The wind howled!
Heavy clouds churned above the Blue Mountains.
Looking down from the heights toward the shores of Lake Loc Muinne, they could vaguely make out the outline of the magnificent ancient city.
"I know the way. This path leads to the city gate. Follow me!" Iorveth walked at the front.
Victor followed behind him. "How long has it been since you were last here?"
The elven commander's steps faltered slightly. He sniffed and answered quietly.
"When that bloodthirsty bastard Raupenneck ordered the city massacred."
Victor stroked his chin and asked no further questions, but Angoulême began making faces beside him, silently signaling that she wanted to know more.
So the two of them deliberately fell a few steps behind, putting a little distance between themselves and Iorveth ahead, as well as the dozen or so Scoia'tael elves following behind.
Victor lowered his voice.
"Loc Muinne is a place saturated with spiritual and natural magical power. The entire city resonates with magic, and its ruined walls have witnessed countless tragedies.
"Historians say Loc Muinne was originally built by the Vrans, a race that resembled upright lizards. After they disappeared, the city was taken over by the Aen Seidhe elves.
"Elven rule eventually came to an end at the hands of the infamous Redanian commander Milan Raupenneck of Tretogor. He ordered his soldiers to slaughter every elf in the ancient city, regardless of age or sex.
"After the massacre, the city was abandoned and has been slowly decaying ever since."
"Wait... regardless of age or sex!?" Angoulême exclaimed in disbelief.
Victor shook his head and sighed.
"Yes. That atrocity helped ignite the full-scale war between elves and humans led by Aelirenn. At her call, countless young elves marched to war and ultimately died in the massacre at Shaerrawedd.
"Just as she promised beforehand, they died with dignity, courage, and honor. But looking purely at the result, she personally destroyed her people's last chance for recovery.
"Because of her foolish decision, nearly an entire generation of fertile young elves died in battle. After that, the survivors no longer had the strength to resist humanity. Even Dol Blathanna can barely sustain normal population growth."
Angoulême sucked in a sharp breath and scratched her hair.
"Ugh... That's miserable... They all look so young, but it turns out they can't even get it up anymore.
"Vic, aren't you the master of aphrodisiacs? Can't you brew them something and get their engines running again?"
"What the hell are you talking about? Aphrodisiacs won't do shit! Their problem isn't erectile dysfunction! Even Megatron can't cure infertility caused by aging!"
The amused alchemist had been laughing and swearing at her, but suddenly he fell silent.
Right...
The problem with elven reproduction was their lack of sufficiently vigorous reproductive function.
But what if there were a potion capable of reactivating it?
"Henselt's problem isn't getting an erection. It's his age. Even the almighty Megatron cannot cure infertility caused by aging!"
Those words, spoken by Síle de Tansarville before the battle against the Kayran in Flotsam, suddenly flashed through Victor's mind like lightning.
The wheels of history turned, and at last that man seized destiny by the throat.
There could be no doubt about it.
Whoever solved the elves' infertility problem would be the true King of the Elves!
"...Angoulême, you're a fucking genius! Your IQ must be off the damn charts! That's the best fucking answer I've ever heard!"
"Hehehe, really? Vic, I think so too!" The girl puffed herself up proudly.
As they continued along the mountain road toward Loc Muinne, the alchemist took out the Kayran's reproductive tentacle and began listening to it again with greater care.
...
"If I had to compare us to something, I would say we are like the Sphinx. Silent and far-sighted, hidden and dangerous, mysterious, wise, and arcane.
"We are powerful and brave. Fearless, timeless, and mighty. Yes, the Sphinx should become the emblem of the Lodge of Sorceresses."
Assire var Anahid, court sorceress of the Empire, on the Lodge of Sorceresses
...
Loc Muinne, Nilfgaardian Quarter.
There was a pool in the courtyard.
Water continuously poured from a marble jug held by the statue of a naiad, much like the baths in the ruins of Cáelmewedd in the forest near Flotsam.
Both had been created by the ancient elves, so the resemblance was hardly surprising.
The difference was that no red roses decorated this pool. Instead, green water lilies floated upon the surface, with goldfish lazily swimming between their leaves.
"Cuirbacaranbhfuaim, cuirdeireadhleisaníomhá, á."
Chanting the spell once again, the sorceress confirmed that the protective field had completely isolated the courtyard from the rest of the compound.
It prevented anyone from entering or leaving, blocked sight, and even muffled sound.
For the moment, this place was her sealed domain.
No matter what happened inside, no one outside would know.
On the courtyard's freshly cleaned flagstones, eight symbols belonging to the elven zodiac known as Vika had been drawn in advance.
