Matricide to Be Executed
The shameless Ottar has murdered his mother and been found guilty by the council of elders. He will suffer the punishment laid down by law, first burned, then flayed, then sewn into a sack with a cat, a dog, and a snake, and finally cast into the sea.
...
Treat the world gently, and the world will not necessarily treat you gently in return. Always keep a little cruelty ready for your enemies.
And know clearly who your enemies are.
Unlike Liss on Faroe, Birna was a woman with power, and for Victor, a commoner, being hated by a woman like that was a serious problem.
She had far too many resources at her disposal, enough to hurt him or the people he cared about. Letting her go would be irresponsible, but as for ways to actually damage her, the young man had absolutely nothing on hand.
Even in the game, even playing as Geralt, there was no way to convict Birna with evidence. It was only when her own son put justice above blood and exposed his mother's crimes that she was finally brought to justice.
Back then, he had only watched it as an outsider and thought that "mama's boy" was an idiot, actually betraying a mother who only wanted her son to rise high.
But now, thinking carefully over every little detail since landing at Urialla Harbor, every interaction between Birna and Svanrige,
Birna's subtle way of controlling Svanrige went completely against the isles' way of raising children. It was not the behavior of a mother trying to make her son great, it was the behavior of someone trying to raise an obedient puppet.
In a lightning flash, Victor suddenly understood everything. The one who truly possessed an endless hunger for power was Birna. An heir who had never proven himself was far easier for her to suppress and control.
And then, thinking again of that memory from his former life, of a son denouncing his own mother for the greater good, the young man abruptly realized... some people, and some things, cannot be locked away. All they need is an opportunity, and a little encouragement.
In the hall, Donar an Hindar waved for Arnvald to leave. Victor felt no sympathy for the seneschal. Even if the poisoning had succeeded, he would still have died by the Queen Mother's hand to silence him. Perhaps he truly was a patriot, but he was also a foolish traitor.
The young man raised a hand, his gaze clear and his words crisp. "My lords, I accuse Birna Bran of betraying Skellige, attempting to murder the heirs of the other clans, and framing Clan an Craite!"
Birna looked at him with naked contempt. "You lowborn wretch, you are doing nothing more than repeating Clan an Craite's shameless slander. Or are you planning to offer the absurd fantasies in your head as evidence? Do you think that will work?"
"Lowborn wretch!? Lady Birna, mind your tongue. Before you stands the great giant-slayer, the warrior Dovahkiin. You should show proper respect!" Madman Lugos had spoken in Birna's defense only moments ago, yet now he rebuked her without mercy.
Holger Blackhand folded his arms. "Lugos usually rants nonsense, but this time he's right."
Donar an Hindar said calmly, "Never thought I'd live to see the day I agreed with a madman."
Birna shut her mouth. She knew perfectly well that Clan an Craite would definitely stand with the Dragonborn, and with that, four of the six clans present would be against her. So she wisely bowed her head. "My apologies. I have suffered too much slander today and lost my composure. Please accept my apology."
Victor smiled, unmoved by the gesture. "I have evidence. Please allow me to present it."
At once, the eyes of the three an Craites lit up, while the other jarls also showed clear interest. Birna alone remained cold-eyed.
Donar an Hindar spoke. "Victor Corion, Dovahkiin, your warning proved you are a friend to Skellige. You have the right to present evidence. We are listening."
Victor did not step into the center of the circle. He spoke from the outer edge instead.
"My honored lords and druids, Birna is a venomous snake hidden among the isles. As everyone knows, she is a woman born in Nilfgaard."
"You be silent. How dare you insult me with something so utterly irrelevant?" the Queen Mother snapped, her face flushed red, veins standing out on her forehead.
"No, this is not insult, it is fact. What I mean is that just as you cannot understand the Nilfgaardians' love of intrigue,
so the Black Ones cannot understand Skellige's reverence for honor. Birna Bran's actions have humiliated Clan Tuirseach and brought shame upon its glorious ancestors, its departed king, and his son."
Birna regained a little of her composure and cut in, "Enough. My lords, hear me. From the moment he began speaking until now, he has not presented a single piece of evidence. He has done nothing but insinuate and hint.
Just because he is Dragonborn, does that mean he can insult a grieving widow without end? Bran has only recently died, and yet you allow an outsider to bully your queen? The king's widow?"
But at that very moment, her speech was cut short as well. It was Svanrige.
He stepped into the center of the hall, eyes sorrowful, voice choked with emotion. "The Dragonborn is right. Birna is the mastermind. You may choose not to believe Cerys, not to believe Arnvald, not even to believe Dovahkiin, but you must believe a son accusing his own mother. She planned the slaughter. Her actions have brought shame upon me... upon my clan. I cannot endure it, and neither can the ancestors above!"
Birna could scarcely believe her ears. Shock and fury burst out of her at once. "Svanrige! What are you saying? Everything I did, I did for you!"
