Cahir knelt with his head bowed to the polished marble floor. He never really liked the castle, mainly because he heard his footsteps wherever he went and it drove him insane. He hated the constant chatter and the never-ending squawking of the seagulls near the coast.
He hated it so much he was pleased to leave, he had been so unbelievably content leaving Cintra behind to hunt the little Princess, he had been chasing her through most of the continent, desperate to finally bring her home to her rightful place by her father's side.

When Tissaia de Vries entered his head a year ago, all he thought about was the polished marble floors, how they shone when droplets of blood ran in streams from wounded bodies. He thought about how the blood dampened the sound of his footfalls when he made his way through the castle searching for the Princess.
Back then he had found himself longing for Cintra. He would do whatever it took to get back to the dreaded castle, he would do anything to return to the White Flame. He had not expected a warm welcome at all, he had expected to be put to death the moment he walked through the gates, but the Emperor had not yet arrived.

Cahir had breathed easier back then, knowing that Fringilla kept the order, that the elves were streaming in daily and that the elf queen would finally rally her forces and join the White Flame in the battle for the continent. He, who would save the world from the White Frost. Cahir had the utmost respect for the Emperor, and he had thought himself to be more than a pawn. He had been a Commander General, he had had power, position and a purpose-
'Cahir!'
Cahir lifted his head to meet the harsh eyes of Emperor Emhyr var Emreis. The Emperor extended a hand and bid him rise.
'Yes, my Lord?' Cahir kept his eyes firmly placed on the Emperor's neck. The last time he had kept eye contact he had ended up on the outskirts of Cintra, digging graves and spending his nights tending to reeking corpses. Even Gallatin knew he'd fucked up. Cahir had betrayed his Emperor, he had failed to do the one thing that was expected of him and he had paid for it. Dearly.
'Know that it gave me no pleasure to punish you for your mistakes,' the Emperor began, and Cahir almost believed him. 'However, I have need of you now.'
Cahir looked at him then, trying to keep his shock concealed. He'd expected to be punished even more, not to be given an assignment so soon.
'An assignment my Lord?' He questioned and moved his eyes back to the Emperor's neck.
The Emperor didn't answer, he just walked down from the dais where he had received him and began walking back and forth in front of the tall, stained-glass windows. The sun shining through them sent cascades of rippling lights washing over the marbled floors, and the Nilfgaardian emblem of the Great Sun was bathed in soft, shimmering light.
'There is a rogue mage,' he began, balling one hand into a fist and placing it behind his back. 'She has been slaughtering and burning scouts I've been sending to Temeria. I had finally managed to convince King Foltest to think about my proposal, but my scouts never returned. Later, I was told most of them ended up in shallow graves in Aedirn, burnt to death.'
'Did some of them reach Temeria, my Lord?' Cahir asked.
'One or two, they were wounded and died within days, as of now, King Foltest is more likely to continue to support Aretuza and the elves than to ally with Nilfgaard. I need you to deal with this mage. I need you to find her, kill her and bring me her head.' The Emperor said, staring out of the window down into the courtyard. 'Anything you need will be at your disposal. I would prefer you to go alone and use your considerable tracking skills better this time. Should you need men I will send them.'
Cahir noticed the stress on the word and dropped his gaze. He had failed him. If he failed him again-
'Yes, my Lord.' Cahir said and bowed his head. He was about to turn when the Emperor's hand locked around his elbow. He turned to meet the disappointed, furious gaze.
'Do not fail me again. Come back without her head and I will take yours instead,' he said softly and let go of his arm.
'Yes, my Lord.'

People had threatened to take his head so many times over the past two years he no longer thought of it as a genuine threat. The mages had tried to decapitate him, the mage he'd fought at Sodden had thrown a sword at his face, Yennefer had threatened to acquaint his severed head with the ground if he betrayed her-
Cahir steeled himself, straightened his back and walked out of the throne room.
'Cahir, you leave tonight.' The Emperor's voice rang after him, clanging off of the stone walls and reverberating through his head.

He'd expected more digging, fresh corpses or perhaps guard duty. He had not expected to be needed. Definitely not to hunt a mage, and a rogue one at that. Cahir walked down the levels of the castle until he reached the second to last. The Emperor had graciously provided him with quarters above the dungeons. He had spent three weeks getting used to the never ending screaming of the tortured prisoners below. He knew he was meant to be one of them. He had been one of them at Aretuza.

He was leaving tonight, he'd rather sleep in the woods than here. Everything would be provided for him.. If he was to search through the entirety of Aedirn heavy armor was out of the question, even with a horse. Leather would do. If the mage tried to burn him too he'd at least die quickly. He thought of Sodden Hill, the screams hadn't left him for months. The sounds of his men cooking inside their armor before they were reduced to nothing but ash- the smell of charred flesh and burning horses would never leave him. A year later the entire field was barren and refused to grow even a single straw. The poets called it 'the field of fury and fire', Cahir knew better. He called it what it was; slaughter.
He'd lost more men that day than in his entire tenure as commander general. He supposed he still was one, his rank had not been taken from him, only his dignity and his sense of purpose. He would not fail this time.

