In early March, at the main military tent outside Richard Castle, Ryan and several dukes were meeting to discuss new military matters.
"Theodoric is on his way here. He wants us to meet him near Bucklin Castle, thirty kilometers away, in five days. It seems the old guy doesn't want to just sit and watch," said Duke Hagen Gisolaioks, holding a letter sealed with Theodoric's ring. "However, he mentioned in the letter that he's short on manpower and hopes we can send someone to escort him."
"Theodoric wants to join the battle?" Duke Fulkard of Montfort nodded repeatedly. "I think it's a good idea. Even if he doesn't have many men, his presence alone would be a strong asset. The old lecher probably wants to atone double time, hoping Her Highness Morgiana will let him out."
"No matter what, Theodoric is an excellent warrior, and we welcome his assistance," said Duke Aldereld, nodding. "But we might want to suggest our knights hide their maids."
"Hahahaha!" The tent filled with laughter. Even the usually stern-faced Karad couldn't help but smile. Theodoric's reputation was notoriously bad throughout the kingdom. Everywhere he went, nobles would respectfully receive him and hide their wives and maids. It was joked that even mares and female donkeys shouldn't be left in his sight, or they'd be at risk.
As for Theodoric's support, no one gave it much thought because there was precedent. Knights often embarked on penitential expeditions, and Theodoric himself had appeared in the Battle of La-Maisonelle Monastery.
After a few laughs, the tent fell silent again. Duke Aldereld, looking somewhat anxious, said, "I don't know how long we have to hold out against the undead. Perhaps I should go meet Theodoric?"
The young Duke of Lyonese inadvertently showed a hint of impatience.
His change in expression was easily caught by Ryan, the regent of the kingdom, who felt a deep sense of restlessness. He took a deep breath and shook his head.
Like Matthew Bard, Ryan was also in a dilemma. After some thought, he concluded that Duke Aldereld staying here wouldn't be much help. "Alright then, Aldereld and Fulkard, you take some men and meet Theodoric."
"Let's do that," Fulkard agreed.
After a brief meeting, the two dukes left with a troop of two hundred soldiers to meet Theodoric at the designated place.
"Next, we must proceed with the next step of our plan," Ryan said after Aldereld and Fulkard left. "This war has been going on for over half a month. For now, we must rest. Once Duke Theodoric arrives, we must unite and, with the help of our imperial brothers, swiftly eliminate Mousilon's snake, Matthew Bard, and his undead army!"
"What about the refugees?" Ryan asked his deputy, Lyonese.
"Not well, my duke," Lyonese replied painfully. "The refugees from Lyonese are frustrated with being away from home for so long. They are unhappy with their living conditions and want to return home. There have been several conflicts between the army and the refugees. I suspect there are some forces, maybe even undead, infiltrating them, but we can't catch them all."
Karad frowned upon hearing this.
After the Battle of Richard Plain, the number of refugees had decreased from over seventeen thousand to about thirteen thousand. The remaining refugees were growing increasingly intolerant of the extended campaigns and minimal rations. Riots were frequent, but the knights were powerless to stop them.
To stop the riots, they either had to send the refugees back to farm or increase their rations. Ryan couldn't do either. The food supply was already tight, and increasing rations for over ten thousand people was impossible. Sending them back was out of the question.
Given the current situation, the only option was to persist until Matthew Bard was completely defeated.
Ten days later, late at night, in the main camp of the Breton army.
The early spring night was bone-chilling, with the wind howling. Mousilon's land was as corrupt and degenerate as ever.
Ryan lay in his tent, unable to sleep despite the late hour. As a Holy Grail Knight, he had immense stamina and only needed four hours of sleep each day.
Ryan was pondering the recent strange occurrences.
Yesterday, Dukes Aldereld and Fulkard had returned. Unexpectedly, they hadn't met Duke Theodoric. According to them, Theodoric had encountered a greenskin tribe on the way and was forced to retreat after a hasty battle, thus abandoning his plan to support them.
