An ancient castle stood on the cliff overseeing a beach. A muscular man in black stood before the window of the library, a calm expression painting his handsome face, and he was staring at the shipwreck on the beach.
"My apologies, sire. I fell into their trap." Rience knelt behind him, his head hanging low. His hand was held against his waist, his voice filled with hatred and exasperation. "The witchers know that I'm searching for Cintra's princess. They told the third-rate bard to sing odes to them to lure us in, and they were waiting for us. If you hadn't saved me in time, those filthy mutants would've taken me in for interrogation."
"They?" Vilgefortz asked flatly, but there was unbridled rage under his voice. His hand that was holding the window's pane had veins popping on it.
Fear flashed in Rience's eyes. "Four other witchers ambushed me. Two of them were older. Skilled and experienced. Must be more than fifty years old. The other two were young. Couldn't have been older than teenagers. Perhaps they had just passed the Trial. Geralt didn't show himself, but it's highly probable that he's hiding in Novigrad. Only he knows me and my goal."
Vilgefortz fell into silence, gently fiddling with the thumb ring on his left hand. He was not interested in subpar magical creations like witchers, but he did hear of them during his chats with other practitioners of magic. He knew witchers fought alone. Two appearing in one place was rare, and four showing up together was nigh impossible.
Not to mention that it had been decades since the witcher added fresh blood to their ranks. They should've been in steep decline and on the brink of extinction. And yet two new witchers showed up. This is clearly different from what I've been told.
"Sir, I have a feeling that there are other witchers in the city aside from Geralt and the four who ambushed me. They're hiding in the shadows, scheming and plotting against us." Rience gnashed his teeth. "Because of their protection, that lowly bard cursed me. Threatened me. Me, a sorcerer. That is preposterous."
Vilgefortz stepped away from the window and circled around the kneeling sorcerer calmly, his hair swaying in the wind. "Mutants are no threat by themselves, but if enough of them band together, they'd be as annoying as a bunch of drowners. You are not to be blamed for this failure."
"Thank you, sir." Rience heaved a sigh of relief and wiped the sweat off his forehead. With conviction, he said, "Even though the princess managed to escape Emhyr's useless knight, where could she even go? The only thing she could do was join up with Geralt in Novigrad. That witcher is bound to her by Destiny, after all. Now that they've attacked us, that's effectively telling us where they are. I believe that Geralt and the princess are hiding in Novigrad somewhere."
"Your previous operation has alerted them to our presence. They're as cunning as foxes, so I'm sure they're coming up with countermeasures right now." Vilgefortz mused. "Rience, listen to me. Make sure you keep yourself hidden well enough. Do not alert the witchers again," Vilgefortz ordered.
"Contact Schirru and hire some trusted individuals. Powerful individuals. Money is of no concern. I want you to investigate Novigrad as much and as carefully as you can. I want you to find out where the witchers are hiding, how their forces are spread, and their allies in the city. I want everything. Come back with a report once you're done, and do not disappoint me this time. Do not reveal yourself and alert them either."
"Of course, sir." Rience touched his chest with his right hand.
"They're lucky I don't have time to deal with them. I have something more important to do. They can live their happy little lives for a while longer." A cold smirk curled Vilgefortz's lips.
Something more important? Rience bowed his head, his eyes glinting with admiration and worship. Vilgefortz was an incredibly young sorcerer, yet his talent for magic was unmatched. He knew countless powerful spells not even the brotherhood's top brass could cast. Rience would be taken out in five seconds should they get into a fight.
And this man was smart and cunning. Just a while ago, he helped the northern kingdom's alliance take down Nilfgaard's sorcerer in the Battle of Sodden Hill, dealing a heavy blow to the emperor of the south and gaining most of the northern brotherhood's trust and support.
And now, thanks to his efforts, the kings were about to sign a ceasefire. This time, he would take Emhyr's side. A carrot and a stick, as they always said. Vilgefortz would make Emhyr see that he was more important than the emperor had imagined, and he would need something much more valuable if Emhyr wanted his support.
This man had everything under his control. Even a ruler like Emhyr had to walk right into his trap. He had no choice but to do so. Still, that was good news for Rience. Once Vilgefortz had ensured his victory, his lackeys—Rience included—would be reaping great benefits too.
