The son of the God-Emperor in Warhammer Fantasy

The combat strength of a mercenary group is usually compared to that of regular armies. When a mercenary group's strength surpasses that of a standard count's military force (which consists of up to sixty knights, five hundred cavalry, and fifteen hundred swordsmen or archers as a standing army, excluding temporarily recruited spearmen and peasant soldiers), they are typically referred to as mercenary armies.

Such mercenary armies wouldn't be found in places like Nord, which is too impoverished to support them. The Empire and Bretonnia don't need them either, as they have stronger knightly orders as their standing forces. Only places like Marienburg or southern nations are dominated by mercenary armies, like Marienburg's Ironsides, which consists of over six thousand cavalry and more than ten thousand infantry, serving as the main force defending Marienburg.

It's important to distinguish between knights and cavalry. Knights are a rank, a title, and a guarantee of combat prowess, while cavalry simply refers to mounted soldiers. A standard knight unit includes several mounted squires or apprentice knights, and numerous knight's squires.

"Of course, they can't compare," Estel laughed dismissively. "There are no mercenary groups of that level in Nord, Mr. Ryan."

Oliver noticed Ryan's interest in the Gray Blade Mercenary Group. "Are you curious about Bilger, Mr. Ryan?"

"Gray Blade Bilger is indeed quite famous," Ryan said, riding his horse and pondering.

The Blood Axe Mercenary Group had suffered significant losses, largely due to Theresa's involvement. Boris's injuries hadn't fully healed—Ryan even doubted they ever would. Without Boris, Vice Leader Vilt had to shoulder a heavy burden. A mercenary group with one elite member versus one with two cooperating elites made a significant difference, especially when the group had already bled heavily fighting beastmen.

Theresa seemed oblivious, but Ryan knew the Blood Axe Mercenary Group was no longer reliable. If they were to head south, he needed to consider the combat strength of the Gray Blade Mercenary Group.

No matter how strong he was, Ryan was still just one person. The Empire once had an incredibly powerful knight who relied on his might to impose twenty-eight types of complex tax regulations in his knightly manor, driving the peasants to despair.

The result was that this powerful knight was overrun by peasants, tied to a scarecrow in the fields, and burned to death.

Was it because the knight wasn't strong enough? Was he ambushed?

No, the knight was very strong. He held off dozens of rioters at his door.

But everyone gets tired. Even if a hundred pigs were lined up for the knight to kill, by the end he would be exhausted.

Ryan needed to avoid such a situation. He was neither invincible nor immune to fatigue. He was human too.

Eventually, they reached the banquet location.

The evening banquet was held in Villard's longhouse. The sky was completely dark, and the two-story longhouse's doors were wide open. Torches lit the snow-covered path, and well-trained guards stood at the entrance. A whole roasted lamb hung over a fire, its golden grease dripping into the flames, creating sparks.

Smells delicious~ Ryan noticed a guard salivating at the sight of the juicy meat and chuckled.

His laughter caught the guard's attention. "Good evening, Mr. Ryan! Please come in! The lord is waiting for you inside!"

"Good evening~" Ryan handed his horse's reins to the guard and walked in confidently.

Oliver and the others tried to follow but were immediately blocked by cold halberds. "Sir, please show your invitation!"

A trace of annoyance flashed across Oliver's chubby face, but he quickly put on a standard business smile. He pulled out an invitation stamped with the lord's seal from his white bear fur coat and handed it to the guard. "Here you go, sir."

The invitation had cost Oliver a considerable amount of effort.

The guard's earlier respect vanished, replaced by arrogance. After confirming the seal, he returned the invitation to Oliver. "Keep your hands clean, merchant, and don't cause trouble inside, or my halberd will drink your blood!"

"Alright, you can go in!"

Estel instinctively clenched his fist, but Mats patted his shoulder, shaking his head.

Ryan was unaware of what happened behind him. Inside the longhouse, the room was already filled. Large wooden tables were laden with food, from simple bread and stew to roast chicken and rare fruits. Servants carried various dishes on iron trays, and guests sat on long wooden benches, drinking barley beer from clay mugs and tankards, enjoying themselves.

"Cheers to the victory at the docks!"

"Cheers to the prosperity of Karzheim!"

"Cheers to the great Lord Villard!"

"Cheers to... whatever, let's just enjoy ourselves tonight!"

Most of the attendees were soldiers who had fought at the docks. Many still had bandages, but that didn't stop them from drinking heartily. A few were invited guests, including a woman standing by the entrance.

"Theresa?"

"Ryan! You're here?" The sorceress seemed inherently uncomfortable with such a setting, so she stood at the entrance, leaning on her staff. Ryan couldn't help but admire her appearance.

In every sense, Theresa was a stunning beauty, especially tonight. She wore a classic silk dress adorned with gold canary flower carvings, a white fox fur coat draped over her shoulders, and pointed white strappy high heels with sapphire-encrusted tips that sparkled in the longhouse.

Her slender legs were wrapped in black sheer stockings, making her already smooth skin appear even more alluring.

Stockings, huh~ Ryan lingered on her legs for a moment.

The sorceress's family must be quite wealthy.