But Ryan found it odd, especially since Aldereld and Fulkard kept their helmets on throughout their report and had unusually hoarse voices.
Instinctively feeling something was off, Ryan heightened his vigilance. He ordered his thousand knights, squires, and two thousand peasant infantry to stay armored even at night, ready for combat at any moment.
Just then, he heard a commotion outside the tent.
What's going on? Ryan wondered. He casually threw on some clothes, grabbed his sword, the Sword of Couronne, and shouted outside, "What's happening? What are you doing so late?"
"My duke, there's trouble," came the reply. Ryan's deputy, De Lyonese, entered, fully armed. His fiery red hair was a rare sight in Bretonnia. Many suspected this Holy Grail Knight hailed from the mysterious, perpetually shrouded island of Albion in the north, but no one dared question him, for he had earned the Lady's blessing.
"What's going on?!" Ryan demanded, now fully awake.
"It's the refugees!" De Lyonese pointed outside. "Damn refugees! They're rioting!"
"Rioting?" Ryan quickly looked outside.
Thousands of refugees were pushing against the camp gates. Emaciated and malnourished, their eerie blue eyes glowed in the night. Holding torches, spears, sticks, and pitchforks, they crowded the gate, shouting, cursing, and howling.
The mob demanded more food rations.
"Porridge! Porridge! A month of just porridge! We need more!"
"We want to go home! We want to farm!"
"Old Bob starved to death! It's because of your porridge!"
"We're not your pigs!"
The refugees attacked the camp's wooden gate with their makeshift weapons, causing a cacophony of clattering sounds as flames flared up.
"I tell you! It's impossible! We've given you food out of the greatest mercy!" a kingdom knight shouted from a watchtower, his voice filled with disdain. "If you have any sense, go back now! I can forgive you; otherwise, I'll order to shoot!"
The refugees fell silent, seemingly losing their last shred of hope, plunging into a deathly stillness.
Ryan watched this scene from afar, shaking his head sadly. He turned to Lyonese. "We've delayed too long. We must defeat Matthew Bard quickly and settle..."
Before he could finish, a blue lightning bolt shot out from the refugee crowd, striking the shouting kingdom knight and turning him into a twisted lump of flesh.
The guards were stunned, frozen in shock.
From the refugee wave, several banners rose.
These banners were made of human skin and adorned with human bones.
Ryan was the first to recognize the emblem on the banner. He drew his sword immediately.
"Octagonal emblem! Chaos banner!!!"
"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!!!"
The guards hesitated for two seconds before realizing the refugees had been corrupted! They had become Chaos pawns!
It was too late. The gate couldn't be closed in time. Thousands of refugees stormed into the camp. In the face of such a shocking sight, the peasant guards and knights fell into chaos and were nearly overrun by the frenzied attack.
Ryan quickly gathered his retainers to reorganize the troops for a counterattack, but just as he issued commands, the wind of death blew in from the south.
The land stretched towards the iron-grey horizon, swamp water pooling on soft brown soil. Shattered trees twisted around, and the dark sky provided a grim backdrop.
In the distance, the undead army appeared south of the camp. First came hordes of dire wolves, their drooling maws eager for a feast. Following the dire wolves was the Black Knights regiment, ready to clash with Bretonnian knights again.
Three bloodthirsty vargheists smashed through the wooden walls of the camp effortlessly, followed by monstrous undead creatures. Three skeletal warrior regiments and two tomb guard regiments joined the fray.
The Bretonnian camp was instantly overwhelmed by the undead assault. The undead mercilessly slaughtered mortals amidst the chaos. The knights and peasants were thrown into disarray, particularly Ryan's peasant infantry, many of whom suffered from night blindness due to their rare meat consumption.
Under the two-pronged attack of the undead and Chaos followers, Ryan's forces collapsed at an alarming rate. The entire camp fell with visible speed. The corrupted refugees and undead together besieged the Bretonnians. When Ryan finally gathered a small force, he found himself heavily surrounded.
Flames, smoke, and blood engulfed Ryan's camp. The undead tide and Chaos pawns devoured the last pockets of resistance. Many dead were resurrected as undead puppets, attacking their former comrades.
