Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 412 Prologue
[January 1st, Imperial Calendar 520][41 years ago]
[The End of the Suppression War in the Principality of Bagrum]
The last petitioner was brought into the palace tent.

The petitioner was a middle-aged man with rough hands; due to years of heavy physical labor, his finger joints had inevitably become swollen and twisted.

Although he had tried his best to wash his old clothes clean, he still couldn't change the poor quality of the coarse cloth.

The man who came to petition knelt on one knee, his hands gripping the hem of his clothes helplessly. He dared not look up, only staring at the tips of his shoes, stammering out the request he had recited countless times.

In front of the petitioners, six-year-old Prince Henry sat upright in his chair, trying to put on a serious face and imitate his father's dignified demeanor.

Henry the Younger's chair was to his father's right, and was slightly lower than the emperor's seat.

His chair was a large chair meant for adults, and when little Henry sat on it, his little boots could only dangle in mid-air.

His chair was also a very uncomfortable one, without any padding—since even the emperor's chair wasn't padded, the prince's chair naturally wasn't either.

Young Henry stared straight ahead at the petitioners, but his mind was racing, imagining his father's expression and demeanor.

The emperor and princes' seats were located at the far end of a luxurious palace tent, directly facing the tent entrance, and were guarded by fully armed attendants.

Meanwhile, Henry's father—Richard Sun, "Warrior," and Emperor—sat on his throne with the composure and majesty of a lion surveying its territory, listening to the petitioners' pleas.

……

The emperor was thirty-one years old, with a well-proportioned figure, strong features, thick dark hair, an enviable and beautiful beard, and a pair of sharp eyes that were unforgettable.

Even inside the palace tent, surrounded by attendants and guards, the emperor did not remove his armor. His black sheet metal armor was engraved with a relief of the sun emblem, and a helmet inlaid with a crown hung on the armrest of his throne. A simple longsword leaned against the side of the throne, its hilt on the emperor's left.

Even before his formal coronation at the Basilica Minore del Santoro, Richard IV experienced the first war of his reign—the War of the Philip the Covet. After his coronation, numerous wars, large and small, raged throughout the empire and on its borders.

Twenty years have passed since he ascended the throne. Twenty years of war and twelve years of personal rule have forged the frail Prince Richard into a strong and mature man, and honed the "little pea" in his mother's eyes into a resolute and valiant emperor.

After personally leading his troops to victory time and time again, Richard IV earned the reputation of "warrior".

Now is his time. He is at the peak of his physical and mental strength, at the balance of wisdom and courage. Twenty years in power have given him unquestionable authority, and twelve years of personal rule have taught him how to govern the empire.

No subject of the empire doubted Richard's destiny to become a great emperor.

……

The beeswax candlelight illuminated the interior of the tent as bright as day, while the fragrant fireplace kept it warm like early summer. Occasionally, rumbling thunder could be heard outside, but it was absorbed by the thick camel hair blankets and eventually faded into a muffled, soft sound.

Those fortunate enough to personally participate in the petitioning before the resistance were led into the tent one by one and knelt before the throne to plead their case.

Courtiers and lords stood quietly inside the tent, witnessing together the emperor's justice, wisdom, and benevolence.

Although little Henry tried his best to concentrate and listen to what the adults were saying and understand what they were doing, he was still a child after all, and his thoughts had long since wandered outside the tent.

We can't be too demanding of him—because petitioning is just too tedious and boring.

The first to be brought into the palace tent were the vassals of the Duke of Bagrum who surrendered without resistance. Faced with the emperor's army, they did not hesitate to abandon their loyalty to their former masters and obediently surrendered to the emperor.

One by one, they were led into the palace tent, where they knelt before the emperor and swore allegiance. The emperor accepted their oaths and allowed them to retain their lands, titles, and property.

Then they kissed the emperor's ring and backed out of the palace tent.

Although the courtiers present did not say it outwardly, they all looked down on these spineless cowards. If they could so easily break their oaths to their former masters, then their oaths to the emperor were worthless.

The second group brought into the palace tent consisted of the Duke of Bagrum's vassals, who had surrendered only when all hope seemed lost. They had either attempted to resist with their fortified castles or actively challenged the emperor's army, only realizing the true victor of the war after paying a heavy price.

So they chose to surrender.

The emperor justly decided their fate: stripping them of some or most of their fiefdoms, but mercifully sparing their lives; at the same time, he summoned their children to the court for education, both as hostages and to give them a chance to revive their families.

The third group to enter the tent were the vassals of the Duke of Bagrum who had voluntarily sided with the Emperor. From the very beginning of the war, they had clearly sided with the Emperor, not only joining his ranks but also charging into battle on the front lines of the suppression of the rebellion, tearing apart the bodies of their former lords.

The emperor generously rewarded them, granting them a portion of his confiscated territory to rule and accepting them as his direct vassals.

They would become the emperor's thorns in the side of the Duchy of Bagrum, as they would no longer be accepted by the nobles of Bagrum and would henceforth depend entirely on the emperor's protection.

After the ceremony of pledging allegiance concluded, the petitioning process entered its literal meaning, with people who had come to seek justice from the emperor being brought before him one by one.

The minor nobles requested the emperor to adjudicate disputes arising from inheritance.
The monks in the monastery hoped that the emperor could reclaim the land that had been seized by the duke.

Representatives of the autonomous cities complained that they were being levied unreasonable taxes and that rogue knights were frequently robbing the outskirts of the cities to extort money from them.

