Hearing Emperor Karl Franz's suggestion, Emmanuelle almost instinctively frowned. She recognized the trap hidden in his words. Emmanuelle, or rather Emilia, had a well-known special relationship with Ryan, which was no secret in the Empire. While Nuln benefited the most from the treaty between the Empire and Bretonnia, they were still two separate nations. Emmanuelle knew that the prudent course of action was to remain neutral on the matter.
So why was the Emperor pushing the decision onto her?
Karl Franz was cleverly maneuvering her into a rhetorical trap. If she supported seeking aid from Bretonnia, the responsibility of negotiating terms would fall solely upon her. If Bretonnia's aid fell short or came at a cost, the blame would fall on her shoulders, tarnishing her reputation within the Imperial Parliament. On the other hand, if she opposed the aid request, she would be accused of ignoring the greater good and favoring Bretonnia over the Empire.
Emmanuelle stared icily at the Emperor, fully aware of his game. He wanted her to step into his rhetorical snare so he could leverage her involvement for concessions—likely more money and troops. This was precisely why Emmanuelle loathed court politics. She longed for the simpler days as a carefree maid by Ryan's side. Her thoughts wandered to her son, Frederick. Once he turned thirty, she hoped to pass all her titles to him and return to Ryan's court for a quieter life together.
But for now, she had to navigate the Emperor's trap carefully. Emmanuelle, brimming with poise, held out her hand. "Then give me the hammer."
"The hammer?" The Emperor seemed puzzled.
"Ghal Maraz!" Emmanuelle replied sharply. "If you're suggesting I take on the duties of Emperor, then hand me the symbol of your rule."
"I am an elected Emperor, not a hereditary monarch," Karl Franz replied, understanding her point. "Ghal Maraz is a gift from the people of the Empire; I cannot give it to you."
"Then you must bear the responsibilities that come with being Emperor!" Emmanuelle's words were edged with authority. "You alone are the equal of the King of Bretonnia; it is not our place to negotiate on your behalf. You, Emperor, must make this decision yourself!"
In their exchange, none of the other Elector Counts dared to interject. With the issue clearly laid out, Karl Franz declared, "As Emperor, I believe it is necessary to request aid from our Bretonnian allies. Who is in favor, and who is opposed?"
Realizing they had been outmaneuvered, none of the Elector Counts objected. To dissent would signal ambitions for the throne. One by one, they nodded in agreement, sealing the decision.
The Emperor immediately ordered a messenger to be dispatched to Bretonnia to request aid.
As the meeting continued, the northern Elector Counts turned their attention to Emmanuelle, pressuring her to commit more troops and resources. Acknowledging the severity of the Chaos threat, Emmanuelle ultimately agreed to a substantial contribution. The Elector Counts then turned to Marius Leitdorf, the Grand Duke of Averland. With a bountiful harvest, Averland's lands had produced a record yield, with wheat output nearing 4,000 kilograms per hectare. Averland was flush with food, with many farmers brewing dark beer at home and even some commoners enjoying white bread.
The Empire's survival depended on food supplies, and Marius, aware of the urgency, reluctantly agreed. "We'll gather the grain you need. You're lucky, gentlemen—Averland had a great harvest this year, so we'll contribute what we can."
"Good," said the Emperor. "Take a short break, and we'll reconvene this afternoon to discuss defensive arrangements and any remaining domestic issues before the Chaos tide reaches our borders. Let's muster all available forces, paid or otherwise."
The meeting adjourned, and Emmanuelle felt conflicted, torn between hoping Ryan would answer the call and hoping he wouldn't. Bretonnia's intervention would fuel Nuln's economy, creating a new influx of military orders that would keep the factories busy. But if Ryan joined the war effort, Emmanuelle would miss the chance to spend time with him—she had already planned a three-day, two-night escape to a hot spring for them both. With a sigh, she glanced wistfully at her son Frederick, wishing he would grow up faster.
Meanwhile, at the Bretonnian capital of Couronne, Ryan and Calard rushed back to the royal palace with the initial reports from the Empire. Entering his study, Ryan found his queen, Sulia, working at his desk.
"Sulia, any new information?" Ryan asked.
"None yet," Sulia replied, looking up from her work, her concern evident. "The Empire's message was brief. We have no clear picture of the situation. Ryan, what happened to Kislev?"
