The inn, a room on the second floor.

In the cramped room, a clear, ringing whinny suddenly cut through the air, and the lovers tangled together froze mid-motion.

The man stiffened and turned his head, only to find that at some unknown moment a massive brown horse’s head had appeared beside the bed. Its copper-bell eyes, black as gemstones, stared straight at him with an unsettling, almost human curiosity.

“Hrhh…”

It whinnied again, then pulled its lips back, baring a row of large white teeth, and huffed at the man with a snorting breath that sent the brown hair at his temple fluttering aside.

The stunned man locked eyes with it, the two staring at each other for a few heartbeats. Then he jolted and rubbed his eyes hard.

“Baby… am I seeing things, or have I gone mad?”

“Darling? There’s a horse in the inn room? This has to be a dream.”

“Aaah!”the woman suddenly screamed and dove back under the covers. From behind the horse, two unfamiliar men abruptly stepped into view. The younger one gave an awkward smile. “Sorry for interrupting your good time. We’ll leave at once. Please, carry on.”

The man under the covers caught sight of Letho’s prehistoric-beast-like build and was instantly struck with terror.

“It’s over. What if I can’t get it up anymore?”He could already see the bleak rest of his life unfolding.

“Bastards! This is all your fault! Who are you, where did you come from?”

His eyes flicked to the newcomers’ eerie pupils and the longswords on their backs, and his voice shrank to a mosquito’s whine. “Why… why… why did you come into our room of all places? And these two horses… what is going on?”

“Well…“Roy rubbed his temples in distress. “That’s a lot of questions. Why don’t you just keep going…”

“Keep going? Do you really think I’m still in the mood?!”

The man’s roar cut off abruptly. The woman went slack as well. In their four pupils, two green inverted triangles surfaced at the same time.

“Remember,”the Witcher said, fingers deftly tracing Signs in the air, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. “You are still drunk on love. You have forgotten everything that happened in the last ten minutes. You will continue your ‘labors’ next, for two hours.”

“Hm?”Letho, maintaining the Signs in his hands, shot him a reproachful look.

“All right, fine, one hour then. A man can’t be done in under an hour.”

…

“Hah…”

The Witcher wiped away sweat that did not exist and, under a pile of astonished stares in the inn, led a horse each out onto the street.

“Kid, handing your blood over to some foreign Sorcerer for research, you’re not afraid he’ll curse you and make your life worse than death?”

“Relax. Azar Javed doesn’t look like a good man, and I’m not stupid enough to give him my own blood.”Roy gave Letho a reassuring look. With a personal space to work with, swapping things was far too easy. “We’ve killed plenty of Monsters along the way. I’ve got no shortage of blood samples.”

“I didn’t lie. It still counts as my blood, blood I carry on me.”

What kind of results could a Sorcerer possibly get by studying monster blood as Witcher blood? Roy found himself looking forward to it.

…

The streets of Cintra were remarkably broad, the hard blue-stone paving more than twice as wide as Vizima’s. The surrounding buildings were clean and imposing. Their walls were built of heavily textured stone, tall and thick, and the windows bore no superfluous ornamentation.

A crisp sea wind, tinged with salt, blew in from the west. The clothes and bearing of the people in the streets were utterly different from those of the inland folk.

Cintra lay by the sea and maintained a strong alliance with the Skellige Isles. Its people had inevitably taken on some of the islanders’ ferocity. Everywhere were men with headscarves and sleeveless tunics, thick arms bare, faces roughened and reddened by the sea wind.

Some bearded brutes even strode bare-chested through the streets, moving with long, forceful steps. Their talk was coarse, filled with women, drink, and ships. Now and then they would toss a crude remark at a passing woman, who would glare back without backing down, spit a string of foul curses, and stalk off.

For the first time, two Witchers walked into a crowd without drawing many strange looks.

“Not bad. The people of Cintra aren’t as small-minded as elsewhere,”Roy said, unable to resist a word of praise.

He remembered reading a record that, in years to come, Cintra would be breached by Nilfgaard. The royal family and nobility would all die for their country, choosing death over surrender.

On the day the kingdom fell, most of Cintra’s people did not submit to the invaders. The Nilfgaardian executioners did not give them the option anyway. Women killed their own children, men killed their wives, then took their own lives.

All of this together forged what history would later call the Cintra Massacre.

