Chapter 429: Why Can't It Be Me?

Anterme's request left Ryan with no reason to refuse. He needed the power of the Quenelles Champion Knight Brotherhood and naturally had to bear corresponding responsibilities. However, he made it clear that Sulia would not participate in this military action. Attacking Blackstone Stronghold carried significant risks, and as his wife, the female knight was more useful staying in the territory than going to war.

Dinner was a sumptuous feast from southern Bretonnia, including baked snails, coq au vin, pan-fried foie gras, fish soup, sirloin steak, baked snails, and roasted lobster. The dishes, meticulously prepared by the chef Sulia brought, were particularly delicious, with truffles carefully incorporated to ensure everyone's enjoyment.

Incidentally, these southern nobles took the opportunity to disparage the poor culinary skills and monotonous dishes of the northerners.

After dinner, under the night sky, Anterme asked Ryan for some time to take a walk. Ryan agreed, knowing that the earl had something to discuss with him.

Under the boundless starry sky, the two Grail Knights walked slowly through the forest near the woodland cabin. Ryan fell a half step behind, contemplating what Anterme might want to say.

Ryan didn't know much about the earl, only that Anterme was a very powerful Grail Knight, skilled in both lance and sword. He was around fifty to sixty years old, had accomplished many great deeds, was François' trusted cousin, and was a significant noble in Winford Duchy who doted on Sulia.

Given that he was Ryan's elder, it was necessary to show some respect.

"Young man, I have watched your actions since you arrived in this kingdom. You have grand ambitions, you know?" Anterme began after they had walked through the forest for five minutes. "Somewhat too grand."

"I'm not sure what you mean, Uncle Anterme." Ryan naturally called Anterme "uncle" as Sulia did. He found that addressing relatives in this world was much simpler than in his previous life in the Celestial Empire—older men were either grandpa or uncle, and older women were either grandma or aunt. Cousins, whether elder or younger, were all just called cousins.

"Ryan, I'll call you that. You're an outsider. Marrying Sulia is your good fortune. Generally, our family would never marry a duke's daughter to a foreigner." Anterme turned to face Ryan. "But since it's you, I have no strong objections. After all, you are the Lady's chosen champion."

"So?" Ryan couldn't infer what his uncle was getting at from that alone.

"But Sulia's willingness to marry you doesn't mean you're qualified to compete for the throne." Anterme continued, "I know you may be favored by the gods, you may be incredibly strong, you may be a hero of the kingdom, but you're not fit to compete for the throne."

"I'm not a duke," Ryan nodded.

"Even if you were a duke, you wouldn't be qualified," Anterme rebutted, the fine wrinkles around his eyes twitching. "Ryan, becoming king isn't simple. Louen has the entire north of the kingdom supporting him. What about you? At most, only your cousin would support you, right? Sure, you have good relations with Bastonne and Bordeleaux, but so what? Duke Berthold of Bastonne has the right to compete for the throne, and Duke Bode of Bordeleaux will at most lean slightly towards you. He won't take a stance until the outcome is clear."

"I understand." Anterme's words were harsh but true. Ryan's foundation in this country was ultimately too shallow. He humbly accepted the criticism.

"What you need to do now is not think about the throne but first secure a duke's title." Anterme continued, "The only title in this country you can vie for is Duke of Mousillon. Fortunately, if you were as eager as a hungry wolf to secure a duke's title, I wouldn't have come to see you today."

Ryan's face soured. He did initially plan to seize Mousillon before considering Blackstone Stronghold, but Sulia's words had made him realize a few things.

Indeed, attacking Mousillon and Blackstone Stronghold both involved combating the undead. However, the primary beneficiary of attacking Mousillon would be Ryan himself, while attacking Blackstone Stronghold would benefit the entire kingdom threatened by Kemmler.

Anterme didn't need to say more because Ryan understood. There was no need to spell everything out between them.

Finally, Anterme patted Ryan's shoulder firmly. "Fortunately, you know how to control yourself. If you really did everything by invoking the Lady, relying on her favor and oracles in your rise, I might always be wondering, why not me?"

"???" Ryan's boots made a footprint on the damp forest floor.

"Why can't I be the Lady's chosen champion? Am I not good enough? I completed my Grail quest in my forties. Am I not strong enough? I once single-handedly killed a wyvern and destroyed a goblin tribe, slain a bile troll. I once had a great chance of inheriting the duke's title. Even after my cousin inherited it, I'm still the third in line after Sulia. Why can't I be the Lady's champion?" Anterme smiled. "Can't I be king? Why did my cousin choose you and not me? Just because

you're his son-in-law? So I must know my place and give you the opportunity? Why? Ryan, you're just a country bumpkin from Nord. I'm a legitimate descendant of the Winford ducal family!"

"What you can achieve, why can't I? I just haven't had the chance! If the Lady chose me as her champion, I could do it too!" Anterme continued his barrage of questions. Seeing Ryan deep in thought, he went on, "Ryan, many things don't necessarily need to be done by you alone. I hope you understand that."

"Many of the kingdom's great nobles think like this, don't they?" Ryan caught the undertone of Anterme's words.

"Indeed, Ryan, not everyone is as insightful. If everyone were smart and understood the situation, King Arthur wouldn't have fought a desperate battle against a greenskin horde thirty times his size. Emperor Ludwig the Savior wouldn't have called for unity against Chaos when the capital fell. Even Emperor Karl Franz, if he had understood the situation as many hoped, wouldn't have narrowly won the throne in the first round of voting against Boris Todbringer with an 8:4 disadvantage."