The sounds of slashing, screams, and roars filled the camp.
Mounting his warhorse and raising his lion lance, Ryan shouted to his men, "Damn it! This is impossible! How could the refugees be corrupted by Chaos en masse? And the undead army came from Aldereld and Fulkard's camp direction! How did they manage to pass through their lines unnoticed!? This is impossible!"
"My duke! Now's not the time for questions! We must break out!" Holy Grail Knight De Lyonese shouted back. "We must break through!"
"You're right! Break through!" Despite his suspicions, Ryan commanded loudly, "Break through! Knights, for the Lady and the King! For Bretonnia!"
"Toot! Toot!" Ryan's retainer, Jared, blew the lion horn. The deep sound echoed through the camp, imbued with magic that rallied the troops. Ryan's prior orders had paid off; as the undead breached half the camp, the remaining soldiers regrouped for a determined counterattack.
Six hundred knights and squires formed up around Ryan. He led them in a charge toward the weakest point in the undead's defenses, attempting to break through.
The undead were prepared. A mass of skeleton warriors and zombies clogged the narrow paths of the camp, slowing the knights' charge. These undead used their bodies and decayed flesh to sap the knights' momentum, leaving no space for a full charge.
But Ryan showcased his strength. His lion lance burned with golden flames, cutting through any enemy in his path. The thick undead line was nearly broken. After several repeated charges, Ryan finally found a breakthrough point.
Chaos followers and undead were engaged in a mutual assault at this location. Using his personal bravery as a spearhead, Ryan led his remaining five hundred cavalry to continually strike at the undead's encirclement.
Just as the encirclement was about to be broken, an undead cavalry unit appeared before Ryan. It was a mixed group of Black Knights and a few Blood Knights, led by a Black Knight in a cross-helmet with a snake emblem. He wore black cursed armor, wielded a snake sword, and rode an undead horse that spewed sulfurous fire.
This undead cavalry clashed head-on with the Bretonnian knights in a clash of steel. Over a hundred knights and undead were knocked from their mounts, and the bloody battle intensified all senses.
In the chaos, Ryan faced the Black Knight leader in a fierce duel. The Sword of Couronne and the snake sword clashed repeatedly, neither gaining the upper hand.
Feeling the power from the sword, Ryan realized his opponent's strength matched his own. He stared intently at the face behind the cross-helmet and roared, "Matthew Bard! I know you! You were once a glorious Connetable Errant Knight!"
"Yes, and so what?" Matthew Bard's snake sword moved rhythmically, clashing with Ryan's Sword of Couronne.
"What turned you from a glorious Errant Knight to this?" Ryan swung the Sword of Couronne back into attack position, its sacred blade flashing in the eerie darkness. The blade's radiant light suppressed Matthew Bard's power. "Tell me, what made you betray chivalry and this country? You weren't supposed to become this!"
As the Sword of Couronne and the snake sword clashed, sparks illuminated the night.
"Why?" Matthew Bard's voice changed, filled with deep-seated hatred. He stared at Ryan's handsome, battle-worn face and eyes.
Repeating the question, Matthew Bard's handsome features twisted into a scowl. "Why? Ryan- Leocornwall!"
With that, Matthew Bard removed his helmet, revealing a pale yet handsome face.
Ryan looked at Matthew Bard's face and suddenly turned pale. The face brought back memories of someone else.
A sorrowful woman.
That female serf had once worked as a laundry maid at his family's summer villa. She was beautiful, and Matthew Bard looked just like her, no, exactly like her!
"No, it can't be!" Ryan murmured, his face filled with shock. At the critical moment of their duel, he froze.
No, he couldn't be mistaken. He would never forget that woman's look of despair when she knew her child had been taken and abandoned. Those sorrowful eyes had haunted Ryan's nightmares.
"Remember now?" Matthew Bard's handsome features twisted further. "Remember?!"
"I betrayed chivalry just like you betrayed my mother!"
"Father!!!"
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