Softly I leave, just as softly I came. I quietly raise my hand and bid farewell to the clouds above Flotsam.
"Farewell Again, Flotsam," Anonymous
...
At dusk, the Scoia'tael requisitioned every available vessel and assembled them into a fleet of troop transports. Sails rose, anchors lifted, and the ships slowly began their journey.
Angoulême stood boldly atop the flagship's lookout platform, admiring the sunset, when she suddenly noticed three people watching from the forest along the shore. Their figures were unmistakably familiar.
She immediately jumped down from the mast and headed toward the bow, intending to sneak up behind Victor and give him another shove. It was one of the Phantom Troupe's traditional routines.
Unfortunately, before she could make her move, the keen-sensed witcher exposed her.
"Don't push me. You could scare someone to death doing that. And before you ask, I'm perfectly calm. I'm simply enjoying the scenery."
"Tch! Vic, couldn't you pretend you didn't notice and let me push you just once? Look over there, on the shore." Angoulême pointed toward the three people observing the fleet.
Victor followed her finger and saw Vernon Roche of the Blue Stripes standing at the forest's edge, accompanied by his lieutenant, Ves, and Geralt of Rivia.
They had clearly noticed the Phantom Troupe as well. Two faced three across the river, staring at one another with complicated expressions. It seemed as though they had a thousand things to say, yet in truth there was nothing that needed saying.
They had simply made different choices.
"Boss, do you regret it?"
"Why are you asking that all of a sudden?"
"Didn't you teach me never to answer a question with another question?"
"Have you forgotten which of us is the boss?"
The troupe member rolled her eyes helplessly. When it came to all lessons and instructions, the boss always reserved the final say for himself.
"Well... I was only curious. In the past, you always said it was good to have an old hand watching your back, and that we should stick close to Geralt and his armed little band. This time, though, we went completely against him. You even fought him in the bathhouse..."
Understanding Angoulême's confusion, Victor touched the scar across the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.
"Let me put it this way. Because I knew certain things about the future, I always considered him the protagonist of this world, even though you still refuse to believe me.
"But what happened this time made me realize that I had to change. Knowing the future might allow me to understand his decisions, but I'm not Geralt. I have my own experiences, my own friends, and my own road to follow.
"To borrow a phrase from Bell Town, the White Wolf and I have entirely different worldviews, philosophies, and values. Some of our decisions may look similar from the outside, but they're founded upon different principles. Sooner or later, we were destined to part ways."
"Does that mean Geralt will be our enemy from now on?" Angoulême understood his explanation, but her expression became somewhat despondent.
Victor smiled and reached out to tousle her golden hair.
"Our positions may differ now, and we might temporarily find ourselves on opposing sides, but don't worry. Sooner or later, we'll turn from enemies into friends again.
"Have you ever heard of the Wild Hunt? Remind me to give you a book about them once we're inside the cabin. They're the White Wolf's true enemies, and the enemy of my enemy is my friend.
"There's no need to worry too much about the Blue Stripes either..."
Victor remembered how badly they would fare after Temeria's destruction. When that day came, turning enemies into friends would probably not be difficult at all.
After hearing that their hostility was only temporary, Angoulême once again wore her usual carefree grin when Victor opened his eyes.
She truly was a single-celled organism destined to rule the world one day.
"So, Angoulême, there's nothing to regret. I have not a single regret in my life!"
"Understood! I'll work hard too, Boss!"
The figures of the White Wolf and the two Blue Stripes gradually diminished in the distance. The wind favored the fleet, filling every sail and driving the ships swiftly upstream.
Before long, they approached the second group that had come to see them off.
This time, Angoulême waved both hands excitedly.
"Ah! Over there! It's Seherim and Moril! And my little Cersei!"
Although they had spent only a short time together, she genuinely adored the niece whose birth she had witnessed, the daughter of Seherim and Moril, Victor Corion's goddaughter, Cersei Corion.
