(Castle Cidaris, County of Cidaris, Duchy of Cidaris, Kingdom of Cidaris, Northern Realms, The Witcher-Verse)
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(King Aethan I Jaenerys of Cidaris POV)
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The White Marble halls of Castle Cidaris echoed with the measured tread of two men. Aethan, his silken robes the color of a deep sapphire, walked beside King Tarrand of Kerack, whose nervous fingers traced the intricate carvings on the wall. Sunlight, filtered through stained-glass windows depicting ancient Cidarian triumphs, cast shifting mosaics of color onto the polished floor.
"The beauty of this place, Your Majesty," Aethan began, his voice a smooth baritone that resonated in the vast space, "is but a reflection of Cidaris's enduring strength and prosperity. A strength that could easily extend to your own realm."
Tarrand offered a small, noncommittal nod, his gaze sweeping over a tapestry depicting a naval victory. "Kerack is... proud of its history, Lord Aethan."
"And rightly so," Aethan replied, his pace unwavering. "Kerack possesses a valiant army, a force to be reckoned with. Imagine, Your Majesty, if that might be amplified. Consider the advantages of a unified front, where the formidable Kerackian Army could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the renowned Cidarian Navy. Think of the security that would afford your borders, the deterrent it would present to any aspiring aggressor."
He paused, allowing the image to settle. "Beyond military might, however, lies the realm of commerce. Cidaris maintains robust trade routes, alliances that span continents. As a vassal state, Kerack would inherit a portion of this influence. New markets would open, existing ones would flourish. Your merchants would find themselves welcomed in ports previously barred to them, their goods in higher demand than ever before."
Aethan gestured towards a large arched doorway. "And consider the potential for diplomatic marriages. Cidaris has connections to kingdoms that value stability and power. A union with a Kerackian noble, solidified by our shared allegiance, would forge unbreakable bonds. It would secure your dynasty for generations to come, providing a stable future for your people."
Tarrand stopped, his eyes fixed on a portrait of a stern-faced Cidarian monarch. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. "Trade... and an army allied with your navy..." he murmured, the words tasting foreign on his tongue.
"Precisely, Your Majesty," Aethan confirmed, his tone encouraging but not insistent. "It is not about subjugation, but about elevation. About ensuring Kerack's future is not one of precarious independence, but one of guaranteed prosperity and influence. A position of respect, not a burden of sole responsibility."
He inclined his head slightly. "You are a young king, Your Majesty, with a kingdom to nurture. Such decisions require careful consideration, of course. But I believe, with all sincerity, that this path offers a future far brighter than any Kerack has yet known."
Tarrand finally turned from the portrait, his expression a mixture of contemplation and awe. He looked at Aethan, his gaze no longer hesitant but caught by the vision presented. "This is... a great deal to ponder, King Aethan. A very great deal indeed."
"And I have no doubt, Your Majesty," Aethan concluded, his voice softening, "that you will make the wisest decision for Kerack." He resumed his walk, leaving Tarrand to follow, his steps now more thoughtful, the weight of the offered crown seemingly already pressing upon his young shoulders.
Aethan led Tarrand through an archway into a grand solar, where the setting sun painted the western sky in hues of fire and sapphire. A table laden with refreshments stood ready, yet neither king reached for it. Tarrand's gaze, however, was drawn to a map unfurled upon a nearby lectern, a detailed cartographical masterpiece that depicted the Kingdom of Cidaris, the Northern Realms, and beyond, hinting at far-reaching influence.
"Our scribes meticulously chart every river, every mountain pass," Aethan remarked, following Tarrand's line of sight. "Knowledge, Your Majesty, is a powerful weapon, as potent as any sword or siege engine. To understand the land, its resources, its vulnerabilities, is to possess a significant advantage. Cidaris cherishes this understanding, and through our alliance, Kerack would gain access to this wealth of information, enabling a far more strategic governance than mere conjecture."
Tarrand finally met Aethan's eyes, a flicker of something unreadable – perhaps the dawning of ambition, or the chilling realization of his own kingdom's limitations – crossing his face. "This... this is a vision of power, King Aethan," he conceded, his voice barely a whisper. "A power I confess, Kerack has long craved."
