Chapter 183: Night in Boldero (Part 2)

In this world, people lack entertainment activities, so various banquets are prevalent. Knights gather to eat and drink under this pretext. For the knightly class, consuming meat is an essential means of nutrition intake, making it natural for knights to eat meat.

However, for witchers, the opportunity to eat meat, especially delicacies from Boldero, is not so frequent. Abel joined the banquet and prayed insincerely before washing his hands with clean water and then started to eat heartily.

Witchers maintained some manners; their eating wasn't too unsightly, and some nobles thought Abel to be a poor relative of the Lady's chosen champion due to his white hair. Seeing Abel's acceptable etiquette, they didn't comment further.

The witcher profession is such - doing the hardest work, living a life of upheaval, but receiving meager earnings. They burn their lives fighting chaos and dark creatures, yet their human brethren often treat them unjustly, especially ignorant peasants, who view witchers as dangerous and avoid contact with these "aliens" unless necessary.

Over 150 years ago, after Ludwig expelled Chaos, the continent was devastated. Dark creatures brazenly appeared even a hundred steps from towns. Witchers were highly demanded to deal with various dark creatures, making it a popular profession. Many noble families sent their non-inheriting children to witcher guilds for training.

Times have changed. Many witcher castles have been abandoned, and the vast guild headquarters has fallen into disrepair, with more defenses shutting down each year.

That's why Abel left.

Abel was born in the Empire's Rick Territory, the illegitimate child of a noble and a witch. Such children typically face two fates. If the witch is a court advisor or a lady-in-waiting, the child usually gets acknowledged, having no inheritance rights but still raised as a noble.

Unfortunately, Abel faced the second fate. His mother didn't want to raise him and sent him to be raised by an old witcher, Jacob. After Jacob's death, Abel felt nothing in the witcher guild was worth his attachment, so he came to Britannia.

A haughty high elf in lavish attire, chin up, passed by with disdain in his voice: "What barbarians, no matter how they dress in fine silks or perfume themselves, they can't hide their barbaric nature."

Another, more mature high elf in a blue and white gold-trimmed cloak and wide high mage robes, wearing a golden feathered crown, looked only in his twenties. But no one knew the actual age of this high elf mage - even ordinary high elves live for at least eight hundred years, and this one seemed distinguished: "Shut your mouth, Dassu. Do you plan to offend every different race like Caldo? High elves bring trade and goods to allies and swords and destruction to enemies."

"Anatol, you're always like this. Sometimes, by being too kind to these barbarians, you let them think they're civilized," shrugged the other elf: "Well, I admit at least this country's army is not bad. We just recognize those with the Holy Grail badge."

High elves maintain diplomatic relations with Britannia but not frequently. They prefer relations with the Empire and resources from Marlinburg and bother less with Britannians.

Their last major interaction was over twenty years ago when newly crowned Knight King Richard and the high elf Dragon Prince Imrik of Caldo fought side by side against a besieging beastmen army at Kurona.

(High elves didn't care about Britannia's fate; they just didn't want the beastmen army destroying Kurona's elven ruins.)

Britannians were proud to fight alongside high elf armies. Many knights boasted of seeing King Richard saving Prince Imrik's life when a cyclops knocked him off his mount. Richard bravely pierced the cyclops's eye with his griffon, saving Imrik.

But high elves didn't see it that way. After the battle, Prince Imrik regarded King Richard as an enemy for witnessing his disgrace and killing his prey. Imrik vowed never to forgive Richard and defeat him if the opportunity arose.

Anatol, a mage from the Safri Magicians Council and disciple of the great high elf magician Tegris, tired of the endless war with dark elves, followed his mentor's steps to travel the Old World. He also carried a mysterious mission from Tegris. The high elf Goddess of Fate, Lilith, dreamt of Tegris about a gray horse appearing in Old World Britannia, destined to change the world.

Tegris, a faithful follower and chosen wizard of Lilith, had other matters to attend to, so Anatol volunteered to come to the Old World. Naturally, high elves are superior wherever they go, and Duke Bodric of Boldero welcomed Anatol warmly.

High elves consist of twelve kingdoms, with the Phoenix King usually chosen from nobles of the oldest and most glorious kingdoms of Caldo and Safri. Unlike the warlike, prejudiced Caldo, Safri produces excellent politicians and diplomats. Anatol quickly became a favorite at the court within days of arriving in Boldero.

Meanwhile, a court wizard created mermaid and dolphin illusions in the courtyard, eliciting gasps from male nobles and screams from females.

"Brilliant, a creative use of Light magic," Ryan applauded, whispering to Sulia: "Magic isn't just for battle. It can aid our lives. We shouldn't see it as a dangerous beast."

Sulia, flushed with excitement, just clung to Ryan's arm. They had tried various games at the banquet, enjoying the secret thrill of being together without her father or brother.

François's tacit approval and subtle encouragement of her and Ryan's relationship helped Sulia relax and enjoy her time with Ryan.

"That's just a trivial trick, hardly worth mentioning," a voice intruded on their conversation: "Magic has many uses, but using it for entertainment isn't one of them."