The account might have been exaggerated, but it was enough to show that Cintra was a land of iron and courage, with few cowards and fewer weaklings.

…

They continued on, both of them unconsciously letting their gaze drift northward, toward the lone cliff by the sea.

There stood a grand and imposing castle, home to Cintra’s current supreme ruler, Calanthe, the Lioness of Cintra.

Fragments of her life passed through Roy’s mind.

Her life was steeped in legend, ambitious to the core. Yet as a woman, she was not recognized by Cintra’s traditional nobility and could not rightfully take the title of king.

She wanted to bear a son to inherit Cintra’s throne and her own ambitions. However, after giving birth to Princess Pavetta, Ciri’s mother, she lost the ability to bear children due to a miscarriage. Her first husband, Roegner of Ebbing, took another wife known for her fertility, only to die not long after.

Rumors among the people claimed that Calanthe herself had poisoned her first husband to prevent any future loss of power.

Not long after Roegner’s death, Calanthe married her second husband, Eist Tuirseach of Skellige, her current consort. Eist was little more than an obedient figurehead, a king in name only. The real power of Cintra remained firmly in Calanthe’s hands.

As she grew older, Calanthe sought to secure her rule by having her beloved daughter Pavetta bear a son to inherit Cintra. Instead, Pavetta gave birth to a daughter who carried the Elder Blood, Ciri, and not long after met with an “unfortunate”shipwreck and vanished.

Now, the only blood relative Calanthe had left was Ciri. Unfortunately, the little girl still could not inherit the throne. The Witcher sensed that the ruler would soon begin searching for another puppet.

“By the count of days, little Ciri should be recuperating in the princely palace. It should be about now that Calanthe sends her to meet that fat fiancé.”

The Witcher was eager to visit the princely palace, to see the girl for himself and, through the threads of destiny, follow the trail to the Wolf School Witcher, Geralt.

The first step toward the revival of the Witchers.

Roy’s thoughts raced. Meanwhile, Letho led him through Cintra’s twisting alleys, weaving back and forth, following Viper School marks scattered on walls and tree trunks, until they arrived outside a remote, dilapidated courtyard.

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang…

Three knocks in quick succession, then two after a pause.

“Who…“A slightly shrill male voice came from inside after the knock. Letho, uncharacteristically, split into a grin.

“Drowners get steel. Old friends get wine. Open the door already, you idiot.”

Creak. The yellowed, weather-beaten wooden door swung open, revealing a face as stiff as carved wood, tied back with a red headband. Roy’s gaze lingered on it, a sense of familiarity stirring, then recognition struck.

Wasn’t this the Viper School Witcher Kael, who had arrived in Kagen Village with Letho half a year ago?

A moment later, another face emerged beside him, hooded and seven-tenths alike. That was Orin, Kael’s inseparable brother.

“Just look at him, what a handsome lad!”Orin shoved aside his cold-faced brother with a grin and warmly clasped the young Witcher’s hand.

“The fourth member of the Viper School, Witcher Roy. You’ve finally arrived.

A dim, dilapidated dwelling.

Four pairs of beast-like pupils glimmered with an unnatural light. Four Witchers sat around a Gwent board, mugs of beer heavy with malt and hops set within arm’s reach.

“Smack!”

The young Witcher slapped a Gwent card down hard onto the board, then bared his teeth in a grin at the hooded man opposite him.

“You lose.”

“Damn it!”Orin clawed at the back of his head in frustration. “Roy, tell me this straight. Did you lie about your age? Fourteen? You beat me, and twice in a row.”

“Unprecedented. A total defeat.”

After grumbling, Orin lifted his mug and drained it in loud gulps, wiped the foam from his mouth with his gray sleeve, then reluctantly drew a gleaming Gwent card from his coat.

“My precious hasn’t even warmed my hands yet, and you’ve already won it off me.”

“Now you know your place?”Letho mocked from the side, eyes full of scorn. “I warned you long ago, just drink and be done with it. You insisted on playing cards with this kid.”

“What do you know? Gwent shows a man’s character better than anything.”Orin snorted. “Hmph. Looks like the lad doesn’t know how to behave. No respect for his elders at all.”

He craned his neck stubbornly, staring Roy down.

“Listen carefully. Next round I’m taking it back. Kael, don’t you dare pull me away. We agreed on three rounds in rotation. What are you in such a hurry for? You won’t even let me vent a little?”

