When the scouting party returned to camp, the army had already established a large woodland base. Ryan and his men were greeted with cheers. Despite many knights and soldiers returning with injuries, they proudly displayed their spoils, strings of goblin ears and the severed heads of orcs.
"My King, what did you encounter?" Count Antelm approached. He had led his Pegasus knights to rest among the trees, where the knights were feeding carrots to their winged steeds, who flapped their wings as they eagerly ate.
"We were ambushed by greenskins and their cavalry." Ryan tore off his blood-soaked cloak, which was covered in the foul stench of green blood, spider ichor, and rotting flesh. He took a deep breath. "And the greenskin warlord, Gronok Ironclaw, leader of Iron Rock."
"How did it go?" Antelm inspected the wounded and the spoils of battle. "Looks like you won? My King, how do you know the warlord's name?"
"Because it shouted its name," Veronica interjected. The Garland witch looked disheveled, her once-pristine red leather battle outfit torn and her hair tangled with grass, dirt, and even goblin filth. As soon as they returned to camp, she ordered her apprentices to prepare a bath. "That warlord was tough. It got shot three times, stabbed in the back by Ryan, and even took an arrow from Bertrand—yet it still didn't die."
"If greenskins were that easy to kill, they wouldn't be greenskins," Antelm remarked with a polite smile. "Thank you for your efforts, Lady Veronica. You should be at the wizard tower honing your craft, yet here you are, fighting alongside us on the frontlines."
"I know what I must do, Lord Antelm, and I don't need your advice. But thank you for the recognition." Covered in grime, Veronica excused herself, heading straight for her tent with the other sorceresses in tow.
In contrast, the knights and the old guard, rather than rushing to clean their blood-soaked cloaks and armor, strutted around the camp proudly, showing off their battle-worn appearances. Seeing the sorceresses hurry off, the men exchanged disdainful glances.
*Hmph, women.*
Meanwhile, the sorceresses rolled their eyes at the sight of the men parading around in their filth, thinking how disgusting and smelly they were. *Ugh, men.*
"We gave that Ironclaw warlord a good beating. Well done, Brother Ryan," Bellegar stroked his white beard, looking up at Ryan. "We gained quite a bit from this scouting mission."
"I think the opposite." Ryan shook his head with a wry smile. "We did destroy the greenskin spiders and cavalry, which is a big victory, and we injured the warlord, but we didn't complete our scouting mission."
"No, we did." Bellegar shook his head firmly. "Remember what I told you? Greenskins rarely defend fortresses. We've severely wounded their warlord and wiped out his cavalry. By Ironclaw's proud tradition, they've lost the courage to face us in open battle. The fight at Iron Rock will be much easier now. Tomorrow, I'll take a team to scout the area."
"Good! I'll join you," Ryan agreed. He turned to his men and announced, "Today's battle was hard-fought, and you all did well! Rest up and heal your wounds. There's still a long and tough war ahead."
As the troops dispersed into the camp, Ryan noticed that Count Antelm wanted to speak with him. He waved off the remaining knights and indicated they were free to go.
"Lord Kalad, would you like a bath?" Catherine, the bright fire sorceress, appeared by Kalad's side, unbothered by the grime covering her. She reached out to help him remove his bloodstained cloak, which was covered in greenskin and spider guts. "I can help you if you'd like."
"Ah, no, that's not necessary." Kalad, somewhat embarrassed, politely declined. He had been with Ryan for many years and had gradually learned to navigate such situations. He wasn't ready to enter a new relationship and gently turned down her offer. "I'll handle it myself. Thank you, Miss Catherine, and please get some rest."
"I can have a large basin of hot water ready in just a minute," Catherine insisted.
"Come on, Kalad," Ryan teased with a laugh. "Catherine's offering free hot water. Why not take it?"
"Well... alright." With the king's command, Kalad had no choice but to accept. Catherine gave Ryan a grateful smile and left with Kalad.