Aethan offered a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Power, Your Majesty, is not a destination, but a journey. And Cidaris, with its established infrastructure, its loyal vassals, and its unwavering gaze upon the future, offers a carriage for that journey. Think of the resources you could tap into, the knowledge that would be at your fingertips. No longer would Kerack be isolated, grappling with its own limited understanding. You would be part of a network, a symphony of strategy and strength that resonates across the Northern Realms and beyond."
He stepped closer to the map, his finger tracing a route that snaked across the continent. "Our intelligence networks are vast, Your Majesty. We know of shifts in alliances before they happen, of nascent threats before they take root. This foresight, this proactive approach to governance, is a cornerstone of Cidarian strength. Imagine Kerack, no longer reactive, but dictating its own destiny, fortified by foresight and supported by the might of Cidaris. The whispers of discontent in the borderlands, the rustling of sabers in distant kingdoms – you would be kept appraised of them all, and prepared."
Tarrand's gaze followed Aethan's finger, his mind evidently racing through possibilities. The allure of such comprehensive knowledge, of preemptive action, was a potent counterpoint to the pride of Kerackian independence. The weight of the offered future, once a burden, now seemed to gleam with a seductive, untamed promise.
"The whispers of discontent," Aethan mused, his voice a silken thread weaving through the charged air, "can be silenced before they become roars. The rustling of sabers can be met with a deafening silence of preparedness. Kerack, under our banner, would not merely survive, Your Majesty. It would thrive, a beacon of stability in these turbulent Northern Realms. Imagine your merchants sailing under Cidarian protection, your people secure behind walls strengthened not just by stone, but by alliances forged in foresight and mutual benefit."
Tarrand's breath hitched, his eyes still fixed on the map, on the vast expanse of Cidaris that seemed to swallow lesser kingdoms whole. He saw not just borders and trade routes, but a destiny, meticulously planned and executed, a stark contrast to the often chaotic scramble for survival he knew so well. "But... what of our sovereignty?" he finally managed, the question tasting like dust in his mouth. "Our own path?"
Aethan turned, his sapphire robes swirling around him like the deep currents of the ocean. His smile was one of ancient wisdom, of the certainty that comes from seeing the grand design. "Sovereignty, Your Majesty, is not always found in isolation. True sovereignty, the kind that endures, is born of strength, of security, of the ability to shape your own future rather than be shaped by it. By becoming a part of Cidaris, Kerack does not lose its voice; it gains the power to amplify it, to ensure it is heard across kingdoms, across continents, a vital note in the grand symphony of the Northern Realms and beyond."
Aethan stepped closer to Tarrand, his gaze now piercing, holding the younger king captive. "Your sovereignty, Your Majesty, would be that of a cherished member of a powerful family, not a lone wolf exposed to the harsh elements. You would retain your title, your court, your people would retain their identity. But instead of struggling for survival, you would be participants in a grand design, contributing your unique strengths to a collective might that no single kingdom in these Northern Realms could ever hope to match. Think of it as joining the most exclusive guild in the world, where every member's craft is honed and respected, and the guild's reputation protects them all."
Tarrand's eyes, still locked on the map, seemed to unfocus as he processed Aethan's words. The vision was compelling, the promise of security and amplified influence a balm to the anxieties that had always gnawed at his reign. The image of Kerack, not as a struggling duchy on the fringes, but as an integral part of a dominant power, began to take root. "And... the demands? What would Cidaris expect of Kerack in return for such… tutelage?" he finally asked, his voice laced with a new, cautious curiosity, the scent of ambition finally outweighing the lingering fear.
Aethan's smile widened, a genuine warmth now softening his regal features. "Loyalty, Your Majesty. A commitment to shared prosperity. And, of course, the provision of your considerable infantry might when the Kingdom of Cidaris calls upon it. A small price, I believe, for the guarantee of lasting peace and influence. You would be a bulwark, not a battleground. A keystone in the arch of our dominion, ensuring the stability of the entire structure. Kerack would not be a vassal to be exploited, but a partner, woven into the very fabric of Cidarian strength, a testament to the enduring power of unity in this wild and often unforgiving world."
