The son of the God-Emperor in Warhammer Fantasy

"By the way, where did Teresa go?" Ryan wondered aloud.

"Teresa? You mean Ms. Trovick? After splitting up with you, she encountered a mercenary group and has since been moving with them," the Archbishop replied, then turned off the communicator.

"She's a stubborn woman," Ryan shook his head.

Spellcasters are powerful; a spell fully cast by one of their rank can annihilate ten melee fighters.

Yet, spellcasters are also vulnerable; the time it takes to cast a spell is enough for an equal-level melee fighter to kill them ten times over.

Thus, spellcasters especially need protection.

Why would a mercenary group willingly move with that woman?

The answer is simple. Having a spellcaster in a team multiplies its strength and crisis response capability. For instance, an elite fighter and an elite spellcaster, despite earning the same, are vastly different; a bricklayer moves bricks, but an engineer can do much more with an array of spells, a rich stock of potions, and profound wisdom from extensive knowledge. This is why spellcasters are so sought after.

That's the value of spellcasters. They are the darlings of the heavens and earth, known as "mage lords," the dream companions of all adventurers. Ryan, through years of traveling, has come to deeply understand this. For instance, he knows that hiring an elite spellcaster for a mission means the reward must be at least ten gold dinars, otherwise, don't expect a mage lord to lift a finger.

When Ryan first crossed over, he dreamed of becoming a mage lord, but it saddened him to find out through testing that he lacked the magical affinity; he was destined never to be one. Reality is not a game where one can choose their profession or have the talent for spellcasting; only a mere 0.1% or less possess such talent and embark on the path of arcane. Ninety percent of these are doomed to remain mere apprentices for life, only becoming true spellcasters if they break through to the elite rank.

But Ryan stretched out his hand, his blue eyes gathering light, with pale blue threads of energy swirling around his fingertips before vanishing.

Thanks to a mysterious person he met in the passageway who taught him how to cast spells using the human brain's psychic abilities, Ryan himself was a hidden spellcaster. On the surface, he was just a warrior, a kingdom knight from the Nord Kingdom's White Wolf Knight Order.

Having gathered enough information, further visits were unnecessary. Ryan headed straight for the blacksmith's shop. He had just been through a fierce battle the day before, and it was a good time to repair his equipment and maintain his weapons.

Many people accustomed to gaming naturally think that once a weapon is equipped, it can be used forever without any maintenance, remaining as sharp as ever from start to finish. RPG protagonists might use the same weapon from the beginning to the end of the game. The same logic applies to clothing, which can go through countless battles, cuts, chops, and magical assaults, yet remain as pristine and protective as ever.

However, games are games, and reality is reality. The truth is, swords used frequently can become notched and dulled, and armor that withstands too much damage will degrade and lose its protective qualities. Weapons and armor often need regular maintenance and checks before battle, along with periodic replenishments like oil for the sword.

The town's blacksmith shop was located near the center of town. This old blacksmith had over twenty years of experience. Although he was undoubtedly skilled in his craft, Ryan thought that spending his life as a blacksmith in this small town spoke volumes about his level...

Not very impressive. In Ryan's view, this blacksmith shop was akin to those found in RPG starter villages, selling basic, unenchanted weapons and armor.

Upon entering the shop, indeed, all the old blacksmith could do was help Ryan check the inner rings of his chainmail for damage and maintain his weapon. As for the equipment hanging in the shop, Ryan found none of it appealing. Picking up a standard fine iron longsword, Ryan swung it around, its cold blade flashing inside the room. Just from these movements, it was clear that Ryan was highly skilled in swordsmanship. The sword seemed to move with a life and eerie rhythm of its own, its blade reflecting a cold light around the room.

The old blacksmith was oiling Ryan's war hammer and, seeing a customer testing swords, glanced worriedly at the door where a small face peered in, head shaking slightly, but the face was filled with reluctance, continuing to watch the knight perform.

"Mmm, this is a good sword," Ryan placed the standard longsword down and called to the door, "Don't just watch, come in!"

A boy about fifteen or sixteen years old timidly entered. He was wrapped in a thick linen coat and a fur robe, his face red from the

 cold: "Hello, knight sir!"

After speaking, the boy performed a gesture, not quite standard, with his right hand over his left chest and his left hand stretched out to the side, palm up.

