The moment Nakai appeared, Zanek, the chosen champion of Tzeentch, attempted to flee the battlefield.
But Veronica had been keeping a close eye on him. The female councilor, once known for her sweet demeanor and radiant almond eyes, now glared at the Tzeentch champion with nothing but venom and hatred.
It was Zanek who had destroyed the Jade Council. It was Zanek who had killed Margaret. Everything was his fault!
All of it!
"You're not getting away!" Veronica stood atop the Luminark, her sharp voice filled with curses. In an instant, an Amyntok's Web materialized, blocking Zanek's path.
But this was nothing to Zanek. The Tzeentch champion's lower pair of hands immediately produced a small notebook and a quill. Demon blood swirled in the inkwell as the quill, dipped in ink, quickly analyzed and replicated the spell structure of Veronica's Amyntok's Web.
"Clang!" As Zanek finished the last stroke, he grunted. The web of light ensnared him, and Veronica's unique magical energy, infused with Ryan's psychic power, sizzled like acid on the Tzeentch champion's body, leaving grid-like corrosive marks on his skin.
Zanek smirked and continued writing.
Seeing Zanek trapped in the web, Veronica assumed her spell had succeeded. She began chanting again, a large fireball forming in front of her—her strongest spell, the Conflagration of Doom, taught to her by Teclis, was now beyond her reach after hours of battle. The fireball was the only powerful offensive spell she could muster.
Zanek seized the moment. As Veronica focused all her remaining magical energy to aim the fireball at him, he decisively used his Tzeentch serpent blade to slash open his own chest!
Scorching blue blood spilled onto the web, weakening the Amyntok's Web. Zanek tore apart the parchment, and with a surge of power, the web disintegrated. The Tzeentch champion fled north, disappearing into the mountains of the Beast Peaks.
Zanek's combat experience was vast. He knew he couldn't escape by force alone; he had to bait Veronica into exhausting her remaining magic.
Veronica witnessed this and immediately dispersed her fireball, switching to a smaller fireball spell. A large fireball soared across the sky toward the Beast Peaks, only to be intercepted mid-flight by a bolt of destructive magic, shattering Veronica's spell. The two forces of magic clashed.
The councilor, still young and inexperienced, had already depleted her magical reserves. After the clash, flames and white light erupted from several points on her body as she lost control of the Winds of Magic. She nearly fainted, barely holding on through sheer willpower.
"Councilor!" The sorceresses and witches rushed to support her.
Zanek stood proudly in the air, sneering. "It seems you won't get your revenge today. But don't worry, soon the Everchosen will lead his armies south, and we'll meet again."
"...I will kill you myself, to avenge the fallen members of the Jade Council and Councilor Margaret!" Veronica screamed, her voice filled with rage. She looked like a hysterical madwoman. While the Jade Witches had unique abilities to counter Zanek's powers, Veronica was still far from matching his raw strength.
"I look forward to it. I wonder what kind of enchanted equipment I can make from your skull~" Zanek glanced at Veronica before vanishing into the depths of the Beast Peaks. He dared not linger any longer. In truth, if it weren't for the fact that the Sun King Ryan and his dark elf maid were both severely injured, Zanek wouldn't have dared to provoke her like this.
As Zanek disappeared into the horizon, Veronica finally collapsed, losing consciousness.
When Veronica awoke, much time had passed.
Opening her eyes, she found herself lying on a camp bed, covered by a fine woolen blanket.
This was her own tent, a typical magical tent custom-made from the White Tower of Hoeth in Ulthuan. It had cost Veronica two thousand gold crowns—though Ryan had footed the bill.
From the outside, the tent appeared to be a modest 4x4 structure, but inside, it spanned 35-40 square meters, complete with a study, reception area, bedroom, and bathroom. The tent bore the seal of Belannaer the Wise, the second-ranking archmage of the White Tower, and its spatial magic would last for 150 years.
Veronica knew she must have slept for a long time, yet she still felt exhausted. Attempting to rise, she found her limbs weak and devoid of strength. She recognized this as the result of magical overexertion and let out a soft groan.
"Councilor!" A light sorceress entered the tent. She had shoulder-length black-brown hair like Veronica's and wore a lightweight white summer robe with a cloak draped over it. "Councilor, you're awake?"
Her name was Melissa, one of Veronica's personal disciples. Since Catherine had become Calard's marchioness and semi-independent, Veronica had promoted several outstanding formal witches to be her personal disciples. However, after Ryan tacitly allowed the possibility of his daughter, Ciel Trouvic, inheriting the future of the Sorceress Conclave, Veronica's position in the council had become less secure. Competition among her disciples had intensified, as resources were limited.
