The son of the God-Emperor in Warhammer Fantasy

Villard was a middle-aged man in his fifties, very strong, with a thick beard and graying temples. He seemed a bit worn out, likely from his argument with the druid. Upon seeing Ryan, he stood up immediately: "You must be Ryan! I've heard about you! That 'Bald' Norman really has a good son."

"You're too kind, Mr. Villard," Ryan replied modestly. Villard's attention quickly shifted to Teresa: "What a charming lady. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

"Teresa, Teresa Trovik from the Garland Council," Ryan introduced casually.

"I see. Nice to meet you." As Ryan predicted, upon hearing the Garland Council, Villard's attitude cooled considerably. The sorceress responded indifferently, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Villard."

"Please, have a seat." Villard gestured for them to sit. Seeing Ryan seemed to improve his mood. "It's been a while, Ryan. The last time I saw you was at your knighting ceremony, right?"

"Yes, Mr. Villard attended my knighting ceremony. I remember that well." Ryan nodded. Villard, who had risen from a knight to a lord, had been active on the front lines two or three decades ago. Ryan respected such a seasoned warrior.

"Time flies. It's been years, and you've grown into a remarkable knight. So, what brings you here?" Villard asked, pulling out a bottle of wine and three glasses from his cabinet, pouring generously. "Try this, it's wine from the southern Empire."

Teresa felt a bit uneasy about Villard's straightforwardness, as she hadn't even agreed to drink yet, but he had already uncorked the bottle.

Seeing this, Ryan gently patted the sorceress's hand, signaling her to go along with it. Then he explained about Belter, stating that they had come chasing the fallen hunter.

"I see." Hearing about a powerful fallen hunter in his domain who had then escaped by sea, Villard frowned. "As a lord, I have to enforce the sea ban to protect my people. As for the ships, Ryan, you know the ownership is in the hands of the shipmasters, and the captains decide their work. That's out of my control."

In other words, it wasn't his responsibility.

"I understand. What I need is permission to question the guards and dock workers thoroughly, and could you help me contact the shipmaster who took Belter out to sea?" Ryan knew Villard wouldn't want to take responsibility, so he sought investigation permissions instead.

"Laurits? Laurits?" Villard hesitated briefly, seeing Ryan's earnest expression, then called out.

A soldier clad in chain mail, armed with a standard-issue longsword and kite shield, and wearing a conical helmet, entered: "Yes, my lord?"

"This is my guard captain, Laurits. Ryan, whatever you need to investigate, Laurits will assist you... Laurits, this is the renowned kingdom knight Ryan. Assist him with his investigation," Villard instructed.

"Yes, sir!"

"Alright, you may leave. Ryan, whatever you need, Laurits will assist you. I'll stay out of it," Villard opened the way for Ryan without fully handing over the investigation.

Seeing this, Teresa directly asked, "Mr. Villard, don't you plan to do anything about this?"

"Hahaha! What can I do, Miss Trovik? I'm old. When I attended Ryan's knighting ceremony, I could still hunt bears in the deep mountains alone. But now, a few years later, I can't even find a bear without exhausting myself and needing days to recover. So, these matters should be left to you young people." Villard laughed heartily, appearing younger for a moment. "Of course, if those beastmen and greenskins dare invade my territory, I'll personally beat them."

"Mr. Villard, you're in your prime; how can you say you're old? We'll handle our matters ourselves. Your help is already greatly appreciated," Ryan said, mediating to end the topic. He understood Villard was right.

A normal human's physical abilities start to decline from thirty and rapidly after forty-five. Advancing should be done early, ideally before thirty. After forty-five, advancing to legendary status is nearly impossible.

Villard's elite peak strength slowed his aging somewhat, but in his fifties, he was indeed aging. The feeling of once great strength fading is unpleasant.

Only those like Ryan or Teresa, who advanced to legendary status, would see a significant increase in lifespan and physical condition. Legendary figures typically live over a hundred and fifty years, aging only after a century and becoming elderly after one hundred thirty.

Teresa's mother, Aurora Trovik, had dominated the continent fifty or sixty years ago. When Ryan saw her recently, she still appeared as a thirty-year-old beauty. This explains it.

With business concluded, Villard wanted to chat more: "Ryan, you must be around twenty-four or twenty-five now? Have you considered marriage? Would you like me to introduce a noble lady from my territory? I assure you, she's beautiful."

Hearing this, Teresa perked up, pushing her black-rimmed glasses with purple butterfly patterns, curious about Ryan's response.

"I have plenty of time. I'm not interested in that right now. I think it's best to let things happen naturally," Ryan replied.

"That's true. Your advancement is too swift. Hastily marrying might be a disservice to you," Villard laughed heartily, glancing meaningfully at the beautiful sorceress before saying no more.

"Feel free to explore the city. I've arranged a banquet for tonight; I invite you both to attend," Villard said after a bit more chatting, indicating he had more business to attend to.