It was his dream for this future that drove him to risk being a double agent, even though being found out meant heads would roll. Even so, he would help Vilgefortz with the search for Ciri.
"I'll deal with the witchers once I'm done with my current matter. What belongs to me will be mine. The swallow can fly around for a bit longer. Only through trials can she grow. The stronger she is, the more valuable she becomes." Vilgefortz paused for a moment. "And don't even think about leaking anything to the empire's intelligence department. If you're trying to appease Vattier de Riveaux, then I advise you to discard that thought immediately."
"From the moment you saved me from Cintra's dungeon and cleared my debt, I have sworn fealty to only you."
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***
Rience had his orders, and he slipped into a portal, disappearing.
Vilgefortze left the library and descended a big staircase, then he walked down a corridor with statues filling the niches in the walls before coming into a laboratory. The lab was clean and brightly lit. It had a long metal table and racks filled with glass items. Vials and vessels and tubes and curios of all kinds stood atop the rack.
And there was a fetus sealed within a certain glass bottle.
The pervasive stench of alcohol, ether, and formaldehye filled the air. A poor test subject with unkempt hair was tied to a steel chair equipped with all kinds of exquisite yet cruel contraptions, her wrists bound to the armrests with metal. Her head hung low, and she didn't move an inch. The air around her smelled of fear and terror. She was like a rabbit forced into a corner by a rabid dog.
A cruel and excited smirk curled Vilgefortz's lips. He picked up a glass syringe about half a foot long, the needle slender and curled. He went ahead and gripped the test subject's chin in a vice grip. The lights of the lab projected the syringe's shadow on the wall, held by the shadow of a demon.
And then the screams started.
***
At the same time, a discussion had started in the lab underneath Novigrad's Temple Island. The light from the brazier shone upon the participants, all of which looked solemn. Geralt, Vesemir, Letho, Auckes, Kiyan, Coen, and a lot more were there. They were staring at a blue screen hanging in the air.
The screen showed the face of a man. Short black hair, dark, cruel eyes, thin lips, and a scar on his face.
Yennefer's finger danced through the air like she was crocheting a jacket. With every movement she made, the portrait looked livelier and more lifelike. "That's the man?"
"Yes. That's stupid-eyes Rience. Got his waist carved out." Lambert crossed his arms and nodded in frustration. "I’d know that guy anywhere. He almost destroyed that gallivanting bard's arm."
Yennefer turned to the White Wolf. Geralt's eyes shone sharply. "He was the one who stopped me from taking Ciri away back at the castle. When Ciri came back to Novigrad with me, she mentioned him, and she looked serious. This sorcerer was the one who'd been hunting her down, aside from that Nilfgaardian knight."
"So who's his master?" Serrit rubbed his stubble, staring at the ambusher. "Nilfgaard's emperor? Foltest of Temeria? Demavend of Aedirn? Henselt of Kaedwen? Vizimir II of Redania? Or Hengfors' League? What did the thugs say?"
Aiden shook his head. "Sorry, but the thugs are residents of rural Novigrad. They followed Rience into the city after he put them under a mind-control spell. They went along with the abduction plan to make some coins for themselves. They have no idea about Rience or his past at all."
"So we don't even know who the enemy is?" Kiyan adjusted his sunglasses, a hint of frustration flashing in his eyes.
"If any of the northern kingdoms' kings were behind this, they wouldn’t have to send any sorcerer out. That was nothing but a skirmish," Letho explained, shaking his head. "I think it's possible that he's serving Nilfgaard like the knight. One's working in the shadows, one isn't."
"Rience is a spy for the empire's intelligence agency. That's why he operates from the shadows."
Lambert said, "But his accent sounded northern."
"Yes," Aiden continued solemnly. "And from the sound of it, Kaedwen accent."
Everyone fell into silence. With Rience escaping, the enemy might eventually find their Novigrad base.
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"Rience was arrogant," Yennefer said, scanning everyone in the room, and a smile curled her lips. "A sorcerer with a scar and speaks with a Kaedwen accent. I think I know a bit of his past."
Everyone looked at her, and the sorceress circled the witchers quietly. "Most of the northern sorcerers hail from magical academies. Either they're from Thanedd's Aretuza or Kaedwen's Ban Ard. The former's for sorceresses, and the latter's for sorcerers."