"If everyone understood the situation, the world would still be under the high elves' rule, and there wouldn't have been Charlemagne's empire. If everyone understood the situation, when Ludwig the Savior, after winning the Great Holy War, used his great achievements and the might of twenty thousand elite new imperial troops to invite Bretonnia to join the empire, the Knight King Tyrelf should have submitted obediently." Anterme continued, "My cousin indulges you and won't tell you this, but I must. There are many such people. They love to use results to infer causes and processes to prove their correctness. They believe they see through others but can't see themselves. Fortunately, from your current actions, they can't find too many faults, but those with opinions won't be few."

"The sad part is, such people are the majority," Ryan smiled wryly. "Many want change, but few are willing to act on it."

"I've said my piece." Anterme, Earl of Cuileux, indicated that Ryan needn't see him off. He whistled, and a Pegasus descended from the sky, carrying the earl away.

Ryan was left standing in deep thought.

The Primarch of the Grey Knights extended his hands, feeling the overwhelming power within him. Psyker sparks and lightning danced joyfully in his palms. These hands had many uses, but Ryan chose to use them to protect—his cherished ones, his family and loved ones, humanity, and order. He had gripped his warhammer with these hands to slay enemies countless times over the years, and he would continue to do so in the future.

He acted not out of personal desire or family interests, and on this point, he was guilt-free.

That was enough.

...

The vacation at the woodland villa was always short-lived. Ryan had barely enjoyed the brief respite before returning to his administrative duties. Countless state affairs required his personal attention, including the preparation and selection for the army's expedition. Grain had long filled the massive granaries Ryan had built. Dwarven trade caravans from the Grey Mountains and wood elf trade caravans from Athel Loren arrived in waves, fully loaded with goods.

Gradually, summer arrived. The scorching sun replaced the spring sunshine, baking the ground. The Midsummer Night recruitment festival was approaching. This year, the serfs' enthusiasm for enlisting exceeded everyone's expectations. Serfs who had no worries about food and clothing loudly discussed the recruitment event, bringing themselves or their children to the count's castle for selection. Everyone longed to join the army. Death was not to be feared; what was terrifying was a lifetime of lowly serfdom. The status of freemen was highly coveted, and only the count's orders and recognition could grant promotion.

But before that, Ryan needed to inspect the goods.

The Light Magic Chariot from the Imperial College of Wizards was finally nearing completion. After Veronica and her apprentices spent three months inscribing magic runes and constructing magic circles, they completed most of the settings this summer. This included adjusting the degree of magical overload, self-constructing and inscribing magic circles, and internal repairs and magical experiments of the Light Magic Chariot.

Now it was time for the final assembly. In the future, Veronica could stand atop this powerful war machine and fight.

Under the scorching sun, Ryan took his courtier Teresa to Veronica's Dawn Wizard Tower to witness the combat prowess of the Light Magic Chariot.

The sorceress was displeased. She had initially been unhappy that Ryan prioritized giving the Light Magic Chariot to Veronica. But after personal experimentation, she realized that Ryan's priority for Veronica wasn't just due to favoritism but also related to magical compatibility.

The Light Magic Chariot, made by the Imperial College of Wizards, was primarily intended for light magic wizards, then for all senior wizards of the Royal College.

Thus, Veronica, already proficient in light magic, quickly adapted to this powerful war machine. Teresa, primarily an ice magic sorceress, had a different grasp of magical theory, and ice magic didn't belong to the Eight Winds of Magic, making her use of the war machine troublesome.

For example, Veronica and her witch apprentice team could complete the construction in three months, while Teresa and her team might need three years. Moreover, her wizard tower was only half-built, and her witch apprentice team hadn't arrived yet. At this time, she needed money and effort everywhere, so she gave up competing with Veronica for the Light Magic Chariot's ownership. She also coerced Ryan into signing many unequal agreements, including accompanying her to Bordeleaux to purchase various magical supplies for three days.

"Teresa, you don't look well. Is it recent meditation issues or the weather?" Walking near the castle, Ryan asked his courtier, noticing her poor condition.

"The weather, especially this heat. I'm sure you understand." Teresa, looking pale, held Ryan's arm. She wore a simple white shirt with wavy embroidery, black slim-fit trousers, and black pointed high heels, exuding a clean and professional air.

Sulia was quite good to the two witches. After returning from the Empire, Sulia officially bestowed the title of courtier to Teresa and Veronica, reporting this to the kingdom. From then on, Teresa and Veronica could legally stay by Ryan's side. If they had offspring, they would be recognized as legitimate bastards, enjoying many noble privileges and rights except inheritance.

In simple terms, Teresa and Veronica were now officially part of Ryan's household and couldn't be dismissed or stripped of their courtier titles without proper reason.

In Bretonnia, the Empire, or the southern kingdoms, it was well known that nobles had many lovers. The courtier system was a compromise within the noble hierarchy, allowing a noble to have multiple courtiers in addition to a wife.

Emperor Charlemagne had five wives and five concubines. François had three legitimate bastards besides Julius and Sulia. Elector Count Wamir von Zhukov of the Empire had two courtiers and numerous lovers, with six legitimate and ten unacknowledged bastards.

"In this season, ice wizards and sorcerers are all like this. If it weren't for wanting to see Veronica's Light Magic Chariot, I might have stayed in the woodland villa built by your brother all day to cool off." Teresa nodded, her tone tinged with considerable resentment. "The opposite is true for Veronica, whose magic is strongest in summer. In winter, when I'm at my peak, she loves to stay in bed, read, meditate, and sit by the fireplace, or find you for some...bedtime activities."

"How is a wizard's magic, exactly?" Ryan asked curiously.

"Let me explain in detail about mana reserves and the ways of chanting spells," Teresa began.

Updated! Sorry for the slight delay today, forgive me.

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