"Kislev never had the strength to withstand the Northern Chaos tide," Ryan said thoughtfully, moving to his seat and lifting Sulia gently into his lap. Sulia gasped softly but relaxed against him. "We must wait for more intelligence before rushing to judgment. Panic won't help us now."
With a sigh, Sulia admitted he was right. "Ryan… does this mean you're going to war again?"
"If it's necessary." Ryan nodded. A king of knights could not abandon the battlefield. In this dark world, a ruler who lacked military prowess was easily replaced.
"Sometimes I wish you could stay home," Sulia whispered, leaning against his chest. "I imagine our family living peacefully if you were just a count. Wouldn't that be better?"
"In a better world, yes." Ryan kissed his queen softly. "But in this world, Sulia, if I don't defend our kingdom, who will?"
"I know. People say that Bretonnia's golden age was forged by you, battle by battle," Sulia said proudly. "Even the High Elves seem to regard you with unusual respect…"
"Respect? Is that what they call it?" Ryan chuckled and kissed her again. "Remember that 'song' they played for us?"
Sulia's curiosity piqued. "What did those lyrics mean, anyway?"
"The first line is 'Monkey Doodle went to town, riding on a pony…'" Ryan sighed. "It's their idea of a jab, basically saying, 'Look at this clumsy country squire.'"
"Ha!" Sulia laughed, her worries melting away. She pinched his arm playfully. "There's never a dull moment with you, Ryan. I'm going with you this time."
Before Ryan could respond, a flash of brilliant platinum light filled the room. The Lady of the Lake, dressed in a silver-embroidered gown, stepped out of the ether. Adorned with platinum jewelry, she moved gracefully into the room and tapped Ryan lightly on the shoulder, signaling for him to be gentle with Sulia.
"Ryan, I'll send Morgiana and an entire retinue of priestesses with you to aid the Empire. I'll also appear myself if necessary," she announced.
"Lady Lilith, you're coming, too?" Ryan asked, sensing her urgency. "Why? Do you know more about Kislev's situation?"
The goddess shook her head. "I don't know Kislev's exact circumstances. My power extends only to the edges of the Old World, not to distant lands like Norsca or the Chaos Wastes. But I must warn you—this invasion heralds the beginning of the End Times. If the Empire and Kislev fall in this conflict, they will be too weak to withstand the true End Times."
"I understand. Chaos leaves nothing but desolation in its wake." Ryan nodded gravely. "I never thought Kislev would fall so quickly, especially with fortified strongholds like Praag and Kislev City."
"What about logistics?" Sulia pushed herself up, her face flushed. "How many troops will you raise?"
"I plan to…" Ryan began, but was interrupted by hurried footsteps in the corridor outside.
The sound was unmistakable. The palace's carefully designed acoustics amplified any urgent footsteps, ensuring that guards and attendants would be alert. Realizing someone was approaching, Sulia quickly took a seat nearby, and the Lady of the Lake, with a mischievous glint, leaned in to kiss Ryan on the cheek before disappearing into a shimmer of light, merging with Sulia's form.
"Your Majesty!" came a voice from outside as a palace guard knocked. "Beliar has urgent military news!"
"Is it news from the Empire?" Ryan called, hoping for more information.
"No, it's personal news!" the guard replied.
Personal news? Ryan's curiosity was piqued. "Send him in!"
Beliar entered swiftly, dressed in a green military uniform adorned with medals commemorating his bravery against the Norscans. Without waiting, he knelt and said, "Your Majesty, there's urgent news from Erengrad!"
"Erengrad?" Ryan stood. "What is it?"
"Erengrad still stands, Your Majesty! Marshal Rokossovsky has rallied Kislev's remaining forces and is holding the city! They urgently need supplies and reinforcements," Beliar reported, his voice brimming with urgency.
"Kislev's forces are still holding out?" Ryan's eyes widened. "They didn't follow the Tsarina's orders to abandon the city?"
"Marshal Rokossovsky, Admiral Kuznetsov, and Chekist Warden Josef Brutz have joined forces with Erengrad's boyars and Duma representatives. They executed the Tsarina's appointed officers and formed the Erengrad Defense Coalition, vowing to fight Chaos to the last!"
"Your Majesty, they need supplies and reinforcements!
Without aid, the fire of their resolve will be extinguished."
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