"Wait." Coen scratched the pockmark underneath his beard, interrupting, "Why are the academies based on gender? Are the magical modifications different for the genders?"
"Witchers are split into schools based on their philosophy. Why can't sorcerers go to different academies based on gender?" Yennefer said crisply. "Men and women are different. From how they carry themselves in their lives to the talent they express during their magical training. Using Margarita's words, magic requires patience, an eye for detail, wisdom, keen judgment, an iron will, humility, a calm mind, and the ability to endure obstacles and failure. Ambition is the bane of you men. You love to chase after things you know you can never have while ignoring the things you can have."
Yennefer continued, "In other words, men are blessed with a bold mind and the spirit of innovation, but arrogance is your downfall. You're scattered and hard to manage. Women, on the other hand, are humble. We devote ourselves to the research, and we know how to serve. We're more well-equipped for the art of magic. Over the years, during magical tournaments, Aretuza wins by a lot. That's a fact."
"A moment, Yennefer." Auckes shook his head. "You're praising women too much. Counterargument: why aren't there many women who can pass the Trial and become witchers?"
"Ignore the fool." Serrit shot his brother a look of disdain and nodded at Yennefer. "Continue."
"Because of men's ego, students of Ban Ard who fail to graduatae aren't that uncommon. These dropouts can never join the brotherhood, and the intelligence agencies of the north see them as valuable resources. They've been recruiting dropouts of magical academies, training them to be spies and assassins. These agencies now have agents who know magic and hand-to-hand combat. They can carry out difficult missions most people would have a hard time with."
"So you're saying Rience is working for Kaedwen's intelligence agency?" Vesemir stroked his well-maintained beard, It was tied into a neat bunch by a blue hair tie, courtesy of Mignole.
"So we've foolishly exposed ourselves to a nation's spy?" Eskel rubbed his nose.
"Oh, stop with the pessimism," said Yennefer calmly. "I'm going to contact someone I know in Ban Ard and find out what's the deal with Rience. Once I have the lead, I'll find out who he's working for."
"Someone from Ban Ard? Oh, a sorcerer, eh?" Lambert looked at the suddenly tense Geralt and Yennefer, a hint of schadenfreude filling his heart. "Please don't go too far. You know the White Wolf is still around."
"Stop messing around," Geralt cut in. "If Rience does serve a kingdom, then I'm afraid we cannot stop their plans. We can never persuade them to give up their search for Ciri. They will not stop until their political goals are met. So we can only…"
"Send Ciri away," Kiyan finished, his crimson eyes glimmering coldly. "The girl should go somewhere quiet and undisturbed and lay low. Geralt as well."
Everyone got an idea, and they turned their eyes to Yennefer.
Yennefer flicked her hair, and it slithered around like a viper. "My, you're heartless. The ugly duckling hasn’t even been here for that long, and now you're sending her right back to a life of loneliness? Even if you wish for her to soar, she first needs enough love and care."
"You misunderstand us, Yen." Geralt looked at her, his eyes glinting, and a hint of guilt appeared on his face. Guilt for hiding a secret. "Ciri's been dying to leave. Has she ever told you that she wishes to see someone in Skellige?"
"Who's she trying to see?"
"Milady, please keep whatever we have to say next a secret," Vesemir said. That was the thing Geralt couldn't bring himself to talk about. "This piece of news is… unusual, so to speak."
"Very well, grandmaster. I swear I will never tell anyone about what you are about to say, or I shall live out the rest of my life by my lonesome, never to conceive my own child."
The witchers exchanged a look, and silence grasped at them for a moment.
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Geralt answered, "Ciri's grandmother, Calanthe, is still alive, and she's currently staying in Bran's castle as a guest."
"What?" Yennefer stopped breathing for a moment, staring into Geralt's eyes, shock filling her soul.
"You heard that right. Calanthe is in Skellige as we speak."
"By the gods… The queen of Cintra, alive?" Yennefer held her forehead, shaking her head. "I need some time to process this. This is unbelievable. I don't understand."