She lit three black candles. Each candlestick was fitted with a parabolic mirror to focus the light, and they were placed at the positions representing Belleteyn, Lammas, and Saovine.
Inside the zodiac circle was another, smaller ring decorated with magical symbols and enclosing the pattern of a pentagram.
Assire placed three small iron tripods over three symbols on the inner circle, then carefully set a crystal atop each one.
The facets of the crystals fit the construction of the tripods perfectly, ensuring that their positions could not deviate even slightly.
Even so, the sorceress checked everything several times.
What came next was important.
She had no intention of taking any risks.
After finishing her inspection, Assire picked up a small figurine of pale green jade and placed it in the exact center of the pentagram.
Then she stepped back several paces and drew a deep breath.
The sorceress raised both hands and began reciting an incantation.
"Athbhreithe, ardú, agusnageimhleascaoileadh, agusfillfidhméaraisardochruthbunaidhiad. I summon you back. Release, break the bonds. I restore you to your original form."
The candles suddenly flared.
Their flames reflected brilliantly from the facets of the crystals. The curved mirrors projected beams of light toward the small figurine, whose color rapidly shifted from green to gold before gradually turning transparent.
Faintly shimmering magical energy filled the air and collided with the protective field.
Sparks sprayed from the candles.
Shadows spread across the floor.
The magic circle seemed to come alive, its patterns flowing and shifting.
Assire neither lowered her hands nor stopped chanting.
Amid crackling flashes of electricity, the figurine began swelling like rising dough.
It expanded, pulsed, trembled, and rapidly changed in structure and shape.
The intense light emitted by the crystals pierced the air and continued shining upon the writhing substance forming in the center.
Moments later, a human body appeared inside the magical circle.
It was a red-haired woman, lying limply on the floor.
Assire ended the spell.
The candles went out, thin smoke curling from their wicks, and the crystals dimmed.
She lowered her arms, flexed her fingers, and wiped the sweat from her forehead.
The red-haired woman on the floor gasped for breath, curled into herself, and groaned in agony.
"What's your name?" Assire asked gently.
The woman continued convulsing and moaning, both hands pressed firmly against her lower abdomen.
"Come on, dear. Stay with me. What's your name?"
"T... Tri... Triss!!! Aaaagh!"
The sorceress breathed a sigh of relief.
Her brain had not been damaged.
At least the worst possible outcome had been avoided.
The woman continued twisting and groaning, pounding both fists against the floor and repeatedly dry-heaving.
The woman who had only moments earlier been a jade figurine was clearly in extraordinary pain.
That was obvious.
And perfectly normal.
"Triss Merigold."
After a long pause, Assire interrupted the woman's groans.
Triss struggled onto her hands and knees. She wiped her nose with her wrist and looked around in confusion.
Her gaze passed straight over Assire, almost as though the sorceress were not even standing in the courtyard, before settling on the fountain with its stream of clear water.
Her eyes immediately brightened.
With enormous difficulty, Triss crawled toward the fountain.
She laboriously hauled herself onto the edge of the pool, then fell into the water with a loud splash.
She inhaled water and immediately began coughing violently, repeatedly spitting it back out.
Pushing aside the water lilies, she crawled toward the naiad statue and sat with her back against its base, allowing the water to rise above her chest.
"Assire..."
She touched the silver amulet set with a sapphire around her neck and murmured the name while looking toward the sorceress through eyes that had regained some clarity.
"I never imagined it would be you..."
"Yes, it's me. Dear, what do you remember?"
"I... I was going to Vergen to find Philippa. Her apprentice ambushed me and compressed me into an artefact... Damn it. I'm going to kill that fucking woman!"
"How strange... Philippa's apprentice compressed you, yet the figurine somehow ended up in Shilard's hands, and he ordered me to decompress you... What else do you remember?"
"It was a blonde woman... Bastard. Geralt. The kingslayer. And something horribly heavy suddenly smashing into my head..."
"It sounds as though your memory is intact. That's good."
Triss suddenly felt something strange.
She lowered her head and looked between her legs.
A goldfish was swimming back and forth beside her thigh.
"Sorry, Assire. You're going to have to change the water in this pool," she said dejectedly. "I just peed in it."
"It's all right. The water drains directly into the Pontar," Assire said with a smile. "Though I suggest checking whether there's any blood in your urine. Artefact compression is known to damage the kidneys."
"Not just the kidneys..." Triss shook her head helplessly and gave a bitter laugh. "I doubt there's a single organ inside me that hasn't been damaged... At least that's how it feels. Damn it, Assire. I have no idea what I ever did to deserve something like this..."
"Could you complain a little less and get out of the pool?"
"No. I like it in here. I don't want to get out at all."
"I understand. You're severely dehydrated."