Roy smiled as he carefully put the Gwent card away. The card bore a familiar white-haired face, a character added to the decks by the Gwent Committee after the Blaviken Massacre years ago. Geralt of Rivia, that legendary Witcher. Where was he now?

The boy’s gaze shifted to the opposite side. Witcher Orin carried himself like a carefree, loudmouthed fool. Of course, it could be an act. After all, Roy had not known him long.

“Eighty-one years old, same age as Kael. Could it be that these two aren’t just brothers, but twins?”

Orin and Kael were comparable to Letho in attributes, still riddled with question marks. As seasoned Witchers, their combat strength far surpassed Roy’s. Aside from their differing appearances, their personalities could not have been more different.

Orin was warm, outgoing, and talkative. Kael was gloomy and silent, with a hooked nose and narrow eyes, as if he were forever turning schemes over in his mind.

“With personalities that contradictory, how did they manage to coexist for decades? Is blood really that binding among Witchers?”

“I almost forgot the real business.”Roy slapped his forehead and asked with some urgency. “Enough bickering, you two. How are Old Mole and Susan doing in Novigrad?”

“I thought you’d completely forgotten the old couple,”Orin shot him a sideways glance, and Roy showed a hint of embarrassment.

He really had neglected them. More than half a year apart, aside from a single letter, there had been no further contact.

“Relax, kid. Their vegetable stall in Novigrad is doing just fine. In fact, without you dragging them down, they’re living better than ever.”

“Is that so?”Roy let out a breath, relief crossing his face, mixed with an inexpressible sense of loss.

“They also asked me to bring you some good news. A surprise.”Orin looked at Roy with a half-smile, while his brother Kael’s gaze grew strange.

“What surprise?”

“Your dear mother Susan is two months pregnant. Next time you see them, you’ll have a little brother or sister.”

“Surprised?”

“Uh… pregnant? A brother or sister?”

Roy’s brows knit together, his emotions twisting into a knot. He stood frozen for a full ten seconds.

Then he let out a long breath.

“I’m not there with them. The old couple all alone. Having another child to liven things up, what’s wrong with that?”

The three Witchers sensed something amiss. They exchanged glances and left him in silence for a few minutes. Then Letho spoke gently, trying to comfort him. “Kid, you have to understand one thing. Once you chose the Trial of the Grasses, you said farewell to a normal life.”

“The world you live in, the people you associate with, they are completely different from the past decade of your life. Your path will drift farther and farther from your parents’, until there is no intersection left at all.”

“You’re saying I’ll cut ties with them?”Roy asked, a flicker of anger mixed with confusion.

“It’s not a moral question. We’re destined to wander. By the time you want to settle down, Old Mole and his wife, living as ordinary people, will already be gone.”

Letho sighed.

“You’ll understand someday.”

Roy lowered his head and fell silent.

Orin slid a mug of beer in front of him. “There’s one more thing I need to add to what Letho said.”

He pressed down hard on the young Witcher’s shoulder. “Right now, the overall climate in the Northern Realms is still hostile toward Witchers. No exaggeration, if you keep showing up around your parents, it will seriously disrupt their normal lives.”

“We’re not forcing you to choose. You just need to be prepared. As far as I know, no child who became a Witcher ever truly returned to their original family.”

“It only ever ends in a clean break.”

…

“All right, let’s set Old Mole aside for now. Back to cards.”

Roy shook his head, scattering the turmoil in his mind. These were things he would have to verify himself in Novigrad someday, to face his own heart directly.

“Sorry, all of you. I’m not in the mood to keep playing.”

“Drink, then. A newcomer has to drink with us until he drops,”Kael said, glaring.

“Sure, but allow me to ask one question first.”

Roy glanced at Letho. “I’ve followed Letho for over half a year, and I’ve heard him mutter nonstop about how the Viper School is on the brink of extinction. So we came to Cintra to save the School, to make some special arrangements?”

“Can you tell me just how dire things are? Letho, Orin, Kael. Are the four of us all that’s left of the Viper School Witchers?”

“See? I told you he’d ask this.”Orin puffed up and boasted to his brother.

“Kid, besides the four of us here, there’s the Viper School Witcher Kolgrim, roaming the world to recover the School’s lost weapons. And then there’s the strongest Viper School Witcher, Ivar Evil-Eye. He vanished twenty years ago and hasn’t sent word since.”