"Hello, pleased to meet you, Lord Ryan-Marcado. I am Anatol, Anatol Star-Chaser, from the Safri Magicians Council." The high elf appeared beside Ryan, leaning on his staff: "I've heard about you from Tama. Perhaps we can talk."

"What would Lord Asur like to discuss with me?" Ryan turned, already noticing the high elf.

Knowing Anatol was from the Safri Kingdom, a high elf nation close to humans, Ryan was slightly relieved. The current Phoenix King, Finnubar, is from Safri, known for diplomats and politicians.

"Lord Ryan's rise exceeded Asur's expectations. Even among humans, reaching legendary high ranks at 25 is rare," said Anatol, stroking his dazzling golden hair: "I bring Asur's goodwill. Our power is evident, with the Empire's Royal Wizard Academy established with Tegris's help. If needed, Asur can assist with magical guidance."

"Someone already provides magical guidance for me, esteemed Mr. Anatol." Ryan tactfully declined the high elf mage's offer: "It's rude, but I can't make such a decision with your sudden appearance and suggestion."

"Haha~" Anatol nodded understandingly: "I know my appearance is abrupt, no worries, Lord Ryan. Asur is a virtuous and patient race with much time. We know we can't gain your trust immediately; we are willing to wait."

"Lord Asur's power exceeds your imagination. I have some news that might interest you," Anatol paused, noting Ryan's calm demeanor before continuing: "Duke Paravon Casvanen is in financial trouble, heavily in debt to Duke Marlburg. He plans to increase taxes at his guarded pass and demands substantial defense funds from the Empire as payment for guarding the pass from greenskins and dark creatures."

"The Emperor and Elector Counts naturally rejected his unreasonable request. As I know, both sides will start their actions."

Ryan squinted, not good news for him.

He knew some of Casvanen's situation. Like François said, Casvanen's narrow and poor territory forced him to maintain a full-strength Pegasus Knight order, leading to financial strain. His fondness for extravagance worsened matters, angering Imperial and Britannian nobles with repeated tax increases.

Has the situation worsened this much?

Before Ryan could respond, Duke Bodric of Boldero appeared, holding a crystal goblet, smiling as he approached: "Ah, my friends Anatol, Lord Ryan, Lady Sulia, why hide here? We have a bigger surprise, 'Manannan's Delight,' specially taken out today to celebrate the year's harvest and hard work."

Ryan and Anatol stopped their discussion: "Oh my, is that the legendary Manannan's Delight?"

Manannan's Delight, a legendary wine made by recluse Gothhold Koch in the Grey Mountains. The grapes, never touched by sunlight, are planted in a field shielded by sliding doors, only exposed to moonlight. This wine has a ghostly fragrance and melts upon tasting, among the world's top wines.

"Come, taste it, ladies and gentlemen."

"Oh, I'm honored."

The banquet continued fervently.

...

Meanwhile, in the main material universe, the Milky Way, the Holy Terra Satellite, the moon's surface.

After months of long expedition, the 13th Legion Primarch, Roboute Guilliman, faced numerous hardships, including imprisonment by the Daemon Primarch Lorgar and pursued by Magnus the Red. However, with the aid of allied forces and the Eldar Harlequins, the expeditionary force escaped encirclement.

Using the Eldar Webway, Guilliman finally reached the moon, just a step away from Holy Terra.

The Webway exit lay in a deep crater, with low visibility, the already dim starlight blocked by the crater, offering limited light for the loyalists below.

Guilliman knew his army had little time to breathe and immediately ordered them to climb the crater. Behind them, Harlequins struggled to close the Webway portal, falling behind.

Atop the crater, Guilliman saw the endless dark sky, countless bright stars, but none compared to the beautiful planet below.

Holy Terra, the cradle of humanity, shone brightly before the expeditionary force. Guilliman believed as long as Holy Terra stood, humanity would never perish.

"Father's throne!" Guilliman muttered. The goal of his arduous journey lay ahead.

Suddenly, the Eldar trying to close the Webway were engulfed in black flames. Many were burnt to ash by the terrible green flames, while others were frozen and shattered.

Reaching the crater's summit, Guilliman turned to see the Webway portal destroyed, with Magnus's corrupted legionnaires, the Thousand Sons, pouring out.

Guilliman knew the grand expedition was nearing its end. His father's throne world was close, and the loyal son couldn't fail here.

The brutal war began. Under Guilliman's command and the expedition's coordination, the corrupted Sons seemed weak and were quickly driven back to the portal.

Then, a terrifying Warp energy burst from the portal, and all soldiers felt unparalleled fear at the sight of a giant creature, over five meters tall, with horns and wings.

"Magnus…" Guilliman recognized his former brother.

"Oh, Guilliman, a millennium apart, you seem shorter?" Magnus, now a Daemon Primarch, smiled sinisterly, raising his blade-staff: "Let's see, after a millennium's sleep, have you improved?"

Guilliman didn't reply, just receiving a communication.

Then, a frustrated voice echoed from the other end of the battlefield.

"Magnus! My son!"

"We have an old score to settle!"

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