He walked over to the worn desk by one of the grimy windows that provided the room with the scarcest light imaginable. He shuffled away parchments, quills and books until he stared at the map of the Continent. He placed a finger on Aedirn and hummed as he sank down in a cushioned chair and dragged a hand through his hair. If the mage was in Aedirn, which he couldn't be sure of when he thought about it, how could he be sure she hadn't fled into the mountains or crossed the Yaruga river and gone south, for all he knew she could be living lavishly in Toussaint.

If the Emperor had stopped sending soldiers to die she'd stop burning them. What was she even doing? Was she keeping them from entering Temeria? Was she working for Foltest or was she doing something completely different?

Cahir's finger followed the Yaruga west. If she only burnt whoever crossed the river it would eventually lead her to Cintra. If she burnt any Nilfgaardian regardless of reason, he was fucked. She'd be able to tell in a second. If he was to kill her he needed the upper hand, she needed to believe him long enough for him to get close to her. He needed a plan.
The skies outside his window darkened, the sun sank lower on the horizon with each passing hour and he had still not figured out a plan. He went over everything he knew about mages over and over in his head. Bits and pieces of information he had pried from Fringilla and Yennefer.
Fire magic consumed the wielder, it fed on rage and hate. Crackling away at any lingering piece of humanity. The one who tortured the bard had said as much. If his intended target was anything like him- Cahir shuddered.
Yet, she only killed Nilfgaardians, as far as he knew. Either, she had been at Sodden and watched as Yennefer decimated his armies and continued her own little path of revenge to the east, or she was just a regular mage tired of invading soldiers and employed by the King of Temeria to further foil the Emperor's plans of conquest.

The latter was most likely he decided. The King of Temeria had the biggest reason to keep a rogue mage at his side, if he had decided against the Emperor's advances. Either way, he needed to get close to her, but first he needed to find her.
Cahir stood from the chair, massaged his sore neck and folded the map. He kicked open the small chest by the foot of his bed and grabbed his weapons. It was time to hunt a mage, it was time for him to finally redeem himself, time to finally prove to the Emperor that he could be trusted, and that he wouldn't fail him again.

Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach rode out through the Cintran gates as the night descended upon the Continent. He was clad in his training-leathers instead of the heavy bronze armor he usually preferred, his sword swung lazily at his side as he kicked his horse into a gallop. The road to Aedirn would take a few days, he had enough provisions until he got there, then he needed to spend coins if he needed more. The Emperor would send men if he needed them, he had said, but Cahir scoffed to himself. He was perfectly capable of dealing with a mage by himself. He had figured it out, he needed to leave his titles behind when he crossed the Aedirnian border. He needed to seem like any other wandering warrior if he found her, a bounty hunter perhaps? To raise her suspicions too soon would end his life. Whatever she was doing and whoever she was, she needed to trust him.
Luckily for him, Aedirn and the neighboring Kingdoms were all crawling with monsters. He could pretend to hunt monsters for coins long enough for her to turn her back on him, if that didn't work he'd figure something else out.

Cahir rode past Hochebuz hours later. He could already smell the scorched fields of Sodden Hill despite being leagues away from the castle. The smell made his horse uneasy and when he cleared the hill his horse panicked. He clamped his legs hard into the stallions' sides and tried to keep him steady as they made their way through the browning fields, he kept the reins tight as he led the horse over charred bones and littered pieces of armor melted and twisted. It astounded him how far the fire had spread. This wasn't as bad as the Hill itself. The fields here were somewhat healthy, his horse nibbled at tiny blades of growing grass when he felt like it. Cahir knew that if the horse tired out so would he, there was no way in hell he'd walk all the way to Aedirn so he took his time. He realized when he neared Dol Angra that the fields weren't a battlefield at all, the fields were a graveyard. The rotting, burnt and mangled corpses of Nilfgaardian soldiers soiled the very earth.

He'd only seen the burning from afar. He had felt the heat and heard the screams, but he had left with his life. Only to be captured by the rectoress of Aretuza mere hours later. She was looking for Yennefer, he had understood that much. He kept his mouth shut and only screamed when she promised him deep, unending pain. He never said a thing-

Cahir was wrenched from his reminiscing when he finally saw the mountains overlooking the Yaruga, the sun was rising when his horse whinnied at the sight of the running water. Cahir just patted the black beast and slid from the saddle. He had wine, plenty of it in skins tucked into his bedroll. He assumed water would be better given the distance he still had to go. The Commander General had just bent down to drink beside his mount when an ear-splitting scream followed by a growl made him stop. He whipped his head toward the sound and saw a woman running for him, eyes filled with terror as three growling, reeking ghouls scurried out of the copse of trees and straight for him. Cahir unsheathed his sword and reached for the girl. She turned away from him the second she reached him and snapped her fingers. Cahir was bathed in light from the ball of fire flickering in her open palm. His eyes darkened and his fist clenched around the hilt of his sword. The mage..