Chapter 197: We're Old and Gray
Tissaia knew that the turning point of the situation rested with King Władysław. So she ignored Payard and, once again, earnestly spoke to the King.
"Your Majesty, when the witchers built their castle deep in the Blue Mountains, it was with the tacit approval of Kaedwen's first king. The reason witchers refuse military service is because they must obey the witcher code laid down for them by their 'father,' the legendary sorcerer Alzur."
Payard said sinisterly, "Hmm, Lady Tissaia, are you suggesting that a king's command is less binding than the last words of a sorcerer who died countless years ago? Is that what you mean?"
"Of course not..."
Before Tissaia could finish, Władysław stood up and angrily interrupted, "I've heard enough. There's no need to waste any more of our valuable time, Lady Tissaia. I respect you as the Rectoress of Aretuza and a member of the Chapter of Gift and Art within the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, but that doesn't mean I will let you manipulate me."
"Listen closely, madam, I'll tell you only one thing:"
"Either you assist me in taking that defiled castle, and you will gain immense wealth, and the Kaedwen court will open its doors to Aretuza Academy."
"Sorceresses graduating from your academy will receive preferential consideration when applying for positions as Kaedwen court sorceresses."
"And, my personal friendship and gratitude."
"Of course, if none of this interests you..." Władysław's expression changed, and he said sharply, "Then leave, madam. Take your hypocrisy and ignorance, leave this land, leave my country!"
"Your students had better not come to Kaedwen either, or they will find that Kaedwen does not welcome them!"
Tissaia's face turned ashen with anger. But in the end, she said nothing. "As you wish, Your Majesty. I only hope you won't regret this day." Dropping these words, she opened a portal and left without looking back.
Lynn and Fringilla, standing outside the tent, had heard the entire argument. The sorceress noticed that the witcher's gaze had been fixed on the King's neck throughout.
"Everything you see here is an illusion. You cannot interfere with any outcome. These past events aren't even your memories. Even if you killed him, it wouldn't change anything in the present, and you'd only fall deeper and deeper."
"I know." Lynn took a deep breath. He didn't draw his sword. Instead, he started walking.
Fringilla breathed a sigh of relief. At the same time, she realized why her uncle had repeatedly and sternly warned her never to open this book, no matter what happened.
This nightmare world was created based on the witcher's experiences. It had nothing to do with her. That's why she could view the situation as an observer. If she were an actual participant, it would be a different story.
The two walked through the endless tents and exited the military camp. Just then, waves of horn blasts suddenly echoed behind them. The Kaedwen army surged like a tide towards the distant witcher castle.
Infantrymen, gripping spears, swords, and maces, desperately ran towards Kaer Morhen. The studded leather and chainmail they wore rattled as they ran. Everyone roared like wild beasts.
Their morale was high because the King had promised them that if they breached the castle, everything inside would be theirs to plunder freely.
Although witchers generally had a reputation for being dirt poor, a peasant's home at least had food, drink, a wife, and daughters. Would a witcher's castle truly lack gleaming gold coins?
Perhaps a witcher's castle wasn't as rich as a noble's, and its wealth might not be enough for everyone, but as long as one got there first and grabbed a large handful, that would be enough.
As for potential counterattacks and resistance, no one considered them. Although those mutants were altered, their numbers were simply too small. There were only a few dozen of those mutant freaks, while they numbered in the thousands. Each of them could throw a whip and block a river; what could a mere few dozen mutant freaks do to stop them?
By this time, the vanguard of the Kaedwen army had approached within dozens of meters of Kaer Morhen. Yet, the castle remained silent. Some soldiers couldn't help but feel a strange curiosity. What was going on? Had they surrendered out of fear?
Then they should be holding their heads in their hands, leaving the city, throwing their weapons aside, and kneeling on the ground...
A general sense of optimism began to spread among the soldiers. They felt they had already won; those mutants must have been scared senseless, hiding in basements or elsewhere like frightened turtles, trembling and praying to escape. With this mindset, the soldiers descended into the trench and set up several ladders on the trench floor.
In fairness, the witcher castle before them was indeed magnificent, more imposing than many noble castles. With just a few hundred soldiers and enough provisions, it could have held out against the Kaedwen army until old age.
But in reality, there are no "ifs." No matter how grand a castle, if its defenders lose the courage and confidence to resist, it means nothing.
But just then, someone in the crowd suddenly shouted, "Look up!"
Some of the soldiers who heard the warning were first startled, then looked up. They saw several robed figures appear on the previously empty castle tower. They were the resident sorcerers of Kaer Morhen.
The resident sorcerers chanted in unison. Moments later, an oval (crack/rift) suddenly tore open in the sky, and a large amount of green liquid poured down like heavy rain.
The soldiers who had just been climbing the ladders screamed as they scrambled back down. The places where the green liquid adhered became sticky and slippery, impossible to grip. Soon, not only the ladders but also the trench were covered with a layer of green liquid reaching the soldiers' ankles.
"This is... oil?"
The rift in the sky closed again, as if it had never appeared. But before the soldiers could react, the resident mages made new moves.
In their hands, flames blazed. However, their targets were not the Kaedwen soldiers, but the trench outside the castle wall. Several fireballs accurately shot into the trench, immediately igniting the oil that had submerged the soldiers' ankles.
Boom!
A wall of fire abruptly appeared, instantly engulfing the soldiers trapped in the trench. To be the first to ascend the wall, the first to rush into the castle, large numbers of soldiers had crowded into the trench.
As a result, the fire ruthlessly devoured countless lives. Not just in the trench, but the ground outside the trench was also covered in oil, so the fire spread outwards.
As for the castle wall, a resident sorcerer cast a protective spell, shielding the wall. The great fire easily forced back the previously aggressive army. The blazing flames illuminated the terrified expressions on their faces. Their worst-case scenario, which they had previously envisioned, was at most being stabbed in the stomach by a mutant's steel sword, or killed by their sorcery.
But the sorcerers of Ban Ard Academy had said that the mutants' sorcery was very weak, capable of killing only one person at a time, just like a sword. Moreover, when they cast spells, they couldn't simultaneously swing their swords.
In other words, whether they used a sword or cast sorcery, they could only target one person. Others could then rush forward and hack them to pieces.
But who would have thought that so many had died even before they had seen the faces of the mutants?
Looking at the sea of fire before them, the surviving soldiers turned pale. But just as they were still in shock, the sounds of swords cutting into flesh and screams once again echoed from all directions.
This "nightmare world" is truly bringing Lynn's past to life, or at least a version of it. Given that it's based on his memories, how might he use his knowledge to navigate this treacherous illusion?
....
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