At the amphitheatre in Loc Muinne, after Nilfgaardian ambassador Shilard Fitz-Oesterlen won himself the right to speak through words alone,
military attaché Renuald aep Matsen led a group of Black Ones wearing winged helmets into the center of the arena, escorting a burly prisoner whose hands were bound behind his back.
The prisoner was built like a block of granite. His narrowed eyes were calm and dull, and a cross-shaped scar marked his bald head...
This extraordinarily powerful man was none other than a witcher of the School of the Viper, a kingslayer, Letho of Gulet.
Having received Victor's warning and realized what was about to happen, Iorveth's body trembled slightly.
Once they reached a position where everyone could see them clearly, Renuald kicked Letho hard and forced him to his knees.
Carduin spread his hands in confusion.
"Who is this man?"
Behind him, Síle de Tansarville sensed the danger, and her face abruptly turned pale.
Shilard began speaking with practiced composure.
"Perhaps many of you are unaware that last night, the Kaedweni camp was not the only place to suffer an attack. The Nilfgaardian camp was assaulted as well.
"The prisoner attempted to assassinate me. He failed, but succeeded in killing Vanhemar, the mage accompanying my delegation. Thanks to his sacrifice and Renuald's efforts, we managed to capture this vicious criminal.
"And after interrogating him, we uncovered a conspiracy that could shake the entire world!"
"How the hell did Letho get captured!? No... something's wrong. Shilard is spouting nonsense. The ones who attacked last night were obviously Geralt and Angoulême..."
Sweat formed on Iorveth's forehead as he nervously muttered under his breath.
"Oh... a conspiracy? By all means, enlighten us."
Golden armor gleaming, Radovid loosened his collar slightly.
"The prisoner has confessed that both Foltest and Demavend died by his hand. He has also revealed the identity of those who hired him."
Shilard's declaration struck like a thunderbolt, immediately provoking an uproar.
For the past several months, the deaths of Demavend and Foltest had tormented the already sensitive nerves of everyone in the North.
Yet no one had expected that, in the end, it would be Nilfgaard's Black Ones who stepped forward and announced that they had solved the murders.
With every eye fixed upon him, Letho raised his voice from where he knelt, ensuring everyone in the amphitheatre could hear him clearly.
"I killed the kings. The ones behind it were a group of sorceresses calling themselves the Lodge of Sorceresses. They gave me the assignment and helped me carry out the assassinations."
Standing behind him with his sword planted before him, Renuald's face remained corpse-like and expressionless.
"Continue, prisoner."
"The Lodge of Sorceresses... wanted every ruler who opposed the will of mages removed!"
Letho's voice was hoarse.
Radovid pursed his lips, his expression turning cold and sinister.
"The Lodge of Sorceresses? Explain exactly what that is."
His hands folded over his lower abdomen, the Nilfgaardian ambassador spoke with suppressed grief and outrage in his voice.
"Your Majesty, it is a criminal organization! We have compiled a list of its members. Excluding the deceased Sabrina Glevissig of Ard Carraigh, these wicked names include...
"Philippa Eilhart of Tretogor;
"Triss Merigold of Maribor;
"Margarita Laux-Antille;
"Keira Metz of Carreras;
"Francesca Findabair of Dol Blathanna, and Ida Emean of the Blue Mountains.
"And finally, one who happens to be present in this very amphitheatre, Síle de Tansarville of Kovir.
"It is with my deepest regret that I must add that two Nilfgaardian sorceresses, Assire var Anahid of Vicovaro and Fringilla Vigo of Toussaint, were also members of these secret meetings.
"The former has already been executed. His Imperial Majesty will deal appropriately with the latter as well."
Shilard's recitation stunned everyone listening.
It sounded like a sentence pronounced from the depths of hell. Every name he uttered belonged to a woman of tremendous renown, encompassing the greatest sorceresses of the North...
No, of the entire world.
When Henselt heard the name Sabrina Glevissig, he spat on the ground despite the fact that she was already dead.
Philippa's name caused a sharp light to flash through Radovid's eyes.
When Triss and Keira were mentioned, Natalis became thoughtful.
Geralt of Rivia, however, noticed that compared with the list Victor had previously mentioned, the Black Ones had omitted two women.
Yennefer of Vengerberg and Ciri of Cintra.