After all, Ciel Trouvic was growing up. Who knew when the councilor might be "retired"?
Seeing Melissa enter, Veronica subtly glanced at her disciple's attire. She noticed Melissa was wearing 5-centimeter white pointed heels and, from the slight bulge at her ankles, deduced she was also wearing thin flesh-colored stockings. This reassured the councilor.
It seemed the war was over. Veronica asked, "How long have I been asleep?"
"You've been asleep for a full thirty-six hours, Mentor," Melissa adjusted her skirt and sat by the bed, crossing her legs. "It's now the third day since you fainted."
"How are things?" Veronica was about to ask more when a series of cheers erupted outside. "What's happening? What's going on out there?"
"We won, we've achieved victory, Mentor!" Melissa clenched her fists excitedly. "We've breached Kongquata, Mentor! Outside, the prisoner offering ceremony is underway!"
"Prisoner offering ceremony?" Veronica's eyes lit up. The councilor immediately tried to rise but groaned again, her limbs too weak to move. "Damn it, I..."
"Doo~ Doo~ Woo~" Outside the tent, the majestic sound of horns echoed one after another.
"Help me up, Melissa! I must attend the prisoner offering ceremony!" Veronica urged. "Fetch my ceremonial gown!"
"Of course, Mentor. Which one?" The disciple didn't hesitate. Having followed Veronica for many years, she understood that the Sorceress Conclave was now entirely dependent on the Knightly Kingdom. As Ryan's chief female courtier, Veronica's presence at the ceremony would enhance her influence and reaffirm her indispensability.
"Bring me the Reed Flower Moonlit Autumn Wutong Embroidered Gown, the gray velvet crystal-strap stockings from the bottom box, and the blue suede pointed lace-up heels," Veronica said, panting.
Melissa opened Veronica's wardrobe and, with a hint of envy, retrieved the requested items. It took several minutes for the mentor and disciple to dress Veronica, who was then helped out of her tent.
Outside, the air was filled with the clamor of drums and the buzz of excited voices.
Kongquata had fallen. Knights and soldiers had plundered the city's wealth, including rare magical ores, iron, silver, gold, and treasures looted by the Albion barbarians. Among the spoils were golden statues and magical weapons left behind by the Old Ones and the Truthsayers, as well as ancient coins minted by the Truthsayers thousands of years ago, bearing images of feathered serpents, Saurians, and even Nakai's likeness.
Over a hundred magical scrolls were unearthed from Kongquata's underground chambers. Naturally, these were offered to the Lady of the Lake, who smiled at each knight or soldier presenting a scroll and arranged for her Damsels to reward them with holy relics and blessings of equal value. One knight even found a scroll of the ancient Old Ones' Great Spell, "Potec's Great Sundering," which delighted the Lady. She gifted him a full set of blessed Ithilmar plate armor and an ancient elven runic sword soaked in the waters of the Lady's lake, along with a powerful blessing for his shield.
As Veronica emerged from her tent, she saw Belial presiding over the trial of three individuals, surrounded by a crowd of knights and soldiers.
The three—an Empire commoner, a Bretonnian peasant soldier, and a kingdom knight—were bound and on trial.
Belial, impartial and stern, read the decrees from the Sun King Ryan and the Lady of the Lake. Behind him stood a Damsel and a Grail Knight. Belial held a scroll of parchment and coldly declared, "Now, let us pass judgment on these three who have disrupted military discipline and broken the law!"
"Ooooh!" The surrounding knights and squires roared in approval, while the soldiers clapped.
"First, Hans-Meisut-Flick, citizen of Newland in the Empire!" Belial bellowed. "This man is guilty of heinous crimes! He fled the battlefield, and though His Majesty showed mercy, he remained unrepentant. During the chaos of battle, he attempted to steal oxen from the camp and, when discovered, attacked his fellow soldiers. This is an unforgivable crime! I sentence him to death, to be carried out immediately!"
"Death! Death! Death!" The crowd chanted in unison.
Veronica frowned at the scene but said nothing. In the Old World, stealing oxen was a capital offense punishable by beheading—whether in the Knightly Kingdom, the Empire, or the southern realms. Oxen were vital labor animals, and many families relied on a single ox to sustain multiple households.
Desertion + ox theft + assaulting comrades—a beheading was justified.
The militiaman cried out before his death, "No, you have no right to judge me! I am an Empire citizen! I demand a lawyer! I demand an Empire circuit court!"
"This is the Sun King's military tribunal, sir," Belial sneered. "Or do you think the alliance between Bretonnia and Emperor Karl is void?"
