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Kaedwen
Ruins of Aed Kadan
The wind whistled as it rushed past the aged stones of the tower, then howled as an unnatural force swept up a gale. The old wooden banisters creaked, and the supports groaned as gravity waxed and waned for a moment until the portal expelled its cargo into the ruins of Aed Kadan. Lady Belen and her apprentice stepped out of the pulsing well and stood clear to let it close on its own.
The Mistress of Mirrors knew they wouldn't be alone for long in that forsaken place, for they'd come at the invitation of the Continent's brotherhood of sorcerers. Moments later, they were greeted by Grache, the woman who first extended the invitation. The sorceress beckoned for them to follow her to the upstairs room, where her superiors awaited their guests. Lady Belen found it a tad amusing that they picked such a solitary place for the meeting, which she could only guess was due to some precautionary measure.
Aed Kadan was brimming with the Power, she could feel the weight of it in the air. To bring her so far away from their official conclaves, to a place where they had the magical advantage, it could only mean that the sorcerers wished to make a bargain with the Mistress of Mirrors.
And dispose of her, should she refuse.
The messenger, Grache of Rivia, played the part of sweet hostess well. There was a smile on her fetching face as she opened the door into the upper room. "Welcome. Please, make yourself at home."
Belen entered the room and found the change in scenery a bit surprising. Magic still hung heavily in the air, but whereas the tower's exterior remained in such a dilapidated condition, the room itself had been tidied up and refurnished to look every bit as presentable as a nobleman's parlor. Tables alight with flickering lamps, carpets and drapes covering up the sad floorboards, and puffy cushioned chairs ready to receive them were intricately placed all around the chamber.
At the very least, the sorcerers of the Continent knew their illusions, and it put a smile on Belen's face.
There were two people sitting at the opposite ends of the table, a man and a woman dressed in flamboyant yellow and scarlet. Belen knew who they both were, based on the many secrets she gathered through her mirrors. The man on the left was Offrey Nox, and the woman on right, Carla Demetria Crest. Both were members of the Chapter of the Gift and Art, a splinter group from the Brotherhood of Sorcerers. Together with the Council of Wizards, the Chapter serves as a guiding arm in regulating the practice of magic throughout the Continent.
This, of course, did not exclude their inclination towards influencing the political world. Lady Belen could only assume that the reason for her invitation was somehow related to this.
When they introduced themselves, Belen bit back the urge to cut the pleasantries short. Both sides knew each other, for both had their methods of procuring information beforehand. Her apprentice, Vivien, the nameless sorceress who helped Lord Vandal in his quest at the Amell Mountains, at the very least made the whole ordeal bearable by her presence alone. Otherwise, the Mistress of Mirrors would've turned things sour the moment she opened her mouth.
Offrey offered her a seat, but Belen politely declined. "I'd rather stand, thank you."
"Your delay in accepting our invitation had us a little worried." Carla jumped right on to the matter at hand.
"Oh? I apologize if I caused your organization any trouble." Belen replied nonchalantly, "In case you haven't heard, Cintra hasn't fared the past year very well."
"Ah yes." Offrey leaned back on his chair and crossed his legs casually, "The dragon attack. Nasty business, that. Our hearts ache at the thought of so many lives wasted. It is truly a pity that the crown never deigned to ask for aid from the Brotherhood."
Belen's face was a mask of indifference, but beneath it all she was frowning.
"It is a fortunate thing that you were there, elsewise Cintra would've fared no better than their vassal Attre."
"Indeed, we land on the subject of this meeting." Carla said, getting them back on track. "Through a pact signed and sealed by all the kings and queens of the Continent, in which we are all bound to uphold, our organization holds a sacred duty to protect all practitioners of magic and regulate its practice."
"Clearly, not all of them." Belen observed.
