The Divine Hunter - Chapter 542

Chapter 542: More Power

[TL: Asuka]

[PR: Ash]

On the northern part of the lonesome island of Faroe, a lad and a young lady were on a black reef of Harviken Port, the sun shining upon them.

“Don’t just stand there, Hjalmar. Ain’t gonna catch a fish standin’ ‘ere like a statue. Move somewhere else, for Freya’s sake.” A freckled girl with short red hair and a hard jawline sat on the reef, staring at the empty basket. She chuckled. “Ya keep fishin’ in the same spot, and yer not gettin’ anythin’ ever.”

“Stop yammerin’, Cerys. Yer my sister, so ya listen to me! Ya gotta work with me ‘ere!” The lad was tall, had broad shoulders, some stubble, and a scar under his right eye. “Now toss ’em pickled shrimps and fish, Have a feelin’ some marlin’s gonna bite soon.”

“As if I’ll listen to ye, ya big oaf. Tide’s dippin’ soon. You’d better not waste any time. And we’re at the coast. Ain’t no marlins ‘ere. Minnows, maybe.”

“Ye sharp-tongued tomboy.”

“I’m the sparrowhawk o’ Crach!”

“No, ye a tomboy!”

“And ye a big oaf!”

The siblings stopped arguing abruptly. Like bristled cats, they leapt high into the air, then they turned around. A flash of white light burst in the air, and three silhouettes appeared out of nowhere.

Sunlight shone on the silhouettes, revealing who they truly were. In the center was a cloaked lad. On his left was a pregnant woman, and on his right, a beautiful girl. They met eyes with the siblings.

“Calanthe? Aintcha at Bran’s place?” Cerys’ jaw dropped. “What’s goin’ on ‘ere?”

Calanthe smiled bitterly. My. The girl’s not even born yet, and already she’s pulling a prank on me.

Their teleportation failed. They deviated from their intended destination.

Hjalmar noticed the girl on the left. She had eyes as verdant as prairie grass, and her features looked oddly familiar. Hjalmar’s breathing was getting ragged. “Is that you, Ciri?”

“Oh, Hjalmar! Cerys! Been years! You’re so tall now!” Ciri released herself from Roy’s grasp and trotted toward the siblings. She stood closer to them and compared their heights, then she gave them a hug. Proudly, she held her head high. “That was a teleportation spell I learned. So, are you impressed?”

“Wait? Ye can cast spells now? When did that happen?” Cerys looked surprised.

“Long story. Now I’m a magical princess! So what were you guys doing?”

“Fishin’ competition. Hjalmar lost, obviously. By a wide margin.”

“Don’t listen to ‘er, Ciri. So, ya here to finally marry me like ya promised?” Hjalmar stared at the beautiful Ciri, his eyes burning with passion.

A few years ago, he and Ciri had an ice-skating competition, but he ended up breaking both his hands and legs, and he got himself a scar on his face. After the accident, Ciri stayed by his side, reading books out loud and chatting with him.

They promised to get married eventually, but his father, oh, in all his cruelty, broke apart the lovers.

The ever fearless magical princess, Lion Cub of Cintra, blushed. She was mortified by the childish promise she made.

“Ah, shut it, ye mangy cur. That promise o’ yers is nothin’ but shit.” Cerys stepped in to clear the awkward air. “Wanna play, Ciri?”

“Ooh, yes. Loser drops down for a thousand squats.”

Roy was a little miffed. What am I, chopped liver? “You can have your competition later. Come here, Ciri. You were thinking about other stuff just now, weren’t you? That’s why we came here instead.”

“Sorry, Roy. Couldn’t help thinking about them.”

“Who’s that guy? Why’s he orderin’ ye around?”

“He’s my good friend. See ya around. I gotta go back.” Ciri waved the siblings goodbye and retreated to the witcher’s side. She held his hand. “I’ll be staying with Bran for the time being. Come over.”

Roy held Calanthe’s hand. “Alright, you two. Close your eyes. No distractions this time. Eist’s grave. Remember, his grave.”

“Roy, can we go anywhere if we just link hands? Anywhere we can imagine?” Something glinted in Calanthe’s eyes.

“I’m not sure. I’ve never had any experience with teleportation of this level. It’s incredibly fast, and there’s no spell or waypoint needed. You can go anywhere you think. Aside from the slight dizziness, this is perfect.”

