The son of the God-Emperor in Warhammer Fantasy

Two days later, the caravan set out.

Nearly thirty horse-drawn carriages, over a hundred horses, and a hundred people left the city in a grand procession. Harald stood atop the city wall, shaking his head with a sour expression. These caravans used to set sail from his port, earning him a hefty sum in taxes. However, due to the port closure, everything was ruined. Now, he could only squeeze some money out of these merchants before letting them leave.

"Mr. Boris, what's going on here?" Ryan noticed that Boris, the leader of the Blood Axe Mercenary Group, and a few injured men were packing up and heading in a different direction.

"We?" Boris smiled awkwardly. "We few can't be much help to you on the road anymore, Mr. Ryan. I thought I could still be of some use, but..." He trailed off, clearly indicating that his injuries from fighting the Beastmen had not fully healed.

After talking, Ryan learned that Boris planned to take the injured, including Banda, back to Nord's capital, Winterhold, for recovery. A few healthy mercenaries would accompany them for protection.

"I understand. Good luck to you all." Ryan sympathized.

"And, please tell Ms. Trovik that our Blood Axe Mercenary Group has repaid Garon's favor. We hope to have no further dealings with them in the future." Boris's expression was hard to read. He looked away, his voice tinged with sadness. "The Garon Council gave us much, but they demanded even more. It's time to end this."

"Alright, I'll convey your message." Ryan said nothing more. It wasn't unusual for spellcasters to expect something in return. He just watched them leave.

The Grey Blade Mercenary Group, led by Bilger, took the lead. Bilger himself rode half an hour ahead of the caravan. Then came the guards and Blood Axe Mercenary Group, followed by the merchants, sorceresses, and Ryan's group in the middle. Finally, guards and a few wandering knights handled the rear.

The road wasn't easy shortly after leaving the town. The carriage wheels constantly bumped over stones and uneven ground, causing pain to the young man inside the carriage.

"Ow, ow, ow! It hurts!" The young man inside cried out. His arm was heavily bandaged and hung in a sling, indicating a significant injury.

It was Banda from the Blood Axe Mercenary Group. The young mercenary had been injured in the dock battle and could only rest inside the carriage. Fortunately, his injury wasn't too severe.

"Hey Simon, I heard the lord of Carcinhoe held a banquet afterward! Did you go?" Banda felt dejected, imagining many times that Ms. Trovik would visit him, but she never appeared.

"No, I didn't go. How could I? That's for the 'upper class.' People like us don't get invitations," Simon shook his head. "But the captain and vice-captain went. They said it was just a regular banquet."

"Yeah, the captain didn't come back until the next morning," Banda said, looking at the overcast sky outside the carriage. "I'm lucky to be alive. Hans, Rem, and Bulmer are all gone."

The young mercenary remembered the comrades they lost in the battle against the Beastmen. The Blood Axe Mercenary Group had gone from over fifty members to just over thirty.

"Actually... the captain said he regretted taking Ms. Trovik's commission. The cost was too high," Simon checked his hand crossbow and oiled his short sword.

"By the way, did Ms. Trovik ever...?" Banda hesitated but asked.

"No, but Sir Ryan did ask about your recovery," Simon's face darkened when he mentioned Ryan, recalling the humiliating apology at the docks.

The caravan continued on its way, the current stretch of road still safe.

"It seems like it's going to snow again," Ryan muttered, feeling uneasy about the persistent bad weather.

At the banquet last night, Virald told him disturbing news. The northern tribes had regrouped and were marching south again.

This wasn't the main concern; Nord had been fighting the northern tribes for years. What worried Ryan was what Virald said next.

"The walls of Stormhold Keep have shown some strange changes. Eyes and tentacles have grown in places where the wall has been under attack for years. The Justicar Church believes this is due to the blood and flesh of Chaos followers corrupting the wall. Therefore, under the church's supervision, the wall will be burned and rebuilt."

But the northern tribes' attack at this moment made Ryan suspect a connection.

Forget it, he couldn't figure it out now. Shaking off these thoughts, he noticed snowflakes falling from his hair.

"Another snowstorm, huh?" Ryan remarked to the druid riding nearby.

Yes, this time, the ill-tempered druid "Planter" Eldrad was traveling with them. After being expelled from Carcinhoe by Virald, he had nowhere to go and agreed to accompany the caravan.

"Nature's whispers must be heard. She is wailing. A terrible storm is coming..." Eldrad muttered, but Ryan cut him off. "Enough, enough. Please speak plainly, Mr. Eldritch?"

"You know Eldritch?" the druid asked, then nodded. "It's Chaos energy. It's corrupting the sky, causing this cloudy and snowy weather."

"Eldritch the Treewalker is one of the Nature Church's emissaries. It makes sense for Ryan to know him."

Ryan just smiled. He didn't like dealing with the Nature Church.

