Loot from wars against Beastmen has always been scarce. As Chaos-corrupted beings abandoned by gods and despised by mortals, the Beastmen offer little of value. Their flesh is inedible, their alcohol undrinkable, and their weapons are typically crude, rusted scrap. The few things worth taking from them can be summarized into three categories:
1. Dragon Ogres – These thunderous creatures are prized for their magical properties. Every part of their bodies, infused with lightning and Chaos energies over their long lives, is a valuable alchemical resource. Veronica and Aurora were already locked in heated debate over how to divide the Dragon Ogre carcasses.
2. Loot from raids on human settlements – Occasionally, one can find gold, silver, or jewelry left behind after Beastmen sack villages.
3. Weapons made of bronze – While most Beastmen lack the skill or blessings to craft Chaos-infused weapons, some Minotaurs and Bestigors carry bronze armaments, which can be melted down for reuse.
This paltry reward explains why imperial nobles find Beastmen battles more of a nuisance than a boon. Fighting these creatures involves deadly games of cat and mouse in dense forests, where ambushes are common. Losing such battles results in significant casualties, while winning brings little to no spoils.
Yet ignoring them is not an option. Left unchecked, Beastman herds grow in size, attacking villages, outposts, and trade routes until they reach a critical mass. Once they elect a Beastlord and are guided by Bray-Shamans, they sweep through human lands like a storm. At that point, exterminating them becomes a monumental task.
Yes, Beastmen are just that loathsome.
In contrast, wars against Greenskins are often lucrative. Greenskins have an odd obsession with shiny things, adorning themselves with gold, silver, gemstones, and rare metals—often seen as "junk" by Greenskin standards but treasures by others.
"Your Majesty, we've discovered a shrine to the Spider God within the Black Pit," reported the Dragon Rider. "The shrine is heavily protected by powerful magic. We couldn't approach it—it even summons gray spider spirits!"
"Is that so?" Ryan was intrigued. He motioned for the others to continue clearing the battlefield while he investigated. "Raymond, you and a few others come with me."
Upon hearing Ryan's intent, Morgiana followed immediately. Talleyrand, glancing at the scene, pretended to gag and wandered off toward the crowd.
Near the forest's edge, the massive corpse of an eight-legged Arachnarok Spider Queen lay sprawled. Its carapace bore numerous cracks from cannon fire, oozing green ichor. Burn marks marred its body, but the killing blow was evident: a blunt force trauma had shattered its skull.
Bretonnian knights stood guard around the scene, while a dozen Imperial soldiers loitered nearby, watching curiously. One soldier picked up a stick and threw it toward the shrine. Instantly, green flames erupted from the shrine, reducing the stick to ash.
"Your Majesty, Lady Morgiana, we found this shrine on the Spider Queen's body," reported Sir Baldwin of Le-Angouleme. Despite being only in his late twenties, Baldwin was already a legendary knight of Bretonnia. "It appears to be a Greenskin relic."
"Be more confident, Sir Baldwin—drop the 'appears to be,'" Ryan said with a smile, buoyed by their victory. "Very well. Let's see what we're dealing with."
"I'll handle this." Morgiana stepped forward, chanting a spell. A beam of radiant light, infused with the Lady of the Lake's power, pierced the shrine's magical field.
A phantom of a giant spider emerged, its glowing form spitting green flames at Morgiana's light. The two forces clashed—light turned into thorny tendrils, meeting the green flames head-on. Both energies dissipated into nothingness, leaving the green flames noticeably dimmer.
"This appears to be a... faith construct," Ryan mused, studying the phantom carefully. An idea sprang into his mind: could this be the Greenskins' Spider God?
Before Morgiana could cast another spell, the spider phantom emitted a strange rumbling noise. Then, it ascended rapidly into the sky, startling everyone. Morgiana raised her holy chalice, ready to unleash a large-scale spell, but Ryan stopped her. He stared at the fading phantom, deep in thought, before motioning for the others to resume battlefield cleanup.
It was becoming clear.
Deep within the Black Pit lay an ancient relic of the Old Ones.
Ryan speculated: why did Arachnarok Spiders flock to the Black Pit to mate and lay eggs each season? The most plausible explanation was that an Old One relic, long deteriorated, was leaking pure cosmic energy. The spiders sensed this energy and gathered around it, turning the site into a sacred ground for them.
During egg-laying, the vulnerable spiders needed protection. Over time, the forest goblins formed a symbiotic relationship with them, leading to the rise of the Black Pit Greenskins. It was well-known that Greenskins, through their collective thoughts and beliefs, could create entities in the Warp. Whether the Spider God was a product of this or an independent being remained uncertain. What was certain, however, was the Greenskins' role in its growth.
Now came the question: would the Emperor of Mankind claim another relic of the Old Ones for himself?