Richard Sundance responded to each of these points, fairly dividing the disputed property, allowing the church to reclaim its rightful lands, and guaranteeing the safety of the autonomous city in the name of the emperor—from then on, any nobleman who attempted to extort the latter would be considered to be challenging the emperor's authority.

Everyone was satisfied, and even those who did not achieve their expected goals were willing to obey the emperor's judgment.

Until the last petitioner was brought into the palace tent.

The last petitioner came from a remote territory called Kempson, whom the farmers of Kempson had chosen to seek justice from the emperor, because according to the oath the emperor had taken at his coronation, he was obligated to "defend liberty and protect his poor subjects."

His travel expenses were raised by the farmers of Kempson, one penny at a time. Even after raising enough money, his journey to the emperor was fraught with hardship and danger.

With tears in his eyes, he recounted how the abbot of Kempson Abbey had raised taxes, forcing peasants to lose their land; how he had seized the inheritances of orphans who had lost both parents; how he had used the ecclesiastical courts to arbitrarily interrogate rebellious peasants; how he had extorted and plundered so that every independent farmer and tenant farmer in Kempson would eventually become an indentured serf in the abbey; how he had interfered with peasants' marriages so that no free men would ever be born in Kempson again; and how he had cruelly ambushed and killed the peasant representative who had come to plead with the emperor for justice.

The middle-aged farmer from Kempson almost broke down in tears as he spoke. He knelt on the ground and cried out, “If we are wrong, we are willing to accept any punishment; if our demands are unjust, we are willing to offer our heads; but if we have done nothing wrong, please, Your Majesty, uphold justice for us.”

Richard Sun, seated high on his throne, listened intently to the petition from the Kempson peasant representatives, his granite-sculpted, stern features showing a hint of emotion.

He pondered for a moment, then removed the ring from his left hand, nodded to summon a servant, and handed the ring to him. The servant walked to the peasant representative and placed the ring before him.

“This ring is worth 30,000 guilders.” Richard Sun’s voice, as cold as his features, carried an unquestionable tone: “It should be worth the Kempson estate. Take it back and redeem your land from the Kempson Abbey.”

The emperor paused, habitually stroking the hilt of his sword, glancing at the courtiers and lords in the palace tent, then looked down at the peasant representative and smiled: "If the dean of Kempson is unwilling, you can come back to see me."

Inside the palace tent, some nobles laughed loudly, while others chuckled softly, but everyone smiled in unison.

The peasant representatives, holding the rings in both hands, left the palace tent with deep gratitude.

Richard Sun summoned the chief guard and instructed him to select two capable guards to escort the farmers' representatives of Kempson home.

After witnessing the emperor's just, wise, and benevolent resolution of the last petitioner's request, shouts of "Long live the Emperor!" echoed within the palace tent, the low murmurs coalescing into a unified cry: "Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor!"

Richard Sunstrider waved his hand, and the surroundings instantly fell silent. He waved his hand again, and the minister on duty led the courtiers and lords away in an orderly fashion.

Richard Sunlight looked at the chief guard and nodded slightly, and then the attendants and priests also withdrew from the palace tent.

Only Richard Sun and Henry Sun remained in the vast palace tent.

The emperor suddenly let out a long breath, stretched his aching back, turned to look at little Henry, his icy expression melting away, revealing a rare hint of warmth. He smiled and asked little Henry, "Are you tired?"

"Not tired!" Little Henry answered loudly.

Richard Sunlight picked up little Henry and placed him on his lap, stroking his eldest son's soft hair: "Sooner or later, you will be sitting here too. At that time, you will have to take on my responsibilities. You will have to protect the family, protect the empire, and most importantly—protect your mother and brother."

Little Henry, dodging his father's prickly beard, chuckled and replied, "I will!"

Richard Sunlight put his son down, tapped the boy's tiny children's armor, and asked, "What did you find today?"

Little Henry's eyes darted around, and he replied in a childish voice, "The first people who came to see Daddy were afraid of you."

“Afraid of me?” Richard scoffed. “They’re not just afraid of me, they hate me because I humiliated them in front of everyone.”

The emperor then asked with a smile, "Anything else?"

Little Henry frowned, pondered for a long time, and answered softly, "The people who came to see Dad later are here to ask you for something."

“Remember this: everyone who approaches power has an ulterior motive. It was true for me, and it's true for you. It's perfectly normal for them to come seeking something; there's no need to have hope or despair. They ask me for things, which allows me to ask them for things as well.” Richard Sundance looked into his son's eyes. “Do you understand?”

Young Henry nodded, seemingly understanding but not quite.

Richard pinched his son's cheek and said with a smile, "You'll understand when you're older."

Having said that, he stood up, picked up his sword, and prepared to leave the palace tent with his eldest son.

"But..." Little Henry's questioning voice rang out beside the Emperor, "The last person to see you didn't seem to have anything to give Father."

Richard Sun turned around, looked at his son for a moment, then squatted down to bring his eyes to his son's level. He smiled and asked, "How do you know he has nothing to give me?"

“Exactly.” Little Henry nervously fidgeted with his fingers, avoiding his father’s gaze. “It’s like he has nothing at all.”

“Yes,” Richard Sun said calmly. “He also has loyalty.”

The emperor picked up his son, sat back on his throne, and gestured for young Henry to look towards the tent flap. Beyond the two layers of felt lay a vast empire with a massive population.

