Chapter 496: The Trade Site

On the Moros Plain, the Sea Knights had made landfall. Duke Bodric of Bordeleaux led 500 Sea Knights and 500 peasant troops, setting up camp here.

Typically, the forces of the Duchy of Bordeleaux would be much larger. However, given this was an operation on foreign soil, it was essential to avoid provoking Estalia's noblemen by deploying a massive army. Although the Estalian nobles were generally perceived as weak, a large invading force could stir discontent.

Inside Ryan's tent, the Count had just stepped out, leaving behind the Dark Elf and the Garland witch. Veronica was seated in front of a mirror, meticulously applying light makeup, lipstick, and jewelry. The Dark Elf, already dressed, sat on a simple cot, idly playing with a dagger, lost in thought.

"You know, Olica, you seldom venture out on these adventures with Ryan, do you?" Veronica remarked, watching the Dark Elf through the mirror.

"I don't enjoy leaving the base. If not for Ryan's insistence this time, I wouldn't have come." Olica's tone held a slight hostility toward Veronica, or perhaps toward everyone in Ryan's circle. She flipped the butterfly knife in her hand with a peculiar air. "Ryan's will is his own. Your opinions don't matter."

"And your opinions matter more?" Veronica retorted. "If you obey Ryan's will, why do you care about my thoughts?"

"Because Ryan said to consider your views on certain matters." Olica seemed conflicted. "But I despise taking orders from the weak, so I suggest you don't try to command me, witch, or I might not be able to resist teaching you a lesson."

"Teach me a lesson? Are you confident you can defeat me, Olica?" Veronica, clearly irked by Olica's high-handed attitude, turned around with a hint of anger in her voice. "Or should we find an opportunity to test that?"

"I promised Ryan I wouldn't fight you," Olica shook her head. "But I can tell you this: I could beat you in a few moves even without using magic. You wouldn't have time to cast a spell."

"And with magic?" Veronica conceded the point. Olica was evidently skilled with daggers and projectiles, a challenging foe for a spellcaster to handle unprepared. But Olica herself was also a powerful sorceress, making things complicated.

Unlike humans, Elves possess the natural ability to fight and cast spells simultaneously, a racial trait that cannot be emulated.

"In a standard magical duel, it wouldn't be too difficult. But unfortunately, my magic only comes from Ryan." Olica slipped her white silk-clad feet into her small boots and stood up. "Before my magic runs out, I could defeat you three times over."

"You've always kept a low profile, staying by Ryan's side for seven years. We all thought you were just a simple maid." Veronica understood Ryan didn't want conflicts within his inner circle, and she herself saw no point in a fight with Olica. "Is this a disguise, or does Ryan want you to be like this?"

"That's none of your concern. Since Ryan doesn't want us to clash, I won't take the initiative against you." The Dark Elf sighed softly. "Can you understand what it's like to live a meaningless life for over two hundred years and then finally find a purpose?"

"Do you expect a human to understand Elven thoughts?" Veronica replied bluntly as she put on a pair of diamond earrings. "A bit demanding, aren't you?"

"Humans envy Elves for their longevity," Olica whispered. "But they don't know that Elves are a cursed race. From the moment Asuryan created us, the Phoenix King decreed that Elves could not attain immortality. Although Elves live long lives, they still age and die. The strongest Elves can evade this rule for a longer time, but Asuryan curses them. Even if they don't die in battle or from illness, they gradually lose the 'feeling of being alive' and eventually lose interest in everything, choosing to end their lives."

"Human gods always protect their people, but Elven gods are so harsh?" Veronica's curiosity was piqued. "Can you tell me more?"

"To maintain the feeling of being alive, the Asur—High Elves—immerse themselves in aesthetics, art, and pleasure. The Druchii—Dark Elves like me—indulge in their desires, keeping their emotions alive through slaughter and physical passion. The Aesir—our Wood Elf cousins—merge with nature, using the power of the Oak of Ages and forest spirits to extend their lifespans and maintain vitality." Olica explained with a detached tone. "Elves fear death, but they fear losing the will to live even more."