A thousand thoughts flew through the sorceress' mind, entwining and entangling with each other. The northern kingdoms and the empire are going to sign the treaty soon. If news of Calanthe's survival makes its way to the kingdoms, what happens to the treaty? Will they still sign it? And if Calanthe's alive, then why didn't she announce it to the world? Skellige should be powerful enough to help her on that front. What is she worried about?
***
"Yen, I know you have a lot of questions, but you can ask her once we take Ciri to her. Yes, you're coming with us. You've been the one caring for her lately, and she trusts you a lot. Every time she tries to say something, she tells us what you told her about the subject matter." Geralt sounded a little envious, and he looked at his old flame, requesting, "But I hope that you will be visiting Calanthe as Ciri's tutor, friend, and family, not as a member of the sorcerer brotherhood or a royal consultant."
Yennefer took a deep breath, her chest heaving, and she cleared her throat. "I understand. You can trust me, witchers. I will not let anyone harm the ugly duckling or her family. I swear." Memories of the happy days she spent with Ciri flashed through Yennefer's mind, and a resolute smile carved its way across her lips.
"Alright, here's a suggestion." Letho slammed the table with his right fist, gaining everyone's attention. "Yennefer, you're taking Geralt and Ciri to Skellige, where you'll meet up with Calanthe. And then you guys are going to lay low until this blows over. And use a portal. Don't want any complications to happen. Remember to contact that Ban Ard sorcerer and find out more about Rience."
Letho looked around at his comrades. "As for us, well, we can't just up and leave because someone's coming for us. We poured our heart and soul into this piece of land. This orphanage and the kids are what we've worked so hard for. We'll stay and keep this place safe, but first, preparations must be made. We'll deal with Rience and his lackeys should they come."
Lambert stopped smiling and thumped his chest solemnly. "I think we're overreacting. Rience is just some irrelevant clown. We scared him off, but still, leave this to me. Aiden and I will keep an even closer eye on everything that's going around the city. Gawain's men have been polishing their swordplay with us over the last year. It's time for them to bare their fangs, and I'm sure they're willing to help. This time, I'm keeping a very close eye on Dandelion. He's not going around sleeping with any random woman again."
"Leave the orphanage's vicinity to us." Auckes rested his chin on his clasped hands, and he exchanged a look with Serrit. "The apprentice hunters will set up traps with us. Any invader tries to come in, and they're never going back out alive."
"That's not enough. Get Gryphon to keep an eye out in the woods. The beast is incredibly smart. It can understand us," Kiyan added. "I'll ask Evelyn to lend a hand. Her plant and beast friends can guard the perimeter as well."
Letho looked around again. "Come over to the lab to get a set of potions. The research Kalkstein and I have been conducting has been a bit of a success. Came up with a few improved potions and decoctions. And we also have the healing and mana recovery potions Roy brought from Skyrim. There's enough for everyone."
The light of reminiscence filled Vesemir's eyes, and he smiled. He loved to see a group of comrades banding together to fend off a threat. "I'm going to help as well. Tomorrow I'll tell Klaf to stop the research for the time being. We'll put all our efforts into the making of the witcher school armor. Everyone will be getting the best we have to offer. You will not go into this battle underprepared."
"Yes." Everyone nodded.
"I'm telling Igsena we'll be staying in the orphanage and keeping the kids safe from now on." Coen, Eskel, and Felix exchanged a look. "We'll be the last line of defense. The apprentices can deal with some small fries as well."
"I have a suggestion should things go south." Yennefer looked at everyone, astonished and impressed. She wouldn't have believed witchers from different schools could band together despite their different philosophies. "Now that Triss and Coral aren't around, before I take Ciri and Geralt, I'll be setting up a portal in the conference room leading to this lab. Should danger come for you, the kids can use the portal to escape to safety. You'll be paying for the portal, of course."
"Agreed."
"Get ready for some bumps, people. Things won't be easy." Serrit put his hand on the center of the table. He looked at everyone and announced, "If Rience and his master try to hurt us, we'll show them what we can do. Make sure the guy doesn't leave in one piece. Or make sure he does, but not alive, that is."
"Should we contact Roy and tell him about this matter?" Coen asked.
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"The kid has something else to do, and it's a lot worse than what we have on our hands." Letho said, "Wonder how he's doing. Maybe he's found the target?"