“Remember, son,” the emperor whispered in the prince’s ear, “the lower a person’s status, the easier it is to gain their loyalty. Because they have nothing, a little something is all it takes to win their hearts. Thirty thousand guilders cannot buy the loyalty of a count, but it can make thousands of peasants forever grateful to you. They will sing your praises of your benevolence, and other destitute people will have hope in you because of it.”

Young Henry thought for a long time. Even though he was more intelligent than his peers, what he had heard was beyond his comprehension. So he could only think about the problem using the logic he could understand: "But what is the point of their gratitude if they have nothing?"

Upon hearing young Henry's words, Richard Sunstrider's smile vanished. He turned young Henry around, looked into his son's eyes, and said seriously, "Never underestimate those of lowly status. Even the most humble person, if they keep their eyes open, can find opportunities to retaliate against the most powerful. You can humiliate the Duke and Earl of Baglum at will, and they will still bow down to you."

But you don't need to humiliate the poor of Bagrum; their loyalty is so easily obtained, so don't push them to the enemy's side. You should also learn to treat those around you kindly—groomsmen, servants, maids… the lower their status, the more kindly you should treat them. Because treating them kindly requires nothing, and they may lend a helping hand when you least expect it. Do you understand?

Young Henry still seemed to understand, but he sensed the change in his father's tone. He nodded vigorously: "Yes, Your Majesty."

Richard Sun smiled indulgently and ruffled his son's soft hair: "Put on your boots—I've got you a pony, you'll love it."

Little Henry cheered excitedly: "Next time you go out of town, I want to come with you!"

Richard placed young Henry on the throne and personally helped his son put on his boots: "I left the city because of war."

"I want to go to war too!"

"War is a knight's job; you're not even a squire now."

"Then you shall knight me!"

Richard Sunburst fastened Henry's boot buckles, tapped Henry's breastplate, and smiled with a hint of sadness: "Don't be impatient. There will be endless battles waiting for you in the future. As for now—you must protect your mother and brother when I go to war."

The curtain of the palace tent was drawn back, and a handsome young nobleman, dressed in exquisite clothes, walked in.

“Uncle!” Little Henry waved happily—the young nobleman was none other than the Queen’s brother, Louis the Young Duke of Lothair.

Another tall, thin, and stern-faced old man in military uniform entered the tent after the young Duke Lothair—the infamous "Butcher" Duke Arlian.

Dukes Lothair and Arlian bowed to the Emperor from a distance, then walked toward the throne.

Upon seeing the two close advisors, Richard Sunstrider put away the doting smile he had shown when facing his eldest son, but he also did not display the imposing authority he had shown when meeting the petitioners earlier.

The Duke of Arlian stopped in front of the throne, while the Duke of Lothair walked confidently to the side of the throne, picked up Prince Henry and placed him on his shoulder.

"Your Majesty, I heard you just casually gave away 30,000 guilders," Duke Lothair teased, a hint of reproach in his voice. "How generous! When will you be so generous to me?"

“That ring will come back,” Richard Sun said calmly.

“Since you say it will come back, then it will definitely come back, so I’m not worried.” Duke Lothair changed the subject, seemingly casually smiling as he asked the Emperor, “Your Majesty, that old man Duke Bagrum’s two sons have been kneeling for a day and a night. Why don’t you have mercy and let them see you?”

“No rush.” Richard Sunstrider stroked the hilt of his sword. “I don’t want to accept their surrender yet.”

"When will you decide?" Duke Lothair asked helplessly.

"When they are afraid enough, when they are terrified enough, when they no longer dare to entertain the thought of rebellion."

“I think they’re already scared enough. If we wait until you’re completely satisfied, the treasury will probably be empty of rats.” Duke Lothair spread his hands, his tone quite bitter: “Let me tell you this first, I’m penniless right now, and I’m counting on you to pay me a salary to make ends meet!”

Richard Sun frowned slightly: "Didn't your father just transfer the properties in the suburbs to you?"

"It's all gone," Duke Lothair replied casually.

"It's all spent?"

“It’s all gone! Women, wine, horses, beautiful clothes…” Duke Lothair stroked his beard and said with a hint of pride, “He was so angry that he swore before the icon that he would never give me another silver coin unless he died.”

Richard Sunshine sighed, a mixture of helplessness and amusement. He could never bring himself to be angry with his lovable brother-in-law.

After a moment of contemplation, Richard turned to Duke Arlian, who stood below the throne, and asked in a deep voice, "Are they afraid enough?"

The Duke of Bagrum, whose figure appeared to be carved from gnarled tree roots, nodded slightly and replied coldly and meticulously, "Within a generation, no traitor in the Duchy of Bagrum will dare to defy your will."

“Alright, get ready.” Richard leaned back on the throne and calmly announced, “Then I will meet old Baglum’s two sons.”

The Duke of Arlian bowed and withdrew from the palace tent.

Duke Lothair pinched Henry's nose, put the prince back in his seat, and looked at the emperor: "I'll go and make some preparations too."

After saying this, he bowed slightly and walked out of the palace tent with his usual elegant demeanor.

“Let’s go.” Richard Sun hung up his sword, picked up his crown-adorned helmet, and patted his son on the shoulder: “First, fulfill your royal duties, then I’ll take you to see that little pony.”

Just as the emperor was about to call his attendants into the tent, Prince Henry, who had remained silent until now, finally asked his last question: "Father, I think... giving money only to the last person probably won't solve his problem."

Richard Sunlight turned to look at his eldest son, this time with surprise and relief in his eyes instead of doting affection: "Why do you say that?"

Little Henry lowered his head, fiddling with his fingers: "The last person petitioned because the abbot is a bad person. If you just give him money, he'll still be bullied by the bad abbot..."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Richard asked encouragingly.