When simple actions like picking fruit or wearing clothes could be seen as offenses against nature, and when these people could trample basic kingdom laws for "natural balance," it was hard to like them.

Similar to those animal rights activists.

Ryan had once hung Eldritch from a tree before he agreed to speak properly.

Noticing some wandering knights had moved to the middle of the caravan, Ryan called out, "Gentlemen? Shouldn't you be at the rear, ensuring the safety of our group?"

The leader, Ike, was trying to peek into the carriages. Hearing Ryan, he smiled sheepishly. "Sir Knight, we've just started. We're not in the forest yet. Can't we...?"

"Please perform your duties seriously. I won't argue this time, but always keep at least three of you at the rear!" Ryan said sternly.

The authority of a kingdom knight was effective. The wandering knights nodded and returned to the rear.

"Without Sir Ryan, I wouldn't dare travel with these guys," Oliver said, lifting the carriage curtain.

"Mr. Oliver knows they sometimes do other jobs," Ryan said, both men understanding.

"I wouldn't mind acquiring some new armor and horses," Ryan hinted.

"I'd be happy to find buyers for you, no commission," Oliver responded in kind.

It seemed they had reached an understanding.

"Dirty deal," came a disdainful voice from another carriage.

After two days of rest, the sorceress had mostly recovered, and Ryan could feel her strong magical presence.

Hearing Teresa's voice, Oliver instinctively fell silent, but Ryan changed the topic. "It's snowing outside. Keep warm."

"If it's too cold, you can rest in the carriage. I need to meditate now," the sorceress said, her beautiful face briefly visible before the curtain fell.

"Wow, it's really cold!" A black-robed man rode up, laughing. "Even in our tribe's mountains, it's not this cold in October."

The man had oil paint on his face, clean-shaven temples, dreadlocks, and a bushy beard braided into several strands. He wore thick leather armor and a brown deerskin coat, with animal teeth necklaces around his muscular chest. He carried a long spear and bow, with a dagger at his waist, looking rugged and weathered.

"You must be 'Big Hammer' Ryan of the White Wolves, right? I know you."

"And you are?" Ryan knew his fame was widespread in Nord.

"Haha, I'm Rost, from the Grey Wolf Tribe. Mr. Oliver hired me as his bodyguard," Rost said heartily, offering his flask. "Want a drink, brother?"

"No thanks, I don't drink on an empty stomach."

"Too bad," Rost took a swig. "This is blessed by our shaman, made from malt!"

"Tribe, shaman? You're from the north?" Ryan looked at Rost's burly frame. At 6'3", Ryan was solidly built, but Rost, at 6'6", was pure muscle.

Many Nord men were this large, but few had painted faces and dreadlocks.

"Yes, we came down a few centuries ago. I'm a barbarian," Rost said, spreading his hands. "But a knighted one. Our former chief was knighted by Emperor Ludwig for his bravery in the Battle of Fasha!"

No wonder this barbarian moved freely; he had official recognition. Ryan thought.

The northern barbarians didn't always worship Chaos gods. They once had their own deities and beliefs.

After Chaos arrived, the northern tribes were the first to submit, not just because they were closest to the Chaos Gates, but because their land was so harsh. The northern wastes were perpetually cold, unlike Nord, which had three warm months a year. The wastes were freezing year-round, making life incredibly tough.

While most barbarians submitted to Chaos, some refused and migrated south into Nord. These tribes lived in isolation, often in high mountains or barren valleys, maintaining ancient beliefs, even performing rituals for the Beast God, who perished when Chaos arrived.

Gods are powerful, hard to truly kill. Some leave means for reincarnation, others sacrifice

 power to survive and feign death.

Even if a god's main form perishes, as long as some power remains, there's hope.

"How have you fared over the centuries?" Ryan asked, looking at the mist-shrouded Hothalain Mountains.

"Not bad. It's tough, but with the Ice and Snow Lady's blessing, we manage," Rost said, catching a snowflake and letting it melt on his face. "Her power keeps us from falling to Chaos."

"But your goddess is always asleep," Ryan whispered. The Ice and Snow Goddess slept, offering little more than occasional dreams and vague prophecies.

Without faith, humanity couldn't unite and muster the courage to resist Chaos and darkness.

"Faith makes us strong," Estel appeared, riding a tall horse, wearing a hood and an elegant moon-white cloak over a golden robe. "Bilger reported that we can camp at the planned spot tonight. It's uninhabited, but..."

"But what? Don't tell me it's uninhabited but haunted!" Oliver joked, making everyone laugh and look at Estel for the answer.

"The place is heavily damaged. Many may have to sleep outside," Estel said with a smile. "So, let's hurry and fix the buildings for the night!"

"Alright! Let's move!"

"Hurry up!"

"Faster!"

As the sun set behind the mountains, the caravan reached their campsite.

---

I've eaten so much during the New Year that my lips are swollen.