Ryan decided that a trip to the Black Pit was inevitable. But not now. His priority remained countering Archaon's invasion. Von Zhukov Castle had just fallen, and Wolfram Keep was next in line.
"It's nothing—a mere parlor trick," Ryan said to Morgiana with a smile. "You've worked hard. Are you tired?"
"Not at all," Morgiana replied, holding her chalice. Despite her fatigue, her pride and joy were evident. "The ones who should be exhausted are you and Boris."
"Raymond, are you tired?" Ryan suddenly turned to his Old Guard captain.
"No, Your Majesty! The soldiers are not tired!" Raymond answered firmly.
"How can you not be tired after such a battle?" Ryan chuckled and raised his hand, addressing everyone on the battlefield. "Ladies and gentlemen, my glorious citizens, and human comrades of the Empire—this victory belongs to all of humanity! I, Ryan Macado, King of Bretonnia, Duke of Mousillon, and Champion of the Lady, thank you for your blood and sweat. Without you, this glorious triumph would not have been possible!"
"For humanity! For the Old World! Victory! Victory!"
The cheers echoed across Middenstang's outskirts, unrelenting and jubilant.
That night, Middenstang hosted a grand banquet. Thousands of barrels of beer were brought out, with Boris declaring that his personal treasury would cover all expenses for the celebration.
In the bustling hall, Bretonnian and Middenland nobles mingled, boasting of their feats. Naturally, the spotlight belonged to Ryan, the Knight King, who had slain both the Beastlord Gorthor and the Spider King Snagla Venomspit.
Ryan accepted their praises with grace. He drank heavily, though his Primarch physiology prevented him from getting drunk. Still, the euphoria of victory made him feel light-headed. This was indeed a perfect campaign—an epic victory unmarred by his past mistakes in command.
"Your Majesty, words fail to capture the magnificence of your triumph," Talleyrand said, hobbling over with his cane. The Elf's goblet was filled with premium black ale from Nuln. "This battle will stand as a miracle in military history. As long as war exists, it will never be forgotten."
Ryan laughed heartily, nodding. "I was waiting for you, Talleyrand, yet you took your time."
"Well, earlier, Lady Teresa and Lady Veronica made it quite clear I wasn't welcome near you," Talleyrand replied, his tone playful but meaningful. "They seem to dislike my humor and demeanor."
"If you could curb your slick tongue, you might find more welcome receptions," Morgiana interjected. Draped in a gown adorned with fleur-de-lis embroidery, her appearance radiated untouchable elegance. Yet, her tone held a hint of playfulness. "Perhaps you should call them 'madam' as well?"
"Oh, of course—they are undoubtedly madams," Talleyrand said casually.
Morgiana raised an eyebrow.
"But I've always addressed them as Lady Veronica, Lady Teresa, or Lady Aurora," Talleyrand quickly clarified. "Only you, Lady Morgiana, do I refer to as 'madam,' and only in private, as you so deserve."
A faint blush graced Morgiana's cheeks as she lightly rested her hand on Ryan's arm. Her expression softened into one of quiet satisfaction.
Ryan could only shake his head in amusement. At a distance, he noticed Veronica passionately recounting her role in the battle to Bastonne's knights, who nodded in agreement. Meanwhile, Teresa and Aurora sat together in a quiet corner, their identical outfits and matching grace turning heads.
Their bond had grown so strong over time that even their fashion choices reflected their synchronicity.
"Your Majesty," Talleyrand resumed, "don't you find something curious about our allies?"
"What's curious?" Morgiana asked, her mood surprisingly light.
"The Empire's three most influential nobles present an odd dynamic," Talleyrand explained. "Middenland's Elector is a civilized man with uncivilized subjects.
Nuln's Lady Emmanuelle, on the other hand, is as fierce as a lioness, embodying the primal spirit her people admire."
Ryan chuckled. "A necessary balance, then?"
"Precisely. Nuln thrives with a mediator and arbitrator. Middenland requires a strong dictator to unite them."
"Wise observations, Talleyrand," Ryan said, nodding. "Handle the logistics and our relations with the Empire. It's where you excel."
"As you command, Your Majesty," Talleyrand said with a bow, then quipped, "Victory grants the victor every right—even the authority to send me to the stables!"
Ryan laughed as Talleyrand departed. Morgiana watched him leave, murmuring, "An elegant and cunning man, hard to dislike despite his faults."
"His unique talents are useful," Ryan agreed. "But his words often hold more layers than they seem."
The night was filled with laughter and celebration, but Ryan's mind lingered on the challenges ahead. His thoughts turned to the letter from Kislev's Ice Queen, Katarin.
"She's asking us to send Marshal Rokossovsky and his remaining forces to defend Beccafen. The situation is dire," Ryan said, handing the letter to Morgiana.
"Dire indeed," Morgiana murmured, her gaze darkening. "What's your move?"
Ryan's eyes narrowed. "We'll need to strategize carefully. This is far from over."
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