Henry tentatively replied, "So that wicked abbot won't be abbot anymore?"

“My son, you are right.” Richard picked up his eldest son and placed him on the throne, then lowered himself to look his son in the eye.

He said, word by word, "But I cannot remove the abbot of Kempson Abbey."

"Why?" little Henry asked, puzzled. "Aren't you the emperor?"

Richard Sunlight spoke as if he were talking to another adult, explaining earnestly: “Because all the abbots of the monasteries in the Duchy of Bagrum are bad guys, if I get rid of Abbot Kempson, the stewards of the other monasteries will all be in danger; the appointment of personnel in the monasteries is the prerogative of the Church, and if I force the Church to obey, the Church will also be dissatisfied.”

The Church possesses vast sums of money, and I need it; I have just conquered and humiliated the nobles of the Duchy of Bagrum, and now I will set about weakening their power. If, at this juncture, I were to push the Church to the side of the discontented nobles, Bagrum would sooner or later be plunged into turmoil once more.

“But…” Little Henry was increasingly puzzled: “What about the person who made the final petition?”

“Listen carefully, Henry Sunburst.” Richard Sunburst addressed his eldest son by his full name, causing the latter to tremble involuntarily. He said coldly, expressionless, “What matters is not saving the lowly, but the rule of the Sunburst family—my rule, and your future rule.”

The emperor looked directly into the eldest prince's eyes: "You don't need to help them, save them, or help them escape their vicious cycle of fate—it's enough to gain their loyalty and gratitude."

……

[Ten minutes later]
Young Henry followed the emperor out of the palace tent. The sunlight outside was so bright that he instinctively raised his hand to shield his eyes.

Separated by a single curtain, beyond the palace tent lies an astonishingly large military camp, where over 20,000 soldiers and servants, like ants in a colony, move about according to rules only they understand within the camp built around the palace tent.

Fully armed cavalry and spearmen moved back and forth, the sounds of cart axles, horses neighing, and shouts filling the air. The entire camp resembled a small town, bustling with activity.

The "thunderous sound" that had previously been absorbed by the camel hair tapestry hanging inside the palace tent revealed its true power, no longer a dull echo, but a series of deafening booms.

With a deafening roar and billowing smoke, solid stone and iron balls hurtled toward the castle on the distant hill, slamming into the breastworks and towers like heavy hammers, smashing the sturdy walls into flying debris and billowing dust.

Bagroom Castle—once considered an impregnable castle, once thought to be an invincible castle, once the pride of the Bagroom ducal family—is now surrounded by the Emperor's large army.

Shells flew from all directions toward the castle that stood alone on the hill. Under the relentless bombardment of heavy artillery, the once domineering Bagrum Castle, like a fragile boat, gradually crumbled and was on the verge of collapse amidst the raging waves of gunpowder.

It was only a matter of time before Bagrum Castle fell—no one had any doubt about it.

"Your Majesty," Duke Arlian approached the emperor, nodded, and reported, "It's ready."

“Very good.” The emperor simply nodded, revealing no emotion. He mounted his horse and looked at the Bagrum lords who had just sworn allegiance and were waiting in the palace tent: “Please follow me! Friends! I have something I want to show you—bring the Duke of Bagrum’s son along too!”

"Speak," the emperor said, raising his whip and spurring his horse away.

The newly appointed lord, court nobles, and the Duke of Bagrum's two sons followed the emperor's hoofprints all the way to the front line of the siege fortifications.

The warrior Richard proudly halted his horse before a fortified position, less than a hundred meters from the castle atop the hill. From his vantage point, he could clearly see the devastated state of Bagrum Castle.

The cannons are still roaring.

With each deafening cannon shot, the Duke of Bagroom's two sons would instinctively tremble, their faces growing even paler.

Richard, however, remained calm, as if the sound of gunfire had no effect on him.

"Congratulations, lords." In a lull between cannon shots, the emperor glanced at all the nobles present and said coldly, "Today, you stand on the side of the victors."

The emperor drew his sword and pointed it diagonally at the artillery fortress ahead: "Today, I offer you—"

In the center of the fortress, two gunners slowly removed the black cloth covering the cannon, revealing a colossal cannon of unimaginable size.

"The wrath of the blazing sun," the emperor said expressionlessly.

The air seemed to freeze, and there was complete silence near the fortress.

People were awestruck by the size of the cannon—it was so enormous that a grown man could easily fit inside its barrel.

Its astonishing size made it extremely difficult to move. In fact, the emperor did not attempt to move it at all, but instead had the giant cannon cast on-site outside Bagrum Castle after the siege began.

Therefore, this giant cannon was never used during the month-long siege – because it had not yet been completed.

And today marks its first appearance.

The emperor coldly ordered: "Fire!"

The gunner lit the fuse and quickly retreated from the gun emplacement. As the long fuse burned to its end, a deafening roar that made everyone present dizzy exploded from the gun emplacement.

A giant stone projectile shot out from the cannon muzzle and, under the watchful eyes of everyone around the castle, slammed heavily into the waist of the tower at the main gate of Bagrum Castle.

The rickety tower finally succumbed to the devastation and collapsed with a deafening crash, accompanied by terrifying cracking sounds and screams.

After a moment of silence, a deafening cheer erupted from the fortifications and barracks surrounding the castle. The emperor's soldiers clenched their fists, pounding their armor and weapons, celebrating the devastating blow of the Sun's Wrath.