Her name combined a sound from Seherim's name with the meaning of being born at dawn. Vic had initially objected strongly to it, but later muttered something about how her surname was Corion, not Lannister, and that he should not indulge in superstitious nonsense. After a string of remarks no one else understood, he had reluctantly agreed.
Victor noticed them almost simultaneously.
The one-eyed Seherim and the beautiful Moril, a storybook couple reunited after surviving countless hardships, held their newborn daughter in their arms and bowed toward the departing ship from afar.
Victor's lips curved upward. He raised his hand and waved, acknowledging their sentiments.
He still had doubts about the so-called Law of Surprise, but that was simply how the witcher's world worked. It was an unwritten law as ancient as human history itself. When in another land, one followed its customs, so he had decided to accept it as genuine for the time being.
Besides, the little girl was adorable. Thus, he formally accepted Cersei as his goddaughter.
Since he had chosen to forge such a bond, he absolutely could not allow her to grow into a daughter who would become her father's bane. He therefore gave Seherim and Moril several bags of florens and instructed the couple to move to Dol Blathanna, far from the war that would soon spread across the North, and provide her with the finest education possible.
They also agreed that when Cersei turned twenty, Victor would visit Dol Blathanna and allow the young woman to decide whether she wished to leave with him.
Such arrangements were hardly unusual.
Ciri's mother, Princess Pavetta of Cintra, for example, had been claimed by the Urcheon of Erlenwald on her fifteenth birthday. Of course, the fact that the Urcheon had already been secretly sleeping with Pavetta was not something fit for outsiders' ears.
Then there was Ciri herself. Geralt was originally supposed to take her from the palace when she was six, but both the White Wolf and her grandmother, Calanthe, abandoned the agreement.
After Cintra fell, Ciri wandered through kingdom after kingdom and suffered countless hardships. Yet she and Geralt still reunited in the end, proving that the bonds of destiny could not be broken.
In short, there were countless tales involving Children of Surprise. Unless one wanted destiny to beat one bloody, accepting the arrangement was generally the wisest course.
Victor noticed Iorveth standing nearby with his arms crossed. Remembering that they still needed to discuss the captured bard Dandelion and several other matters, he stopped waving and walked toward the elven commander.
...
A warm, mellow voice-over spoke.
"Incredible. Fortune truly favored the kingslayer, for he managed to abduct Triss Merigold.
"Apparently, taking Foltest's life was not enough for the assassin. He also refused to spare the king's former advisor.
"But this was no time for contemplation. It was a time for action. My heroic friend Victor and I chose to sail upriver, beginning a journey deep into the Pontar Valley.
"According to the elves, free people from every direction were gathering beneath Saskia's banner. Together, they would resist the Kaedweni invaders at Vergen.
"I should introduce the unusual people accompanying me on this adventure. Ordinarily, I find the Scoia'tael deeply frightening. I have always regarded them as villains and murderers, and to be perfectly honest, I would prefer never to encounter them.
"However, I must admit that after Victor intervened, Iorveth and his infamous companions proved surprisingly warm and friendly... No, that description does not sound quite right.
"Let me phrase it differently. They were not nearly as vicious or bloodthirsty as I had imagined."
...
Within the Pontar Valley lay the Aedirnian region known as Upper Aedirn. Kaedwen called the same territory Lormark, with the name depending entirely on which political power controlled it.
Geographically, Kaedwen and Aedirn were divided by the natural barrier of the Lormark Mountains. Therefore, whenever King Henselt cast a covetous eye upon Upper Aedirn, the mountain city of Vergen, built directly across a vital pass, became an unavoidable obstacle.
If Vergen fell, Upper Aedirn would be lost.
Its strategic position was comparable to Thermopylae, the Brenner Pass, or the fortified crossings of the Alps.
The Second Lormark War, which ended during the winter of 1268, was also known as the Siege of Vergen.
