Chapter 113: The Patriarch Arrives!

"Marinburg, huh?" After reading the letter, the Duke of Griffons handed it back to the emperor: "Your Majesty, what do you think?"

"Marinburg is part of the Empire, that's fundamental," Karl-Franz signaled they could turn back. "However, we must acknowledge a fact: Marinburg may be the Empire's territory, but its people don't see themselves as the Empire's subjects."

"Yet these subjects are far wealthier than their lord," the Duke of Griffons said seriously, his blue eyes shining with wisdom. "My Emperor, I believe we undoubtedly must send troops, but perhaps we can use this opportunity to reclaim some sovereignty over Marinburg... or at the very least, make these princes of commerce cough up enough gold."

"I share your view... my Duke, we have plenty of time, let's discuss this thoroughly." Death's Claw, the griffon, swooped down through the forest to land before them. The emperor mounted it, and the Duke of Griffons whistled. A griffon as immense as Death's Claw, known as the Scourge of Beasts, the Duke's own mount, came soaring from Griffon Cliff.

The emperor and the duke rode the griffons swiftly across the sky, arriving at Griffon Castle.

Atop hundreds of meters high cliffs were statues of golden angels and griffons soaring into the sky. Built against the mountain, Griffon Castle stood with its thirty-plus meter high walls encircling the mountain's base, a majestic city nestled within this sacred mountain, embracing the Duke of Griffons' domain.

Griffon Castle was divided into five levels, each with its own walls and entrances. The path to the top fortress was winding and steep, with various siege machines densely positioned along the walls of this gigantic fortress, with many griffons joyfully circling the castle.

The Duke of Griffons' lands were fertile, crisscrossed with paths and orchards. Each private farm had fences, barns, and kilns, with many ditches flowing down the mountainsides, crossing this verdant land to join the Reich River, symbolizing the typical landscape of the Emperor's direct territories – the Reichland, a rich plain under the Emperor's direct rule, with mild climate, fertile soil, and populous.

Back in the duke's residence at the castle's summit, the duke opened a secret room for discussing confidential matters. The room, with only one entrance and cliffs on three sides, was warm with a lit fireplace. Servants had prepared various fruits and red wine, retreating after greeting the emperor and the duke, leaving them to their discussion.

Karl-Franz sat at the head, tossing the letter on the table, and turned to Ivan with a wry smile, "Alright, my Duke, let's figure out what to do."

"Just call me Ivan, Your Majesty," Ivan-Ferdinand sat on the long sofa to the emperor's left, understanding the emperor's intent.

Supporting Marinburg was undoubtedly a lucrative mission, not much to gain from battling the orcs, but Marinburg was wealthy. The affluent city, being the Old World's largest port, would undoubtedly have to offer a substantial amount of gold to satisfy the Empire, making the commander of the relief forces the biggest beneficiary.

As Ivan anticipated, the emperor spoke, "Ivan, let the griffons take a flight, breathe some fresh air."

"My Emperor, won't you lead the troops personally?" The Duke of Griffons, his expression calm, seemed unsurprised.

"I have other matters to attend to; the relief force will be entirely your responsibility," Karl-Franz ordered calmly. "So, Ivan, how do you plan to fight this war?"

"We face several difficulties, Your Majesty. Many areas have just been pacified, and the newly pacified territories need enough garrison to maintain order," Ivan lifted his wine glass. "Next is the spring plowing season; we may recruit fewer troops than expected, and a grand waaagh! requires a substantial force."

"I'll allocate more Greatswords and musketeers to you, but you still need to conscript enough troops. The military expenses will be fully covered by Marinburg, don't worry," Karl-Franz took the wine glass from Ivan, shaking his head, "The Griffon Knights must not be mobilized lightly; you can take up to three squadrons of knights at most."

"Alright, that means even fewer troops, and... Marinburg has informed us we cannot hold the city; we must engage in field battles," the Duke of Griffons drained his wine, "For a field battle, we need enough knights."

"The Sunfire Knights are currently assisting in the south, purging beastmen in the Bresia province, and the Reichsguard needs rest. Without sufficient knights, it's difficult to defeat the orc army in the field," Ivan frowned, aware of the challenges. Despite recognizing the mission's profitability, the lack of troops was an issue, especially with the upcoming spring plowing and recent pacification efforts limiting conscription and mobilization.

The Reichsguard, essentially Karl-Franz's private army, wouldn't be deployed unless the Emperor himself was involved. The Griffon Knights, being a national treasure, couldn't be shown lightly, leaving the Duke of Griffons facing a shortage of troops.

