Both the knightly nobility of Brittany and the military nobility of the Empire are fundamentally martial by nature.
In the Empire, if a noble with a title has reached old age without ever seeing a battlefield, they would be ridiculed and mocked at various banquets. More importantly, ever since Ludwig's reforms, the titles of military nobles decrease with each generation. An earl in one generation could see their offspring become a viscount, then a baron, until the noble title is eventually revoked. To prevent their family's noble status from being stripped away, military nobles almost always send one of their legitimate heirs to serve in the Emperor's or an Elector's court. When war is declared, nobles must lead their troops to ensure they can earn military merits and avoid being excluded from the military system, which could result in a downgrade or even loss of all their lands.
When Emperor Karl Franz first ascended to the throne, he handled things this way. When the Emperor led his army north to the Nord Kingdom to fight the barbarians, many nobles of Reikland refused to answer his call, believing his worth as an emperor had yet to be proven. Emperor Karl did not say much; he simply marched with the forces of those who supported him.
Then, the Emperor won. Returning in the glory of victory, Karl Franz dealt with the disobedient nobles, and no one dared object. A large group of nobles had their lands confiscated, and they were reduced to commoners, while new military nobles eagerly awaited to take their places.
"Don't be too proud of your success today. One day, you'll have to settle the score, and everything will come to pass. Don't engage in such actions. Remember, the king is always watching from above, and you must have reverence." Ryan said with ill intent. "The Empire is like this, and so is Brittany."
Veronica could sense the subtle warning in Ryan's words. The Garland witch nodded silently. Ryan's message was clear: he could give her wealth, resources, and a high status, but as his chief court lady, she must stand by his side and follow his orders.
Though Veronica was intelligent enough not to need constant reminders, Ryan still made his point, though somewhat indirectly.
The Garland witch thought to herself that Brittany was not much different from the Empire. Both were ruled by military nobles. In the knightly kingdom, one could mock the knights for being foolish, greedy, or corrupt, but no one ever accused them of cowardice. When war comes, the knights mount their horses and fight evil to the death.
It was this constant external pressure and the never-ending fight against evil that allowed Brittany, after a thousand years, to maintain the knightly nobility's ambition and pioneering spirit. Coupled with the ongoing encouragement of the Lady of the Lake's Grail system, Brittany still stood strong today.
In this light, was Ryan's grand gamble—the great chivalric expedition—necessary?
After thinking for a while, Veronica concluded that it was.
In this dark age of immense external pressure and the special status of the knightly nobility, Ryan had no choice but to win wars to ensure national stability and expand his personal authority. How had Ryan come this far? Wasn't it because he hadn't lost a single battle since arriving in Brittany? No matter the difficulty or the enemy, he had always emerged victorious. It was only because of this that the kingdom's knightly nobility was willing to accept him as their king.
This was the only path forward, and the only way to centralize power.
This was the man she had chosen, the one who could turn the impossible into reality. Thinking this, Veronica's eyes softened with affection. She stretched out her black silk-clad foot, painted in rose-red nail polish, and gently rubbed Ryan's face with her soft sole, teasingly saying, "My dear, what will we do if we lose this battle?"
"I won't lose." Ryan grabbed her foot, kissed it in his palm, and smiled. "Have a little faith in your man, darling."
"Come on, just imagine." Veronica pressed on, her face slightly flushed. "What will you do, my king?"
"Well, then I guess I'll have to go back and inherit my entire legion and vast family estate, and obediently follow my father on campaigns across the stars," Ryan said with a mischievous grin.
"Hey, you're spouting nonsense again." Veronica chuckled, thinking her man liked to boast. She knew him well enough—where was this "father" of his? His adoptive father Norman was retired in White Wolf City, and he hadn't even passed his land to Ryan. Ryan's godfather, Duke Ivan of the Griffons, did have an independent army, but what did that have to do with Ryan?
However, Veronica quickly thought of Ryan's brothers—all demigods! His father was likely a True God! If that was the case, maybe Ryan really did have a massive estate and legion waiting for him to inherit.
His origins were shrouded in mystery. Even after nearly twenty years together, there was still much about Ryan that remained enigmatic, beyond her comprehension.
But one thing was certain—he would never abandon her. Veronica thought this with delight.
After chatting a bit more, there was a knock at the door. "Knock, knock, knock."
"Ah!" Veronica exclaimed, quickly sitting up straight, her face flushed as she adjusted her skirt. Grabbing a pillow from the sofa to cover her knees, she was both embarrassed and annoyed. "Someone's here, darling. Olica, go open the door!"
The dark elf went to open the door, only to find it was a servant delivering some logistical documents Ryan had requested.
After closing the door again, Ryan glanced at the papers and shook his head. "Alright, I'll look at them tomorrow. Olica, make arrangements—I'm going to bathe."
"As you wish, master." Olica nodded, flashing a sweet smile. "Master, would you like me to scrub your back?"
"I can help scrub too, darling!" Veronica stood up eagerly.
"No need." Ryan said the bathroom was too small. "I'll bathe alone, and you two can take turns after."
"Once we're all done, we still need to discuss how knights and witches can collaborate in battle." Ryan added meaningfully. "Wait for me!"
"No problem, master."
"Alright, we'll wait for you!"
With that, the Sea God Fleet escorted the flagship of the Bretonnian knight king, the *Randuin*, as it sailed through the eastern fjords towards Magritte in Estalia.
As Brittany's army approached Magritte, the Eight Peaks Mountain war bonds officially went on presale across all human nations.
The first batch of bonds, worth an estimated fifty thousand gold marks, were one-year bonds with a 10% annual interest rate, to be repaid in Bretonnian gold crowns. The bonds were distributed through channels provided by Marienburg's Grand Duke Schultz.