An ancient castle stood on the cliff overseeing a beach. A muscular man in black stood before the window of the library, a calm expression painting his handsome face, and he was staring at the shipwreck on the beach.
"My apologies, sire. I fell into their trap." Rience knelt behind him, his head hanging low. His hand was held against his waist, his voice filled with hatred and exasperation. "The witchers know that I'm searching for Cintra's princess. They told the third-rate bard to sing odes to them to lure us in, and they were waiting for us. If you hadn't saved me in time, those filthy mutants would've taken me in for interrogation."
"They?" Vilgefortz asked flatly, but there was unbridled rage under his voice. His hand that was holding the window's pane had veins popping on it.
Fear flashed in Rience's eyes. "Four other witchers ambushed me. Two of them were older. Skilled and experienced. Must be more than fifty years old. The other two were young. Couldn't have been older than teenagers. Perhaps they had just passed the Trial. Geralt didn't show himself, but it's highly probable that he's hiding in Novigrad. Only he knows me and my goal."
Vilgefortz fell into silence, gently fiddling with the thumb ring on his left hand. He was not interested in subpar magical creations like witchers, but he did hear of them during his chats with other practitioners of magic. He knew witchers fought alone. Two appearing in one place was rare, and four showing up together was nigh impossible.
Not to mention that it had been decades since the witcher added fresh blood to their ranks. They should've been in steep decline and on the brink of extinction. And yet two new witchers showed up. This is clearly different from what I've been told.
"Sir, I have a feeling that there are other witchers in the city aside from Geralt and the four who ambushed me. They're hiding in the shadows, scheming and plotting against us." Rience gnashed his teeth. "Because of their protection, that lowly bard cursed me. Threatened me. Me, a sorcerer. That is preposterous."
Vilgefortz stepped away from the window and circled around the kneeling sorcerer calmly, his hair swaying in the wind. "Mutants are no threat by themselves, but if enough of them band together, they'd be as annoying as a bunch of drowners. You are not to be blamed for this failure."
"Thank you, sir." Rience heaved a sigh of relief and wiped the sweat off his forehead. With conviction, he said, "Even though the princess managed to escape Emhyr's useless knight, where could she even go? The only thing she could do was join up with Geralt in Novigrad. That witcher is bound to her by Destiny, after all. Now that they've attacked us, that's effectively telling us where they are. I believe that Geralt and the princess are hiding in Novigrad somewhere."
"Your previous operation has alerted them to our presence. They're as cunning as foxes, so I'm sure they're coming up with countermeasures right now." Vilgefortz mused. "Rience, listen to me. Make sure you keep yourself hidden well enough. Do not alert the witchers again," Vilgefortz ordered.
"Contact Schirru and hire some trusted individuals. Powerful individuals. Money is of no concern. I want you to investigate Novigrad as much and as carefully as you can. I want you to find out where the witchers are hiding, how their forces are spread, and their allies in the city. I want everything. Come back with a report once you're done, and do not disappoint me this time. Do not reveal yourself and alert them either."
"Of course, sir." Rience touched his chest with his right hand.
"They're lucky I don't have time to deal with them. I have something more important to do. They can live their happy little lives for a while longer." A cold smirk curled Vilgefortz's lips.
Something more important? Rience bowed his head, his eyes glinting with admiration and worship. Vilgefortz was an incredibly young sorcerer, yet his talent for magic was unmatched. He knew countless powerful spells not even the brotherhood's top brass could cast. Rience would be taken out in five seconds should they get into a fight.
And this man was smart and cunning. Just a while ago, he helped the northern kingdom's alliance take down Nilfgaard's sorcerer in the Battle of Sodden Hill, dealing a heavy blow to the emperor of the south and gaining most of the northern brotherhood's trust and support.
And now, thanks to his efforts, the kings were about to sign a ceasefire. This time, he would take Emhyr's side. A carrot and a stick, as they always said. Vilgefortz would make Emhyr see that he was more important than the emperor had imagined, and he would need something much more valuable if Emhyr wanted his support.
This man had everything under his control. Even a ruler like Emhyr had to walk right into his trap. He had no choice but to do so. Still, that was good news for Rience. Once Vilgefortz had ensured his victory, his lackeys—Rience included—would be reaping great benefits too.