Omitting the latter was understandable, but Yennefer's name was absent as well.
Could there be another reason?
...Of course, that wasn't particularly important right now.
Radovid furiously raised one hand.
Orders immediately rang out from officers in the stands, followed by the sound of the Order of the Flaming Rose marching into the arena.
The knights wore red armor and carried sturdy shields and powerful crossbows, with anti-magic weapons hanging from their belts.
Even without the amphitheatre's anti-magic field, they were sufficiently equipped to fight mages.
Watching the soldiers approach, Carduin looked uneasily toward Radovid.
"Your Majesty, what is the meaning of this?"
"Arrest all of them!"
The King of Redania issued the order to his loyal troops, then tore the document in his hands to pieces.
"Honored mages, reconstruction of the Council of Mages is postponed indefinitely! At least until this matter has been thoroughly investigated and your innocence has been established."
Shilard stepped back several paces, signaling that he had finished speaking.
Renuald aep Matsen likewise escorted Letho away from the arena.
The knights of the Flaming Rose formed ranks around Carduin and Síle de Tansarville, loading their crossbows and aiming directly at them.
"You have no right to do this, Your Majesty," Carduin protested weakly.
Radovid lifted his chin.
"If you don't want another massacre in Loc Muinne, then I suggest you surrender peacefully. Thanedd must not be repeated. The courts will expose every traitor hiding among us."
His cold and uncompromising words forced Carduin to raise both hands and crouch down in surrender.
Síle de Tansarville also raised her hands, but her pale expression had frozen like ice.
There was no room left to defend herself.
Combining this revelation with the intelligence she had received from the South earlier, she understood that she had fallen into Shilard's trap.
The Lodge was being forced to bear the blame for an assassination campaign actually orchestrated by the Black Ones, and the kings would never listen to her explanation.
There was no recovering from this.
She could only signal Saskia with her eyes.
And so, when the knights of the Flaming Rose approached Síle, brilliant light suddenly erupted from Vergen's delegation, accompanied by a thunderous explosion.
Before everyone's eyes, Saskia, the Virgin of Aedirn, transformed into a dragon.
Her innate magic was unaffected by the anti-magic field.
The enormous creature that suddenly appeared in the arena possessed an indescribable elegance.
There was something almost feline about her bearing, enough to make people overlook her reptilian appearance, despite the fact that she was unquestionably a reptile.
Looking down imperiously upon every creature in the amphitheatre, the dragon's eyes gleamed with brilliant, ferocious light.
Her long, slender neck formed a perfect curve, while her tail curled around one extended claw.
Her scales looked as though each had been painstakingly painted, nearly her entire body gleaming gold.
She spread her bat-like amber wings and rose into the air, while her enormous golden eyes inspired involuntary gasps of admiration.
"A golden dragon..."
The cigar slipped from Vernon Roche's open mouth and fell to the ground.
"Unbelievable... a living legend!"
"It's not Borch. It's another golden dragon," Geralt of Rivia murmured in amazement. "That egg from all those years ago... I can't believe I never recognized her."
The dragon's roar shook the entire amphitheatre.
Amplified by magic, it spread across nearly half of Loc Muinne.
Iorveth let out a low, despairing groan.
He didn't want to believe his own eyes.
The exposure of Saskia's identity as a dragon meant the foundations of her rule had completely collapsed.
Everything they had achieved through the battle for Vergen had turned to smoke.
Dragonfear swept across the arena, cutting against exposed skin like blades.
Saskia opened her jaws, revealing dagger-like fangs that gleamed sharply.
When she unleashed her fiery breath, some soldiers were so stunned they remained frozen where they stood until flames engulfed them.
The principal figures of the summit, the assembled kings, withdrew from the arena under the protection of their loyal guards and took shelter underground.
Numerous openings and tunnels were hidden beneath the amphitheatre's performance area. Ordinarily, they were used to store props, livestock, or gladiators before raising them into the arena during performances.
Under present circumstances, they happened to provide excellent protection from dragonfire.
As for the summit's spectators, many of the mages had already sensed something was wrong when the Order of the Flaming Rose entered.
Taking advantage of the chaos caused by the dragon, they immediately began fleeing the amphitheatre.
Amid the confusion, a handful of soldiers who had not forgotten their orders to arrest Síle continued advancing and fired their crossbows.