The moment the words left her mouth, she knew it was over. But nothing could be taken back now.
Donar an Hindar's voice turned deadly. "So you admit it, Birna. You did indeed plan this appalling crime."
Birna said nothing more. She was a daughter of the Empire and had been queen for many years. Perhaps she had long since grown used to the blood and filth of political struggle. The tears in her eyes never fell. She merely stood there in a daze.
Donar an Hindar declared, "As eldest among the jarls, I sentence you to death. You will be bound upon the rocks and die of hunger and thirst, and the gulls will peck your body to pieces."
The Hall of Choosing changed in an instant. In the space of a few short exchanges, Birna Bran, once one of the great clan leaders, had been brought down.
Other than Victor, no one had foreseen that her downfall would come at the hands of her own son, that meek and timid Svanrige, who had denounced his own mother for the greater good.
Svanrige was, after all, King Bran's son. One only had to remember how Bran had once subdued Skellige to know that his son could never truly be stupid.
By the sacred laws of the isles, children could not defy their parents. But if those parents betrayed the country, then it became unavoidable, and as the one who exposed them, he would bear no blame at all.
No leader wishes to be a puppet. On the throne of power, there can be only one master.
Crach an Craite glanced at Svanrige an Tuirseach and discovered that perhaps he had never truly seen through this young cousin of his. Svanrige slowly returned to his seat, once again looking dull and wooden, as though the earthshaking words just spoken had not come from him at all.
At that point, whether Victor actually had evidence no longer mattered. He did not continue, and Donar an Hindar had no intention of asking him to.
Donar an Hindar said solemnly, "Though Birna, who proposed an early choosing, has now been brought to justice, once tradition has begun it must still reach a conclusion. We already know the result of the first round. The competition among the six candidates has been fiercer than ever before, with each clan supporting its own child. Clan Brokvar put forth no candidate and instead chose to support Cerys an Craite.
"That means all six candidates have advanced to the second round. In this round, each jarl will choose the person he believes is the second most suitable to rule the isles. Of course, the choice cannot be the same one made in the first round."
Victor raised a brow. So Skellige actually used ranked-choice voting. No wonder Birna had privately slandered it as nothing more than a grand marketplace for bribery and dividing the spoils.
Once the second round began, no one could vote for their own family. Naturally, votes would be sold to other clans in exchange for wealth and resources.
And Victor more or less understood the situation now. Because of his warning, Clan an Craite had seized Arnvald ahead of time. Realizing her scheme had failed, Birna had pushed to begin the choosing early.
And before the first round of voting even started, Crach had already sent men to fetch him. Then, after the first round ended, they had launched their accusation against Birna's conspiracy.
Now it seemed more like that accusation had only been meant to stall for time so that he could make it into the hall. They had probably never really expected to convict her beforehand.
Among everyone present, perhaps only Victor, Dovahkiin Stormborn, could have foreseen Svanrige's "righteous" choice from the memories of his former life.
And the reason an Craite had been so determined to stall until he arrived, could it be...!?
Crach lifted a hand and drew everyone's attention. "My lords, I have an emergency motion regarding the disaster of the giant on Undvik. With the disappearance of Harald Houndsnout, it seemed that Clan Tordarroch had written the final line of its tragedy. But that is not the truth.
"My son Hjalmar has brought us good news.
"After the giant hunt, Vigi an Tordarroch found the former jarl, Harald Houndsnout, who acknowledged his achievements and granted him the direct-line 'an' name, formally recognizing him as Vigi an Tordarroch."
The circular hall immediately erupted in commotion. Victor rubbed his forehead. He had already guessed why Crach had chosen this moment to bring it up.
Donar an Hindar quieted the noise in the hall. "We thank Crach for this good news. But by raising it now, do you mean that Hjalmar has gained Clan Tordarroch's support?"
Crach shook his head with solemn gravity. "No. I do not know who will receive that support.
"The new jarl of Clan Tordarroch is on Undvik, dealing with the aftermath there, and cannot personally attend the choosing. But he has entrusted his will to a person he deems worthy of trust, Victor Corion, Dovahkiin, to carry it here."
The buzzing talk inside the Hall of Choosing exploded again. This twist affected too many things, and quite a few clever people had already pieced it together.
If Victor were recognized as Tordarroch's representative in the choosing, then the number of clans would shift from even to odd, and the balance would collapse. That meant there would most likely be a winner in this round.
And considering it was Crach himself who had brought the matter up, one could easily predict Vigi's, or rather Victor's, voting tendency. It would inevitably go to one of Clan an Craite's two candidates, either Hjalmar or Cerys.
As for the going price of bought votes, that was terrible news. Crach had planned this well. Clan an Craite could save a great many bargaining chips because of it...
No wonder Crach had said there was business, very serious business. As the man in question, Victor expressionlessly looked up at the ceiling, and his mind flashed back to his final conversation with Vigi before parting.