Some people spontaneously began to sing the hymn to "Richard the Warrior," and the singing grew louder and louder until it eventually became a chorus of all the soldiers.

The emperor himself brushed the gunpowder off his armor, looked at the eldest and second sons of the Duke of Bagrum, and announced casually, "Now, I accept your surrender."

The Duke of Bagrum's eldest and second sons fell to their knees with a thud.

The emperor looked up at his courtiers and vassals, a tolerant smile on his face: "Come, my friends! Let us celebrate as we always have! Let us drink! Let us feast! Let us play music! Let us celebrate our victory to the fullest!"

In the nearby military camp, musicians played hymns at just the right moment. Court nobles and fiefdom nobles smiled and cheered for the emperor's victory.

As the emperor walked toward the military camp, passing by the sons of the Duke of Bagrum, he coldly warned, "This is the last time I will accept your surrender."

Having said that, he didn't look at the two men again and rode away. The Duke of Bagrum's eldest and second sons prostrated themselves on the ground, not daring to look up.

The nobles who had followed the emperor to the fort also left one after another.

Not far away, the Duke of Arlian, who had prepared all this for the emperor, blinked. Only his close attendants understood that the duke was shaking his head.

According to the Duke's plan, the Sun's Fury should be publicly displayed only after it has been fully tested.

It should not be used in this way, because a cannon that has just been cast is likely to have fatal defects—so it should not be used at a distance of less than twenty meters from the emperor.

“However, the members of the Sunfire family always like to create a bit of drama,” the sculpted old duke thought silently. “And there’s a madness hidden deep in their bones.”

...Young Henry was not taken to the fortress; he was placed in the care of the Queen's head lady-in-waiting.

Before long, the emperor returned. Immediately, music played and a grand feast began. All those who had survived the war, regardless of rank, celebrated their victory with abandon.

The head lady-in-waiting, carrying little Henry, happily made her way to the royal seats at the banquet—the end of the war meant she could return to the palace.

Just ten paces from his father, a weary messenger rushed past young Henry and the head lady-in-waiting, nearly colliding with them.

Before the head palace maid could reprimand him, the messenger, accompanied by a priest, had already reached the emperor's side. He knelt on one knee, said something, and then took out a letter from his bosom.

The emperor took the letter, peeled off the seal, and read it.

Young Henry saw that the satisfaction and joy of victory had vanished from his father's face.

……

"Gunpowder shattered the knightly class" — KHM
……

"Gunpowder did not directly destroy knights and castles. In fact, even unmodified medieval city walls could cause considerable trouble for armies equipped with gunpowder weapons—countless historical examples prove this. Gunpowder merely provided attackers with a more powerful weapon, and once modern city defense technology matured, gunpowder became a powerful tool for defenders."

However, gunpowder did indeed shatter the "knightly class".

With the widespread use of gunpowder weapons, the cost of war began to skyrocket. The production, manufacturing, and storage of gunpowder required massive amounts of technical, human, and managerial resources. At the same time, armies around the world began to reform towards specialization and scientific management. The lesser nobles could no longer afford to wage war, and thus gradually lost their autonomy, becoming utterly subservient to the greater nobles. From then on, the strong grew stronger, and the weak grew weaker.

As the fief knights lost their significance as the smallest military unit, the knightly class—a byproduct of the fief knight system—also disappeared. —Bonnie Seifer
..............................

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[帝国历537年12月2日][23年前/距离巴格鲁姆平叛战争结束18年]
[St. Mira's Convent Cathedral]
"The old king is dead!"

After three days and three nights of agonizing struggle, Emperor Richard IV, the "madman," finally breathed his last on his bed.

Leaving behind an empire awaiting its successor.

"A new king shall be established!"

Even as he was being blessed with oil, Henry Sun was still recalling that morning eighteen years earlier outside Bagroom Castle, and the conversation that took place between father and son.

The convent choir sang hymns in unison, their voices echoing beneath the cathedral's soaring dome, creating an even more ethereal and sacred atmosphere.

Maria, the abbess of the Convent of St. Mira, holding a crown, slowly approached Henry on the throne.

The Cathedral of St. Mira was not the traditional location for the coronation of imperial emperors. Traditionally, the abbess of the Convent of St. Mira was not qualified to place the crown on the crown of the newly crowned emperor.

Even the crown placed in Dean Maria's hands was not the imperial crown passed down through generations, but the crown of King Furren, which was found in the treasury.

However, when "Richard the Usurper" was already in the traditional Sacred Stone Basilica, using the traditional bottle of St. Clovis's oil, kneeling on the traditional coronation stone, wearing the traditional imperial crown, and being crowned by the traditional pope, tradition became less important.

There is no possibility of reconciliation in this war of succession between the two brothers. Now that Richard Sunther has been crowned "Richard V", the sooner Henry Sunther is crowned "Henry III", the better.

The coronation process had been rehearsed several times, so everything went smoothly.

Dean Maria placed the crown on Henry the Sun's head, and Henry calmly recited the coronation oath that all emperors had recited: "I will fulfill all my duties and uphold the honor of myself, the Church, the princes and the peoples until the end of my life."

Next, Dean Mary should reply: "May God have mercy on you, my Lamb, and grant you the authority you deserve."

However, the nun, who was over sixty years old, did not utter the prescribed lines. Instead, she helped up Henry the Rigd, who had just been crowned emperor, took his hand, and turned to look at the people at the coronation ceremony.

“I see!” Mary said. “The Lord has wiped the dust from my eyes and made me see.”

