After agreeing on the timing of sending ships for Tov the Prophet and his followers, Ryan finally gave in to Veronica's pleading and brought the group to the pearl beds near Sartosa. Through Saltwater's connections, Veronica quickly purchased high-quality pearls directly from local divers at a third of the outside market price. It wasn't just Veronica who was thrilled—even Karad and Antelm, the Grail Knights, were tempted. Soon, what began as one person shopping turned into a frenzy, with most of the Grail Knights, knightly retainers, and old guard members who had followed Ryan to the island eagerly buying pearls. Even Karad and Antelm couldn't resist, and seeing that Ryan didn't object, they too pulled out their gold to make purchases.
How could they resist when the prices were so low, with the seller offering factory-direct prices, guaranteed quality, and the promise of refunds or exchanges on the spot? There were no middlemen to hike up the costs, meaning buyers saved money while sellers made more profit. For one day only, sales soared!
If you're buying pearls, Sartosa is the place to go!
Of course, only someone like Ryan's group dared to buy pearls so openly. The area surrounding the pearl beds was full of thugs, mercenaries, pirates, and wandering villagers, all watching for an opportunity to rob anyone flaunting their wealth. Anyone careless enough to reveal gold would soon find themselves robbed, enslaved, and their pearls returned to the divers. It was a common practice among the residents of Sartosa.
However, Ryan and his group not only looked strong but were strong. Even the most desperate and ruthless pirates knew better than to make a move against them, fearing for their lives. Under the pirate code, the strong ruled. If you could steal something, it was yours, but if you lost your life trying, that was your own fault.
After dinner at the famous Bull's Head Tavern, Ryan, Veronica, Olica, Karad, Antelm, and the returning Fedemond strolled along the Bashir Docks at dusk. The Bashir Docks were the best in Sartosa and firmly under Saltwater's control. Her flagship, the Swordfish, boasting over a hundred cannons and a crew of more than 800, was docked there. The ship could house an entire regiment in its hold. The docks were bustling, with Kislevites and Norscans playing cards, Empire citizens and Bretonnians drinking together, undead gunners and greenskin crossbowmen competing in target shooting, while ogres and lizardmen tested their javelin-throwing skills. Even dwarven butchers and Dark Elf pirates grilled meat together.
Sartosa was the only place in the world where you could witness such a sight.
The docks were also home to merchants selling exotic treasures from around the world. Not just from the Old World and the New World—there was tea from Cathay, spices from Ind, and sake and lacquerware from Nippon. Under Saltwater's strict control, the Bashir Docks remained relatively orderly, with well-armed pirate crews moving to and fro.
However, both Veronica and Olica were annoyed by the presence of numerous dancers and tavern women. These clever women, thickly made-up, quickly realized Ryan's group had money and flocked to them, offering their services.
"Sir, hire me! I'm the best at serving men."
"Sir, choose me! I have excellent... stamina."
"Sir, I'll give you the best massage~"
"Sir, pick me! I'm great at... playing the flute!"
"Get lost!" Veronica snapped, summoning streams of fire from her fingertips. The Garland Witch conjured flaming skulls that circled her, scaring off the women. "Darling, you only need Olica and me. You don't need them, right?"
"Ah, my first time in Sartosa, and this is what you call a pirate principality? I'm loving it!" Ryan exclaimed with a playful grin. "I didn't expect to meet so many talented and virtuous 'artists' here, bringing me so much positive energy."
"Hahaha!" Karad chuckled, stroking his beard. "My king, you better not say such things in public, not even as a joke. Otherwise, you'll surely be impeached."
"Just a joke," Ryan replied, only to be interrupted by a burly Kislevite man approaching with a fawning smile.
"Gentlemen, need labor? I'm from the Kislev Bear Gang—Gukhviyanov!"
If Ingrid had been present, she would have recognized this man as the same Kislevite who caused trouble in Magritte. After a falling out with Fugen's group, Gukhviyanov had fled to Sartosa and now worked as a dock laborer.
"No, thank you," Ryan shook his head, gesturing for him to leave.