"May I seek reinforcements, Your Majesty? I need enough knights."

"Whom will you seek for reinforcements?" Karl-Franz approved Ivan's approach but set limitations, "It's best if other Electors don't get involved in Marinburg's affairs."

"Across the Grey Mountains, don't we have our knightly allies in the Empire?" The Duke of Griffons' eyes sparkled with wisdom, "Knights don't need to worry about spring plowing and won't covet Marinburg. A sum of gold should suffice to enlist their service."

"Very well," the Emperor nodded, "Then let's begin."

...

Mid-February, afternoon, 53 Amber Road, Marinburg, the home of Ryan-Marcado.

Recently, Marinburg's security had been somewhat chaotic, with the news of the orc army's assembly spreading somehow, causing widespread panic and doomsday rumors. The Upper House had to suppress these repeatedly, promising the orc army couldn't reach them and that Imperial reinforcements were on their way, barely managing to quell the unrest.

But none of this disturbed the peace on Amber Road, for if chaos reached this district, Marinburg would be nearing its end.

In the study on the second floor, Ryan sat behind his desk reading, taking advantage of the poor weather to rest at home.

"Knock, knock, knock~" Someone knocked on the study door, and Ryan looked up, "Come in!"

Little maids Amelia and Miranda entered, carrying tea and juice. Both girls were dressed in black and white maid uniforms, with white stockings and deer leather short boots, white headbands tying their long hair. Amelia spoke first, "Mr. Ryan, your afternoon tea."

After some time together, Amelia had grown accustomed to calling Ryan by his name.

"Master." Miranda didn't have that privilege; she had to call him master.

"Oh, you're here. Place the things there, and Amelia, stay a moment," Ryan stood, indicating to place the tray on the table used for receiving guests, away from the desk and books.

"Yes!" Both maids complied, Amelia stayed behind, and Miranda glanced at her enviously. The little maid was quite confident in her appearance, her starting price of a hundred gold marks at the auction attested to that. However, compared to Amelia's beauty and grace, she felt inferior. Amelia was like a mountain spring, sweet and refreshing. Miranda often wondered how Amelia became Ryan's maid.

Since arriving, Miranda hadn't experienced the expected torment or being treated merely as a breeding tool. Instead, she found herself simply serving as a maid. Moreover, the food she enjoyed here was even better than when she was a lady in her own house. Ryan, the household's master, was powerful, handsome, well-spoken, and knowledgeable. Miranda even wished he would see her as just a breeding machine.

No, the little maid noticed this human hero, aside from occasionally glancing at her legs in white stockings, never intended to do anything, not even hinting at it.

Even the dark elf, despite her beauty, never saw Ryan make a move. At night, Miranda often rested in the same servant's room with her, only Amelia seemed to catch his special attention.

With envy and admiration, and a bit of dissatisfaction, Miranda carefully left the study.

"Has everything been peaceful at home lately?" Ryan asked, tasting the exquisite pastries made by the girl.

"Actually... nothing major happened, but there are two things I think Mr. Ryan should know," Amelia thought for a moment. "The first is about Miranda; she altered her skirt length secretly, thinking Mr. Ryan would like it. I scolded her, reminding her the skirt length was designed by Mr. Ryan."

"The dark elf... she hardly speaks, but... according to Miranda, she often talks in her sleep, then wakes up suddenly, seeming in pain," Amelia shared the second matter.

"Waking from sleep in distress? Strange talk?" Ryan paid attention, "Did Miranda mention how often this happens? Is it every night?"

"Yes, every night. Miranda complained it was becoming unbearable, so I set up a separate bed for her in the living room corner," Amelia looked troubled.

Hmm... a high elf captive, once a noble but now weaker than an ordinary person, having nightmares, Ryan thought for a moment. He quickly realized high elves must have used magic on Orica, either stripping her potential or harming her soul, ensuring she could only remain a slave, unable to do anything else.

He needed to check on Orica's condition.

A loud griffon's cry tore through the sky, its resounding call echoing over Amber Road: "Woooah!!!"

"That sound is! The Patriarch's griffon, the Scourge of Beasts!" Ryan instinctively stood, his face showing excitement, joy, and a bit of unease.

He didn't notice Amelia's expression also changed, showing a mix of panic and reverence.

This state didn't last long before an elegant, mature male voice, quite loud, came from outside.

"Ryan! You little stinker! Get out here!"

"It's the Patriarch! The Duke of Griffons has come!"

___________________

(Support with power stones, comments or reviews)

If you guys enjoy this story, In support me on Patreon and get access to +200 advance Chapters

Read Ahead

Patreon.com/INNIT