Several Kislevite Winged Lancers, led by Belial's deputy Sherepin, dragged the man away. The executioner's blade fell, and the man's head tumbled into a bamboo basket.
"Second, Thomas Martin, a soldier from Mousilon!" Belial continued. "This man stole and hoarded loot from his comrades, failing to report it. He is sentenced to fifty lashes."
A shirtless Ungol brute stepped forward and began whipping the soldier, who was soon flayed and passed out from the pain, then dragged away.
"Third, Sir Didier Copa, a knight of the realm, guilty of drunkenness, brawling, and insolent speech after the battle." Belial pronounced. "The Lady has decreed! Knights who break the law shall be punished as peasants. However, in light of his bravery and military achievements, Sir Copa is sentenced to thirty lashes."
Upon hearing the Lady's divine decree, knights, squires, freemen, and peasants alike murmured prayers, invoking the Lady's name.
A Grail Knight stepped forward to personally administer the punishment, striking even harder than the Ungol brute. Sir Didier Copa screamed in agony as over twenty lashes tore into his back, the flesh flaying open.
No one objected to the punishment. Drunken brawling was a far lesser crime than theft, yet even a knight who had earned military honors received thirty lashes.
The freemen and peasant soldiers secretly relished the sight, feeling as though the sun had grown brighter.
"His Majesty the Sun King and the Lady have decreed that all are equal before the law! No one is above justice!" Belial coldly announced Ryan's words. The crowd nodded in agreement, and with no more prisoners to judge, they dispersed.
Belial noticed Veronica's arrival. The Ungol, wary of getting too close to Ryan's chief female courtier, both to avoid suspicion and because he had little to discuss with the sorceresses, simply said, "Councilor, the prisoner offering ceremony is about to begin. Please take your seat."
"Mm," Veronica nodded, supported by her disciple.
Ten minutes later, the horns sounded again, their solemn and majestic tones echoing across the camp and into the mountains and swamps of Albion.
The thunder of hooves filled the air as thousands of bound barbarian prisoners were marched into the camp.
Inside the camp, soldiers lined both sides of the path. The stoic and disciplined Old Guard stood tall, raising their weapons. Grail Knights formed a row below the high platform, while marshals, knightly nobles, and generals sat above. The banners of the Bretonnian Lion, the Lady of the Lake, and Ryan's fleur-de-lis and sword emblem shone brilliantly under the Albion sun.
The Sun King Ryan Malcador and the Lady of the Lake Lilith sat at the center. The breathtakingly beautiful goddess wore a River Mist Iris Cream Butterfly Gown paired with ultra-thin unicorn velvet white stockings. Lilith sat upright, her chest held high, exuding an air of divine majesty and inviolability.
Ryan sat confidently in his chair, a golden laurel wreath on his head. His white and gold Grail Cloak billowed behind him. Behind him, Old Guard Vice-Marshal Raymond held high his family banner, while another standard-bearer, Armand, raised the battle standard of the first Knight King, bearing the Lady's emblem.
"Harold Gvenson, King of Albion, Warlord of the Barbarians, Chieftain of the Gvenson Clan, and Hero of the Valinheim People, has been captured by us, the Bretonnians!" Calard stepped forward proudly, addressing the crowd. "Tell me, everyone, how should we deal with these Chaos-worshiping barbarians?"
"Purge! Purge! Purge!"
"Execute! Execute! Execute!"
The deafening roar echoed from all directions, reaching the heights of the Beast Peaks.
All the barbarian prisoners, including Harold, King of Albion, would be executed in waves, their heads offered as a blood sacrifice to Sotek, the Serpent God, in gratitude for Nakai's aid.
Thus, the Second Albion Crusade came to an end. The Knightly Army, at the cost of 13,000 casualties (including Empire and Newland militiamen), had defeated 80,000 Albion barbarians and 70,000 Chaos reinforcements.
The Bretonnians had every reason to be proud of their monumental achievement. This was the first time in human history that a military force, outnumbered and attacked from both sides, had emerged victorious!
A glorious, epic triumph!
After the prisoner offering ceremony on the 7th day of the 7th month, Imperial Year 2520, the Sun King's name shone brighter than ever. His crown would soon be adorned with a flawless blue diamond from the depths of Kongquata, symbolizing his unparalleled achievements.
From this day forward, Ryan Malcador, hailed as the greatest Knight King in Bretonnian history, would add a new title to his illustrious name: "The Conqueror of Albion."
But the ceremony was not yet over.
An unexpected guest arrived.
"Sun King, you owe me a favor."
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