Inside the large tent, Ryan reclined in a spacious tub, enjoying Olica's service. The dark elf had removed her outerwear, leaving only a maid's short skirt and a white headscarf. She sat on a small stool behind the tub, gently scrubbing Ryan's back.
On the other side, Veronica was also bathing, attended by two witch apprentices. She had drawn a curtain to block Ryan's view and that of her apprentices, and the sound of water continued to fill the tent.
The tent was filled with steam. Ryan had no major injuries, only a bruise from being hit on the head by a spider. After the day's bloody battle, the Knight King exhaled in relief and leaned back against the edge of the tub, scooping up some hot water. He asked Olica, "Olica, do you know how to prophesize?"
"Prophecy?" Olica gently scrubbed Ryan's back, her soft hands belying the fact that they had held staves or daggers and committed countless murders. Seeing her master's relaxed state, the dark elf licked her lips and whispered in his ear, "Why are you suddenly interested in prophecy, Master?"
"How much do you know about prophecy, Olica?" Ryan didn't answer her question, but instead asked, "Tell me everything you know."
"Prophecy is generally considered something only cowards and zealots believe in," Olica said thoughtfully, continuing to work on Ryan's long black hair. "Prophecies are vague and uncertain. For fatalists, on one hand, they want to know prophecies to avoid possible disasters. On the other hand, if the prophecy can be avoided, then it is inherently inaccurate. We've always seen prophecy as just a potential future development."
"That makes sense." Ryan nodded. As his psychic powers improved, he occasionally glimpsed vague, indistinct visions, but they were always unclear and hard to interpret. "What else? Tell me everything."
"The stronger the subject of the prophecy, the more power is required, and the clearer the prophecy, the greater the energy needed," Olica continued. "As for anything else, Master, I'm not a specialist in prophecy. You should ask your Lilith. She's..."
"Shh..." Ryan quickly signaled for her to be quiet, aware that there could be eavesdroppers behind the curtain. He switched to speaking in Elvish and told Olica about the Strigany woman. "Do you think this could be a scam? Could a woman with low magical power who only knows basic divination actually predict the fate of our expedition?"
"It's possible," Olica said quietly. "From your description, Master, she seems to be using unconscious divination. Her emotional fluctuations might have tapped into the energies of the Warp, leading to a prophecy without intention or target. Such prophecies are the most authentic, but they're incredibly rare. You know the Witch King Malekith, right? For thousands of years, he's been haunted by a prophecy."
"What prophecy?"
"He was told by a seer that he would die at the hands of a male elf sorcerer..." Olica began recounting the story of Naggaroth.
The Dark Elf Witch King, Malekith, was deeply disturbed by the prophecy, as he was a firm believer in fate. After all, he had once been a favored follower of the Phoenix King, Asuryan.
Thus, Malekith decreed that no male sorcerers or warlocks were allowed to exist among the Dark Elves. Violators were executed without exception.
However, unlike the High Elves or Wood Elves, the Witch King's rule, alongside his mother Morathi, relied on fear and brute force. Many of the fearsome lords under them only feigned loyalty. As a result, several secretly harbored male sorcerers and warlocks. Malekith was somewhat aware of this, but given the stagnation in the war against the High Elves, he turned a blind eye.
Nonetheless, he remained terrified of facing particularly powerful male elven sorcerers, especially Teclis. Malekith had always avoided direct confrontations with the High Elf Supreme Archmage whenever possible.
"As for more about prophecy, I don't know much else," Olica shook her head. "You should consult Lilith; she's the expert."
"I see." Ryan reclined in the tub, lifting his legs and closing his eyes, seeking some relaxation.
"Dear, what are you and Olica talking about?" Veronica's curious voice came from behind the curtain. "Or are you discussing something inappropriate?"
"We were just talking about how precious blonde hair is, but black silk is even better. If it's for Sulia... ahem, then both are worth abandoning." Ryan laughed. "What do you think, dear?"
"Hmph, your lady Sulia is already a blonde with black stockings!" Veronica replied sourly, knowing Ryan was deliberately changing the subject. "I know what you like. Are you really planning to listen to that Strigany woman's prophecy?"
"It doesn't hurt to listen. Do you think I'd be swayed by such a low-level spell?" Ryan retorted.
"By the way, dear, that Greenskin warlord was only at the peak of Legendary rank, yet you didn't take him down after several rounds. Why do I feel like you've become weaker? When you fought the undead and Chaos, you didn't struggle like this." Veronica asked, curious. "Is something wrong with you lately, or is the terrain affecting you?"
"You could say I have a bonus against Chaos and the undead, but not against Greenskins," Ryan said helplessly. "So I had to rely on pure strength."
After a bit more idle chatter, Ryan finished his bath. With Olica's help, he dressed in fresh clothes and returned to his main tent. He sat down to cool off and pulled out a map. Scouting Steelrock and heavily injuring the Iron Claw tribe's warboss had been a stroke of luck. The wounds inflicted by the Nemesis wouldn't heal easily. As long as Belgar's scouts and siege plans were in place, conquering Steelrock shouldn't be a problem.
This expedition had already cost 150,000 gold crowns. Even considering the spoils and loot, the Bretonnian army's net expenditure still exceeded 100,000 crowns. After all, knights and soldiers kept half their plunder, and Ryan still had to pay salaries and compensate specialized units like the coven of witches.
If this dragged on, the expedition would run out of funds. However, rushing things could lead to ambushes and encirclements. The region was teeming with Greenskins, and Ryan had to be cautious, or the kingdom's elite forces could be lost here.
