The Traveler: Part 1

Chapter 18

"As far as we elves are concerned, Ithlinne is more explicit: only those who follow the Swallow will survive. The Swallow, the symbol of spring, is the saviour, the one who will open the Forbidden Door, signal the way of salvation. And make possible the world's rebirth. The Swallow, the Child of the Elder Blood."

-Crevan Espane aep Caomhan Macha, Aen Saevherne in conversation with Geralt of Rivia, Witcher in the ruins of Tir ná Béa Arainne

"When can I expect the package?"

"I sent some of my most discreet agents to deliver it to the usual place."

"Good. The bottle I have is running low and the patient should continue with their regular dosage. As soon as we have the delivery, word will be sent. Too bad you can't just give me the formula. It would make this so much easier," jested the Nilfgaardian sorceress. She reached to her left and adjusted a crystal of her megascope in order to sharpen the picture.

The Queen of the Valley of the Flowers concealed a scoff at the suggestion that this relatively young human sorceress could brew such a concoction of extreme difficulty. It often disgusted her how prideful even Nilfgaardian mages, who were known for their modesty in comparison to those of the North, could be. But she wouldn't show it. The elves of Dol Blathanna were at the merciful will or whimsy of the Nilfgaardian Empire and as powerful as the elven sorceress was, she had to behave thusly. I would rather be burnt by lime than share elven magic with you.

"Unfortunately, this isn't a cake recipe that can be scribbled on a piece of paper and simply carried out by following instructions. I have spent over 75 years perfecting it," Francesca Findabair replied diplomatically. The potion in question was a rather complicated serum infused with dimeritium carefully concealed. A more favorable trade deal, as was decided by Emperor Voorhis, was now contingent on the elven queen's cooperation in such delicate matters. Once, the Daisy of the Valley might have felt bad ensuring a fellow sorceress experienced frequent bouts of paranoia and a mild disruption in her magical abilities, but now it was her duty to her people to protect them. The formation of the Lodge of Sorceresses -now Sorcery- was to safeguard and advance all things magical. A goal that Francesca had once aspired to. Now she only cared about the elves and to the hells with the dh'oine.

"Of course I understand that. Please believe my sincerity, Francesca, when I say there is much magic that human mages are far from being able to perform. And as a courtesy to you and out of respect to the elves, I'd like to give you a bit of information. There is a growing degree of resentment outside of the capital against the elves. Some say that they are to blame for Nilfgaard having lost the war, because of your lack of participation."

"And are you of this opinion, Cynthia?"

"I am merely relaying the current sentiment among the more...plebeian members of Nilfgaardian society. Perhaps it is something that will pass. Perhaps not. If it continues to grow, I suspect there is little the Emperor will or can do."

"I shall take it under consideration. Now if that concludes all matters?" asked the elven queen.

The Nilfgaardian sorceress bowed her head.

"Va fail, Cynthia."

"Goodbye Francesca."

The queen removed the crystals from her megascope and walked over to a cherry-wood cabinet. While returning the crystals to their places in a metal stand, she looked over to where Ida Emean aep Sivney was standing but couldn't be seen, shrouded by an invisibility spell. The vermilion-red-headed sorceress materialized once the crystals of the megascope were safely in their places.

She could see the tension in the queen's brow. That Cynthia was now a deciding member in the Lodge of Sorcery made Francesca's betrayal all the more dangerous. And what was dangerous to the queen was dangerous to all the elves on the Continent.