Carla nodded, "The Kingdom of Cintra holds another opinion concerning magic, a different and dangerous opinion. They would rather let their mages operate without regulation, open academies with rogue sorcerers as rectors, all of which points to no other direction but disaster. You've seen it yourself, how they've responded to the crisis at their door, how the-"
"Let me stop you right there, Lady Crest." Belen abruptly cut her short, eyes narrowed with barely restrained fire. "Don't think that just because I hail from a different world that you can manipulate me like some backwater trollop. You didn't bring me out here to regale me with some rousing speech about the dangers of unrestrained magic. You wish to make a pawn of me, and by extension a pawn of Cintra, in your little game of politics."
The surprise on the sorceress' face faded, giving way to a sly smile. Carla shrugged, "You see right through us. Bravo. But please understand, such an underhanded attempt carries with it a noble purpose."
"Really? Enlighten me, then."
"The world of politics is no little game, it is the ultimate game. It is a game played by those gifted with magic, and those of more crude constitutions. The few versus the many. You've inserted yourself into Cintra's affairs, in a manner that we've tried for years to achieve. Understand this, the balance of power is delicate. Only under the protection of the Brotherhood can mages live in safety. Without it, the North and the Continent entire would descend into chaos."
"Witch-hunts, pogroms, the persecution of magic." Offrey added, "This world hasn't gone far from those dark days, and much has been sacrificed in order to get us where we are. It only takes one rogue mage to tip us back to them. We're not trying to make a pawn out of you, what we're asking is that you consider helping us in preserving the world order."
Belen paused to think on the sorcerer's words, then replied. "A noble purpose, but never without an ulterior motive. No, I was once part of something greater than I ever could be, something that strove to do the same on my world. I will not be someone's lackey again, not this time."
As she turned around to leave, aware that at any moment the Brotherhood could strike her down for her refusal, Belen heard Carla call out to her. "Then you would rather be Lord Strauss' whore, selling away both body and magic? That is beneath you!"
"I am no one's whore." Belen replied coolly, "My decisions are my own. Consider yours very carefully when you even think about setting foot in Cintra again."
"Oh that's a sure thing, isn't it?!" Carla rose up, her little hands balled up into fists as she thundered. "There won't be a next time, Lady Belen! I don't care how powerful you think you are, you are a fool to make an enemy of the Brotherhood!"
Before the sorceress could deal the first strike, Belen summoned her mirrors and let out a burst of eldritch energies that pulled the roof right off of the tower and blasted the walls into rubble. The stones flew off and piled up on the ground below, exposing the mages to the harsh winter winds and the elements crackling with raw Power.
Offrey shielded himself, Carla and Grache with a barrier spell just in a nick of time. He glanced up to see Belen hovering in the air above with Vivien at her side. Her hands glowed with a faint golden light, as did her eyes.
"You dare threaten a sorceress of Saggrel?" Said the Mistress of Mirrors, her voice resonating with a power foreign to the Continent. "Come then, assail me with all your might!"
"You present a danger." Offrey declared, preparing himself for battle. "We don't need more rogue elements. If you and your kind cannot be controlled, we'll wipe you off the face of the earth."
The sky wept tears of hard cold ice, and was alight with arcing streaks of light. Sorcerers of two worlds, but equal strength, fought one another in the ruins of Aed Kadan.
The Mistress of Mirrors, and her apprentice, wielded magics that were alien to the mages of the Council. Black magic, in the form of tangible soul-essence transformed into horrific weapons. Light, in the form of miracles by drawing from the faint resonance of the old and forgotten gods of Saggrel. And Pyromancy, mankind's oldest weapon and perhaps the most powerful of them all.
The sorcerers of the Continent bore witness to the remnants of the Wandering World's dead civilization with awe. But they were not without their own skills in the fight, using formidable spells that drew from the natural font brimming within Aed Kadan. Magic in their world had taken centuries to perfect as an art, for mankind was never truly gifted with it as elves were. Humans were fashioned like crude clay by the gods, simplistic and mundane when compared to the other races, and got by only through sheer will and determination.
It is this same determination that resonates in all humans in all worlds. It resonates in their works.
It is also why their magic, come whatever form, is the most potent.
"I've brought down titans greater and more powerful than you!" Belen boasted, willing her mirrors to open a portal into the Abyss. "Even my apprentice has lain whole armies low with but a gesture of her hand! What hope do you have against us?"