“As for the last two idiots, they’re not worth mentioning.”A trace of anger bled into Orin’s voice.

Kolgrim. Roy’s attention caught on the familiar name. In his memory, that man’s corpse would be found in White Orchard, but that was still ten years away. Whether he was alive or dead now was anyone’s guess.

“So that means there are still four to eight Viper School Witchers alive?”

In truth, that number was not small for a Witcher school. All Witcher schools were in decline.

“How did our School fall to this state? And was the Viper School academy located in the southern Nilfgaardian Empire?”

“So many questions, kid.”Orin snatched the mug in front of him and took a gulp, a deep melancholy flashing in his eyes. “The Viper School academy stood near Nilfgaard, in Tir Tochair, in a fortress called Gorthur Gvaed.”Pride surfaced on his face. “There was a striking tower there, coiled with a terrifying stairway, surrounded by a moat hundreds of feet deep. A fortress like a natural chasm.”

“Pity it still declined. The reasons are complicated.”

“First, in recent years the Nilfgaardian Empire has demanded ever stricter law and order,”Letho picked up the thread, his tone self-mocking. “Exceptional outsiders like us tend to slip beyond the law, and the Empire has little tolerance for that.”

“The Empire’s negative propaganda has made life for southern Witchers increasingly difficult. The people no longer trust us. To them, the Law of Surprise is filthy sorcery. They certainly won’t hand over their children as payment for training.”

“We even tried adopting war orphans, but people reported it as an evil practice.”

Roy nodded in agreement. Even in the North, Children of Surprise were becoming rarer, and prejudice against Witchers only deepened.

“With no soil left for Witcher academies in the South, decline was inevitable. Still, I firmly believe this can change. The misunderstandings between the people, the state, and Witchers will eventually be cleared.”

Letho clenched his fist.

“But what truly dealt the Viper School a fatal blow was the disaster twenty years ago.”

“A disaster? What disaster?”Records on the Viper School were scarce to begin with. Even its exact location was shrouded in mystery, let alone some catastrophe.

“It was a disaster caused by the Wild Hunt,”Letho said, looking at the young Witcher. “Kid, you know quite a lot, don’t you? You’ve heard of the Wild Hunt?”

Roy’s face darkened. Of course he knew the infamous Wild Hunt.

The bald Letho continued.

“In folk tales, the Wild Hunt is a host of immortal ghost knights. Rusted armor, lightning-shaped longswords, riding skeletal horses, sweeping across the sky in great numbers. They usually appear in winter, or on the long nights before war, ravaging the land, burning orchards and homes, carrying off the living. Mostly children.”

Yet Roy knew the truth well enough. The Wild Hunt were in fact the Aen Elle, a branch of the elves from another world.

They crossed countless worlds, masquerading as ghost knights, all to find the heir of the Elder Blood and reclaim their full power to travel through time and space.

“This is no mere legend.”Letho ground his teeth. “Over twenty years ago, because Lord Ivar Evil-Eye and two fools were absent, the Viper School failed to repel a Wild Hunt assault. Two children who had just passed the Trial of the Grasses were taken by the Wild Hunt’s army. From that moment on, the School had no successors and faced dissolution.”

“Wait.”Roy blurted out. “From the way you’re speaking, the Wild Hunt attacked the Viper School more than once?”

“That’s right.”Kael’s face was cold as frost. “Every School has its own trial of strength. For the Viper School, once every decade or so, we undergo a baptism by the Wild Hunt, to test newly made Witchers.”

“In fact, from the day the School was founded, the Wild Hunt was named our lifelong enemy. Our great founder and mentor, Ivar Evil-Eye, held a lofty ideal. To defeat the Wild Hunt and end the terror they bring to the world.”

“Kid, remember this. It is the ultimate goal of every Viper School Witcher, no less important than reviving the School itself.”

“I remember. I promise you, defeating the Wild Hunt will be my life’s pursuit.”

Roy spoke solemnly, making his vow. A question in his heart found its answer.

“So the Viper School preserves a vast number of records about the Wild Hunt. That’s why.”

The Viper School truly was a complex order. Masters of vicious assassinations, yet driven by a noble ultimate ideal.

“There’s something I’ve always been curious about.”Roy asked. “Why was Lord Ivar called Evil-Eye? Does the name have some special meaning?”No such surname existed in the Witcher world. It had to be something he coined himself.

