"They won't," Ryan said confidently, a faint smile playing on his lips. "And I'll even sweeten the deal. Don't forget, I've granted them forgiveness. If any of the conservative dukes secretly undermine my reforms now, I'll have every justification to act against them. Even François and Berchmond wouldn't be able to object."
"True," Sulia admitted after a moment of thought. Ryan was right.
No matter how generous Ryan appeared in pardoning Talbot, the duke's defiance had marked him with an indelible "original sin." Under such circumstances, Talbot had no choice but to execute the reforms faithfully. Anything less would betray a lack of genuine repentance, and Ryan would be fully justified in taking decisive action against him.
"I gave you a chance, my brother," Ryan thought with a wry smile.
Sulia couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration and unease. This plan was cunning, even manipulative. She sighed softly. "The Lady be praised, at least everything went smoothly."
"Indeed," Ryan agreed, exhaling deeply. He had taken a calculated risk. What if something went wrong during negotiations—a sudden assassination attempt or a skirmish?
But with great risk came great reward. This bloodless resolution would elevate Ryan's already formidable prestige to unprecedented heights.
By now, he wasn't just a king; he was a symbol.
"The matter of the ten marshals…" Sulia began tentatively.
"François is pushing for Lucien," Ryan said matter-of-factly. "And Berchmond favors Davout."
"Isn't Davout's tenure a bit too short?" Sulia raised an eyebrow as she reviewed the list. "If you count his service before joining us, back when he was Nicholas of Bastonne, he's only been active for a few years. If someone with such limited experience can be made a marshal…"
"Marshals are chosen based on ability," Ryan interjected. "And Davout is unique—he's the only Holy Grail knight from the Old Guard. That alone sets a precedent."
Sulia thought for a moment and then asked hesitantly, "So… just Davout and Lucien?"
Ryan caught the subtle shift in her tone and immediately realized what she was doing. His clever wife was trying to slip Lucien onto the list under the guise of a question. On the surface, she seemed to be seeking his opinion, but in reality, she was advocating for Lucien's inclusion.
Ryan chuckled inwardly. Such harmless political maneuvering added a touch of intrigue to their relationship. After some thought, he shook his head. "Bastonne is Bretonnia's cradle, and Davout being the first Holy Grail Old Guard knight gives him symbolic importance. He's the right choice for marshal. As for Lucien, I'd prefer to wait until he returns from the Badlands. He should already be on his way back, right?"
"He'll arrive within a week," Sulia replied, handing Ryan a report. "And yes, my father also supports Lucien."
"Once he's back, I'll have a chat with him about the state of Karak Eight Peaks and his thoughts on various matters," Ryan said, skimming the document. He suddenly remembered something. "By the way, where are Sylvia and Olica?"
"They're together. Olica is giving Sylvia some… courtier training," Sulia said with a mischievous smirk. "I approved it."
"Training?!" Ryan's expression darkened. "Wait, you don't mean that kind of training, do you?"
"And why not? Isn't Sylvia one of your courtiers?" Sulia countered, her tone teasing. "Don't think I don't know about those 'training sessions' Olica conducts for your other courtiers. If that's the case, Sylvia might as well join in. She's got quite the temper—probably why you don't favor her as much."
"Fair enough, if you think it's necessary," Ryan relented. He didn't dislike Sylvia, but her stern and serious demeanor could be a bit overbearing. Unlike Sulia, who balanced her regal poise with a more relaxed and playful side in private, Sylvia's rigidity left little room for ease.
In the adjacent room, Sylvia, dressed in a black-and-white maid uniform with white garter stockings and black pumps, found herself bound to the bed, blindfolded and gagged. Olica stood nearby, assembling what appeared to be leather straps and other ominous-looking contraptions.
"Dear Sylvia, are you ready?" the dark elf purred.
"Mmmph! (Nooo!)" Sylvia struggled desperately, muffled cries pleading for rescue.
But Sulia and Ryan had already "sold" her out. No one was coming to save her.
"What about the remaining knightly families?" Sulia asked, changing the subject. "This reform will strip hundreds of knightly houses of their titles, won't it?"
"I'll give them all one last chance—including Baldwin's Clément relatives who fled to Marienburg. Everyone will have one chance to redeem themselves," Ryan said, raising a finger with a sly grin. "A chance for atonement through a campaign."
"All aboard, rising wave!"
One Week Later: The Imperial Capital, Altdorf
In the Imperial Palace of Reikland, Emperor Karl Franz, recently recovering from a bout of stomach troubles, sat in his study reviewing documents. It was a routine he had grown accustomed to over the years, though he much preferred the camaraderie of his army.
Fortunately, several pieces of good news had brightened the Emperor's mood recently:
First, despite the Chaos Invasion, the Empire's economy showed signs of recovery. Rebuilding destroyed infrastructure, towns, and villages required significant labor, and new policies offering free land and tax exemptions for a year sparked a migration boom. Many peasants eagerly seized the opportunity to become self-sufficient farmers.
Second, the Empire's social mobility had surged. With many noble families decimated during the war, vacancies in landholdings and titles created unprecedented opportunities for upward mobility.
Third, cash flows from Balthasar Gelt's newly established province of Solland helped cover the Empire's massive deficits. Without this, the Emperor might have been forced to declare bankruptcy.
As Karl Franz reviewed financial reports, a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Enter," the Emperor called.
It was his chief diplomat, Metternich. "Your Majesty, I bring news from Bretonnia."
"Ah, Metternich. Please tell me it's good news," Karl Franz said, setting aside his papers.
"Indeed, sire. Bretonnia's internal conflict has been entirely resolved. Their king accomplished it without shedding a single drop of blood."
"Impressive. That sounds like Ryan," the Emperor remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice.
Metternich handed him a scroll. "In addition, King Ryan has issued a new decree abolishing noble privileges. Knightly families who have failed to produce a Grail Knight within three generations will lose their titles. However, His Majesty has generously offered these families a chance to atone."
"Oh? What kind of chance?" Karl Franz asked curiously.
"An atonement campaign. Stripped knights and disgraced noble families can choose to embark on a three-year campaign in Kislev, the Araby Desert, or the Badlands," Metternich explained, unable to suppress a wry smile. "King Ryan even gave a speech titled 'All Aboard, Rising Wave!' to inspire these knights."
Karl Franz unrolled the scroll and began reading:
**"To those who claim the Grail is harder to attain, look at you, as I do—with envy.
Bretonnia has spent centuries amassing connections, wealth, and resources, all of which now stand as gifts prepared for you.
With generous pay, bountiful spoils, and room and board included, you have the chance to embark on a journey like no other.
Learn the tongues of the dwarfs, experience Araby's music, or admire a Kislevite maiden. Explore foreign lands, savor exotic cultures, and chart your own path to the Grail.
Your ancestors' bloodlines, no matter how noble, won't guarantee survival. But through courage and strength, you'll forge your own destiny."
"All aboard, rising wave! Your redemption awaits!"**
The Emperor burst into laughter, nearly spilling his coffee.
"Ryan, you mad genius!" Karl Franz slapped his knee, his laughter echoing through the study. "Brilliant! Simply brilliant!"
For a moment, Karl Franz found himself wishing he could implement a similar policy.
"Good work, Ryan. Well played."
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