Howling, screaming souls bombarded the tower until its ancient foundations gave way. Once again, Offrey cast a spell shield around his companions to protect them from the fall. Carla and Grache worked together to bring down the wrath of the sky on the soul-bound sorceresses, sending streaks of lightning raining down upon them. When that didn't work, they used both the icy winds and fire to hammer their foes into submission.
All magic takes its toll on the human body, but it takes an even bigger toll among mages in the Continent. For those who came from Saggrel, it barely registers in the long run, and it showed in the battle at Aed Kadan. The three mages of the Brotherhood began to tire, while Belen and Vivien had yet to break a sweat.
Hours passed, and soon the ruins was transformed from an underbrush infested tower to an ashen and crater-blasted landscape. In the end, Brotherhood mages could barely lift their arms and found themselves at the mercy of the Mistress of Mirrors.
"Now, let this be a lesson to you." Belen descended to the ground, watching as her enemies stood before her on shaky legs. She didn't want to kill them, content with making her point than waste such formidable opponents in a childish spat. "Go back to your people and tell them this; Cintra is mine."
Carla's face turned red and she bared her teeth as she fought to raise a glowing hand against her. Offrey stopped her, willing to come to an understanding. The sorcerer wiped the sweat from his brow and straightened out his jerkin, "Very well... you've proven yourself capable of handling us this time. But make no mistake, if things get out of hand..."
"You'll what? Stand back and do nothing, as you did when the kingdom was attacked?" Belen scoffed, "Don't make me laugh."
Offrey smiled, though his eyes were hard and serious. "You fought well against three mages today, but there are many others in the Brotherhood- each one more powerful than the next. Know that if you plan on staking claim to Cintra, you will be prepared to defend it. There will be no mercy, not from us or from anyone."
"Leave." Belen warned, her patience growing thin. "Or I will be the one without mercy."
Unnerved, the mages beat a hasty retreat into a portal and departed. Once they were gone, the soul-bound sorceresses turned heel to make their own journey back to Cintra.
"I reckon that won't be the last we'll see of them." Vivien said.
"No." Her mistress muttered, "It won't be."
"Mistress." Vivien inquired, "Technically speaking, I didn't kill an entire army with a wave of my hand. I opened up a sinkhole by chance, which plunged them to their deaths. Why'd you tell them otherwise?"
"I know that." Belen replied, channeling up a portal of her own. "But they don't. Learn it from me. It's all about appearances with these people, my dear. We're an unknown thing to them, so they assume the worst. Spin them a little tale, and it'll keep them at bay better than your spells."
"I see your penchant for smoke and mirrors has never faded even after your resurrection."
"Why do you think they call me thusly?"
City of Cintra
The crow of the rooster at first light stirred the capital city awake. Most greeted the new day with a determined and eager smile on their faces.
Others, like Geralt of Rivia, met it with a muttered curse and a face-first dive for the pillows. The witcher wasn't blessed with a good night's sleep, for his dreams were filled with all manner of nightly terrors. Everyone in Cintra talked about those kinds of dreams, everyone had them. Once or twice a week, then slipped out of their minds come the morn.
For the witcher, it felt like they came to him every night. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that someone cursed him. But Geralt was a learned individual, he knew it wasn't a curse... the dreams were a warning.
Cat-eyes opened to a world of headaches and blinding light. Slowly, the witcher twisted his body to slip free from the covers. Something heavy was draped across his back, then rolled off like a sack of apples. A familiar warmth left him, Geralt gently lifted and tossed away the arm belonging to a raven-haired tavern wench he met the other night. She stirred, looked up at him, then smiled.
At least someone slept well.
"Time for me to go to work." She sighed, giving him a little peck on the cheek before gathering her things. As she shut the door behind her, Geralt reached for his bag of coins. Squeezing it twice, he found that only five pieces remained inside.
"Hm. Me too." He grunted, dressing up and putting his gear on.
About an hour later, the witcher descended the stairs and paid the last of his coins to the innkeeper, who promptly refused the payment. Surprised, the witcher gave the short, balding man an inquisitive stare.