It was his dream for this future that drove him to risk being a double agent, even though being found out meant heads would roll. Even so, he would help Vilgefortz with the search for Ciri.
"I'll deal with the witchers once I'm done with my current matter. What belongs to me will be mine. The swallow can fly around for a bit longer. Only through trials can she grow. The stronger she is, the more valuable she becomes." Vilgefortz paused for a moment. "And don't even think about leaking anything to the empire's intelligence department. If you're trying to appease Vattier de Riveaux, then I advise you to discard that thought immediately."
"From the moment you saved me from Cintra's dungeon and cleared my debt, I have sworn fealty to only you."
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***
Rience had his orders, and he slipped into a portal, disappearing.
Vilgefortze left the library and descended a big staircase, then he walked down a corridor with statues filling the niches in the walls before coming into a laboratory. The lab was clean and brightly lit. It had a long metal table and racks filled with glass items. Vials and vessels and tubes and curios of all kinds stood atop the rack.
And there was a fetus sealed within a certain glass bottle.
The pervasive stench of alcohol, ether, and formaldehye filled the air. A poor test subject with unkempt hair was tied to a steel chair equipped with all kinds of exquisite yet cruel contraptions, her wrists bound to the armrests with metal. Her head hung low, and she didn't move an inch. The air around her smelled of fear and terror. She was like a rabbit forced into a corner by a rabid dog.
A cruel and excited smirk curled Vilgefortz's lips. He picked up a glass syringe about half a foot long, the needle slender and curled. He went ahead and gripped the test subject's chin in a vice grip. The lights of the lab projected the syringe's shadow on the wall, held by the shadow of a demon.
And then the screams started.
***
At the same time, a discussion had started in the lab underneath Novigrad's Temple Island. The light from the brazier shone upon the participants, all of which looked solemn. Geralt, Vesemir, Letho, Auckes, Kiyan, Coen, and a lot more were there. They were staring at a blue screen hanging in the air.
The screen showed the face of a man. Short black hair, dark, cruel eyes, thin lips, and a scar on his face.
Yennefer's finger danced through the air like she was crocheting a jacket. With every movement she made, the portrait looked livelier and more lifelike. "That's the man?"
"Yes. That's stupid-eyes Rience. Got his waist carved out." Lambert crossed his arms and nodded in frustration. "I’d know that guy anywhere. He almost destroyed that gallivanting bard's arm."
Yennefer turned to the White Wolf. Geralt's eyes shone sharply. "He was the one who stopped me from taking Ciri away back at the castle. When Ciri came back to Novigrad with me, she mentioned him, and she looked serious. This sorcerer was the one who'd been hunting her down, aside from that Nilfgaardian knight."
"So who's his master?" Serrit rubbed his stubble, staring at the ambusher. "Nilfgaard's emperor? Foltest of Temeria? Demavend of Aedirn? Henselt of Kaedwen? Vizimir II of Redania? Or Hengfors' League? What did the thugs say?"
Aiden shook his head. "Sorry, but the thugs are residents of rural Novigrad. They followed Rience into the city after he put them under a mind-control spell. They went along with the abduction plan to make some coins for themselves. They have no idea about Rience or his past at all."
"So we don't even know who the enemy is?" Kiyan adjusted his sunglasses, a hint of frustration flashing in his eyes.
"If any of the northern kingdoms' kings were behind this, they wouldn’t have to send any sorcerer out. That was nothing but a skirmish," Letho explained, shaking his head. "I think it's possible that he's serving Nilfgaard like the knight. One's working in the shadows, one isn't."
"Rience is a spy for the empire's intelligence agency. That's why he operates from the shadows."
Lambert said, "But his accent sounded northern."
"Yes," Aiden continued solemnly. "And from the sound of it, Kaedwen accent."
Everyone fell into silence. With Rience escaping, the enemy might eventually find their Novigrad base.
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"Rience was arrogant," Yennefer said, scanning everyone in the room, and a smile curled her lips. "A sorcerer with a scar and speaks with a Kaedwen accent. I think I know a bit of his past."
Everyone looked at her, and the sorceress circled the witchers quietly. "Most of the northern sorcerers hail from magical academies. Either they're from Thanedd's Aretuza or Kaedwen's Ban Ard. The former's for sorceresses, and the latter's for sorcerers."
