The son of the God-Emperor in Warhammer Fantasy

 About a kilometer away, a beastmen warband was rapidly approaching. This warband was composed of several units of shield-carrying lesser horned beasts, a few units of horned beast groups, and two units of greater horned beasts, flanked by swarms of Chaos warhounds and Chaos razorgors.

"The evil beastmen have appeared! Esleyans, take up your weapons and fight to protect our forest!" Alaralos, riding a wood elf warhorse, loudly commanded the wood elf army, "Prepare to engage the beastmen! Forest guards in front! Eternal guards at the back! Forest cavalry, follow me!"

"Yes!" The wood elf army quickly formed up, "For Aisolorn, for Olien and Alaril!"

"Asur!" Targarys also began to issue orders.

The well-trained high elf army quickly formed up like flowing water, with Targarys's brought Lothren sea guards and spearmen in the front, and archers at the back. Targarys disdainfully watched the rapidly approaching beastmen warband and raised his hand, preparing to unleash a meteor shower of fire.

"No, Lord Targarys! Please do not release destructive spells in the forest!" The female prophet Lifer immediately sensed what Targarys intended to do and hurriedly persuaded him, "The forest is our home!"

Targarys's expression changed slightly, his dead fish eyes glaring at Lifer for a moment, as the Supreme Archmage immediately selected from his vast sea of magical knowledge a spell that would not harm the forest.

High magic, Hand of Glory!

The spirits of ancient warriors, called by the Supreme Archmage, came to the elves' side, protecting and enhancing their combat strength.

The female prophet Lifer also chanted a life magic spell, Thorn Shield. The wood elf eternal guards were protected by the thorn shield, forming a tight shield wall, ready to meet the enemy.

As the first lesser horned beast came within range, the elves showcased their powerful archery skills. Like a swarm of locusts, a storm of arrows was unleashed towards the charging beastmen, inflicting heavy casualties. At that moment, the Lothren sea guards, high elf archers, and forest guards all released their bows simultaneously, covering the beastmen's ranks with wave after wave of arrows, instantly felling many lesser horned and horned beasts.

The first wave of beastmen fell before they could even reach the elves' shield wall.

However, this beastmen warband was not small in size. Behind the first wave, there was a second and a third wave. These beastmen were not the rabble of the first wave; most were shield bearers, and there were also greater horned beasts wielding huge axes, bravely advancing through the dense arrow rain towards the elves.

"Kill... the pointy ears! Kill... everyone!"

"Crow Feast!" Targarys immediately chanted his second spell, summoning a staggering number of black crows that plunged into the beastmen ranks, greatly slowing their advance. However, the horned beasts and greater horned beasts, with their thick skins, were hard to significantly injure with the crows.

The forest guards quickly retreated behind the eternal guards as the beastmen closed in, and the Lothren sea guards raised their spears.

The first horned beast slammed into the shield wall, pushing back several high elf spearmen. Their spears pointed straight, and the beast was impaled through by three spears.

Then came the second, the third... The black and brown tide crashed against the cliff-like elf shield wall like giant waves, hundreds of beastmen colliding with the elf alliance's shield wall, blood and flesh splattering.

The beastmen's fierce attack seemed dramatic but was ultimately ineffective. The elves' shield wall indeed wavered under the intense beastmen charge, but that was all. Whether high elves or wood elves, their soldiers were battle-hardened; even new recruits had at least a decade of military training and were not frightened by a standard beastmen warband.

The forest cavalry maneuvered effortlessly through the woods, some riding horses, others deer, but this did not hinder their mounts' agility. Under Alaralos's lead, the forest cavalry skillfully flanked to the side, using mounted archery to inflict casualties on the enemy.

"Centaur beasts!" Alaralos immediately noticed the cunning beastmen were attempting the same maneuver, a group of centaur beasts also trying to flank the elf alliance from the side.

"Fire!" Dozens of forest cavalry shot together, arrows whistling through the air, centaur beasts falling in succession. Alaralos's recurve bow hit three centaur

 beasts in the eyes, then he pulled out his long spear, impaling an oncoming centaur beast: "Hey! Damn rabble! Taste this!"