"And you?" Veronica pressed on.

"Ryan drove away Asuryan's curse for me." The amber in Olica's eyes glistened with a faint emotion. "His psychic barrier not only shields me from Slaanesh's gaze but also expelled Asuryan's curse—a feat not even the most powerful Elves or Malekith himself could achieve. But Ryan did it."

"No wonder you're so devoted to him," Veronica finally understood.

Olica's loyalty wasn't as simple as it seemed. Her servitude to Ryan stemmed from his unique abilities. No other human, no matter how powerful, could have earned the devotion of this Dark Elf.

"Olica," Veronica set down her makeup kit and suddenly smiled.

"What?"

"I love Ryan. You love Ryan. So, shouldn't we be on the same side?" Veronica said with a bright smile.

"...In theory, yes," Olica hesitated before agreeing.

"Then that's settled."

... A brief interlude of private conversation ...

Inside Ryan's small tent, the commotion was minimal, unnoticed by those outside. Most of the Sea Knights and nobles were gathered in the main tent for a meeting.

Holy Grail Knight Frederic arrived late, having been out scouting the terrain. He hurried into the main tent, where the Sea Knights were already assembled. Duke Bodric and Count Ryan sat opposite each other, with Bodric on the right and Ryan on the left, denoting Ryan's status as second only to the Duke.

Seeing Frederic enter, Deputy Commander Sir Houlf and Bodric's magic advisor made room for him. Frederic knew this was his place, fourth in the hierarchy, above all the knights but below Bodric, Ryan, and Sir Houlf.

"Frederic, my son, you handled this excellently," the heavily armored Duke of Bordeleaux praised his son, a rare smile breaking his stern demeanor. "Not only did you avoid conflict with the local nobles, but you also opened new trade routes for us. Well done."

Feeling slightly awkward at his father's praise, Frederic quickly replied, "This was all thanks to Sir Ryan's diplomatic skills, not mine, father. I wouldn't take credit for someone else's achievements."

"But you followed his guidance, and that's a remarkable progress," Duke Bodric stroked his goatee, nodding approvingly. "Now, do you understand the difference between being a Holy Grail Knight who protects the Lady's land and being a competent lord who governs his domain?"

"Yes... Father," Frederic lowered his head in reluctant acknowledgment.

Father and son had often clashed over governance. Frederic had once thought many of Bodric's policies and methods were unknightly and couldn't understand why his father had never become a Holy Grail Knight. But witnessing Ryan's handling of problems made Frederic grudgingly admit there was a way to balance both roles. He just needed to learn how.

"Sir Ryan achieved the Holy Grail nine years ago at twenty-four. Sir Carad attained it recently at thirty-eight. Frederic, my son, you became a Holy Grail Knight at fifty-three. You must seek guidance from these veterans and never assume you know how to govern a duchy just because the Lady has blessed you. You still have much to learn." Bodric's voice was firm.

"Frederic is a quick learner," Ryan interjected with a smile. "There's always a learning curve. Protecting the land the Lady has given us is the greatest devotion to her. Frederic is your heir; he cannot dedicate himself solely to the Lady's sanctuaries like other Holy Grail Knights."

"Frederic has great potential, my Duke. He's simply unaccustomed to these duties. With someone as capable as Ryan guiding him, it won't take long," Sir Houlf quickly added.

"Exactly. That's why I sent him with you, Ryan. The future belongs to you young knights." Duke Bodric, sensing the point had been made, moved on. He gestured for a servant to bring out a map.

The meeting shifted to a military briefing. All the knights sat up straight, paying close attention.

"We will ambush these rogue knights on the Moros Plain, and I have chosen this spot." Duke Bodric pointed to a well-positioned area on the plain. "The rogue knights plan to make the exchange here, so this is where we'll strike."

"But my Duke, wouldn't that give the rogue knights a significant advantage

? We'll be charging from the woods while they'll be on open ground, ready to charge us," a Sea Knight voiced his concern, questioning the strategy.