Her voice wasn't loud, but it reached everyone's ears clearly, accompanied by a power that compelled them to believe.

“I saw an oak tree grow from the bosom of Henry the Sun, growing ever taller until it reached the heavens. Its branches stretched to the ends of the continent, and its shade covered the horizon of the whole world. Four rivers flowed from its roots, and four mountains supported its dome.”

"Boats thronged the river, crops in the fields were plump and golden, the hillsides were covered with endless forests, and sweet springs flowed among cypress and rose bushes."

"A thousand church bells are ringing, a thousand nightingales are singing. Climb up the trunk of that oak tree, and the soul of mortal will reach heaven."

Maria looked at Henry Lieyang, her white-tinted eyes gleaming with an eerie light.

She proclaimed the prophecy in an almost chanting manner: "Henry the Sun, you will become a great ruler, and your descendants will accomplish even greater things than you. Your bloodline is destined to hold power! From this sea to that sea! From the great river to the ends of the earth!"

After speaking, Dean Maria turned to face the people witnessing the coronation ceremony and shouted loudly, "The supreme and glorious Emperor of the Empire has been crowned! Long live the Emperor!"

"Long live the Emperor!" Everyone in the church cheered in unison.

Outside the church, cannons fired a salute. The choir sang a hymn of thanksgiving, and the series of celebrations had just begun.

"May God have mercy on you, Your Majesty." Amidst the sea of ​​revelry, Maria held the hand of the newly enthroned emperor and whispered a blessing: "May you be granted the authority you deserve."

……

Half an hour later, at the library of the St. Miran Convent.

Henry the Sun placed the crown on the copying table and began to remove his heavy robes. The coronation attire had six layers, making it cumbersome to put on and even more difficult to remove.

"Whoa!" Accompanied by footsteps, a mocking voice rang out from the doorway: "Destined to wield power! From this sea to that sea! From the great river to the ends of the earth—what an incredible prophecy."

“If you’re so free, why don’t you help me take off this cumbersome outfit?” Henry Lieyang replied irritably, “Uncle!”

The newcomer was none other than Duke Louis of Lothair. Time had not altered his appearance; instead, it had added a touch of mature masculine charm to him.

He walked over to his nephew and asked with a smile, "Why are you taking it off? You have a banquet to attend later."

“I can wear my military uniform to the event.” Henry Lieyang ripped off his waistband.

“Very well, you’re the emperor, you call the shots.” Duke Lothair picked up the crown and examined it closely: “Is this really pure gold?”

"Put it down!" A stern rebuke came from outside the door: "That's not something you can touch!"

Upon hearing the reprimand, Duke Lothair visibly trembled. He quickly put the crown back in its place and obediently moved to the side.

A sprightly elderly man in military uniform strode into the library. His hair was completely white, but his steps were still strong and powerful, and his voice was full of energy; he didn't look like someone who was nearly seventy years old.

There was only one person who could make the carefree young Duke Lothair so terrified—the old Duke Lothair, Winfred.

"Your Majesty." The old duke stood before the young emperor and bowed respectfully.

“Grandfather,” Henry Lieyang’s smile turned somewhat bitter, “you don’t have to do this.”

“No! Now that His Majesty has been crowned, he is the supreme emperor of the empire.” Winfred glanced at his youngest son and said in a booming voice, “Not only do others have to get used to this, but His Majesty himself has to get used to it even more.”

Henry Sun felt deep down that his grandfather was right, but he always felt a little uncomfortable. Fortunately, the young Duke Lothair secretly made a face behind the old Duke's back, which made him smile.

“You are destined to wield power, from this sea to that sea, from the great river to the ends of the earth.” The old duke, completely unaware of his youngest son’s scheme, said emphatically, “It is indeed a very powerful prophecy.”

"Do you also believe in so-called prophecies, Grandfather?" Henry Lieyang's smile became even more helpless: "Aren't they all just things that Dean Maria made up on the spot?"

“I don’t believe in any bullshit prophecies,” the Duke said firmly. “But it was a prophecy spoken by Maria herself, so it’s of great importance.”

The Duke then explained, "As the abbess of St. Mira's Monastery, since Mary Adam proclaimed the prophecy, she has a responsibility to help you fulfill it. Otherwise, both she and the status of St. Mira's Monastery will be in jeopardy."

Maria was the head of seventeen convents, including Quilinburg, Elsen, Upper Thorn, Lower Thorn, Mars River, Guttenzel, and Byind.

Her being on our side means that seventeen convents are on our side. Each of those convents possesses immeasurable wealth, and with their help, our military expenditure problem can be greatly alleviated.

A brief silence fell over the library.

The young emperor let out a soft breath and asked the old duke seriously, "What does she want?"

Winfred glanced at his grandson with satisfaction and replied in a gruff voice, "What else can a priest want? Money! Power! A soul!"

"Have you already agreed on a price with her?" Henry asked.

The Duke answered without hesitation, "Yes."

The young emperor continued unbuttoning his robe: "I hope it's a good price."

“It’s not a good price,” the Duke said bluntly, “but we have no room for negotiation.”

"Hmm." The young emperor accepted calmly.

After a while, the Duke changed the subject and said casually, "But Your Majesty need not worry. Once you truly hold power, you will have many opportunities to renegotiate the price."

A sly glint flashed in the eyes of the seemingly rugged old man: "After all—political promises are meant to be broken."

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..............................