The battle on the flank was between the forest cavalry and the centaur beast group, while on the frontline, the elves' shield wall firmly blocked the beastmen's fierce attack, preventing any from breaking through. The battlefield began to reach a critical tension.

Time Distortion! Targarys chanted his third spell.

It was time to decide the battle!

"For Horus! For the Phoenix Court! For Osuan!"

A loud horn sounded from behind the high elf lines, signifying supreme wisdom and power. The first Horus sword saint, dressed in splendid armor and a cuirass skirt, stepped onto his kin's shoulders, leaping from behind the solid shield wall. His high-plumed helmet waved in the forest of Aisolorn.

Stepping over his kin's shoulders, the Horus sword saint leaped into the midst of the beastmen, his graceful body spinning as his greatsword tore through the beastmen's fragile skin, drinking their filthy blood, the strong greater horned beasts decapitated in the blink of an eye.

But that was not all. Row upon row of Horus sword saints leaped high from behind the shield wall, joining the battle with pride. Each beautiful blade matched the height of its wielder; the balance between these giant swords and their bearers was perfect, their movements as light as feathers, yet their power as formidable as a tsunami.

With each swing of their blades, the beastmen were torn apart like rag dolls, no beastman able to withstand the might of the Horus sword saints.

The beastmen had never faced such formidable foes. Under the ferocious assault of the Horus sword saints, the beastmen quickly showed signs of defeat, their morale dropping, many horned and lesser horned beasts beginning to waver.

"Fight! Asur! For Lilith!" Targarys chanted his fourth spell, a clear music playing in the minds of the elf alliance, making their movements swifter. Every high elf easily dodged the beastmen's attacks, their weapons blessed with the power of heavenly winds.

"Advance!" Horus magus swordsman Zoltan shouted angrily.

"Yes! Asur, advance!" The spearmen pulled up their shields planted in the ground, forming a tight phalanx. The distance between each spear was no more than one centimeter, and on the charge, no spearmen's step differed from his kin's. Their neat charge quickly and powerfully supported the fiercely fighting Horus sword saints, their sharp spear tips piercing through the last of the beastmen's resistance. Seeing their heavy losses, the beastmen's warlord roared and then led the remnants of the beastmen warband in a hasty retreat.

Targarys instinctively wanted to release a fireball to kill the warlord, but the Supreme Archmage immediately remembered Lifer's admonition and instead released a less harmful spell: "Amenthok's Net!"

The beastmen warlord was quickly bound by the net of light, and Alaralos, having just defeated the centaur beast group, charged forward, piercing the warlord's skull with his gleaming steel long spear, killing him on the spot.

The encounter ended with the elf army victorious, only a few elf spearmen dead and about twenty wounded.

"Your actions were a bit slow, Alaralos." Targarys decided not to pursue the fleeing beastmen. He had not brought cavalry on this trip to the Old World, and the elves' pace could not keep up with the beastmen. Alaralos's forest cavalry was also too few in number; Targarys thought for a moment then gave up the chase, speaking to Alaralos as he rode back into the army formation on his elf warhorse.

Alaralos's face turned bright red. After all, Targarys was Lilith's first chosen, and who knows if Lilith was watching this battle?

"The number of centaur beasts was larger than expected, I had to put in some extra effort," Alaralos instinctively defended himself, riding up to Targarys and throwing the beastmen warlord's head on the ground, "Anyway, this beast is dead. The beastmen's activities in Anmeil are becoming frequent, yet the forest is declining."

"Lead the way, we should hurry to the Kingswood," Targarys said, seeming unwilling to delve deeper into the issue, merely indicating for everyone to speed up, "We must hurry, or we might not meet His Majesty Olien and Queen Alaril."

The female prophet Lifer nodded. It was now deep autumn, and winter was nearing. Each winter, Olien and Alaril would enter the fire and turn to ashes.

Alaralos was still focused on whether Lilith was watching the battle, wondering if his performance had been impressive enough to catch the goddess's eye. The champion of Queen Alaril soon became despondent, feeling his efforts had fallen short. If only he could have completed the encirclement and slain the warlord before the Horus sword saints had to intervene!