Before Ryan could speak with Antelm, he noticed a flash of irritation in the count's eyes. He turned to see Durant, the second-in-command of Blackheart Repp, harassing a witch named Scarlett. "Miss Scarlett, your efforts in the expedition have been commendable. I've arranged for your bathwater to be prepared, and you can bathe now. I assure you, I've only sent maids and strong women to handle it—"
"Enough! Get away from me!" Scarlett snapped, hands on her hips, her fiery temper flaring. "I don't need your bathwater! Get lost before I make you regret it!"
"But..." Durant stammered, trying to placate her. "It'll take a lot of time and power for you to prepare it yourself."
"That's my choice! Now leave!" Scarlett summoned a small fireball into her hand, barely containing her anger. "Go!!!"
The conflict was escalating, but Durant refused to back down, still insisting he meant no harm.
"Scarlett, no magic in the camp! Durant, if she's said no, stop pestering her." Ryan finally intervened. The Garland witch flinched at his voice, quickly apologized, and stormed off, pushing past Durant. Durant looked at Ryan with a crestfallen expression, clearly wondering why the king had previously given him different advice.
"These rural bumpkins are always such annoyances," Antelm remarked, clearly displeased. "I have a sincere suggestion, my King: it might be best if you keep Blackheart Repp and his Bretonnian Independent Company far from Bretonnia. Do you know how many knights want to see them dead?"
"I'm aware. I have other plans for them," Ryan replied with a bitter smile. Antelm, as a Grail Knight, was already being gracious with his mild disapproval.
As Ryan and Count Couilleau walked toward the king's tent, Ryan thought for a moment and asked, "What about Durant?"
"Durant?" Antelm paused for a second before understanding Ryan's meaning. "He's not too bad. Most knights despise Blackheart Repp and his handgunners, but Durant... well, he's a brave warrior and not one of Repp's inner circle. The knights don't have much of an opinion about him. If you wish, I can subtly guide the conversation within the camp."
"Good, I understand." Ryan nodded, signaling that Antelm could speak about the matter on his mind.
"My King, have you heard of the Strigany divination?" Antelm hesitated slightly but continued. "It's a form of fortune-telling practiced by Strigany witches."
"Divination? There are still Strigany people in the camp?" Ryan frowned. "Didn't I order the expulsion of all Strigany?"
"You did." Antelm was silent for a few moments before explaining. "But when we apprehended a Strigany girl, she suddenly fell into some sort of trance. My maid informed me that she had entered a state of magical overload due to emotional distress. As we were about to detain her, she made a prophecy... about this war."
"Magical overload?" Ryan paused. "A prophecy? Why am I only hearing about this now?"
"We were trying to verify its authenticity. We've been interrogating her for several days, and it seems the prophecy was an unintended result of her trance. We even gave her Veronica's truth serum, and she still insists it was a gift from the Vampire King to her and her people. The prophecy mentions the Vale of Valaya and something called the Gate of Valaya. According to her, our expedition will face an unprecedented battle there." Antelm spoke softly. "I know this sounds far-fetched, but Strigany prophecies are often accurate. The Lady's seers also believe she's not lying, which is why I came to inform you."
"What's this Strigany girl's name?" Ryan's face grew serious. They were blindly navigating the Badlands, relying solely on Bellegar's knowledge to guide them.
"Her name is Esmeralda," Antelm replied.
"Esmeralda... and is there a Quasimodo?" Ryan couldn't help but quip upon hearing the name.
"Quasimodo? There's no one by that name." Antelm was confused by Ryan's comment. "Should I ask around? My King, do you know this Strigany girl?"
"No, I don't." Ryan quickly clarified. "It's just that I read an old story in Couronne's archives about a Strigany girl who fell in love with a half-man. The tale ends tragically, but it's purely a work of fiction."
"I see... So, my King, what do you intend to do? Should we listen to the prophecy, or shall we execute this Esmeralda?" Antelm asked, not pressing the matter further.
"Let's hear what she has to say. Here's the plan: I'll take a bath and change clothes first. Then, during dinner, gather
the Grail Knights, commanders, and King Bellegar. We'll meet in the main tent, and I'll listen to the prophecy."
"Yes, sire!"
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