"It's not just water I'm missing. I've lost my dignity! My dignity has suffered a fatal wound."
"You want me to save your dignity? Fine...
"Don't worry, Triss. At least I'm the only one who saw any of this."
She pointed toward her own face.
Using both hands to steady herself against the marble statue, Triss shook the water-lily leaves from her body and painfully climbed to her feet.
She allowed the flowing fountain water to wash away the filthy feeling clinging to her, then gulped down several mouthfuls to quench her thirst.
After splashing through the pool to its edge, she sat down and accepted the towel Assire offered her.
She wrung out her hair and dried herself while looking around.
"Where am I?"
"Loc Muinne. The Loc Muinne deep in the Blue Mountains."
Triss blew her nose.
"Is the fighting around Vergen still going on?"
"No. It ended seven days ago. Young Saskia defeated the veteran Henselt."
"Really? Philippa must be delighted. She's become a royal advisor again."
Triss thought for a moment before continuing.
"Normally, I suppose I should thank you, Assire. But being decompressed might not actually be good news this time. From what you're saying, I'm in Shilard's hands now. Is he going to kill me?"
"Don't be ridiculous!" The sorceress frowned. "I don't know how the figurine ended up in his possession, but I will certainly do everything I can to keep you alive. I'll ask him what happened afterward.
"For now, take this cloth and wrap yourself in this blanket. Once you've had a proper bath, and by that I mean in a more appropriate place, in a tub filled with warm water, we can have a proper conversation."
"Seal released."
After chanting a spell to open the barrier, Assire saw the Nilfgaardian ambassador waiting outside the courtyard.
Shilard Fitz-Oesterlen.
The white-haired hyena, as Foltest had called him.
He was approaching with an Imperial military officer and several guards.
The massive, powerfully built, bald Imperial officer beside him had a face intimidating enough to inspire fear at a single glance.
Cold.
Iron-blooded.
Resolute.
Deep lines descended from the corners of his mouth, while his narrow eyes radiated merciless cruelty.
The sorceress knew who he was.
Renuald aep Matsen.
If Shilard was Emperor Emhyr's representative in the North, then Renuald was his iron fist.
"Evn'gesaen. Ambassador."
"Assire var Anahid, hoegaathetermee? Assire var Anahid, how is the situation?"
"My lord, the person sealed inside the figurine was King Foltest's advisor, Triss Merigold. Fortunately, artefact compression merely suspended her life temporarily and caused no permanent damage. Once she replenishes enough sugar and water, she'll recover."
Hearing her explanation, Shilard gave her a warm smile.
"Daerienn, Vissegead'tochtgaedeen. Sorceress, you have done well."
"Ambassador, may I ask where you obtained the figurine?"
Taking advantage of the cordial atmosphere, Assire voiced her question.
Without warning, Renuald, who had moved behind her, seized her arm, twisted it behind her back, and snapped her wrist.
At the same time, he clamped a hand around the sorceress's throat so she could not chant a spell.
On the other side of the courtyard came a heavy thud.
A soldier punched the weakened Triss beside the pool and knocked her unconscious.
They immediately fastened dimeritium shackles around her wrists.
Shilard calmly stepped in front of Assire.
His voice was warm and peaceful, almost like that of a kindly old father.
"Uan, Visseess'spaetaepuavraet, daar'tochtaepNordlingdaerienn. Whore, you dared conspire with the sorceresses of the North to subvert the Empire."
The shock of having her secret exposed struck Assire like a thunderbolt.
She desperately struggled and made muffled sounds, but Renuald's iron grip around her throat prevented her from even begging for mercy.
Shilard's expression turned cold.
"Mehenaveen'eansaeptooraen. Mepeuvtaenalvear'daeg. I am already too old for anger. All I can feel now is a faint sadness."
The ambassador drew the dagger at his waist and mercilessly plunged it into the sorceress's abdomen.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Four.
Each time, he drove the blade in hard and twisted it violently inside the wound.
He continued until the sorceress finally went completely limp in the Imperial officer's grasp.
The cold-blooded Renuald then threw her corpse into the pool.
Assire var Anahid, who only moments earlier had been alive, drifted toward the drain, disappeared into the outlet, and fell into the sewers below.
There, countless creatures dwelling in the darkness would soon devour her completely.
Shilard spread his arms into a Y-shaped pose beneath the brilliant sunlight.
"Gloiraen Ard Feainn! Praise the Sun!"
Renuald struck his breastplate with his fist.
"Gloiraen Ker'zaer! Glory to the Emperor!"
The ambassador and the officer were clearly praising very different things.
Meanwhile, the Nilfgaardian soldiers lifted Triss Merigold and dragged her away.
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