Tarrand's hand, which had been hovering near the map, finally stilled. He took a deep, fortifying breath, the scent of polished marble and ancient knowledge filling his lungs. "A bulwark," he repeated, the word resonating with a newfound understanding. "Not a battleground." The concept settled within him, a seed of ambition planted and already beginning to sprout, promising a harvest of security he had only ever dreamed of. "And should this… alliance… require me to raise arms beyond our immediate borders, in service to Cidaris?" he asked, his voice steady, though a tremor of anticipation ran through his frame.
Aethan's smile remained, a subtle acknowledgment of the king's pragmatic inquiry. "Naturally, Your Majesty. The Northern Realms are a tapestry of shifting alliances and simmering conflicts. When the threads of Cidarian security are threatened, or when opportunities for further prosperity present themselves, the strength of our partners is called upon. Your brave infantry, woven into the seasoned legions of Cidaris, would be a formidable force. But consider this, King Tarrand: under the umbrella of Cidarian might, Kerack's own borders would become impenetrable. The cost of defending yourselves would diminish, freeing your resources and your warriors to stand for greater causes, for the advancement of us all."
He gestured again to the map, his hand sweeping across the vast expanse of the Kingdom of Cidaris. "This is more than a pact of mutual defense, Your Majesty. It is an invitation to become a part of a legend. To ensure that the name of Kerack, and the legacy of your dynasty, will be etched not just in the annals of its own history, but in the grand tapestry of the Northern Realms, woven by the enduring threads of Cidarian power, all the way to the farthest reaches of the Witcher-Verse. The choice, of course, is yours. But the future of Kerack, and indeed, your place in this unfolding saga, awaits your decision."
Tarrand looked from the map to Aethan, the sapphire of his robes seeming to deepen in the fading light. His gaze was no longer that of a nervous king, but of a strategist, a nascent chess player contemplating the grand board. He saw not just the promise of protection, but the intoxicating prospect of *agency*, of shaping events rather than being buffeted by them. "To be a part of a legend," he murmured, testing the words. "A vital note in a grand symphony…" He imagined his banners, once small and lonely against the vastness, now flying alongside the proud dragon of Cidaris, a symbol of shared purpose and amplified might. The Northern Realms, with their constant undercurrent of danger and opportunity, felt less like a battlefield for survival and more like a stage for ambition, a stage upon which Kerack could now truly play a leading role.
"Precisely, Your Majesty," Aethan confirmed, his voice imbued with the weight of generations of Cidarian kings and their wisdom. "You see it now. It is not about surrendering your identity, but about enhancing it. Think of the Witchers themselves, solitary hunters who, through skill and knowledge, command respect and fear. Cidaris offers a similar framework, a collective strength that amplifies the individual's power. Your infantry, honed by the rigors of Kerack, would become the unwavering shield of our northern frontiers, and in return, those frontiers, once a source of constant concern, would become your impregnable fortress. Your people would sleep soundly, knowing that the shadows that once crept from the wilderness are now held at bay by a power they are intimately a part of."
A slow nod began to form in Tarrand's posture, a subtle shift from uncertainty to resolve. The fear had not entirely vanished, but it was now overshadowed by a burgeoning sense of destiny, a tantalizing glimpse of a future where Kerack was not merely a kingdom, but a cornerstone of power within the wider world. He pictured the merchants of Kerack, their ships no longer vulnerable to piratical raids or capricious tariffs, but sailing under a banner that commanded respect from Kovir and Poviss to the farthest reaches of Zerrikania. The weight on his shoulders felt less like a burden and more like a crown, one he was finally ready to give up in exchange for true authority, secured by the strength of Cidaris.
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The Grand Hall of Cidaris shimmered with the diffused sunlight filtering through stained-glass windows. Crimson tapestries depicting historical battles lined the stone walls, their threads worn with the passage of centuries. At the head of a long, polished oak table sat King Aethan of Cidaris, his posture regal and composed. Across from him, King Tarrand of Kerack, his usual bearing one of practiced authority, now appeared subdued. Servants moved silently, refilling goblets and arranging platters of fruit.
"King Tarrand," Aethan began, his voice resonant, "we have discussed the terms of this union at length. The consolidation of our realms offers mutual benefit and a strengthened hand against the encroaching shadows in the east."
Tarrand nodded, his gaze fixed on the intricately carved surface of the table. "The decision has been made, Your Majesty. Kerack shall swear fealty to Cidaris."