Several years passed. By the summer of 1271, the predominantly dwarven town was once again surrounded by gathering clouds of war.
...
Several days later, on a bright and peaceful day, south of the Pontar and north of Vergen, lay the ancient battlefield of the Second Lormark War.
Saskia the Dragonslayer led a party of several dozen people along a mountain path overgrown with silver grass.
She had golden hair, smooth skin, thick brows, large eyes, and shapely lips. Blue-gray half-plate enclosed her full breasts, while her rounded hips lifted the armored skirt behind her.
Prince Stennis, Aedirn's rightful heir, accompanied her.
The bald, thick-browed prince wore magnificent golden armor. Following the assassination of Demavend III, he had become Aedirn's nominal successor.
In the past, however, his father's jealousy and suspicious nature had forced Stennis to treat his subjects with arrogance and coldness. As a result, although no one openly questioned the legitimacy of his claim, too few nobles supported his coronation.
Under such circumstances, refusing to involve himself in a major event would amount to political suicide.
The coming war in the Pontar Valley was the perfect opportunity to elevate his standing and prove that he possessed the qualities of a wise king.
History had demonstrated the same truth countless times. When a nation descended into chaos, only tangible deeds, rather than empty proclamations, could convince the people that a ruler's authority was legitimate.
As she crossed the ancient battlefield, Saskia released a long sigh.
"Three thousand men, burned to ashes in an instant... Sabrina Glevissig."
Walking beside her, Prince Stennis spoke bitterly.
"That damned, wicked sorceress... I still remember the shock when the news reached Vengerberg. The palace, the streets, the houses, the entire city fell silent."
"Walking here, I can almost hear their final screams. When the massacre happened, I was on the other side of the mountain..."
"Were you? A tragic memory indeed. But returning to the present, Saskia, what do you intend to accomplish by coming here?"
"I intend to prevent Aedirn from being sold," the Dragonslayer replied calmly.
"This is not a betrayal! Henselt's forces possess overwhelming numbers. We cannot afford this war. We must negotiate..."
"Prince, leave the war to me. Do not fear King Henselt's threats. I hear his temper is terrible. Try to provoke him into launching an attack. Once we defeat him, we'll have enough leverage to negotiate."
"I still cannot understand why Felart betrayed us..."
"Prince, to hell with the nobles. Ever since my villagers drove them out of Vergen, they have been irrelevant."
With that, Saskia strode forward and found the dwarves in the vanguard, giving them several instructions.
When she had moved far enough away, the prince's attendant, Priest Olcan, hurried two steps closer.
"By the true god Kreve, my lord, that girl is the very incarnation of a demon!"
Stennis answered coldly.
"First, Saskia has a name. Second, she is the finest commander I have ever encountered. At least she acknowledges my position."
"But she is no different from a monster! The true god Kreve spoke to me in a dream. I saw a serpentine she-devil devouring your inheritance!"
"Olcan, be silent. We are approaching the meeting place."
Both parties were permitted to bring only fifty people to the prewar negotiations.
The destination was already visible in the distance. Seated beneath a pavilion erected on the mountainside was King Henselt of Kaedwen, heir to the Dynasty of the Unicorn, Lord of Ard Carraigh, and Archduke of Ban Ard.
A thick beard covered his cheeks. A woven silk cap sat upon his head, while cruelty and greed gleamed within his small eyes.
Behind him stood the sorcerers Dethmold and Síle de Tansarville.
Dethmold wore a red cap. His eyes were as small as the king's, his nose was sharply hooked, and age had carved deep lines into his face.
Henselt rose and spread his arms like a conscientious host.
"Ah! Our guests have arrived. Welcome, Stennis, son of Demavend. Come and join us."
Stennis's golden armor gleamed beneath the sunlight.
"Henselt, it is good to see you. But you belong in your palace at Ard Carraigh, not here. I do not recall inviting you."
The Kaedweni king planted both hands upon his hips.