“Because Lord Ivar…“Reverence shone in Letho’s amber eyes. “His eyes gained a unique ability during mutation. He could see countless other worlds. Thus the name ‘Evil-Eye.’”

“Through that Evil-Eye, he constantly witnessed the Wild Hunt’s ghost knights plundering, slaughtering, and conquering. Those specters became his obsession, the very reason he founded the School.”

So was the missing founder of the Viper School still alive?

Roy felt a stirring in his chest. Perhaps that lord was not dead at all, only lost in another plane.

“This time we came to Cintra because of the Wild Hunt?”Roy asked curiously.

“That is only one of the reasons,”Letho said, swirling the wine in his cup. “According to our investigation, in 1252 and 1253, the Wild Hunt appeared briefly in Cintra for two consecutive years.”

“Once or twice could be called coincidence. But three years ago, in 1258, the Wild Hunt descended on Cintra again. Repeated appearances in the same place within such a short span made us realize this was no accident.”

“Cintra must have something that draws the Wild Hunt, just as they crave young Witcher apprentices.”

Letho’s expression darkened. “We came to Cintra to uncover the Wild Hunt’s true intent. A Viper School reduced to so few people is absolutely no match for the Wild Hunt at the height of its power, we cannot confront them head-on…“He paused, then continued in a low voice. “We can only sabotage their actions in secret, weaken their strength.”

“But some accidents along the way, plus your Trial of the Grasses, delayed us until now before we could reach Cintra.”

“Fortunately, it seems the Wild Hunt has not succeeded yet. We are not too late,”Orin added from the side. They had arrived in Cintra a month earlier than the other two and had already conducted some investigation.

“The Wild Hunt’s objective?”Roy, sitting opposite, ran the two years mentioned by the Witcher through his mind. After a moment, a conjecture took shape. “1252, 1253, 1258. All three years are tied to the same thing.”

In 1252, Witcher Geralt resolved Duny’s curse in the Cintran royal palace and indirectly brought about Duny’s marriage to Princess Pavetta.

What drew the Wild Hunt should have been Princess Pavetta, who carried the Elder Blood.

The princess had erupted with magic during a banquet. At the time she was already pregnant, and the child in her womb was Ciri.

In 1253, Ciri, the Child of the Elder Blood, was born, and the Wild Hunt appeared again.

Then in 1258, Ciri returned from Skellige to settle in Cintra, staying constantly at her grandmother Calanthe’s side.

Seen this way, what the Wild Hunt sought relentlessly had always been the Elder Blood within her.

Even though he had pieced it together, Roy had no way to reveal the truth to the three Witchers.

This involved Ciri, the Child of the Elder Blood. The matter was of enormous consequence. In the present world, the number of people who knew this fact could be counted on one hand.

The more people who knew, the greater the chance the information would leak. If that triggered some chain reaction and caused a massive shift in future events, it was something he could not handle with his current abilities.

Here in Cintra, he would make contact with Ciri himself.

“Kid, do you know something you are not telling us?”After half a year together, how could Letho miss the change in his expression?

Roy sighed theatrically. “I was just thinking about where we should start if we want to trace the Wild Hunt to its source.”

“There has actually been some progress,”Orin said. “We spoke with residents who witnessed the Wild Hunt at different times. After piecing together their scattered descriptions, I realized the ghost knights appeared in Cintra while searching for a single person.”

As expected, Viper School Witchers were all keen investigators, already closing in on the truth.

“In 1258, a five-year-old girl from a village outside the city suddenly went missing, but an hour later she reappeared unharmed at her doorstep. Unfortunately, the child was so badly frightened that she lost her sanity and still cannot communicate normally. We used a few methods to pry some words out of her.”

Orin recalled, “That evening, she was playing near the woods not far from her house. Suddenly the sky filled with dark clouds, thunder and rain broke out, and she ran back in a panic. Behind her came strange shouts, whistles, neighing horses, and heavy hoofbeats. Then she felt her body grow light, as if someone had lifted her up.”

“She said she was carried onto a horse, a horse flying through the sky. When she looked back in terror, she saw a face behind a horrifying mask and blackened heavy armor. Vaguely, she heard a few words.”

“Cintra, the Child of Destiny… and one sentence with an odd pronunciation. We judged it to be a language similar to Elder Speech.”

