Chapter 428: Reincarnation is Also a Discipline

The arrival of Angron turned the idle chat between two people into a conversation among three. The Primarch of the World Eaters jumped off his Gryphon mount, bringing with him a few cans of fresh Tyrell civet coffee, two strings of venison jerky, and a few bottles of brandy.

Brandy is a fine wine from Bretonnia, made from white grapes. It is primarily produced in the southern part of Bretonnia and is renowned throughout the Old World. The best brandy comes from the Duchy of Paravon. It is said that the first Duke of Paravon, Agilgar, forged a friendship with the wood elves of Athel Loren, who gifted him white grapevines used to make this exquisite wine. These two types of white grapes are known as White Jade and Pigeon White.

As a token of gratitude, Duke Agilgar named the wine "Centaur" to commemorate his wood elf and centaur friends.

Centaur brandy is produced in limited quantities, with only twelve to fifteen bottles made each year. Each bottle costs over two hundred gold crowns. Casfan annually tributes two bottles to the Knight King, two to the Lady of the Lake, and trades three with the Empire. The rest are stored deep within his castle. After Casfan was captured in the Battle of Helmgart, his wife promptly retrieved three cases of Centaur brandy from their castle, paying off most of the ransom, leading to Casfan's swift release.

"So... brother, how did you get these two bottles of Centaur brandy?" Ryan's face showed a conflicted expression as he set the newspaper aside, staring at the two bottles of Centaur brandy in Angron's hands, which bore the yellow Pegasus seal of Duke Casfan of Paravon. Having lived in Bretonnia for nearly seven years, Ryan recognized them as genuine.

"These? I took them," Angron placed the items on the long table in the open courtyard, completely unconcerned.

"Took them?" Ryan gave his brother a sideways look and remarked, "Brother, didn't you promise me you wouldn't rob human caravans anymore?"

"I didn't rob anyone~" Angron waved his large hand and laughed heartily. "I took them from the greenskins! All of these!"

Angron sat across from Ryan, recounting the story.

Recently, Angron had been "touring" the Grey Mountains when he stumbled upon Duke Paravon's caravan being attacked by a greenskin tribe on the "Grey Lady's Road." This caravan was carrying valuable goods for trade with the Reikland in the Empire, originally traveling a safe trade route through Axe Bite Pass.

Everyone knows Axe Bite Pass was destroyed, forcing this caravan to take the Grey Lady's Road. Sandwiched between vampire armies and greenskin tribes, the entire caravan was tragically wiped out, with five leading knights and over a hundred guards perishing.

Angron expressed deep condolences and then descended from the sky. His left-hand axe aimed at the undead army, and his right-hand axe targeted the greenskin tribe.

"Hand over the goods, and I can give you a quick death."

"That's how these two bottles of Centaur brandy came to be," Angron explained. He graciously buried the caravan and took the goods to prevent them from being lost in the icy wilderness. Using the weight capacity of his Gryphon, he carried off the most precious brandy, venison jerky, a few cans of civet coffee, two fine silks, and a couple of wooden boxes of goods.

Ryan was speechless at Angron's rogue behavior. He opened his mouth but couldn't find a word to criticize Angron. In every sense, Angron seemed to have done nothing wrong. Taking the goods from the greenskins was justifiable. When dealing with such vile creatures, neither the Empire nor Bretonnia felt the need to uphold any chivalric code. The consensus was that the only good greenskin was a dead greenskin.

"Try it, brother. It's rare to get our hands on two bottles of this fine stuff, hehe." Angron poured a glass for Ryan and Olica.

"Fragrant and rich, with a lingering aftertaste, Centaur brandy is indeed a top-tier wine in the Old World." Ryan swirled the glass, watching the brown liquid swirl in the goblet. "It's just a pity the production is so limited."

By the way, these goblets were also "taken" by Angron.

His wife Sulia's Winford Duke family owns the only super-premium winery and two of the five premier wineries in the Old World. The super-premium wine "Lusalius" produces about six to eight hundred bottles every three years, barely meeting the needs of the Empire and Bretonnia's high nobility for banquets. In contrast, Centaur brandy produces only twelve to fifteen bottles annually, making it impossible to popularize widely.

"Not bad." Olica sipped her brandy. The dark elf nodded. "Although human winemaking lags behind the elves, the distinct flavor of the variety still stands out."

Angron didn't care about Olica's opinion. He turned his attention to the newspaper on the table. "Is this the 'Legion Banner'? What nonsense is the military department spewing to our loyal but foolish soldiers?"

"Did you enjoy reading 'Weekly One Piece' before, brother?" Ryan was intrigued.

"Of course. When I was still a Daemon Prince of Khorne, I loved reading the papers I got from those bigheads. They provided a good laugh for Kahn and me." Angron flipped through the paper briefly before losing interest. "This soldier named Perkins got lucky. The greenskin vehicle must have malfunctioned and exploded from a volley. When surrounded by greenskins, he was probably just holding a bayonet ready to die. Then Johnson arrived."

"Luck is part of skill, brother. Reincarnation is also a skill. In this country, where you are born almost determines whether you'll be a noble knight or a serf." Ryan casually commented, "Brother, if you were born in father's Empire, which identities would be ideal?"

Angron savored his brandy before replying. "Three kinds: a wandering merchant, a Titan Knight family, or an Imperial Navy officer. These are relatively free and well-off. Especially the wandering merchants. I recall some families received trade licenses personally signed by father during the Great Crusade era. Those licenses override Imperial law. Unfortunately, such licenses are extremely rare. Every family holding one is among the richest, answerable only to father, and no one can command them. The nine sets of jewelry as your wedding gift were tributes from these families."