As they left the lord's hall, Ryan noticed Teresa's hesitation: "Want to say something?"

"Perhaps these local lords aren't as bad as I imagined," Teresa said with a soft laugh, her mature charm evident. "In my impression, local nobles are always living in luxury, waking up from women's beds at noon, hiding behind high walls, knowing nothing but banquets and taxes, entrusting all wealth to their stewards. Clever stewards turn the nobles' money into their own over the years. When faced with battle, these nobles are the first to flee but first to show up for benefits."

"Only those in the capital holding key positions have some capability."

"But after meeting Mr. Villard today, I see it's not like that. Despite his age, he's still an excellent warrior, isn't he?" Teresa walked beside Ryan, her black suede high-heeled boots clicking on the road.

"You're partly right, but not entirely. Your view might still be stuck in the pre-New Empire era," Ryan explained, suggesting they wander around. "The New Empire's laws require all nobles to respond proportionally with troops when called to war. Those who don't face severe penalties."

"Moreover, under the new laws, if a lord can't defend his territory from evil forces until reinforcements arrive, he loses all rights to it, and whether he keeps it depends on the council."

"In the past, inheritance was based on bloodline. Even a spoiled noble with high birth could inherit good lands. But since Emperor Ludwig reformed, land is granted based on military merit. Now, most lords have seen battle and aren't as useless."

As they strolled, the day brightened. Residents were out and about, children playing in the snow, adults seizing the clear day to work and wash clothes. Many mercenaries moved in groups, their arms marked with a black cloth depicting a black dagger.

"That seems like the symbol of the Gray Blade Mercenaries. They're here too? It shows how many merchant caravans are stranded," Ryan remarked to Teresa. "Their leader, Bilger, is an elite rogue turned dagger master, favoring a gray dagger. It's said he once successfully assassinated a high elf, though who knows if it's true."

Teresa frowned, staying silent. As a spellcaster, she naturally disliked rogues who favored ambush tactics. Many strong individuals had fallen not in direct combat but to a simple backstab.

A group gathered nearby, doing something. Ryan grew interested: "Want to check it out?"

"Not interested." The sorceress disliked crowds, especially of smelly men.

"Alright." Ryan, seeing Teresa's disinterest, led her around the group. The mercenaries seemed to be arguing with a merchant's guards over payment, a common occurrence. The crowd blocked the road, so Ryan took Teresa's hand, guiding her through the throng, across two streets, and into a small eatery. Ordering roasted pork, two bowls of porridge, and a pot of stew, they settled for a simple lunch.

The sorceress looked at her bowl of nondescript stew, hesitated, and set it down. "Why eat lunch here? Wouldn't the Butter Beer Tavern be better?"

"We're not here for a vacation, Teresa," Ryan said seriously. "We can't be sure Belter has indeed left for Marienburg. What if it's a ruse and he's hiding, waiting for us to leave? Nord doesn't have many legendary fighters. Without us, besides the Sky Fortress, Nord has only twenty or thirty legendary figures, many unable to move, especially with the northern barbarians gathering."

Hearing about the fallen hunter, Teresa grew serious too. "You mean Belter might still be in Nord?"

"We don't know yet. Maybe he's gone, maybe not. But we can't relax until we confirm it. If he's really gone, and we can't sail soon, I'll gladly cook a feast for you. Do you understand?"

"Oh? So you're ordering me around? I don't need you telling me

 what to do, dear Ryan. I know my priorities," the sorceress challenged, eyes flashing. "Do you think you're my superior?"

"Want to see who's stronger? I'm ready anytime." Ryan smiled at the sorceress's defiant look.

"Tch, let's see then... Oof! Let me go!" No sooner had she spoken than Ryan pinned her wrists to the table. Struggling in vain against his iron grip, her face flushed with effort. After five minutes, she finally murmured, "Can't you be gentler to a lady? And you call yourself a gentleman."

"I am a gentleman. Now, my lady, let's finish lunch and head to the docks," Ryan released her.

Sometimes it's fun to tease this mature woman, Ryan thought with amusement.

Lunch was a minor episode, interrupted by an unexpected guest.

The guest was very handsome, with flowing hair and slightly pointed ears. To humans, he looked like an elf, but Ryan, having seen true elves, knew that to elves, he looked more human.

He was a half-elf.

It was the same half-elf they had seen at the gate.

"You must be 'Big Hammer' Ryan? Hello, I'm Estelle from the Forest of Saint Lorenzo. Remember five years ago, at the Battle of Ofre River against the beastmen?" The half-elf noticed Ryan's hand on his hammer, signaling no ill intent, but spoke with an air of superiority.

Ryan's eyes brightened with recognition. He indeed remembered participating in that battle. "Yes, I remember. A team of half-elf rangers joined Nord's forces, contributing greatly to the fight. How can I help you?"

"Could we talk privately?"

"Let's discuss it here."

### Early update today.