[April 21, Imperial Calendar 560] [Current Status]
[Palace of No Worries]
Whenever he walked down the long corridor in front of the Emperor’s office, Secretary of State Jim Farrell couldn’t help but wonder: was the reason this corridor was so long, so spacious, and so smooth on the ground, so that every imperial subject who walked through it would understand the feeling of walking on thin ice and being trembling with fear?

After receiving permission from the royal guards, the Minister of State carefully pushed open the wooden door.

It was still that simple office: a table, a chair, and two wooden boxes—one for documents that had not yet been approved, and the other for documents that had been approved.

The portrait of the late Emperor Richard IV on the wall still scrutinizes everything in the room with a stern gaze.

The current emperor, Henry III, still sits in the only chair in his office and rules the empire, without even glancing at the minister of state.

The Minister of State walked to the Emperor's table.

"Lord Farrell," the emperor said, his quill pen still moving as he spoke.

“Your Majesty, I am here,” the Minister of State replied respectfully.

"You should have received the report on the speech given by the new speaker of the United Provinces Republic in Champagne."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The emperor put down his quill and looked up at the minister of state: "What are your thoughts?"

"Nonsense! The barking of a defeated dog! Slanderous accusations!" the Secretary of State declared righteously. "This shows that the traitors are not only utterly disloyal, but also a group of morally corrupt scoundrels!"

The emperor gave a half-smile and then lowered his head to write on the dossier.

The simultaneous reign of a powerful emperor and a powerful chief minister often leads to disaster. Therefore, it is said that James Farrell became Secretary of State for two reasons: first, his unwavering obedience to His Majesty; and second, his exceptional ability to understand His Majesty's thoughts.

This time, however, the Secretary of State really didn't know whether he had answered correctly or incorrectly, but he didn't dare to ask and could only stand there awkwardly.

The emperor finally finished writing the reply. He put away the file, closed the lid of the document box, and carefully put away the quill pen, letter knife, measuring ruler, and other tools one by one until there was nothing left on the table except for the two wooden boxes.

The emperor rested his chin on his interlaced fingers, looking at James Farrell. Behind him, the deceased old emperor was also looking at James Farrell with the same gaze.

It's as if the emperor at the table has entered the painting, or as if the emperor in the painting has sat down at the table.

“I still remember…” the emperor said with a hint of reminiscence, “When I was young, people called my father ‘the brave one,’ ‘the warrior,’ ‘the warrior among warriors.’”

A cold sweat suddenly broke out on Jim Farrell's forehead.

"But do you know what people called him when he died?"

Jim Farrell lowered his head deeply, not daring to answer.

“A madman,” the emperor said, speaking on behalf of the minister of state. “People call him a madman.”

Jim Farrell's forehead was covered in even more cold sweat.

"Lord Farrell."

"The minister is here."

"Tell me," the emperor asked with amusement, "what will people call me after I die?"

Jim Farrell abruptly raised his head and shouted, "The world will call you the Emperor! The Conqueror of the World! A King unlike any other in a millennium!"

“Wrong.” The emperor raised a finger, and the minister of state immediately fell silent: “They would call me a monster who kills his own family, a butcher who destroys civilization, and a devil who betrays sacred oaths.”

“They will call me—” the emperor replied with a smile: “The Oathbreaker.”

“No! Your Majesty! No! Absolutely not!” Jim Farrell was so tormented that he was incoherent: “Your achievements far surpass those of all the previous kings. Under your rule, the empire has enjoyed an unprecedented long period of peace. You…”

"Lord Farrell."

The Minister of State reflexively brought his boot heels together and said, "Your Majesty, I am here."

"I will complete the conquests that my father failed to accomplish," the emperor said calmly.

“Give the order, Your Majesty!” James Farrell declared without hesitation, “Your will shall be carried out without question.”

"To complete the conquest my father failed to achieve," the emperor paused for a moment, then casually issued the order that would unleash a storm: "I am disbanding the Southern Army, and this task—will be yours to accomplish."

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[Tanilla]
[Red Iwo Jima, the base of the Third Army]
While the emperor of the empire was issuing the direct order to "disband the Southern Army," thousands of miles away, on a small island across the ocean, another father was writing a letter to his son.

"...Perhaps as people get older, they become more talkative. But, my son, I miss you very much. So some nights, I think back to what you were like when you were little."

At this point, Antonio put down his pen and looked out the window.

Chiliu Island has now been completely transformed into a naval port. Laborers conscripted from the island's plantations are setting up new docks; and at the narrow passage leading into and out of the bay, four brand-new fortresses are under construction.

Barring unforeseen circumstances, this port will become the new home port for the Inland Sea Fleet.

Even more impressive than the port expansion are the brand-new dry docks scattered throughout the port area. Shipwrights from Haidong Port are laying hulls on the keels, and a large number of brand-new warships are already taking shape.

Inside the military camp right next to the dock, two newly expanded battalions of rookie cavalrymen were practicing riding skills under the guidance of their officers, straddling wooden barrels suspended by ropes—the purchased horses had not yet arrived, so this was the only way to train the cavalrymen's sense of balance for the time being.

Antonio dipped his pen in ink and lowered his head to write:

“When you were little, I had many dreams about your future. Some were incredibly glorious and honorable. I dreamt that you traversed vast lands, crossed surging oceans, conquered unfamiliar peoples, and discovered immense wealth. Others were filled with the clash of swords, bloodshed, deception, and betrayal. War consumed your body, and slaughter tormented your soul. I dreamt that you slept with sharp blades under your head, never able to find peace.”