"Hello!" Ryan nodded, and the old blacksmith sighed in relief. "Knight sir, this boy is called Nim, thirteen years old, awakened his vocational talent at the age of eight. He is now a warrior. Seeing you practice swordsmanship, he probably wants to learn something, please forgive him."

"Awakened vocational talent at eight?!" Ryan became interested.

Most people awaken their vocational talents around seven or eight years old. If someone is talented enough, they automatically awaken at this age, setting their future development path and transitioning into their profession.

Those who don't awaken by themselves typically go to the church between the ages of nine and thirteen to have their talents assessed, with the church assisting in their awakening—at a cost. Those unable to afford the fees can borrow from the church, while the rest might end up as ordinary citizens for life, learning a craft or simply farming. A small portion still has a chance to awaken their talent before the age of thirty, after which the probability becomes exceedingly slim as the body starts to age.

Once awakened, these people are known as ordinary professionals or adventurers. This rank forms the backbone of national armies and the general adventurer population, considered mere 'fodder' in Ryan's eyes.

Only a few soldiers and adventurers continuously train and advance to the elite rank. These individuals form the human core strength, such as regular knights of the knight orders, the royal elite swordsman squad, and seasoned adventurers and mercenaries.

Higher up are the legendary ranks, whose power can dominate a region. An army's prowess under a legendary rank leader is starkly different, and the number of legendary ranks directly indicates a country's power level.

As for higher levels... Ryan mused that the Nord Kingdom's king was of the holy domain rank, unlikely to appear in such a small town.

An eight-year-old awakened vocational talent indicated the boy had considerable potential.

"Knight sir, could you teach me how to use a sword?" Although the boy appeared to be about fifteen or sixteen, he was actually just thirteen. Looking at the longswords hanging on the wall, his face was filled with longing.

"Why do you want to learn the sword?"

"To protect my family! My father is a hunter. A few days ago, I saw him come home covered in blood yet empty-handed. If I learn the sword, I can go hunting with him!" Judging by the boy's clothing, his family's financial situation seemed decent. Ryan became more interested and continued, "Is hunting the only reason you want to learn the sword?"

"Of course not. My goal is to master swordsmanship and then strive to become a knight's squire, like serving a lord as his knight squire and fighting evil together." The boy clenched his fists, his eyes burning with the flames of hatred, like all humans, taught from a young age to despise the monsters that kill their kind.

"Ultimately, I want to become an honorable knight like you, wielding a hammer and sword, fighting on the battlefield!" The boy shared his aspirations, earning the kingdom knight's approving gaze.

The old imperial nobles were stingy and domineering, but following the second chaos invasion 150 years ago, the old nobles either defected to chaos, avoided the war, abandoned their territories, or fled south in desperation. Only a few nobles chose to fight to the death with the savior Ludwig.

In the end, the Order Alliance won. The fate of those who surrendered to chaos or abandoned their territories was predictable. Apart from some who were publicly executed, many faced confiscation, disinheritance, and loss of noble titles. About seventy to eighty percent of the old nobles lost everything in the post-war purges. These people, stripped of their former glory and status, are the most despised across the continent, by commoners and nobles alike.

Most new nobles are military nobles, who earned their territories through war achievements. Compared to the old nobles, they are somewhat more approachable and tolerant, though only to a limited extent. New laws and systems have made these nobles realize that only by increasing and enriching their populations can they ensure their income and safety. Merely extorting taxes is a path to ruin.

It's no surprise young people aspire to become knight squires, besides earning commissions and bragging rights, ascending from commoner to noble status is a significant route—becoming a knight's apprentice.

Knight apprentices learn and care for their knight's daily needs, and after a few years, the exemplary ones are promoted to squires. Squires begin to gain status, follow knights into battle, and achieve military exploits. Outstanding knight squires might have the chance to become trainee knights, fight on horseback, and await a noble's conferment to become official knights, entering the

 noble class.

However, these knights are not yet like Ryan's kind, a kingdom knight; they are generally known as ranger knights, distinguished from kingdom knights by their lack of land. Every kingdom knight at least owns a small village and some land, although some, like Ryan, decline land ownership, simply drawing a regular stipend. The primary difference between ranger knights and kingdom knights lies here—kingdom knights have a stable income, while ranger knights do not.

If someone like Ryan, officially conferred by the kingdom as a knight, becomes fully part of the noble class.