"I saw it was you who shot that big 'un dead." The innkeeper said with a grin, showing his yellowing and crooked teeth. It's been a while since anyone mentioned Idlekkarnhamth in the city, but the witcher knew that the man was talking about him. "Most folk would rather think it was the baron, but I know the truth. Saved me inn from getting put to flame."
"Ah... thanks I guess." Geralt nodded, bagging away his money.
"You ever come by the city, you'll always have a room here, witcher."
At least someone was grateful.
It was those little things that brought a smile to the oft-unsmiling face of the famed Geralt of Rivia. The job was usually a thankless one, but every now and then there would be a soul cut above the rest who'd see past the oddities and see his worth. The monster-hunter left the inn and made his way to the stables around back. Roach was in a good mood and was eager to brighten up the sullen witcher's day. A day that he knew shouldn't go without taking up a contract or two.
But Geralt had a feeling that soon, he'd be taking up a contract that concerned the fate of the Continent. He had that feeling for a long while, ever since he shot down that dragon. Vandal talked about it a few times, but the witcher never really took it seriously. In his line of work, ill omens were part of the job description. People were superstitious by nature, trusted in portents and dreams, scared easily.
Then again, if people didn't scare easily, witchers would be out of work pretty quickly.
"Witcher."
Geralt turned around to see a smiling Vandal standing at the entrance to the stables. The young baron grew a beard, trimmed it exactly the way Geralt did. All he needed then was to dye his hair white, glamour his eyes to look like a cat's, and no one could tell the difference. Or maybe not.
"Lord Vandal."
The baron laughed, grabbing the witcher by the arm and giving it a firm squeeze. "I heard from someone that a white-haired witcher's come to town, came straightaway before you disappeared again. I'm glad I caught you just in time. Buy you a drink?"
"Well, I haven't taken up any contracts yet." Geralt replied, "Why not?"
The witcher began to walk back into the inn, but Vandal stopped him in his tracks. "Oho, no offense to the innkeeper, but a man like you deserves a far better swill than common ale."
At this, Geralt smirked, intrigued by his friend's offer. "Yeah, that's true. What'd you have in mind?"
"Lyrian Merlot." Vandal replied, "I know a place up in Uptown. Bring Roach along, I'll have the stable-hands feed him something nice and healthy."
"I see you've been easing up into the high-life." Geralt observed as he rode with the baron towards the drinking den.
"Only where it matters, Geralt." Vandal said, leading the way to Uptown Cintra. There, the pair rode up to a fine establishment situated next to a large building still undergoing construction.
As Geralt handed Roach's reins over to the stable-boy, he noticed that the building's sign was among the first to be put in place. The Golden Harpy, it was named. The golden and red letters hung beneath a gorgeous naked harpy, her elegant wings outspread to welcome her soon-to-be patrons indoors. Geralt had been to many places, chief among them were certain establishments that specialized in catering to certain services.
He knew what a future brothel looked like, and he listed it down as one other reason to visit the city more often.
"It was Serah's idea."
"Huh?" Geralt said, looking up from his goblet as Vandal poured both of them a drink from the fine red Lyrian wine.
"The Golden Harpy, Serah's idea. Saw you looking." Vandal explained, setting down the pitcher. "She wanted to give some of the refugee girls a chance to work in a respectable establishment, a safe environment. She figured that they'd be better off, 'specially since she's taking it upon herself to be the madam."
"You alright with that? Not judging, just asking."
"I wasn't. Still not, now that I think about it. But alas, she can be pretty stubborn if she doesn't get her way. Let me tell you, I can fight undead and dragons, but I can't do shit against a woman."
Geralt smiled, feeling a lot better with the sweet warmth of Lyrian Merlot slipping its way down his throat and into his gullet. "I heard you're a father now. Congratulations."
"Thanks, Geralt." Vandal nodded, smacking his lips together to savor the wine a bit. "I never thought I'd get to be one. Never before have I been so happy, so proud."