"Wait." Coen scratched the pockmark underneath his beard, interrupting, "Why are the academies based on gender? Are the magical modifications different for the genders?"
"Witchers are split into schools based on their philosophy. Why can't sorcerers go to different academies based on gender?" Yennefer said crisply. "Men and women are different. From how they carry themselves in their lives to the talent they express during their magical training. Using Margarita's words, magic requires patience, an eye for detail, wisdom, keen judgment, an iron will, humility, a calm mind, and the ability to endure obstacles and failure. Ambition is the bane of you men. You love to chase after things you know you can never have while ignoring the things you can have."
Yennefer continued, "In other words, men are blessed with a bold mind and the spirit of innovation, but arrogance is your downfall. You're scattered and hard to manage. Women, on the other hand, are humble. We devote ourselves to the research, and we know how to serve. We're more well-equipped for the art of magic. Over the years, during magical tournaments, Aretuza wins by a lot. That's a fact."
"A moment, Yennefer." Auckes shook his head. "You're praising women too much. Counterargument: why aren't there many women who can pass the Trial and become witchers?"
"Ignore the fool." Serrit shot his brother a look of disdain and nodded at Yennefer. "Continue."
"Because of men's ego, students of Ban Ard who fail to graduatae aren't that uncommon. These dropouts can never join the brotherhood, and the intelligence agencies of the north see them as valuable resources. They've been recruiting dropouts of magical academies, training them to be spies and assassins. These agencies now have agents who know magic and hand-to-hand combat. They can carry out difficult missions most people would have a hard time with."
"So you're saying Rience is working for Kaedwen's intelligence agency?" Vesemir stroked his well-maintained beard, It was tied into a neat bunch by a blue hair tie, courtesy of Mignole.
"So we've foolishly exposed ourselves to a nation's spy?" Eskel rubbed his nose.
"Oh, stop with the pessimism," said Yennefer calmly. "I'm going to contact someone I know in Ban Ard and find out what's the deal with Rience. Once I have the lead, I'll find out who he's working for."
"Someone from Ban Ard? Oh, a sorcerer, eh?" Lambert looked at the suddenly tense Geralt and Yennefer, a hint of schadenfreude filling his heart. "Please don't go too far. You know the White Wolf is still around."
"Stop messing around," Geralt cut in. "If Rience does serve a kingdom, then I'm afraid we cannot stop their plans. We can never persuade them to give up their search for Ciri. They will not stop until their political goals are met. So we can only…"
"Send Ciri away," Kiyan finished, his crimson eyes glimmering coldly. "The girl should go somewhere quiet and undisturbed and lay low. Geralt as well."
Everyone got an idea, and they turned their eyes to Yennefer.
Yennefer flicked her hair, and it slithered around like a viper. "My, you're heartless. The ugly duckling hasn’t even been here for that long, and now you're sending her right back to a life of loneliness? Even if you wish for her to soar, she first needs enough love and care."
"You misunderstand us, Yen." Geralt looked at her, his eyes glinting, and a hint of guilt appeared on his face. Guilt for hiding a secret. "Ciri's been dying to leave. Has she ever told you that she wishes to see someone in Skellige?"
"Who's she trying to see?"
"Milady, please keep whatever we have to say next a secret," Vesemir said. That was the thing Geralt couldn't bring himself to talk about. "This piece of news is… unusual, so to speak."
"Very well, grandmaster. I swear I will never tell anyone about what you are about to say, or I shall live out the rest of my life by my lonesome, never to conceive my own child."
The witchers exchanged a look, and silence grasped at them for a moment.
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Geralt answered, "Ciri's grandmother, Calanthe, is still alive, and she's currently staying in Bran's castle as a guest."
"What?" Yennefer stopped breathing for a moment, staring into Geralt's eyes, shock filling her soul.
"You heard that right. Calanthe is in Skellige as we speak."
"By the gods… The queen of Cintra, alive?" Yennefer held her forehead, shaking her head. "I need some time to process this. This is unbelievable. I don't understand."