A subtle shift occurred in Aethan's demeanor, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. He leaned forward, a hand resting on the table. "This is not merely an absorption, Tarrand. It is an integration. Kerack holds a unique historical significance, a legacy that deserves to be honored."
He paused, allowing his words to settle in the quiet expanse of the hall. "Therefore, I confer upon you, King Tarrand, the ceremonial title of First Prince of Kerack. This title acknowledges your lineage and the people you and your line have led."
Tarrand looked up, a new expression dawning on his face. It was not defiance, nor was it gratitude, but a quiet observation.
"Furthermore," Aethan continued, his tone shifting to one of confident pronouncement, "it is my intention to transform Kerack into a Princedom, a distinct entity under Cidaris's banner, much like Bremervoord. This will elevate your position and afford you the autonomy to govern your people in accordance with your wisdom and their traditions."
He gestured towards a small, ornate chest resting on a nearby velvet cushion. "With this elevation, your role will transition. You will henceforth be known as Duke Tarrand, the hereditary ruler of the Princedom of Kerack, a testament to your enduring connection to your homeland, now a vital jewel in the crown of Cidaris."
Aethan rose from his seat, beckoning Tarrand to do the same. He walked around the table, stopping before the former king. From a pouch at his belt, Aethan withdrew a heavy, silver chain, from which dangled a medallion bearing the intertwined crests of Cidaris and Kerack.
"This," Aethan said, placing the chain around Tarrand's neck, the metal cool against his skin, "is the symbol of your new station. It signifies your continued influence and your commitment to the unified prosperity of both our realms."
Tarrand stood still, his hands clasped before him, the medallion resting on his chest. The light caught the silver, reflecting the grandeur of the hall and the weight of the new order. The servants, who had paused in their duties, resumed their silent work, the sounds of their movements a soft counterpoint to the weighty pronouncements. The fusion of two crowns had been sealed, not with conquest, but with the careful redefinition of titles and the promise of a new, albeit altered, dominion.
Kerack and Cidaris now stood as one, Aethan would still need to travel to Kerack directly to make it a formal transition of power, before the Kerackian Court and nobility, but Cidaris just got a little bit bigger.
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(POV Shift: King Foltest I Dezmoiden of Temeria)
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The banners of Cidaris, a deep azure emblazoned with a golden kraken, with three sea shells on it fluttered above the battlements of Kerack. Below, in the throne room, a show of royal authority was unfolding. King Foltest of Temeria, his sapphire robes gleaming in the midday sun, stood with his trusted advisors: Vernon Roche, his arms crossed, a permanent scowl etched onto his weathered face; Bronibor, the stoic Temerian knight, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword; and Jan Natalis, the younger, more refined diplomat, his expression one of polite observation.
Aethan, the King of Cidaris, stood beside Kerack's former ruler, a man now visibly relaxed, his shoulders no longer taut as he formally surrendered his kingdom. The exchange was not punctuated by the clash of steel or the cries of the vanquished, but by the measured pronouncements of treaty and alliance.
"Remarkable," Foltest stated, a hint of amusement in his voice. He gestured towards the scene with a gloved hand. "Kerack, surrendering without a single drop of blood spilled. Aethan's diplomacy is as potent as his navy, it seems."
Vernon Roche grunted, his gaze fixed on Aethan. "Potent enough to make a king bend the knee without drawing steel? I'd wager Aethan knows how to squeeze a coin purse or twist a knife in the dark, Your Majesty. What threats or gilded promises did he whisper into that Kerackian boys ear?"
Jan Natalis shifted his weight, his gaze moving from the spectacle to Foltest. "With all due respect, Commander, I perceive no coercion in the proceedings. The accord appears… voluntary. Aethan might not have a reputation for shrewd negotiation, but I do not see this tainted by outright duress."
Foltest's eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger, but in calculation. He turned his attention to his advisors, his expression shifting from amusement to a more deliberate consideration. "Voluntary, perhaps. And yet, the outcome is the same. Kerack now aligns itself with Cidaris. This… event," he paused, letting the word hang in the air, "is not merely for our eyes and ears. It is a message. A very clear one."