The witcher fell silent, his thoughts drifting off to past misgivings. The pride in Vandal's eyes over what he and those women created together... Geralt was happy for him, but it also made him feel a little sad. It was something he could never have, he knew and accepted this a long time ago. At times, it was easy to forget what the job was all about. Sometimes, it felt like he did it all for gold. But in moments like these, he was reminded about the why of it. What he did now, what he was doing now as a witcher, was to give men like Vandal a chance to have their own and live to see them grow.
"You named them yet?" Geralt asked.
"Yes. Averon and Reyncourt." The baron's smile grew, "I swear, they are the most beautiful little things you'd ever lay your eyes on."
Geralt, eager to change the subject, glanced down and noticed for the first time the tiny sack at his friend's feet. Vandal was carrying it around with him when they rode up from the inn. Curious, he inquired of its contents. "Hey, what you got there?"
"Oh?" Vandal looked down and picked up the sack to set it on the table. The sack was about the size of a man's head, and Geralt feared the worst. "This? Went back to the Amell Pass to check on Vilhemakkar. Didn't find the wingless bugger, but I did find this."
Vandal revealed the contents of the sack to be an egg, whose shell was like polished amber. Geralt put two and two together, blurting out the name with an astonished look on his face. "A dragon egg?"
"Not just any dragon egg." Vandal said. "It's a greater dragon's egg."
The astonishment on Geralt's face gave way to apprehension, "Where'd you find it?"
"I found it among a clutch of a dozen shattered eggs in Idlekkarnhamth's lair." The baron revealed, "No one was guarding it, so the lesser drakes were smashing them up and eating the gestating young. Horrible business, I had to stop them, so I did. Once I drove them off, I noticed this one and decided to take it home with me."
"And what exactly are you planning to do with it?" Geralt asked, setting aside his goblet.
"I'm going to give the egg to Dagorad." Vandal replied, his answer taking the witcher aback. Geralt had been against killing dragons unless absolutely necessary, but if there was one thing he detested most it was the thought of such a magnificent species being reduced to a household pet, which would be without a doubt the fate of the dragonling that hatches from the egg.
"Why the hell would you do that?"
"Wait wait, I know what you're thinking, but let me explain."
Geralt crossed his arms and reserved his judgement for later, allowing the baron to continue.
"People are afraid of dragons in this world, and I can't exactly blame them. But I was hoping that this egg would be the start of something different, a way to build a bridge between dragons and men. My people have done it and both races were able to coexist, the people of Cintra can do the same."
"You give people too much credit. There's only one way they see dragons are good for, and that's fighting in their wars. You're only going to give them a better way to kill each other, not live together."
"Not unless we show them different." Vandal insisted, "You might think me foolish for saying so, but I know this is the right thing to do. Dragons can learn how to shed their savagery from men, and men can learn how to act with dignity from dragons. Though worlds apart, the two were always meant to be together."
Geralt grimaced, clearly showing little approval for the baron's decision. "Do what you will. But mark me, no good will come out of this."
"Well, thanks at least for hearing me out." Vandal offered the last of the Merlot. "More wine?"
"Hm, why not?" The witcher pushed his goblet forward for another drink.
The two friends stayed a while, engaging themselves at times with idle talk then savoring the silence in between. When it was finally time for them to depart, Vandal paused to ask his white-haired companion something.
"Geralt, have you been having trouble sleeping?"
The witcher said nothing, showing his bloodshot cat-eyes as an answer.
"I fear those nightmares you've been having, along with everyone else I've spoken to, aren't a coincidence." The baron declared, "We've all seen the last World Shard fall from the sky, and the ill winds that came with it. It won't be long before I have to investigate what's happening beyond Cintra's shores."
"You planning on going on some expedition?"
"No, not right now. I'll need to speak with the king about it first. But... I want to know if that time comes, will you help me?"
Geralt smirked, "Well, I won't be helping you for free. You know that, right?"
"Ha, I figured as much." Vandal smiled, turning to leave. "See you around, witcher."
He picked up the sack, left a small gift of fifteen gold coins on the table for Geralt, then exited the den. The witcher gathered up the money, stuffed them into his pouch and headed out to hunt for contracts.
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