Antonio stopped writing, sighed, and continued:
"But for Kosha and me, those dreams and prophecies were completely unimportant. Back then, all we wanted was for you to grow up healthy and safe, because you were so small and so fragile... Perhaps people become more sentimental as they get older..."

Antonio stopped writing again, and after a long while, the sound of the pen nib scratching against the parchment resumed:
"I have doubted my decision countless times—was it right to train you to be a soldier? Should I have chosen a safer path for you? Or should I have let you choose your own path?"

But I finally realized that all my worries stemmed from my refusal to let go, from my continued belief that I could interfere with your destiny. But my son, you are now an adult capable of deciding your own fate. You are no longer a fledgling under my wings; you are already battling the storms and towering waves.

Wherever fate leads you, you should take each step yourself, and you should build your own career. You are about to experience an era of great change, fraught with countless crises, yet containing the potential to shape history. I envy you, my son, you are so young, possessing boundless hope…”

As Antonio wrote the last sentence, he spoke softly, as if Winters were sitting right in front of him:

"So go, my son, with my blessings! Go and create your own future!"

After signing his name, Antonio stared at the paper for a long time. He took a deep breath, then carefully folded and sealed the letter.

He summoned a messenger and handed him a triple-sealed letter: "Take this document to Lieutenant Don Juan; he knows who to give it to."

Outside the window, the wind howled.

(The Roaring Chapter Prologue, End)
……

……

[Unknown Land]
[A Corner of the World]
[A Forgotten Group of People]
"Captain! Captain!" The lookout trembled with excitement. "A ship is coming! A ship is coming!"

"You [vulgar sailor's swear words]!" Drake cursed. "Why aren't you lighting the beacon fires yet? Get everyone who can still move out of bed and get them all to the beach! Let them play the victim! Anyone who dares to show their weapons and scare away the approaching ships, I'll skin them alive!"

The lookout, having received his order, fled in a flash.

"A ship is coming?" A weak voice rang out from the makeshift shed converted from the deck.

"Don't move around." Drake quickly pressed Edward back onto the bed. "Just focus on recovering. Now that a ship has arrived, leave the rest to me."

Edward said with difficulty, "The presence of a ship means we may have already reached our destination."

"No matter where we are," Drake gritted his teeth, his voice dripping with murderous intent. "Let's seize a ship first!"

"Don't make things difficult for ordinary sailors."

"I know, I know." Drake took a coconut and quickly split it open. "Here, have some more water."

After entering the storm, things did indeed go as Edward had predicted; the ocean currents eventually carried the Intrepid southwest.

However, the ocean currents only carried the Intrepid southwest, regardless of how far it carried it.

After leaving the storm zone, the Intrepid drifted at sea, unable to see land or know where it was.

After discussing the current situation, Edward chose to continue westward, and the Intrepid sailed fearlessly into the vast ocean, continuing its westward journey for more than ten days.

They experienced countless inexplicable phenomena, such as the weather suddenly turning bitterly cold, and some crew members freezing to death.

For example, the unpredictable sea winds brought them back to the same location for three consecutive days. If it weren't for Drake's intuition that led him to place buoys on the surface of the water on the second day, the Intrepid might have been trapped and died on the unmarked sea.

After sailing for several more days, there was still no sign of land on the horizon.

Edward chose to turn north.

It was another long, hopeless voyage with no end in sight.

When fresh water and food ran out, and Drake, who was starving and going crazy, began to seriously consider which sailor would be the most reasonable to eat first, the silhouette of land finally appeared on the horizon.

Thinking they were rescued, the group of unlucky yet fortunate pirates then watched helplessly as they were slammed against the rocks on the shore by the surging waves.

Unfortunately—their only boat sank.

Fortunately, their ship sank off the coast of a small island with fresh water, and some of their belongings were salvaged from the cabin.

Drake and his men built huts on the island, settled the injured Edward and others, and then lived a life of praying for ships to pass by while outwitting and outmaneuvering the ibex on the island.

Just when Drake was despairing and thought he would have to live like a savage for the rest of his life, the lookout finally spotted a mast on the horizon.

Facing his emaciated, ragged men, Drake spat and gave a vicious order: "We finally got a big job! Do it well! First, take control of the captain and first mate. Before we take over the whole ship, no one is allowed to steal food from the galley! The ship! Remember! Take the ship first!"

"Awooo!" The pirates' eyes gleamed with green light.

……

[Three hours later]
"You... said... what..." Drake mumbled as he stuffed cookies into his mouth, questioning the bound captain in front of him: "Where... is this?"

The other pirates were in the same boat. Many of them choked and rolled on the ground. After finally vomiting, they began to desperately stuff their mouths full of vomit.

The hijacked crew members stared in disbelief at the emaciated pirates wolfing down their food. It wasn't that they hadn't seen pirates before, but they had never seen pirates reduced to such a state—they weren't pirates at all; they were clearly beggars.

"My lord," the captain said with a forced smile, inwardly cursing himself for meddling, "this is His Majesty's far western colony, Lizhu Bay."

[The mistakenly posted ending of Volume 4 was 10000 words, while this prologue is 14500+ words. I've exceeded my target and haven't let my subscribers lose money ヾ(ω`)o]
[The geography and maps will continue to be updated, and are tentatively scheduled to be posted at the end of Volume 4 and in the "Related to the Work" section.]
[The post about the giveaway has also been moved to the "Related Works" section to avoid disrupting the normal reading order.]
[Thank you to all the readers for your collections, reading, subscriptions, recommendations, monthly tickets, rewards, and comments. Thank you everyone!]
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(End of this chapter)