Roy was a little shocked by the potential three bearers of the Elder Blood could have. Perhaps this is the higher power Freya mentioned. So I don’t even have to steal their blood. Ciri’s like a sister to me, and the unborn baby is my Unexpected Child. We just have to work together if we want more power. Not like they’re going anywhere.

Waves crashed upon the reef. The trio was swallowed by another burst of light. Hjalmar and Cerys stared at the air, flabbergasted.

“Well, whatcha waitin’ for? Leave yer stupid fish. Get Falc. We’re gettin’ to An Skellig right now. I’m goin’ to get my chance at marryin’ Ciri. Bran and Crach are gonna witness that too.”

***

Just as Roy suspected, they still weren’t at their destination. Instead, they were in a corridor. A brightly-lit corridor. A castle’s corridor.

The ground was draped in a luxurious red carpet. On the wall were two kinds of flags. One, flags with ruby pendants, and two, flags with the white lily of Temeria’s emblem.

Ciri’s eyes shone with excitement, but she quickly shook her head at the stern witcher. “Not me this time!”

“I apologize, Roy. That was me.” Calanthe stared at the flags. “We are now in the center of Sodden, the castle of the previous king, Ekkehard. It is now under the rule of Foltest, of course. This is also the place where the negotiations are taking place. I came here once a few years ago, so…”

“They don’t call you the lioness for nothing. I should praise you for sheer bravery alone. You’re practically giving yourself away to the kings who would hunt you down should they know you’re alive. And not just giving yourself away too, in this case. Pray there are no other people around here.”

“I just wanted to see how the talks are going. I won’t rest easy until I do.” Calanthe pursed her lips, longing flaring in her eyes. “It was just a fleeting thought, but now we’re here.”

Roy put a finger to his lips and took the ladies to a storeroom in the corner of the corridor. He leapt into the air and hung on the ceiling like a lizard, then he climbed away swiftly.

A soldier was approaching the corridor, but then someone loomed over him. He saw a green triangle, and his eyes lost focus. The soldier murmured something to the witcher.

“All ten kings of the northern kingdoms and their consultant for magic are gathered here in this castle along with Nilfgaard’s emissary? And Vilgefortz is present as well?”

Roy gazed at the conference room at the end of the corridor. Eight armored soldiers stood sentry. Judging from the crests on their crests, they were from different kingdoms.

An urge seized the witcher. If I were to summon Leviathan right now, I wonder if I could flatten all the leaders of the Continent in one go. Roy then shook his head, chuckling at his foolish idea. Vilgefortz and the sorcerers would take Leviathan down easily.

The witcher tried to approach the conference room, but halfway through the journey, he felt the circulation of his mana slowing down to a crawl. Something invisible in the air was stopping his mana’s circulation.

The whole door’s made of dimeritium. Of course there would be anti-magic mechanisms for a summit like this. Teleport and Blink won’t work, then. Roy gave up on the eavesdropping and went back to Calanthe.

“Sorry, but this place is dangerous. We can’t stay here.”

Calanthe looked a little disappointed, but she nodded in understanding. “Someday, I’ll reclaim my kingdom through my own efforts.”

“Let’s go.”

They linked hands again, and this time, Roy was the one who was distracted. The silhouette of a certain lady appeared in his mind.

The trio flew off as a blinding flash of light.

At the same time, the meeting was still going on, and the kingdoms were split into three factions. On one side, it was the alliance of the northern kingdoms, where rulers with crowns and different capes sat.

The most handsome of them was Foltest of Temeria. There was also the king of Redania, Vizimir II, the beautiful Queen Meve of Lyria and Rivia, pot-bellied Demavend, king of Aedirn, and mustached, burly Henselt, king of Kaedwen, all sitting in the first row.

Standing beside them were the consultants for magic, though they certainly looked like they were dressed for a beauty pageant rather than a peace talk. Among them were Keira, Triss, Philippa, and Sabrina.

The second row was for kings from smaller kingdoms like Brugge, Kerack, and Verden. The hieronymus for Eternal Fire was present as well.

There was but a small group of people representing the South. Current governor of Cintra, Menno, who was in black armor, emissary of Nilfgaard, Shilard Fitz-Oesterlen, who was writing furiously, and a few sorcerers. One of them was Fringilla Vigo, whom Roy almost killed. They were unfazed and calm.