Saskia gently closed one claw around Síle de Tansarville.
Then, with an enraged roar, she unleashed dragonfire and reduced the soldiers to ashes.
Walls of blazing heat rose across the arena.
The dragon flew out of the amphitheatre and landed on a distant tower, where she placed the sorceress down.
Apparently, that was Síle de Tansarville's hideout.
...
Within the arena, flames roared and heat rolled through the air.
Iorveth and Victor Corion, both of whom had immediately rushed toward Saskia, were separated by a wall of fire.
Seeing that Saskia had set Síle down and was already flying back toward the amphitheatre, the Dovahkiin hesitated only briefly before making his decision.
"Iorveth, I'll stay here and save Saskia. You go after Síle. Don't let her escape!"
Knowing this was their best option, the elf shouted across the wall of flames.
"Vic! I want Saskia to live, but if you truly reach your limit... promise me you won't let her suffer for long!"
The answer he heard next was something he swore he would remember for the rest of his life.
"Ior, don't worry! Today... I have no limits!"
...
Elsewhere in the arena, blazing flames surged and curled through the air.
Geralt and Vernon Roche, who had likewise charged forward, were also separated by a wall of fire.
"Geralt, go after Síle! Don't let her escape! I'll protect Anaïs!"
After shouting those words, the commander of the Blue Stripes disappeared beyond the flames.
Seeing Saskia fly back toward the amphitheatre, the White Wolf hesitated.
Should he stay and stop her, or pursue Síle?
Then he saw a certain young man with patterns across his face raise his steel sword overhead, assuming a high guard as he stood directly in the dragon's path.
Reassured, Geralt ran toward the tower where the sorceress had landed.
Behind him came a magnificent roar.
"Fus... Ro... Dah!"
...
The thunderous Dragon Shout drew the attention of everyone still inside the amphitheatre, including those who had taken shelter in secure areas.
The arena's built-in anti-magic field prevented the witcher from using Signs, leaving him dependent on swordsmanship and bombs.
But there were far too many unrelated people present.
Victor didn't want to expose his true nature as Bombman unless absolutely necessary. With friend and foe mixed together, every hidden card was worth preserving.
More importantly, he didn't want to accidentally blow Saskia apart.
Previously, when he hadn't known the truth, he'd dared throw practically anything at the dragon, blowing things up inside her mouth, freezing her, and whatever else seemed useful at the time.
Thinking back on it now made cold sweat run down his back.
If he had actually blinded the Virgin of Aedirn or damaged her beauty, it would've been an irreparable loss.
Yet even under such restrictions, the martial prowess displayed by the Dovahkiin with swordsmanship alone left the spectators unable to look away.
Despite wearing heavy armor, his movements remained extraordinarily agile.
Silver light flashed and surged along Blazing Strike.
Heaven split and clouds parted.
A hero without equal!
"Someone can truly contend with a beast like that... remarkable. So this is the one they call the Dovahkiin? No wonder de Rideaux..."
Watching everything through one of the window openings, from Victor provoking the dragon with his shout to dancing with the beast through sheer skill, Shilard couldn't help expressing genuine admiration.
The ambassador's extravagant praise provoked Renuald.
"Your Excellency, that mutant freak is merely relying on his altered body to wrestle with a monster. If necessary, I would gladly form ranks and engage the dragon myself. Given sufficient equipment, fearless soldiers of the Empire could do even better!"
Shilard smiled and shook his head.
"That won't be necessary. Withdraw the troops to camp.
"Our gains today have already exceeded anything we could have imagined beforehand. Our objective has been completely achieved.
"All that remains is to leave this place, return home, and enjoy our victory."
...
The Nilfgaardians were not the only ones drawn by the cry of "Fus... Ro... Dah!"
Another group sheltering in a secure area of the amphitheatre was watching as well.
"Siegfried of Denesle, if that were you out there, could you do what Victor is doing?"
Radovid stood with his arms folded, calm and composed.
"Your Majesty, he is a professional monster hunter and an exceptionally rare warrior in his own right. It is said that even before crossing the Korath desert, he was already known as a dragonslayer in the distant East...
"Dimeritium weapons aren't particularly useful against a gigantic beast like this, but steel and heavy crossbows can still fight it effectively. If Your Majesty deems it necessary, the Order is willing to enter battle!"