"Thank you, captain. You and Angoulême taught me too much. No matter how my status changes in the future, before you I will always just be Vigi of the Phantom Troupe. I've prepared a surprise for you in Kaer Trolde. Please look forward to it."
The young man muttered to himself, "Ah... you think taking part in a royal choosing is both an honor and a surprise, but to me it just feels like crushing pressure."
No wonder Hjalmar had not come to chat with him on the journey back unless he absolutely had to. He must not have wanted Victor to think he had an ulterior motive once the truth came out.
Thinking that over, Victor's mood improved quite a bit.
The qualification hearing for voting in the second round was changed from a direct consultation with the clan chief to a ruling by the six candidates themselves.
Then Blueboy Lugos's voice reached his ears.
"...Take the conspiracy just now. Had anyone else possessed such prophecy, they could have traded it for untold profit.
"But what the Dragonborn thought of first was only that innocent people should not die in a conspiracy. That kind of character inspires trust. So on behalf of Clan Drummond, I recognize Victor as Clan Tordarroch's representative."
Halbjorn rapped his knuckles against his breastplate. "The exposure of the cowardice and treachery at Kaer Trolde ultimately was not Clan an Craite's doing. The honor belongs to Dovahkiin. I owed him once before, and this time I owe him my life as well. Clan Dimun has no objection."
At Donar an Hindar's nod, Otrygg an Hindar spoke as well. "He saved my sister Svani, and this time he stopped danger before it spread. Clan Heymaey also recognizes him."
In the blink of an eye, half of the six candidates had approved him.
"No. I don't think it should be done this way. Victor cannot represent Clan Tordarroch!" Unexpectedly, the first one to object was Sparrowhawk. Her tone was sharp, though she did not say why she opposed it.
Then Svanrige slowly spoke up. "Though I regret it, I also do not believe an outsider should take part in deciding the fate of the isles."
And so the final decision fell to Hjalmar. The red-bearded warrior smiled with bright ease. "Do I even need to say it? The great giant-slayer obviously has every right to take part. I am willing to accept whatever choice he makes."
"By four votes to two, the Dragonborn has won majority approval. He is qualified to cast a sacred vote in the second round of the choosing!" Crach drew a breath and declared the result in a ringing voice.
The atmosphere in the hall grew even heavier. Everyone understood that everything before this had merely been the warm-up. What came next was the moment of truth.
Taking back the right to preside, Donar an Hindar stroked his beard. "Then now, the second round begins. I shall start. In light of Cerys's role in helping save Svani, I cast my support for her."
Moving clockwise, "As my daughter, she is my pride. I too choose Cerys," Crach said gravely.
Then came Udalryk of Clan Brokvar. "One vote for Hjalmar. I've heard of his reputation. Not everyone dares challenge a giant."
Three clans in a row had cast votes favorable to Clan an Craite, and the situation looked excellent, but then the momentum suddenly swung the other way.
Madman Lugos narrowed his eyes. "Svanrige. I respect his devotion to honor."
"I agree. Svanrige doesn't look like some spineless weakling, he looks like a man with guts," Holger Blackhand said.
With Birna gone, Clan Tuirseach's vote was cast by Svanrige himself. "I believe Blueboy Lugos is a fine choice. By surviving the dream cave, he proved he possesses the maturity needed to govern a realm."
Svanrige's answer left several people in the hall momentarily stunned. In that instant, Hjalmar, who had originally been the strongest candidate for the throne, was eliminated, leaving Cerys and Svanrige tied.
Victor covered part of his face with his hand, his expression sour. So the uneasy feeling he had at the beginning had come true after all. If he voted for Hjalmar now, the three of them would move on to a third round. But if he chose either Cerys or Svanrige, then that person would become ruler of the isles.
He noticed Sparrowhawk glaring at him viciously. From the moment she had opposed giving him the right to vote, he had known she would hate what he was about to say next.
I name you ruler.
"I, Dovahkiin, Victor Stormborn, in accordance with the sacred traditions of Ard Skellig, exercise Clan Tordarroch's right in the choosing and name Cerys an Craite as ruler of the isles."
The hall fell silent.
For the first queen in history.
Several minutes later, Crach, breathing hard, raised high the short sword that symbolized Sparrowhawk and shattered the silence with a booming voice. "The result is decided. Cerys an Craite, the new ruler of Skellige!!!"
Great Druid Ermion stood and followed with, "Having witnessed the entire choosing, the druids affirm beyond all doubt that this result is valid.
"On the morning after the next full moon, beneath the sacred oak of Gedyneith, before the ancestors of the isles, Cerys an Craite shall be crowned!"
The hall remained silent, so Victor was the first to applaud.
After that, countless others joined in, and the thunder of applause shook the entire Hall of Choosing.
At that moment, history was fixed in place.
//Check out my P@tre0n for 30 extra chapters //[email protected]/Razeil0810