Stockings were an alchemical invention and an unequivocal luxury. Initially, stockings could only be made from unicorn hair from the Fairy Lake in Bretonnia or the finest spider silk from the dark regions, making them a highly coveted and expensive item among noblewomen.

Recently, the Empire had made some breakthroughs in this field. For some reason, the Imperial Engineering Academy had begun producing a limited amount of stockings. However, Emperor Franz-Frederick forbade the technology from being exported, so the number of stockings on the market remained low. Ryan remembered his foster mother had spent twelve gold dinars to get a pair, which she treasured and only wore for significant events.

Theresa noticed Ryan's gaze lingering on her legs and feet. She raised an elegant eyebrow. "Don't you know it's impolite to stare at a lady? White Wolf Knight, Mr. Ryan?"

"No, I was wondering why you're standing here instead of finding a seat inside," Ryan said curiously.

For some reason, the sorceress felt a bit disappointed that he didn't comment on her attire. She quickly turned that feeling into words. "After staring for so long, don't you have anything to say?"

"Uh, you told me not to stare, and now you want me to? Dear Theresa, you're making it hard for me." Ryan took a deep breath, his face becoming serious. "I can't find words to describe your beauty. All I can say is that you look particularly enchanting tonight, Miss Theresa-Trovik. May I have the honor of guiding you to this banquet?"

"Oh~ if only those men could speak as well as you, our dealings with Garon might be easier," the sorceress finally smiled.

"Ha~ if Garon could be less awkward, our dealings would be easier too," Ryan retorted mercilessly.

"I know, I know, I'm working on it... Is there a quieter place? It's loud and smells inside." Theresa followed Ryan inside. "I don't want to squeeze in with them. You're a bit later than I expected."

"Yes, something came up. Follow me." Ryan led her deeper into the longhouse. Rows of tables and chairs were filled with soldiers and local officials. Many greeted Ryan with raised glasses, and he responded with a smile, indicating he acknowledged them.

At the end of the hall, Villard and his wife sat at the head table. Seeing Ryan arrive, the fifty-something lord stood up. "An important guest has arrived! Let me introduce you to my friend, 'Bald' Norman's son, 'Warhammer' Ryan! He is our hero today, the one who helped us win the battle at the docks! Cheers!"

"Cheers!" A silver goblet of wine was passed around the table. Each person took a sip before passing it on. When Ryan and Theresa sat down, Guard Captain Lauritz handed the goblet to Ryan. "Mr. Ryan, please~"

"Thank you~" Ryan took the goblet and sipped.

Theresa turned pale when she saw Ryan preparing to pass the goblet to her. The silver goblet had made its rounds at the table, picking up who knew how many germs. She instinctively recoiled.

"Hahaha~" Ryan laughed, skipping her and passing the goblet to the next person, explaining, "She doesn't drink much as it affects her concentration."

Spellcasters needed focus, so Ryan's excuse wasn't wrong.

After a few rounds of drinks, Villard announced free activities. Almost everyone stood up, talking in small groups, loudly discussing recent events, from commodity prices to high society trends and wars with northern barbarians.

"No choice, Nord's customs dictate that Villard must showcase his silverware, and everyone has to drink from the goblet," Ryan whispered to Theresa. "Don't worry, I know you don't like it."

"Oh~ I've had enough. I regret coming to this banquet,

 even dressing up for it," the sorceress complained, standing behind Ryan. "Gosh, only three fireplaces in such a large room..."

"Are you cold?" Ryan led her to a fireplace. Two men warming themselves nearby moved aside, making room for them.

"Sometimes we need a reason to gather, conduct business, seal deals, or form alliances. This is how it's done," Ryan explained, tearing off a piece of roast chicken. "I'll go check on something. You rest here."

"I know more about this than you!" Theresa watched him walk away, continuing to warm herself by the fire. Her outfit was indeed a bit cold, especially without boots. Her exposed legs and feet, though covered in stockings, were barely shielded from the chill.

Her quiet time was soon interrupted. "Beautiful lady, may I offer you a drink?"

Annoyed, she looked up.

Surprisingly, the man was quite handsome, with blue eyes, a high nose, and harmonious facial features. He had black hair in a small ponytail, wore a monocle over one eye, and was dressed in noble attire: a loose shirt, tight pants, fashionable shoes, and a hat adorned with a white feather.

Before Theresa could respond, he began introducing himself. "It's an honor to introduce myself. I am Eck, Eck-Albrecht, from the Empire. Just call me Eck."

"Alright, Mr. Eck, I am Theresa, Theresa-Trovik. Thank you, but..."

"I must tell you more about myself, Miss Theresa!" Eck continued without giving her a chance to refuse. "I am a knight... well, an apprentice knight. But I already have my own horse and armor, and a family crest. Look!"

He showed her his crest: a dove holding an arrow, flying over a kite shield.

"Thank you, Mr. Eck, but I..."

"Let me tell you about my glorious deeds, Miss Theresa! The most famous is the Battle of Wenler three years ago. I fought alongside the White Wolf Knights against those vile barbarians..." The handsome man began an endless recount of his exploits.

Oh no! A chatterbox! Theresa rolled her eyes, tracing circles with her high heel on the wooden floor...

Happy New Year, everyone! Wishing you all family happiness and prosperity!