"Felart invited me on your behalf. He is the one who summoned me, so I have violated no ceasefire agreement."
The prince's pupils contracted slightly.
"Is that so? Broghan, take Count Felart somewhere private and remove that troublesome head from his shoulders."
The splendidly dressed Count Felart shouted, "You wouldn't dare! Boy, you are not yet a king! Even your father..."
"My father is dead. The people are still mourning him, while you betray both his name and his country!"
As guards moved to seize him, Felart turned toward Henselt.
"Your Majesty, according to our agreement, I beg you to protect me! This young man has lost his mind!"
Henselt's voice dripped with contempt.
"Felart, I no longer need you. Stennis himself is here now."
Abandoned without the slightest hesitation, the richly dressed count was dragged away by several dwarves while shouting curses.
After disposing of the traitor, Stennis took a deep breath.
"Now, Henselt, let us speak plainly. What exactly do you want?"
The King of Kaedwen possessed an enormous, powerful body, much like a starving brown bear. Even the noble garments of the Dynasty of the Unicorn could not conceal the avaricious air of a common brigand.
"An excellent question. I want the land of Lormark. As for what gives me the right, I have two hundred armed soldiers waiting nearby, enough to hold this hill for several hours. Another five thousand battle-hardened men are stationed across the river. Would you call that army strong enough?"
The golden-armored prince raised his voice in rebuttal.
"If you make a move against Vergen, those five thousand men will become five thousand corpses. If you attack Aedirn, you will violate the Peace of Cintra. Every Northern Kingdom will be obligated to support me, including Radovid of Redania and the duke in the south..."
Henselt slammed his sheathed sword onto the table, interrupting Stennis's impassioned declaration.
"Wake up, boy. None of them can be trusted. You must rely upon yourself. I do not care about that hollow treaty, and neither will they.
"Think carefully. This is nothing but a frontier province. Give it to me, and you may keep your crown.
"Oppose me, and I will crush you. Do not blame me for showing no mercy. Give me Lormark now and crawl back to Vengerberg!"
Confronted by Henselt's aggressive stare, Stennis retreated two steps and temporarily found himself at a loss for words.
"I disagree!" the striking Dragonslayer interrupted sternly.
"Saskia, do not interfere! This is a negotiation between kings!" Stennis attempted to reclaim control of the conversation.
Henselt's small eyes shifted from side to side.
"Well, well! She certainly has plenty to say. Saskia the Dragonslayer, you are even lovelier than the rumors suggest.
"Stennis, you should keep a close eye on this girl. Peasants belong in the fields, not standing before kings and spouting nonsense. Surrendering Lormark is your wisest choice."
Saskia ignored Henselt's attempt to provoke them. She stood proudly, her beautiful eyes shining with fierce resolve.
"I will not permit it. Upper Aedirn is under my protection. If no one else possesses the courage to stand against you, then I will.
"Listen carefully, Your Majesty. You have one day to withdraw your troops from Upper Aedirn. Fail to do so, and there will be war!
"When that deadline passes, if even a single Kaedweni soldier remains standing upon this land, there will be war!
"Send your heralds throughout Aedirn and tell every citizen that you apologize for this disgraceful invasion. Otherwise, there will be war!"
Saskia delivered three consecutive condemnations, leaving no room for compromise in her declaration of war.
Beside her, Stennis's face turned ashen. An invisible storm was gathering.
Then Henselt burst into laughter and applauded, a cruel light flickering within his small eyes.
"Ha! Ha! Ha! You've certainly got nerve, girl. If I obeyed you, my soldiers would think me either a coward or a fool.
"I am Henselt of Ard Carraigh. Even if you are the Dragonslayer, I will not allow myself to be toyed with by a woman. Setting that aside, however, you truly are a charming little thing...
"Listen carefully. I want this land! I want its gold mines! And I want you!
"Seize them!"
//Check out my P@tre0n for 30 extra chapters //[email protected]/Razeil0810