The female mage who had previously proactively leaked intelligence to Al, White Tower Scholar Karen, had allowed him to lay out his plans in advance and wipe out that inexplicably formed Witch Hunter squad, capturing four female characters, plus one Huntress currently running errands and working outside for Al.
She did not appear among the Scholar Council delegation this time.
Al felt a slight twinge of regret. After all, they could be considered old acquaintances, right?
Of the four companions who were severely screwed over by the female mage, two had already become the boy's warm fleshlights. Another was running around outside for her companions' fate. The remaining little nun, Al didn't want to be too brutal, so he tossed her to Misha for a while. Living and praying with the female Beastmen, she had already transformed into a devout believer bearing the heavy responsibility of spreading the gospel of the Four Goddesses.
In her distorted cognition, the Four Gods were the true, eternal Great Powers. Myrmidia was merely a partial manifestation of the Four Goddesses, sent to the mortal realm to guide the masses.
Now that the biological son of the Four Mothers had descended to the mortal realm, and the Everchosen had emerged, Myrmidia naturally returned to the Divine Realm (Chaos)
to merge back into the Four Mothers. The mortal realm had now entered the era of Al.
To those who still held out hope for Myrmidia, unwilling to abandon their faith, yet deeply disappointed by the Goddess's silence and lack of response since the war began, the little nun earnestly preached: Believe in the Four Mothers, assist "King Al" in establishing a nation in the mortal realm. At that time, the Four Mothers will once again send their handmaidens, the guides of mortals, and the Goddesses of Foresight back to the mortal realm.
This was how she explained it to the Estalians when she preached...
Even Al thought this doctrine was too heretical when he saw it.
It was only because the little nun's own aura and appearance were a huge plus, combined with her past identity as "former clergy," and most importantly: having the protection and support of the tribe, that she wasn't grabbed by extremists for a public trial, or in a darker turn, fucked this way and that until she made an Ahegao face.
What?
Al?
Al naturally wouldn't either... right?
He shouldn't, at least not right now.
The boy received the envoys of the Scholar Council in his palace: four mages wearing red, blue, green, and purple robes, respectively.
The servants pushed open the main doors. The four mages walked to the center of the grand hall, removed their hoods, and in highly synchronized movements, placed a hand over their chests and bowed to Al.
"The wise are not trapped!"
"The knowledgeable are not confused!"
"The All-Knowing One above all!"
The four individuals were completely unremarkable in appearance, the type you wouldn't notice in a crowd. The type who, when encountering trouble, would undoubtedly frown and silently retreat behind everyone else.
Aside from the fanaticism showing in their eyes and the aura of truth-seekers typical of spellcasters and scholars, Al couldn't even tell the difference between these four and four randomly selected refugees.
Al was very glad that, up to now, all the followers of the Four Mothers he had seen—except for the inherently bizarre Troll things—showed no strange mutations outwardly.
Although they couldn't exactly be called incredibly handsome or beautiful, their looks were at least above average.
This "average" was judged based on the differences of each race, but it was generally in the same direction. There were no twisted limbs or superfluous organs appearing.
Although the female Beastmen who believed in the Reveler indeed became more attractive in both appearance and aura, whether to male Beastmen or... human refugees.
After all, despite being overall furry, as long as one accepted traits like "hooves," "tails," "furry," and "horns," the appearance of female Beastmen was still quite passable.
Al was sometimes terrified that his own aesthetics would lean too far toward the "beast" direction, making him the second coming of Emperor X-Feng in the future. That was exactly why he specifically added a normal human widow to his harem.
These four people, each possessing unique skills... Aside from their triple identities as followers of Tzeentch (scratch that) the All-Knowing Mom, spellcasters, and scholars, they shared one other identity:
Mages under long-term contract with the Northern Council, spellcaster advisors to the Northern Legion.
The red, blue, and green robed mages had been active between the Southern Realms and the New World long before Al was born. They had a certain level of fame, though not much. The purple-robed mage had only received the summons and left his station after Al's birth, taking a ship from Marienburg to Bilbali and entering Estalia before the Greenskin War began.
Thanks to the inherent covert nature of Chaos believers, especially Tzeentchian believers who excel at hiding and concealment, the main members of the Scholar Council generally possessed a talent for laying low. Thus, before the outbreak and during the initial stages of the Greenskin War, they mostly survived the massive wave of assassinations targeting mages and ruling-class elites carried out by Skaven assassins sent by a certain "non-existent race" suspected to be a Beastman offshoot.
Also, due to the losses and panic caused by the assassinations, which indirectly led to an exodus of spellcasters, the mages and scholars of the Scholar Council were currently either still hiding their identities or had already joined or cooperated with Estalia's official and powerful factions, gaining heavy reliance.
Only a few unlucky ones were caught in the crossfire, but they were all minor, peripheral characters, so even if they died...
May your souls return to the Throne of the Chosen!
"This time, what are the Estalians thinking?"
The maidservants brought chairs for the four mages to sit. This was both the Everchosen's goodwill and a command, which they accepted with thanks.
Al tapped the armrest of his throne with one hand, pinching the bottom of his mask with the other. He felt this posture was more intimidating, suitable for aweing foreign ministers.
If he also had his arms around, or had several scantily clad beauties with ample breasts and plump buttocks lying around him, it would add a thick layer of debauchery.