He looked back at the lowered banners of Kerack, now being replaced by the golden kraken. "Perhaps, Roche, Natalis, it is time we entertained a more serious discussion regarding a marriage alliance with Cidaris. It would seem King Aethan has presented us with a rather compelling opportunity. One that demonstrates the power of shared interests, rather than the spoils of war." He gave a wry smile. "And certainly a more entertaining outcome."
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(POV Shift: King Aethan I Jaenerys of Cidaris)
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The council chamber of Castle Cidaris, a space usually reserved for the gravitas of state affairs, now held the palpable tension of a diplomatic negotiation. King Aethan, seated at the head of a polished oak table, his sapphire robes a stark contrast to the muted tones of the room, met the steady gaze of King Foltest of Temeria. Beside Aethan, Duke Agloval, Chancellor of Cidaris, remained a silent, observant presence. Princess Adda, a figure of regal grace, sat opposite her father, her attention seemingly divided between the conversation and the meticulously detailed map of the Northern Realms spread between them.
"King Foltest," Aethan began, his voice carrying the authority of his lineage and the weight of his expanding realm, "the recent integration of Kerack into the Kingdom of Cidaris has expanded our collective influence significantly. Yet, true strength, as history has shown, often lies in forging unbreakable bonds, not solely through military might. Cidaris requires an alliance of a different nature. A marriage alliance, one that would solidify our mutual interests and present a unified front against any who would seek to disrupt the burgeoning peace of the Northern Realms."
King Foltest, his expression unreadable, steepled his fingers. "King Aethan, your proposal is… direct. And indeed, the prospect of such an alliance holds appeal. However, for Princess Adda to consider a union with you, certain assurances must be made. Temeria, while respecting the strength of Cidaris, requires tangible proof of our shared commitment. What guarantees can you offer that this is not merely a strategic acquisition disguised as a matrimonial overture?"
In response, Duke Agloval, at Aethan's subtle nod, extended a thick parchment across the table. The document, bearing the royal seal of Cidaris, detailed an offer of a non-aggression pact between the Kingdom of Cidaris and the Kingdom of Temeria, valid for a century. It also outlined preferential access for Temerian merchants to Cidaris's extensive naval forces, encompassing both its formidable military fleet and its robust merchant vessels, thereby significantly lowering taxes on Temerian exports entering Cidarian controlled ports. Furthermore, the National Cidarian Intelligence Service pledged its resources to support Temeria's foreign intelligence operations, and a commitment for military aid was offered should Temeria face external threats. In return, Temeria was expected to reciprocate these measures.
Foltest studied the parchment, his brow furrowed in concentration. After a period of silence, he looked up, a flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes. "This proposal," he stated, his voice measured, "is… satisfactory. The terms are generous, and the mutual benefit is clear. I accept this offer on behalf of Temeria." He then turned to his daughter, his gaze softening. "Adda, we've laid out the framework. The decision, however, is ultimately yours." Princess Adda, who had been quietly observing the proceedings, picked up the parchment. She ran a finger over the intricate script, her expression thoughtful. After a moment, she met her father's gaze, then Aethan's. "I accept, Your Majesty," she said, her voice clear and steady. "I accept this alliance."
Aethan smiled, in less than a day, Cidaris had integrated a neighbor and struck a marriage alliance with Temeria. Cidaris was stronger than ever, and he was now in a stronger position to arrange marriages for his sisters. When the last of the Invited monarchs arrived, they'd lay his father to rest, afterwards, deals and Alliances would be forged, and more Kingdoms would unite with Cidaris.
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(Author's Note:)
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I suppose we saw the first and second really big deviations from the last fic in this chapter. The Northern monarchs aren't yet at Cidaris and Aethan has struck a marriage alliance with Temeria and convinced the King of Kerack to submit to him. Now, no doubt there will be people saying its unrealistic or unbelievable, but what little information is available on Tarrand, doesn't paint a much different picture to what I put in this chapter. Prime example being how his father was assassinated by a Dryad during the Kerack-Dryad war and he did fuck all about it and made peace.
The other major deviation would be the fact Aethan has yet to place his father to rest yet. We'll cover that in the next chapter, depending on where the chapter goes that may or may not be starting in the end scene.
At any rate I've got more chapters to write.
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