Compared to them, the North had the numbers, and yet they looked grim and solemn.

Menno was smiling, smug and gloating. “Your Majesties, after two days of meticulous negotiation, we have finally reached an agreement. Allow me to reconfirm the main agenda of the agreement.” Standing in the hole in the center of the round table was slender, black-shirted Vilgefortz. He cleared his throat, his voice booming enough for the leaders to hear.

“First, Nilfgaard’s army will retreat from Upper Sodden and return the land to its ruler, King Foltest.”

Meve fiddled with her ruby necklace, her bee-stung lips contorting. Temeria gets the advantage again?

“Two, from the day of the agreement’s signing, Cintra and its vassal states, Verden and Attre, will belong to Nilfgaard, becoming its northern province fully under its rule. Brugge, however, has already been cut off from Cintra, becoming Temeria’s land instead.”

Foltest smiled, but the other kings looked dark, especially the kings of Aedirn and Kaedwen. They stared at Foltest’s profile, fire flickering in their eyes. He can have it. He’s the nephew of Ekkehard, after all. Not to mention Brugge is right in the middle part of Temeria. Not like any other kingdom can have control of it.

“Third, Nilfgaard must come up with recompense for all Northern Kingdoms save for Temeria. The amount will be based on the number of men who have fallen in battle, and the standard payment has been written out in the agreement…”

Menno glanced at the amount written on the agreement and stroked his bushy beard. The amount was nothing for the powerful empire. If it weren’t for the fact the kingdoms wanted to melt the florens and turn them into another currency, he’d be happy to pay them more and double down on the economic takeover.

The rulers looked a little better now. At least they had some consolation prize.

“Fourth, Nilfgaard’s soldiers and fleet are not allowed to take even one step across the northern coast of Yaruga. Verden will have its own army to defend its borders. And more importantly, Nilfgaard cannot have more than thirty thousand soldiers stationed north of Amell, or the North has the right to view it as a precursor to a full-blown invasion, giving them full right to launch a preemptive strike.”

Shilard heaved a long sigh. That’s going to be problematic.

“Fifth, from the day of the agreement’s signing, the North and the South agree to a ten-year ceasefire. Should any side launch an attack, then the agreement is null and void.”

The kings sat up straighter.

“And now it is time to sign the agreement, Your Majesties.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? I’ll go first, then.” Foltest straightened his crown and unfurled the agreement, then he signed his name. Aside from Nilfgaard, Temeria gained the most from the agreement. Now Brugge and Sodden were under its rule. However, Temeria had also paid the heaviest price in the war, losing ten thousand men in the process.

The other kings exchanged looks with their consultants, and rustles of quills over paper scratched the air.

***

Vilgefortz slowly scanned the kings. With a powerful, booming voice, he said, “If the bloodshed caused in the Battle of Sodden has taught us one thing, it is that peace is always hard-earned. Please treasure it, Your Majesties. Should anyone dishonor the terms of the agreements, then they will make an enemy of all the rulers here.”

The strongest member of the brotherhood of sorcerers then also issued a warning to the rulers of the kingdom. “And they will also make an enemy of me and the North’s magical community. I am the one who spearheaded this conference, and should any of you renege on the agreement, then I apologize, but you will not leave unscathed.”

Most kings shrugged the warning off. The northern brotherhood would help the North anyway. All of their consultants for magic were part of the brotherhood.

Vilgefortz heaved a sigh of relief. He was happy with the rulers’ actions. Suddenly, he looked at the room’s entrance, and the sorcerer massaged his forehead. Inexplicably, a feeling of loss filled his heart, as though he just missed something important enough to change his destiny.

***

This marked the third teleportation, and Roy found himself landing in the place he wished to go. It was an island filled with nature’s gifts. It was like a gigantic pillar jutting through the waves of the sea. The island was filled with ziggurats, spiral paths, meandering stairs, platforms, lush gardens, and beautiful woods.

Majestic white towers were scattered across the greenery, leaning on rocks. There was also a building with a circular top surrounded by galleries.

Standing on top of the island was an ancient tower stretched into the skies—Tor Lara, or Gull’s Tower.

The trio landed in the lower part of the island, where a quiet courtyard stood. Lily pads sat in the pond across them, dewdrops sliding across them. A gust of breeze danced across the courtyard, and the droplets of water scurried into the pond below. An old willow tree was swaying its slender leaves over the pond.