Next time, he resolved, he would seize the opportunity to impress Lilith.

Such were the thoughts of the wood elf hero as the army continued its march deeper into the forest of Aisolorn.

"Lady Lifer, may I inquire how Phoenix King Fennubar has been recently? I still vividly remember his visit to the forest of Aisolorn centuries ago." The female prophet Lifer, sensing the awkward atmosphere—high elves were brimming with pride due to their reversal of the battle's course, noses in the air, speaking three times louder, while the wood elves walked with murmurs of discontent—decided to initiate a new topic.

"King Fennubar?" Targarys's voice carried a mix of emotions, "Actually... there's not much to say."

...

"Fennubar, he is a very special person, interesting yet boring."

Late at night, in the grand master bedroom of the Lady of the Lake's tower in the earldom of Glamorgan, the cherry wood four-poster bed held its occupants. The Lady of the Lake spoke to Ryan.

The room was quiet except for the sound of the burning logs in the fireplace, and the dim light of a magic lamp cast a pale yellow glow.

The beautiful goddess wore a deep blue snow-wood patterned pleated pearl silk gown, her full set of platinum jewelry including a necklace, rings, earrings, bracelets, and anklets glittering against her skin. Satisfied, the Lady of the Lake lazily leaned on Ryan's shoulder. She played with Sulia's hair and asked curiously, "Why would you want to know about Fennubar?"

Sulia slept soundly in Ryan's arms, her face flushed, her hair tousled, her breathing steady. Ryan lovingly held his wife, gently stroking her smooth back to ensure her comfort. He also disapprovingly swatted away the Lady of the Lake's hand, which was toying with the knight's golden curls: "Lilith, keep your voice down, don't wake Sulia. Otherwise, you're out!"

"Really, my champion, you are so partial." The Lady of the Lake rolled her eyes at her chosen champion and let go of Sulia's hair.

Ryan had been quite opposed to the Lady of the Lake disturbing his and Sulia's rest time, but Sulia had agreed to her presence, so Ryan couldn't object. Earlier that day, the Lady of the Lake had brought several high elf swordsmanship books for Sulia to study. The knight had the rare opportunity to engage with advanced swordsmanship, practicing for most of the day. After being intimate with Ryan in the evening, she had fallen into a deep sleep, and the Lady of the Lake took the opportunity to slip in, claiming she wanted to chat and blatantly lying down on the bed next to them.

"Interesting and boring? Is Fennubar schizophrenic?" Ryan became interested.

"The life of Fennubar can be divided into two phases," the Lady of the Lake explained in her charming voice. "The first phase is from his birth until he became the Phoenix King. This part of his life is quite fascinating. Fennubar was born in the high elf capital of Lothren and in his early years, served as an emissary and navigator under the previous Phoenix King, Beor-Haeser, traveling nearly the entire world, especially the Old World."

"That does sound intriguing," Ryan admitted, always interested in high elf history.

"After a series of diplomatic efforts, Fennubar re-established diplomatic relations between the high elves and all the order factions of the Old World. Thanks to his tremendous diplomatic achievements and his high reputation, he was designated by Beor-Haeser as the next Phoenix King. After about 550 years of Beor-Haeser's reign, Fennubar was crowned the 'Navigator King.'"

"However, the interesting part of Fennubar's story pretty much ends there. This renowned navigator, since becoming the Phoenix King, has hardly ever left the Phoenix Court. He delegated military and political power to Tyrion and Targarys, religious duties to the Eternal Queen Elarali, and defense to the captain of the White Lions. He rarely appeared in public except to receive petitions from Asur nobles," the Lady of the Lake, clutching Ryan's arm, smiled and asked, "My champion, guess why that is?"

"Is it because Fennubar and the Eternal Queen Elarali don't get along? They're just a couple in name, and everyone knows Elarali's true partner is Prince Tyrion, the Warlord?" Ryan ventured a guess.

"Not quite... or rather,

 that's not entirely accurate. That situation did affect Fennubar, but it's not the main reason."

"What is it then?"

"Because..."

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