"No, we need it this way," Duke Bodric was confident. "Do you know why the rogue knights and the Estalian mercenaries chose this location for the exchange?"

"It's convenient and open," Frederic suggested, studying the map closely. His eyes brightened with understanding. "It's perfect for large-scale cavalry maneuvers. If anything goes wrong, the rogue knights can retreat easily."

"Exactly," Ryan nodded, examining the terrain. "If the rogue knights are desperate to escape, we can't completely annihilate them and retrieve the Sea God's Trident. We need to create an illusion, making them believe they're only facing a small detachment searching for the trident, prompting them to attack."

"Correct. With the Margaret Vanguard's cooperation from within, we can then completely destroy these rogue knights and reclaim my family's heirloom," Duke Bodric affirmed. "Frederic, Sir Houlf, you will lead thirty Sea Knights to lure them into an attack. Once they charge, Ryan and I will follow with the main force."

"Yes!" The knights chorused, and the meeting concluded.

The next morning, on the Moros Plain.

A force of about a hundred rogue knights and over three hundred mounted squires rode in formation. In the morning mist, they moved slowly across the plain—a land of flat fields with a shallow creek and sparse forests. Despite the fog, the rogue knights' leader, Gilliam du Chastillon, felt triumphant.

Months of effort were finally coming to fruition.

Gilliam was a Bretonnian and had once been a proud Knight of the Realm in Bretonnia. However, he fell from grace due to his crimes—raiding caravans and assaulting women. After his deeds were uncovered, the Lady of the Lake's priestess, Morgiana, stripped him of his knighthood and exiled him.

Each year, some Bretonnian knights faced punishment by Morgiana for their serious misconduct. As the religious leader of the knightly realm, she kept a watchful eye on their behavior. The most severe punishment was transformation into a frog, condemned to live on insects until a young maiden's kiss might, with a slight chance, break Morgiana's curse.

Morgiana had hoped Gilliam would redeem himself during his exile, regaining his honor. But instead, he chose betrayal, accepting a secret commission from the Estalian Merchant Alliance. He gathered a band of rogue knights, spent months infiltrating Duke Bodric's family tomb, and stole the Sea God's Trident.

The Estalian Merchant Alliance offered 10,000 Excellents (equivalent to 4,000 gold crowns) for the artifact.

With that money, Gilliam planned to establish a new knightly order in Marguerite, operating as mercenaries for hire until they amassed enough wealth and titles.

A bright future lay ahead, though no longer in Bretonnia. Gilliam scoffed at the notion of the Lady of the Lake's guidance being more important than his personal desires. In Estalia, he could do as he pleased, without anyone to constrain him.

Ah, he longed for the company of women again. He recalled last night's raid on a peasant family, the man's dying stare, and his daughter's anguished cry as Gilliam pulled up his trousers and speared her through the belly with his lance.

Today was the day of the exchange. Gilliam nodded to himself as he saw the Margaret Vanguard's commander leading over a thousand well-armed mercenaries waiting nearby.

The mercenary commander, Rodrigo, bald and sporting stubbly whiskers, signaled his men to prepare for combat. He arrogantly demanded, "Where's the goods?"

Gilliam scowled, then motioned to his knights.

Two rogue knights brought forth a rectangular wooden box, pulling off the burlap covering and opening it.

Inside lay the Sea God's Trident, the prized heirloom of Duke Bodric's family.

"Indeed, it's the Sea God's Trident," Rodrigo confirmed, nodding. "We'll take it from here."

"Wait! What about our payment?!" Gilliam instinctively felt something was wrong and demanded.

"Payment is right here," Rodrigo signaled his men to open three large chests, each brimming with gold coins.

"Alright, let's proceed with—"

"Enemies spotted!" A shout interrupted, as a rogue knight reported, "Commander! We've got enemies! Sea Knights!"

"How many?"

"Around thirty riders!"

"Good! Let's crush these Sea Knights first!"

_________________________

[Check out my Patreon for +200 additional chapters in all my fanfics! $5 for all!!] 

[w w w . p a t r e o n .com / INNIT]

[+50 PowerStones = +1 Chapter]