No matter how much a peasant class individual advances, reaching this level is typically the ceiling, barring exceptions. Most nobles cannot allow peasants of non-noble origin into their aristocratic pyramid.

Out of interest, Ryan also taught the boy a few moves, noticing the day growing late. In the Nord region during deep winter, daylight lasts only six hours, so he needed to hurry and prepare to depart.

"Thank you, knight sir! May I ask your name?" Ryan taught the boy Nord Kingdom's army's most basic sword technique—the Cross Sword Technique—and then took his leave.

"Ryan."

"Ryan?"

"Yes, my name is Ryan."

"Ah, could it be!?"

"Heh!"

After returning to the inn, which had become much busier, Ryan went to his room to pack his things, ready to depart.

"Knight sir? Hello!" A middle-aged man sitting at a table enjoying his lunch saw Ryan coming down from upstairs and, spotting his knight's badge, struck up a conversation.

"Good afternoon." Ryan realized this was the same man from the Empire who had partied with the locals in the inn the previous night.

"My name is Oliver, from the Empire. May I have the honor of knowing your name, knight sir?" The merchant extended his hand, Ryan subtly frowned, familiar with the ulterior motives often present in dealings with merchants.

"Ryan, my name is Ryan."

The merchant appeared to be in his forties, with long hair and a monocle, dressed quite lavishly, his fingers adorned with numerous gold and gemstone rings. However, Ryan could tell they weren't of high quality, except for a silver ring on his left thumb that seemed out of place, from which Ryan sensed magical fluctuations. If his guess was correct, it was a magical item.

Interesting!

Eager to have a hearty meal before departing, Ryan was willing to chat more with this Empire merchant. From their conversation, Ryan learned that the merchant had originally been traveling with a caravan but had come here specifically to collect a final payment owed by the lord of Ulan Town. Ryan noted the merchant's guards were well-equipped, wearing uniform scale armor and standard longswords, with a couple even carrying hand crossbows.

A merchant's wealth could be discerned from his guards and his attire. The roads outside towns in this world are dangerous, with various monsters and bandits lurking, but if it's a matter between humans, nobles and merchants are generally captured for ransom rather than killed outright.

"Knight sir, might I have the honor of knowing your name?"

"My name is Ryan."

"Black hair, blue eyes, not yet twenty-five. When I saw you yesterday, I knew you were the hero from Nord Kingdom they talk about." Oliver smirked, his face eager to please.

"I've never intended to hide my identity," Ryan scooped up a spoonful of meat soup, grumbling.

"Sir Ryan, you don't look like a Nord. You resemble our Imperial Aachen lineage—black hair and blue eyes, a lineage most favored in our Empire. Besides that, black-haired and blue-eyed like me, from the Brunswick lineage, and brown-haired from the Aldor lineage are also popular." The merchant didn't seem eager to get to the point but instead started discussing bloodlines.

"Blond-haired and blue-eyed from Brittany must also be well-treated in the Empire, while those with red hair, yellow skin, and black skin are less favored, right?" Ryan chuckled, noticing the merchant wasn't diving into his main point, so he said nothing, merely hastening his eating.

Charlemagne was of the black-haired, blue-eyed Aachen lineage, and among the twelve Carolingian knights who first followed him were also those of Brunswick and Aldor lineage. These three lineages being the most favored in the Empire was unsurprising.

Sure enough, as Ryan wasn't hurrying, Oliver began to feel pressed.

"Sir Ryan, it seems that the outskirts of Ulan Town aren't very safe. I've heard that members of the Righteous Church are pursuing some evil force, so..." The merchant clearly had a request, hinted at the situation, and then tactfully suggested traveling together, offering to cover the travel expenses.

"Sorry, I have an appointment," Ryan shook his head, looking quite regretful.

"An appointment?" The merchant looked disappointed.

"Yes, I can't keep them waiting any longer." Ryan donned his full armor, lifted

 his war hammer, and stepped out of the inn into the falling snow.

"May the goddess of luck bless your path, knight sir," the innkeeper murmured as he watched Ryan's retreating figure.

"Can't be helped, Fack, Mather, let's set off." Merchant Oliver sighed heavily, having stayed in the town long enough, it was time to leave.

"Let's go!"

I'm so tired, but I'm glad I'm almost home.