"No problem, sir. May Ursun bless you with success in three days!" The Kislevite man backed off with a servile grin.
"Alright, thanks for the blessing, but I really don't need your services," Ryan thought to himself, somewhat amused by the man's politeness. "Let's go, everyone. We've arrived."
The Blacksmith Tavern was the largest, most popular, and highest-quality tavern in all of Sartosa. It offered everything from simple Bretonnian ale for a copper coin to the finest wines from Ulthuan. The tavern's owner, Mr. Smith, was a former Imperial Navy sailor (Reikland Navy), expelled for heavy drinking and theft. After years of wandering, he made his way to Sartosa. A skilled gambler, he won the tavern in a dice game.
Inside, the tavern was packed with people from all over the Old World. Nobles from Tilea, Estalia, and Araby often met here with pirate lords to negotiate privateering licenses and hire pirates to attack their rivals. The first floor was a chaotic scene of brawls and sumo wrestling, but the stairway to the second floor was guarded by elite sentries, preventing further chaos. Smith clearly favored Imperial citizens, offering them a free cup of Bretonnian ale and a slice of black bread, while treating people from other nations with disdain.
On the second floor, the group gathered around a large map, discussing their strategy while the noise from below was shut out.
The room had a long wooden table with rows of chairs lined up on either side.
"Our plan is roughly divided into two steps," Ryan began, pointing to the coastline along Blackwater Bay and extending to Sea Gate. "Step one: we must not rush to attack Eight Peaks Mountain. It's far too distant from Sea Gate, and we cannot afford to be hasty in advancing."
Karad nodded but raised an objection. "But if we delay, we'll consume more provisions. Can the army sustain itself?"
"Provisions aren't the main issue. The real challenge in fighting in the Badlands is the psychological pressure and the soldiers' inability to adapt to the harsh environment," Ryan explained. "Moreover, this is the first time such a large army is on a distant campaign, carrying so many cannons and firearms. We need to coordinate our infantry, cavalry, and artillery tactics and ensure that our wizards work well with the army. These are issues we haven't fully dealt with before. As you know, our past battles in Bretonnia were fought quite differently."
"We used to send large groups of peasant infantry to form a line and lure the enemy into fighting, while the peasant archers rained arrows. Then, the knights would charge from the sides or the rear," Antelm smiled, his demeanor refined and gentle. "But I guess, Your Majesty, you plan to use this opportunity to train the troops?"
"Training the troops is part of it," Ryan nodded, "but more importantly, this is a large and long campaign. We need to win from the very start, consistently winning to build confidence among our soldiers. From the army's morale to the support back in Bretonnia, we need a series of victories to ensure everyone believes in our success."
"Second, yes, training is crucial. The army must adapt to the environment, coordinate tactics, and learn to fight the greenskins effectively. According to Blackheart Rape's intelligence, the greenskins along the coast of Blackwater Bay are generally weak. Most of the coastal outposts are just small tribes of a few hundred savage greenskins. We can use them as training exercises."
Ryan's reasoning was sound, and Karad, Antelm, and Fedemond nodded in agreement. They understood that such a large-scale expedition needed a few victories early on to strengthen the army's confidence and boost the morale of the entire kingdom and Old World.
After Ryan finished speaking, Veronica stepped forward to add her thoughts. "Honorable Grail Knights, I must emphasize something. For you, honor and faith may be the most important things—and I'm not saying you're wrong—but I need to remind you that not everyone shares your views. Most people are participating in this war for tangible benefits. Real benefits—things they can see and touch, like gold, military achievements, medals, promotions, and opportunities for advancement. That's what motivates them! And Eight Peaks Mountain is too far away, too abstract. Even if we march at full speed or force march, the greenskins and Skaven will certainly notice us before we get there…"
"I understand your point, Lady Veronica," Karad responded. "I know that for most people, Grails and glory are higher pursuits, but for the peasants, it's different. We can't hold them to our standards. They want to rise in status and get rich. I understand that."
"We want to get rich too. Who told you knights don't want to get rich?"