The four mages were currently all serving under the Northern Council. The red and green robed mages had directly joined the army. Because of their excellent performance, they had even been retained by the Estalian Military Tribune in his direct advisory staff, so they rarely needed to go to the battlefield themselves.
The purple-robed mage, because he arrived very late and had rarely been active in the South previously, didn't have the disguises and reputation the other three had. Thus, in terms of trust and reliance, the Northern Council wasn't as generous to him as they were to the other three.
However, humans would definitely never suspect.
These four people were all moles.
Below them were many more moles, big and small, just waiting for Al to attack.
Regarding this point, Al had even specifically complained to his Reveler Mom.
The Bloodmother's Champion Alina was now Al's adoptive mother (the fucking kind) and the pinnacle of martial prowess. Without the centaur girl's existence, Al's deployable military strength would, without exaggeration, be reduced by at least two layers.
The All-Knowing One outside
had developed the elite apostle Scholar Council, which had already provided immense help to Al's strategy in the Estalia region. The fact that almost all of them were spellcasters, combined with their successful infiltration into the Estalian internal ranks—even holding relatively high positions—would allow them to play an even greater role during Al's future campaign to conquer the Kingdom of Estalia.
The Loving Mother had played a huge role in integrating the followers of the All-Father for him, ensuring their uniqueness while making sure the faction didn't lose control. Especially since this literal "Loving Mother" was bearing and dissolving the suffering of this world with infinitely broad tolerance and motherly love, which filled Al with lofty reverence and love.
Calculating it all out, up to now, the one performing the worst was the counterpart to the guy in another group of four who was routinely responsible for embarrassing himself and seeking amusement (Slaanesh).
Of course, the Goddess obviously wouldn't willingly be scolded and put at a disadvantage by her son with implied complaints—unless she wanted to try that kind of roleplay, which is a different story.
The Reveler Mom had eloquently defended herself to Al:
Her believers still primarily took the upper-to-middle class route, mostly engaging in art and pursuing happiness and pleasure. Such ideologies and faiths naturally took root in places where the internal and external environments were relatively stable—simply put, places where people had full bellies, nothing better to do, and naturally pursued other desires.
Such places, even a hundred and fifty years after the Great War, were not many. The Old World mainly consisted of two large blocks and two small blocks. The large blocks were the Empire and Ulthuan; the small blocks were the United Bretonnian States and the New World colonies.
The Reveler claimed that Her followers were mainly distributed in the Empire and Ulthuan, wielding significant influence and being deeply entangled. From the royal courts down to the seedy port districts of Altdorf, the purple hands of the Reveler's believers were everywhere.
Al really enjoyed bickering with the Reveler. It brought him a special kind of fun, so he would ask things like: "Can you influence the Empire to send troops to intervene?" "Can you find a way to infiltrate Ulthuan's Aerospace Fleet?" Such remarks would make the Reveler Mom feign shame and anger, spewing obscenities (physically) into his ear. Then their mother-son bickering would evolve into flirting, and finally, she would use a pitiful, ingratiating voice to beg Al, asking her filial son to help his own mom develop more believers in the future, blah blah blah.
If this voice appeared in anyone else's ears, it could instantly seduce a dozen nobles or priests into corruption on the spot. Al had no doubts about this. It was only because he held the dual benchmarks of morality and chastity, and from the very beginning of their bickering up to the flirting stage, he constantly reminded himself: Gods have no gender, she's your own mom, you can't outplay the tricks she knows, etc., to stop himself from genuinely developing any fantasies about this Chaos Power "own mom."
The mages brought him the latest intelligence from the Northern Council. Of course, if it were just this trivial matter, they wouldn't have needed to take the risk of all four coming in person.
Divine grace is sometimes free, and sometimes it requires repayment. The prerequisite for the former is often that you can do things for the Gods, or gain Their favor—which in itself is a form of contribution.
But dedication also requires reward.
Whether as an incentive or stabilization, it's the same.
They brought detailed intelligence on the Estalians, including their response to the refugee riots, the massive conversions and defections to the tribe, and the near-rebellion. At the same time, they also had some intentions of their own.
The red-robed mage stepped forward first. He prayed to Al to receive the grace of witnessing the Chaos Power of the Everchosen once.
The other three closely followed suit.
Al: ???
The four of you aren't women, what kind of grace am I supposed to... Oh.
Al slapped his forehead. These past few days, due to scheming over the refugees, his mind had been a bit dark, inevitably making his mood slightly low. Upon returning, he basically just pressed himself onto different bodies to vent. Every day he had to shoot massive loads into the widow, goat mom, and maids, occasionally interspersing some mildly hardcore little theater with Claudia and Ann, before finally ending the day's fatigue.
His brain was inevitably a bit muddled.
Al stopped tapping the armrest, rose from the throne, looked down at the four mages earnestly praying for grace, and nodded.
"You have shared much for me, so naturally I will not be stingy with rewards."
The boy raised his left hand toward them, pointing his index finger at the four. Seeing this, the red-robed mage trembled all over, his breathing becoming somewhat rapid. Without stopping, he walked to the bottom of the steps, first prostrating himself completely to show submission and fealty, before carefully standing up, positioned below Al.
With the boy wearing a mask, it was very hard to tell what he was thinking. Al lightly tapped his finger onto the red-robed mage's body.
Behind him, the other three mages closely followed, standing in a row on the steps.