Roy looked past the low walls, where the greyish-green seas crashed. The waters reflected the sunlight, shimmering under the skies, and white sails dotted the watery expanse. The other side of the island had a bridge. Beyond that bridge was a stronghold of high walls and towers with sharp, shining tops.

“Gors Velen.” Roy let go of Calanthe and Ciri, then he looked around the quiet courtyard. So where’s the person I had in mind? The mountainous structure extending from the sea is Thanedd, then.

“The place Yennefer studied the arcane arts? Then the towers must belong to Aretuza.” Ciri stared at the white towers, her interest piqued.

“Why did you bring us here, Roy?” Calanthe nervously held her granddaughter. “Yennefer is teaching Ciri herself. My granddaughter will not join Aretuza.

“Don’t worry, I’m just here to see a lady.” Roy said, “You two got to go to where you like, so I should get my turn. No sexism in this household.”

Calanthe could not argue with that.

Ciri, however, pouted and shot the witcher a glare. “Hey, you got your turn first. I know you did, Roy.”

“No, I did not. Now hold your grandmother. We’re going to the aca… de…” The witcher found himself tongue-tied. He turned his attention to the swaying willow tree and the pond before it.

Four naked arms suddenly popped up from the pond. Two were tanned, while two were white as snow. Glimmering droplets of water trickled down the arms and drenched the ground, then two beautiful faces appeared through the surface, situated between the arms.

One was petite and oval and looked no older than sixteen. She was fair and had a lovely face. Her hair was brown, drenched, and plastered to the back of her head. Her eyes were big and shining with childish innocence. Her nose was petite, and so were her luscious lips. She had a little baby fat in her cheeks, lending a hint of cuteness to her.

That face dragged up some memories. Ah, the girl from Aldersberg has grown up as well.

‘Casiga/Toya

Gender: Female

Age: Sixteen years old

Status: Student of Aretuza

HP: 70

Mana: 180

Strength: 5

Dexterity: 5

Constitution: 7

Perception: 7

Will: 7

Charisma: 8

Spirit: 8

Skills:

Source (Passive), Meditation Level 2, Frozen Arrow Level 2, Icicle Armor Level 2, Fireball Level 2…’

***

The other woman had rose-red lips and eyes as blue as the deep sea. Her crimson hair danced like wildfire under the shine of the golden sun. She was as beautiful as a goddess.

***

Noticing the look on Roy’s face, Ciri felt like pulling a prank. “Grandma Lytta!” she shouted.

The ladies in the pond had their attention grabbed, and they turned to Roy. Casiga gasped and shrunk into the pond. The other sorceress, however, laughed and got up, making a splash.

Lytta came out of the pond.

Ciri stared at the lovely lady before her. Her skin was smooth, her body more curvaceous than any nymph’s or statue’s. It was like staring at a sculpture made by the gods, the lines as voluptuous as could be.

The girl looked at herself, then she turned her attention to her pregnant grandmother. Ciri bit her lip. Oh wow. I am so lacking in these departments.

At the same time, a black dress covered Lytta up. “Roy, Ciri, and this must be Queen Calanthe.” Lytta approached them and held Roy’s arm, her hair brushing his cheek. It had a unique scent, and Lytta’s gaze was curious.

“Trust me when I say this is an accident.” Roy turned around and smiled awkwardly.

Lytta didn’t even blink.

“Alright, fine, I came to see you. Tested out some new abilities with Ciri and the queen.”

Calanthe held her lower back and frowned, a hint of exhaustion tingeing her face.

“What new ability?”

“Long story.” Roy turned to the pond and met eyes with the young sorceress who was staring at him furtively, half her head still hidden underwater. “Toya? Or should I call you Casiga now?”

“Y-You still remember me, Roy?” Dimples formed on Casiga’s cheeks as a smile stretched across her lips. The rims of her eyes went red, her voice trilling with delight, and also cracked from joy.

“We made a promise, didn’t we?”

“Come on out, Casiga. You’ve missed him so much, haven’t you? And you even made a promise. Come out and meet your dear lovely Roy.” Lytta smiled at Roy, but there was fire in her eyes.

Roy tried his best to stay unfazed, and he turned away from Lytta’s death stare.

Lytta let him off the hook.

For now.

“The queen seems to be worn out. Come. We should find a better place to talk.”