Antelm quipped with a smile. "Don't project your views onto us, Karad. Let me tell you, knights want promotions and wealth too. Rangers want to become kingdom knights, kingdom knights want to be barons, and questing knights want to win the Lady's favor. We want to conquer the Badlands, loot the greenskins' fortresses, and take everything from them."
"Exactly, no need for chivalry with greenskins," Ryan agreed. "And there's one more reason."
"Once we've attacked, raided, and destroyed all the greenskin outposts along Blackwater Bay, we'll reach Sea Gate. Then we'll use it as a base to strike and destroy every greenskin outpost and tribe within an eighty-kilometer radius." Ryan pointed to Sea Gate on the map. "That's our first step. Once we've completed that, the greenskin tribes in the western Badlands will be in chaos and no longer pose a threat. Then we'll proceed with the second step—marching on Eight Peaks Mountain!"
"Excellent," Fedemond spoke up. "The only question is, will King Belegar agree to our plan?"
"He won't disagree," Ryan said seriously. "We need each other. The dwarves need victories, and we need them too."
"Very well, let's proceed with this plan." Karad had no further objections. "By the way, if… I mean, hypothetically, if Elena Saltwater wanted to join us, my king, how would you handle it? I don't think I could accept fighting alongside pirates…"
"Saltwater won't join our operation," Ryan shook his head. "She'll soon be sailing north. It's said that her father is searching for an ancient artifact, the Kraken's Bane, near Ice Lake Bend off Obian Island. She plans to make the Norscans and Chaos beasts pay for their slaughter of marine life."
"Not only that, but Ostland is preparing for a massive military campaign next year. Elector Count Valmir's eldest son, Oleg von Zhukov, will lead a force of 20,000 troops, supported by Saltwater's pirate fleet, to attack Norsca. Rumor has it that Oleg plans not only to raid the Norscan coast but to penetrate deep into the Norscan mountains, striking at hidden meeting places, towns, and ancient altars," Fedemond added. "So, it's certain Saltwater won't be joining us. And I also suggest we don't stay overnight in Sartosa. We should leave as soon as possible. The Landuin is waiting for us offshore, and we can board directly from the Bashir Docks."
"Agreed. Let's not linger. Let's move!" Ryan made the final decision. "We're leaving now!"
"Yes, sir!"
…
Old World, southern coast of Blackwater Bay, greenskin tribe territory of "Jawbreakers," Giant's Tower.
Even in the desolate Badlands, the origins of the greenskins remain a mystery, as they never record their own history. Oral legends passed down from generation to generation never mention anything related to time. The only thing they care about is finding a good fight, endlessly seeking opponents and smashing their enemies without reason. If no enemies are found, they'll simply turn on each other and engage in brutal battles.
Giant's Tower was occupied by a large group of savage orcs and goblins. Unlike the greenskins near the World's Edge Mountains, these savage orcs revered the power of their shamans. They wore no armor, decorating themselves with crude tattoos and ornaments, and fought using simple wooden clubs and stones. Their defenses were low, but their attacks were fierce, and they feared neither bloodshed nor death.
On one late November day, the savage orc warlord Gorzbad led his boys along the desolate, lonely coastline, searching for a fight and, of course, a tasty meal—snotlings.
To Gorzbad, snotlings came in many varieties. Some needed to be roasted, others could be eaten raw, while some were best with sauce, and a few weren't fit for eating at all.
Unfortunately, the snotlings they found today weren't the best. Gorzbad grabbed a handful, sniffed them, and frowned. "Let me smell. What's this one's stink?"
A pungent odor wrinkled his nose. "Smells right, but it's too strong. Better roast it first."
"Boys! Get the fire ready!"
"Yes, boss!"
As the goblins scurried to prepare the fire, human ships appeared on the horizon.
"Boss! Boss! Bad news! Bad news!" A goblin tossed the snotlings aside and ran frantically toward Gorzbad. "There's—there's ships! Big ones!"
"Humie shrimp? Those humie shrimp's floaty-boats!" Gorzbad stood up excitedly, grabbing his axe and slicing the goblin in half. "Humie shrimp! Haha! Finally, a good fight!"
"Get ready, boys! We've got ourselves some humie shrimp to bash!"
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