A thousand thoughts flew through the sorceress' mind, entwining and entangling with each other. The northern kingdoms and the empire are going to sign the treaty soon. If news of Calanthe's survival makes its way to the kingdoms, what happens to the treaty? Will they still sign it? And if Calanthe's alive, then why didn't she announce it to the world? Skellige should be powerful enough to help her on that front. What is she worried about?
***
"Yen, I know you have a lot of questions, but you can ask her once we take Ciri to her. Yes, you're coming with us. You've been the one caring for her lately, and she trusts you a lot. Every time she tries to say something, she tells us what you told her about the subject matter." Geralt sounded a little envious, and he looked at his old flame, requesting, "But I hope that you will be visiting Calanthe as Ciri's tutor, friend, and family, not as a member of the sorcerer brotherhood or a royal consultant."
Yennefer took a deep breath, her chest heaving, and she cleared her throat. "I understand. You can trust me, witchers. I will not let anyone harm the ugly duckling or her family. I swear." Memories of the happy days she spent with Ciri flashed through Yennefer's mind, and a resolute smile carved its way across her lips.
"Alright, here's a suggestion." Letho slammed the table with his right fist, gaining everyone's attention. "Yennefer, you're taking Geralt and Ciri to Skellige, where you'll meet up with Calanthe. And then you guys are going to lay low until this blows over. And use a portal. Don't want any complications to happen. Remember to contact that Ban Ard sorcerer and find out more about Rience."
Letho looked around at his comrades. "As for us, well, we can't just up and leave because someone's coming for us. We poured our heart and soul into this piece of land. This orphanage and the kids are what we've worked so hard for. We'll stay and keep this place safe, but first, preparations must be made. We'll deal with Rience and his lackeys should they come."
Lambert stopped smiling and thumped his chest solemnly. "I think we're overreacting. Rience is just some irrelevant clown. We scared him off, but still, leave this to me. Aiden and I will keep an even closer eye on everything that's going around the city. Gawain's men have been polishing their swordplay with us over the last year. It's time for them to bare their fangs, and I'm sure they're willing to help. This time, I'm keeping a very close eye on Dandelion. He's not going around sleeping with any random woman again."
"Leave the orphanage's vicinity to us." Auckes rested his chin on his clasped hands, and he exchanged a look with Serrit. "The apprentice hunters will set up traps with us. Any invader tries to come in, and they're never going back out alive."
"That's not enough. Get Gryphon to keep an eye out in the woods. The beast is incredibly smart. It can understand us," Kiyan added. "I'll ask Evelyn to lend a hand. Her plant and beast friends can guard the perimeter as well."
Letho looked around again. "Come over to the lab to get a set of potions. The research Kalkstein and I have been conducting has been a bit of a success. Came up with a few improved potions and decoctions. And we also have the healing and mana recovery potions Roy brought from Skyrim. There's enough for everyone."
The light of reminiscence filled Vesemir's eyes, and he smiled. He loved to see a group of comrades banding together to fend off a threat. "I'm going to help as well. Tomorrow I'll tell Klaf to stop the research for the time being. We'll put all our efforts into the making of the witcher school armor. Everyone will be getting the best we have to offer. You will not go into this battle underprepared."
"Yes." Everyone nodded.
"I'm telling Igsena we'll be staying in the orphanage and keeping the kids safe from now on." Coen, Eskel, and Felix exchanged a look. "We'll be the last line of defense. The apprentices can deal with some small fries as well."
"I have a suggestion should things go south." Yennefer looked at everyone, astonished and impressed. She wouldn't have believed witchers from different schools could band together despite their different philosophies. "Now that Triss and Coral aren't around, before I take Ciri and Geralt, I'll be setting up a portal in the conference room leading to this lab. Should danger come for you, the kids can use the portal to escape to safety. You'll be paying for the portal, of course."
"Agreed."
"Get ready for some bumps, people. Things won't be easy." Serrit put his hand on the center of the table. He looked at everyone and announced, "If Rience and his master try to hurt us, we'll show them what we can do. Make sure the guy doesn't leave in one piece. Or make sure he does, but not alive, that is."
"Should we contact Roy and tell him about this matter?" Coen asked.
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"The kid has something else to do, and it's a lot worse than what we have on our hands." Letho said, "Wonder how he's doing. Maybe he's found the target?"