Surprisingly, while the war bonds quickly spread throughout Brittany and the Empire, most of the urban class showed hesitation, except for some success in Nuln. Many expressed interest in the bonds, but few actually made purchases.
Sales in Nuln were only slightly better because the Imperial Duchess Emmanuelle publicly bought a ten-gold-mark bond while passing through Marienburg, which sparked interest there. Still, after a week, only a little over ten thousand of the expected fifty thousand gold marks had been sold.
The strongest opposition to the bonds, as expected by Grand Duke Schultz, came from Marienburg's merchant princes. Among them, the most vocal were Van Hugemans of the third-ranked Judden Merchant Guild, Casanova of the second-ranked Gentlemen's Guild, and "Wind Walker" Ardaibe Hensman, the leader of Marienburg's infamous underground organization. These men had no interest in Ryan's 10% annual interest rate.
The merchant princes had already planned how much money they would lend to the ambitious new Bretonnian king and how they could make him agree to unfair treaties. They aimed to control his trade of wood elf goods and the sea routes to Lustria through debt and even wanted to take all his war spoils for themselves.
Wind Walker Hensman, a notorious fifty-year-old pervert, had even set his sights on Ryan's queen, Sulia, ever since he saw her at Ryan's coronation.
If Ryan couldn't repay the debt, Hensman thought, maybe he could use his queen as collateral.
With Schultz's protection, they couldn't use violence or sabotage to stop the bond sales, but they had plenty of ways to ensure the bonds wouldn't sell.
The merchant princes launched a widespread campaign urging people not to buy, look at, or inquire about the bonds. They called on the Empire's citizens to "stay calm," "remain rational," and remember that "investing involves risks." This strategy worked, especially since most of Brittany's free citizens were either few in number or had been drafted into the army.
"Pure bystander, I must say, I really don't see these Eight Peaks Mountain bonds doing well."
"Citizens, fellow humans, think about it. If the Bretonnians weren't desperate for money, would they even sell these bonds? Selling bonds means they have no confidence in the expedition."
"Ryan might be a great knight and king, but this is a massive expedition! Look at the distance! They have to travel so far. Can they win?"
"How many major expeditions in human history have ever succeeded? Haven't they always ended in heavy losses and little gain
?"
"The Sea God Fleet is strong, but Eight Peaks Mountain is deep in hostile territory! The Holy Grail Knights are formidable, but the greenskins own those mountains!"
"You've all been deceived by the dwarves! Is there really treasure under Eight Peaks Mountain? Have you seen it with your own eyes?"
"This expedition is doomed to fail. Don't gamble your hard-earned money and savings on this!"
The merchant princes' propaganda campaign was in full swing. From Marienburg to the Empire's capital, Altdorf, from Couronne to Nuln, their warnings spread. People were frightened by the endless rumors and warnings. Of course, the urban class was worried about losing their savings.
The bonds weren't selling, and even the inquiries from citizens were dwindling.
A few days later, the merchant princes took things a step further. They had a famous scholar give an interview, and the next day, the front page of the *Manann Times* ran a massive headline:
"Belega = Failure Expert?"
"Recently, there's been a lot of talk about the Eight Peaks Mountain bonds, and people are understandably confused. So, reporter Wallace interviewed a dwarf expert—an anonymous professor from Nuln University, sponsored by Marienburg's major merchant guilds. Let's hear from Professor José Mourinho about the history of King Belega and his Angrund clan's attempts to reclaim Eight Peaks Mountain."
"Professor José Mourinho, how do you view this latest expedition and King Belega's efforts?"
"Belega is a failure expert!"
"Clearly, I'm a scholar specializing in dwarf studies. I've been researching dwarves for twenty years—twenty years! I dare say no one in Marienburg knows dwarves better than I do!"
"Belega is the king of the Angrund clan, a dwarf clan with a long and glorious history—this much is true. But please, note that no matter how glorious, that was a long, long time ago. Back then, our Emperor Charlemagne had yet to rise from Reikdorf, and the Carolingian tribe hadn't even formed. At that time, human nations were still called the Empire of Wizards, a puppet state propped up by the elves. After the fall of the Wizard Empire, very little historical record survived. In that ancient time, Eight Peaks Mountain was indeed the most glorious and prosperous dwarf kingdom."
"But remember, that was thousands of years ago! After the greenskin invasions, this dwarf kingdom, like many others, fell, and the Angrund clan was forced to retreat."
"Since King Belega ascended the throne, he has launched three attempts to reclaim Eight Peaks Mountain—all of them utter failures. He's achieved nothing except depleting his clan's dwindling population and limited wealth."
"The first time Belega attacked Eight Peaks Mountain, he led his elite troops to a crushing defeat, barely escaping with his life."
"The second time, our good friend, High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer, personally led ten thousand dwarves to support Belega's effort. The dwarves fought for days in the ancient stone hall of Eight Peaks Mountain and achieved 'great results' before withdrawing ahead of the greenskin reinforcements. I mean, if destroying a few massive greenskin statues counts as a 'great result,' then King Belega is indeed a war hero!"
"Then came the third attempt. Nearly eight thousand troops were wiped out, and King Belega returned to Karak Azgal with only a few hundred survivors. At this point, no dwarf kingdom was willing to provide him with troops or supplies. So, the 'failure expert' turned to his chivalrous allies across the mountains."
"And now, here we are at the fourth attempt, citizens of the Empire. It's been eighty years. Has King Belega's cause made any progress? Was his persistence justified?"
"Obviously, Belega = Failure Expert, because achieving nothing in eighty years means failure. As for me, José Mourinho, I'd leave Nuln after just one failure and never return."
"Now, you know the truth behind the Eight Peaks Mountain bonds, don't you? You know what to do!"
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