He never said it outright, but the knight's meaning was perfectly clear.
The first half acknowledged that Victor was a specialist and that an individual knight could not match his capabilities.
The second half approached the matter differently.
Even if a specialist possessed such extraordinary courage and skill, the Order could compensate through sheer numbers.
Having received his answer, the corners of Radovid's mouth rose into a knowing smile.
"No. There is no need to fight.
"The Dovahkiin has earned such a great reputation and willingly confronts the beast, so presumably he knows what he's doing.
"You have something far more important to accomplish now!
"Look at these wicked sorceresses. They actually tried to manipulate the world by assassinating kings. They have crossed a terrible line.
"And you, my most loyal Order, my iron fist, will teach them to fear again!"
Hearing the bloodshed hidden within those words, Siegfried fell silent, uncertain whether to accept the command or attempt to advise the king against it.
Unexpectedly, Patrick de Weyze, who had been standing behind him, stepped forward.
"Your Majesty, I promise that your will shall be carried out completely!"
Then he raised his voice.
"Long live Radovid!"
At that exact moment, the Redanian court painter accompanying them suddenly felt inspiration explode within him.
A dragon formed the background.
Brilliant golden armor dominated the foreground.
And thus was conceived the world-famous painting, The Smile of Radovid.
...
Outside the window, unaware that he had somehow become part of the background for a future masterpiece, Victor's struggle with Saskia was still far from over.
Dark clouds had gradually drifted across the sky, but sunlight continued to pour through the few remaining gaps.
The dragon's claws and teeth could withstand Blazing Strike.
Fortunately, her scales could not.
And just as Philippa Eilhart had said, even while controlled, the Dragon Maiden retained more than enough intelligence to remember the injuries the witcher had inflicted upon her!
Compared with their previous battle at La Valette, Victor was having both an easier and a harder time.
It was easier because he had consumed even more potions before the battle. Combined with Werewolf Decoction and Savior Decoction, the witcher's combat ability had been pushed well beyond its usual limits.
It was harder because, in a one-on-one fight, Saskia didn't restrict herself to claws, fangs, wing strikes, and sweeps of her tail.
Every so often, she simply took to the air and breathed fire at him, forcing Victor to roll frantically across the ground to evade the flames.
She had absolutely no sense of fair play.
Fortunately, neither did the humans.
Seeing an opportunity while the dragon fought the witcher, several brave Kaedweni soldiers rushed out and opened fire.
Saskia sensed the danger in time.
Her wings beat outward, knocking the bolts aside, and then a single blast of dragonfire turned the soldiers into roasted meat.
Their sacrifice was not wasted.
Seizing the opportunity, the witcher launched himself forward and drove Blazing Strike deep into the Dragon Maiden's shoulder, exactly as he had done at La Valette Castle.
Golden vertical pupils stared into the azure depths of the Blue Rinnegan.
His eyes contained only her.
Her eyes contained only him.
At that moment, there was no one else in their world.
Flame and blood!
Strength and glory!
Thunk!
A ballista bolt slammed into the ground nearby.
History repeated itself with uncanny similarity.
Saskia twisted violently, then beat her wings and soared upward, once again attempting to throw Victor off!
But before countless witnesses, this time the witcher did not let go.
Nor was he flung away.
The Dovahkiin from east of Zerrikania gripped the steel sword embedded in the dragon's body, used it as leverage, and swung himself onto her back.
Riding the dragon, he flew out of the amphitheatre!
And that was how, on that day...
The two of them disappeared from everyone's sight.
...
In the years that followed, countless versions of the witcher's battle against the dragon spread far and wide.
The most popular version by far was the one told by Bras of Ban Ard!
The hook-nosed bastard told it like this:
"You'd never believe what I saw! The sky was completely swallowed by storm clouds, but the place where the dragonslayer stood alone was bathed in brilliant sunlight!
"He stood proudly atop the arena, holding a weapon taller than a man!
"You could hardly even call the thing a sword. It was enormous, thick, heavy, crude, something no ordinary person could possibly lift. It looked less like a weapon than a great slab of iron without a mind of its own...
"One strike into the wind!
"Just one strike!
"The dragonslayer cleaved that foolish golden dragon clean in half!"
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