“After that, she passed out. When she woke up, she was already outside her home. The girl had no physical injuries, but her mind was deeply scarred. She often had nightmares of the Wild Hunt’s terrifying faces. As payment, we healed her with the Axii Sign and made her forget those nightmares.”

“Now, this Child of Destiny is our target. No matter what, we cannot let the Wild Hunt get to her first.”

Roy lowered his head and took a deep gulp of beer. “What do you need me to do?”

“Tasks can wait. Drink a few more rounds first,”Orin said, sliding another cup of beer over to Roy.

“The Child of Destiny… people taken by the Wild Hunt, what kind of fate do they usually meet?”

“The Viper School has studied this for hundreds of years. As a member of the school, you are qualified to know these secrets,”Letho said. “The Wild Hunt moves through the world, spreading war, calamity, and slaughter like a plague. Their enterprise is not always smooth. When they run into opponents who are hard to deal with, they also suffer losses.”

“So they need fresh strength to replenish their ranks.”

“You mean…”

The Witcher lowered his head. “There was once a Viper School Witcher who passed mutation in the same cohort as us and was taken by the Wild Hunt. Later, during a battle with them, we saw him again.”

“Even clad in dark knight armor and a winged helmet, his flesh turned spectral, Heinz’s distinctive pupils and weapons were still there. Only his mind had been completely washed, turned into a puppet of the Wild Hunt.”

“Cases like this are not rare. Most converts fight for the Wild Hunt until death. A few lucky ones are, within their lifetime, ‘mercifully’ sent back by the Wild Hunt and returned to the human world.”

Letho’s gaze swept over like a blade. “When it comes to choosing targets, the Wild Hunt has a particular fondness for Witchers, young Witchers who are easy to reshape, or powerful Witchers. They believe weapons forged from Witchers are sharper.”

“You mean me?”

“That’s right. Kid, you could also be taken and brainwashed by the Wild Hunt.”

“Then if I were captured, would any of you have a way to save me?”

Letho shook his head. “Unless the Wild Hunt releases you of their own accord, I have never heard of anyone escaping their grasp by other means. But do not worry. As long as you do not expose yourself in their sight or block their advance, they will not notice you.”

After that, the three Witchers raised and traded cups, leaving the young man some time to digest what he had heard.

“There is one more thing,”Roy interrupted their small drinking say. “If I remember correctly, Letho, you said at the beginning that sabotaging the Wild Hunt was only one of the reasons for coming to Cintra. Is it time to tell me the rest?”

“That is not something you should be involved in.”

“If you do not tell me, I will not find out on my own?”

“Kid…“Orin, his eyes hazy with drink, suddenly stood up and grabbed Roy by the arm. “I heard from Letho that your aptitude is good and you learn fast. How is your swordsmanship coming along?”

“He hardly ever praises anyone. If you can catch his eye, I am sure you will not disappoint me.”

“Burp…“Orin belched, then staggered as he dragged Roy toward the door. “Come on, stretch your muscles with me, sweat out some of the booze.”

As he spoke, Roy was hauled along by brute force and dragged outside.

Bang. The door slammed shut. A moment later, from outside came the sound of flesh colliding with steel swords, along with the startled neighing of horses.

Kael lowered his voice. “There is something between the lines in what that kid says. Have you probed him with Axii?”

Letho’s expression turned strange at the question. On the very first day of the journey, he had tested him with Signs. Knowledge could be poured into his mind, but nothing could be extracted, as if there were some invisible counter-interrogation device in place.

“He is not quite like ordinary people, but he is trustworthy.”

Letho stared at the door, his gaze heavy. “We all know that the source of suffering in this world is not only the Wild Hunt, but also politics.”

“He is the most promising Witcher I have ever seen… I have thought about it… getting involved in those filthy dealings could ruin him.”

“That does not sound like you. Besides, he is clever enough. Sooner or later he will figure it out.”

“All right… keep it secret. Do our best to make him a proper Witcher,”Kael said helplessly, shrugging under Letho’s fierce stare.

“Let us talk about business. The messenger from Verden has been lingering in Cintra for a month now. Before long, they should send a princess over for an engagement. Also, the garrisoned forces at Erlenwald have added another Skanna Brigade. Is Calanthe planning to make a move?”

“We are not professional spies. Passing along the message is enough. The favor is repaid. From now on, cut off contact with them completely.

In the weed-choked courtyard.