"Then there's the chancellor Makado, Guilliman, Sanguinius, Dorn, Johnson, and Vulkan, who also issued similar trade licenses. These are slightly less powerful but still enough to establish a prosperous merchant dynasty. Subsequent trade licenses have limited freedom, are monitored, and have restricted activities." Angron continued, "And they can't be inherited."

"In this world, too, wars are everywhere—the Empire, Bretonnia, facing chaos and barbarians in the north, greenskins in the south, undead, and beastmen within." Ryan said self-deprecatingly, "Growing up in Nord, I learned that barbarians are endless and the forest is never clean. Even though I killed Egil Red-Eye, the northern barbarians lost fifty thousand elite warriors. But given a few years, they'll recover."

"War is an eternal theme, my brother." Angron gazed at the sky. "Since the Great Crusade, our path has always been from one war to the next. By the way, I heard you plan to attack Blackstone Stronghold. How are the preparations?"

"Resource allocation is still underway. As for the war preparations, there's still much to be done. Currently, we have some soldier vacancies in my territory, so we will recruit new soldiers at the Midsummer Night enlistment ceremony. I can't take all the troops from my territory; we must leave enough to defend it." Ryan pondered. A war requires thorough preparation.

His father-in-law, François, was also mobilizing for war, gathering the army.

Ryan was waiting for someone today.

To attack Blackstone Stronghold, François not only planned to assemble a large army but also intended to call upon a special knightly order.

This knightly order was called the "Quenelles Champion Knight Brotherhood," composed entirely of questing knights and Grail knights. This elite Bretonnian knightly order consisted of all legendary or above powerful knights, one of the kingdom's few elite armies.

After chatting in the open courtyard for a while, Sulia woke up and came down from the villa with her servants and maids. Seeing Angron, the lady knight politely greeted him. "Good afternoon, Brother Angron."

"Hello, Sulia. Good afternoon." Angron nodded. The Primarch of the World Eaters was quite satisfied with his sister-in-law, though there was no such term in this world, so he called her by name.

"Uncle Anterme hasn't arrived yet?" Sulia sat to Ryan's right and asked her husband after waking up.

"Not yet," Ryan shook his head.

Anterme, the Earl of Cuileux, François' cousin, and one of the main noble forces in the upcoming attack on Blackstone Stronghold.

The now-defunct Duchy of Cuileux has been mentioned before, so there's no need to repeat it. Although Winford Duchy has fully inherited Cuileux's territory, the noble title of Cuileux was retained and passed to François' cousin, Anterme.

From a certain angle, Winford Duchy's full name should be "Quenelles and Cuileux United Duchy." Since the titles of Duke of Quenelles and Duke of Cu

ileux have merged into "Duke of Winford," François always uses the title Duke of Winford.

If his father-in-law wished, he could change his title to "Tancred II, Duke of Quenelles."

According to Sulia, François didn't like staying in Quenelles. The city was too close to Athel Loren, bordering the wood elves' territory. Since one of the dukes disappeared in the forest, the duchy's capital moved to Helenhill. A castellan was appointed to lead the knights stationed in Quenelles, responsible for monitoring the undead and wood elves.

The castellan's title differs from a baron. The duke can appoint and remove the castellan at will, who only answers to the duke, somewhat like a warden.

After waiting for a while, Sulia's uncle, François' cousin Anterme, finally arrived.

The earl appeared to be in his thirties, with a face weathered by time and eyes full of piety and wisdom. A long hooked nose added a peculiar touch to his otherwise handsome features. His slicked-back hair and neatly trimmed goatee exuded elegance.

He was also a powerful Grail Knight, skilled in both lance and sword.

Ryan thought that in Bretonnia, there were no nobles who couldn't ride, wield a sword, or use a lance.

After thousands of years of breeding, noble bloodlines were intricately intertwined, making family ties complex and vast. Ryan found it somewhat annoying. He had recently received numerous "distant relatives" of Sulia wanting to become his knight vassals. While some knights were competent, most were just empty shells.

"Hello, Lord Ryan-Macado. I am Anterme of Astley, honored to meet you, the Lady's chosen champion." Anterme greeted Ryan warmly.

"Hello, Lord Anterme." Ryan extended his hand to shake the earl's. "Your help greatly increases our chances of conquering Blackstone Stronghold."

"Hello, Uncle Anterme." Sulia also stood to greet her uncle.

"Congratulations on your marriage, Sulia." Anterme smiled at his niece. "Please, sit down."

After some small talk, the group discussed serious matters in the open courtyard. Angron went hunting, while Ryan and Anterme sat opposite each other. Ryan quietly asked, "So, the Quenelles Champion Knight Brotherhood is deploying?"

"Yes, my cousin has written to the champion knights. Many knights have gathered at the duchy's capital, including Sir Calard of Garamond, who is on a Grail quest, and my cousin, Sir Gerald." Anterme whispered. "This time, it's Heinrich Kemmler's end. We missed one chance before. Now, the champion knights are eager to take his head."

"Good," Ryan nodded. "Our ally, King Belegar Ironhammer of Clan Angrund, is forging more dwarf cannons and organ guns. The formidable walls of Blackstone Stronghold will not impede our knightly army!"

"So, Lord Ryan, as the leader of the Quenelles Champion Knight Brotherhood, I formally invite you and Sulia to join us as knight partners!" An emblem of a silver unicorn was placed before Ryan.

"War is imminent!"

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