Even Ryan himself was feeling the immense pressure. As king, he was responsible for all military decisions and ultimately accountable for the expedition's success. If the army failed, the burden would fall squarely on his shoulders.
As he had told Veronica, his powers were more suited to fighting Chaos and undead. Against Greenskins, Ryan wasn't at his best. As a Primarch of the Grey Knights, his greatest strengths lay in resisting Chaos corruption and having immense magical resistance, which left him at a disadvantage in terms of raw physical combat.
How could he play to his strengths and avoid his weaknesses? The king pondered his next steps.
"My king," a servant entered. "The vice-captain of the independent regiment, Durant, wishes to see you."
"Durant? What's that cupcake doing here instead of with his ragtag group?" Ryan's train of thought was interrupted. He picked up a cup of hot milk and smiled. "Did he say why he wants to see me?"
Durant was a powerful Legendary-ranked warrior skilled with spears and two-handed swords, though he preferred using his well-maintained Hawkland long rifle and a short pistol in battle, which led to some knights mocking him as a coward. They believed a real man should fight in close combat, so they nicknamed him "Cupcake."
Durant didn't mind, even embracing the nickname, joking about it on occasion, which deflated the knights' taunts.
As for the "ragtag group," it stemmed from a past conflict. When Durant and Blackheart Rep fought for control of the Eastern Border Prince's territory in Blitzka, Blackheart Rep had Bretonnian support. Durant's forces couldn't compete, and in frustration, Durant had cursed his troops as a worthless bunch of misfits who couldn't stand up to Blackheart Rep.
"He says he has something important to discuss," the servant whispered. "My king, do you wish to turn him away?"
"No, let him in," Ryan shook his head. "I think I know what he's here for."
After the recent events, Blackheart Rep's value to Ryan had plummeted.
It was time to find a new proxy in the Border Princes.
———— New Proxy Incoming ————
An hour and a half later, inside Ryan's royal tent with its red and blue gilded roof, all the commanders of the expedition gathered for dinner. Ryan sat at the head of the table, wearing his royal attire. His handsome face radiated with a godlike glow. On his left sat Calard, and on his right, on an elevated chair, sat Belgar. The Grail Knights lined up in a row, eating heartily. Except for Ryan, everyone was fully armed, their presence exuding a powerful aura. The atmosphere inside the tent was tense and full of killing intent.
"Bring her in!" Ryan raised his hand, signaling the guards. Two old veteran guards dragged in a disheveled Strigany woman. She was short but slender, with slightly dark skin, messy black curls, and large, indifferent eyes. She hadn't eaten for a while, and her
face was pale. With the guards' help, she knelt on the ground. However, it was clear that if properly cleaned and dressed, she would be quite beautiful.
"Your name?"
The woman opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was dry, and only a sharp sound came out. Ryan signaled for the guards to give her water. After gulping down a full bowl, she finally spoke, "Esmeralda, a Strigany fortune-teller."
"I heard you have a prophecy for me?" Ryan continued. "Tell me your prophecy. All of it. If it's useful, I might spare your life."
"I need my cards," the Strigany woman said to everyone. "My deck. You took it. Return it to me. Without it, I can't repeat my prophecy."
"Who has her cards?" Ryan asked aloud.
"I do," said Anterlme, producing a deck of tarot cards. The count hesitated for a few seconds, but seeing Ryan's firm expression, he handed the cards to the Strigany woman. "Alright, witch, tell us everything you know. All of it. If you leave anything out, you won't live to see tomorrow's sunrise."
The woman took the tarot deck. Under the watchful eyes of the knights and dwarves, she began to pray, chanting in an ancient language and connecting with some force. The group was on high alert, the knights drawing their swords, ready to kill the woman at any sign of trouble.
"At six o'clock, an ancient door will open for the king. The power of the ancestors will permeate the mountains and seals, revealing a secret in the caves." She placed the King of Nations card on the ground.
"Another king and his knight allies will also be there." Another King of Nations card, followed by several knight cards, was placed on the ground.
"At twelve o'clock, a green tide of destruction will strike from behind, and the two kings and their knights will face a decisive battle." The Destruction Tide mystery card was placed down.
"At three o'clock, the curse of Morrslieb will join the fray." The card representing Morrslieb, the wicked moon, glowed green.
"But in the end, a huntress will appear, ending the war. Blood, so much blood! It all ends in blood. The world is destined to drown in a sea of blood. The Blood Queen will be the ultimate victor of this war!" The Strigany woman suddenly screamed, "All blood! No escape! This is our fate!"
Suddenly, the tarot cards were drenched in visible blood, which began oozing from them, covering the deck. The blood seemed to have a mind of its own, surging toward the now-mad Strigany woman!
"Burning Gaze!" Veronica intervened, casting a beam of light from the wind of Hysh, striking the blood and producing a sizzling sound as the blood evaporated. The tide receded, the tarot deck charred, and the Strigany woman collapsed.
"Take her away and keep her under guard. Give her something to eat," Ryan said, staring intently at the scorched cards on the ground.
Six o'clock? Twelve o'clock? Three o'clock?
The two kings likely referred to Ryan and Belgar, with the green tide of destruction clearly being the Greenskins. That much was certain.
But what was Morrslieb's curse? Skaven?
Who was the huntress? And who was the Blood Queen? Were they the same person?
Did the prophecy of everything ending in blood mean that the expedition would fail?
Ryan's heart was filled with confusion.
"My king?" Calard was just as puzzled. "Do you have any insights?"
"I have some ideas, but nothing solid yet." Ryan furrowed his brow. "For now, let's eat. Tonight, I'll pray to the Lady and ask her for guidance. I'll inform you all once I have news."
"Yes, my lord!"
_________________________
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