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TWL Chapter 459: Bloodlines and Bargains
🕑 Added 2025-06-18 00:42:25 +0000 UTCLove was too complicated a thing. What existed between Lann and Adda was brutally straightforward. Of course, considering the child’s curren
Love was too complicated a thing. What existed between Lann and Adda was brutally straightforward.
Of course, considering the child’s current value, there was no doubt that Adda would love them in the future—perhaps even develop some lingering affection for Lann in the process.
But that would be the extent of it. And that 'love' wasn’t something that existed now.
Even Foltest had to admit this logic made sense. So after glaring at Lann for a while, his breathing finally began to steady.
“I heard from Keira’s report that Ciri announced your engagement at the Restoration Ceremony?”
Lann nodded in acknowledgment.
“Well, you’ve got guts,” Foltest snorted coldly. “Everyone helped Cintra resist Nilfgaard, helped you rebuild your kingdom—and in the end, you pull a stunt like this. Lann, you’ve broken the promise you made at the Northern Summit!”
Lann raised his cup to cover his lips and replied, “You’re mistaken on two counts. First—resisting Nilfgaard wasn’t just about helping Cintra. It was about defending the entire North. And that, by now, is a widely accepted fact.”
"Second," Lann continued, "the promise I made at the summit was that ‘the future ruler of Cintra and your heir would be family.’ From Temeria’s perspective—I’ve kept that promise.”
Foltest slammed his hand down on the armrest again, ready to speak—but suddenly, a shiver jolted down the back of his neck like an electric current. The anger that had flared up from family matters instantly dissipated.
He narrowed his eyes, staring at Lann’s faintly smiling expression. “Lannister… what are you really planning?”
“Perhaps… you’ve already guessed part of it.”
Foltest studied Lann for a few more seconds, only to feel that those golden-lion eyes of his had suddenly become imposing, regal.
In the end, he looked away. “Do you know what triggered this conclave on Thanedd Isle?”
Lann nodded.
“With your status, there’s no real need for you to attend personally. You could’ve sent that druid of yours—or Triss—as your representative. So what are you up to?”
Lann gave a small, amused smile. “I’ve always been curious about the Brotherhood of Sorcerers. I simply wanted to take this opportunity to gain a deeper understanding.”
Even though he and Foltest now had a closer bond, it was far from the level of 'true allies'. Some matters were still best kept vague.
Foltest shook his head with noncommittal skepticism. “Temeria will send two delegates this time. You’ve already met my advisor, Keira. The other will be Vernon Roche, my special forces commander. If you need anything, speak with them.”
“I won’t be shy,” Lann said, raising his cup toward the king.
Foltest waved him off half-heartedly. “That’s enough. My orders have been given. Coordinate with them as needed.”
That was clearly a dismissal.
Everything that needed to be said had been said. Lann had no desire to stay and wear out his welcome in front of this scowling face.
However, just as he turned to leave, something crossed his mind.
“Your Majesty?”
“What now?”
“Now that our relationship has become… more intimate,” Lann said, carefully choosing his words, “you should know that Cintra is currently placing great emphasis on arcane studies. Because of that, we’ve learned many things most people know nothing about.”
Foltest had just begun closing his eyes to rest—he clearly didn’t want to look at Lann a second longer. But upon hearing this, he opened them again.
“Are you familiar with Velen?”
“You’re asking if I know one of Temeria’s provinces?” Foltest let out a cold laugh. “Thanedd Isle lies within Velen’s borders. But if you’re hoping to get help from Velen, don’t bother. That place…”
“It’s vast, sparsely populated, and harsh—maybe even worse than Kaedwen,” Lann interrupted, dodging the dismissal. “But what if I told you that, beyond natural causes, something else is responsible for all that?”
Foltest sat upright. “How much do you know?”
“I’m not sure where you stand on matters of faith,” Lann said with a shrug, “but these days, there are still beings who’ve survived since the Elder Times—ones who like to call themselves ‘gods'.”
“There are three such entities in Velen. They call themselves the Ladies of the Wood, and they’ve been violently preventing the region’s development.”
“Regardless, Velen lies on a key trade route. If we were to establish a proper foothold there, it has every potential to become a port city rivaling Maribor. Eliminating those three monsters would go a long way toward unlocking that potential.” Lann’s tone was earnest. “You could consider this… a gift to Temeria.”
Foltest stared at him for a long moment. “And how do these Ladies of the Wood compare to your ice giant or that dragon of yours?”
“A well-trained army is more than enough to deal with them.”
The King of Temeria gave a noncommittal nod and waved him off.
This time, Lann truly did take his leave. Under the wary stares of the guards, he let out a long breath.
He studied his hand carefully, though even he wasn’t sure what he was looking for.
At that moment, one thought echoed in his mind—
For the first time, I have a child whose life won’t begin with someone trying to claim their bloodline or bind them to fate.
Not like the first.
He hadn’t dared search for the one born in Brokilon—not yet.
The Elder Blood ran through both, but only one was now shielded by a kingdom…
And soon—very soon—he would strike at the Wild Hunt’s heart.
Then maybe… just maybe… it would be safe to begin looking.
...
City of Brokilon.
Levin, once Lann’s squire and now the city’s mayor, set his pen down and exhaled deeply.
The document before him was somewhat unusual—it concerned a special day in Brokilon: Tree Planting Day.
This holiday had originated from a pact between Duke Lannister and the dryads of Brokilon. Under its terms, the dryads agreed to open their forest resources to Cintra and to cease the practice of transforming human children using dryad magic. In return, the people of Brokilon were to assist the dryads in resolving their reproduction issues.
For the Brokilon folk, it was practically all gain, no sacrifice.
Eventually, a collective day was chosen for entering the forest. With a single flamboyant stroke of his pen, Duke Lannister gave the event its name—Tree Planting Day.
Levin remembered that the Duke had smiled with a rather cryptic expression when naming it.
He took the holiday seriously, knowing how highly the Duke valued his relationship with the dryads. The key to it all lay in what the dryads possessed—Brokilon Water.
Even in a world where druids and sorcerers now brewed powerful potions, the healing methods of the dryads remained uniquely effective.
As far as Levin knew, the Duke had always coveted the other, more mysterious effects of Brokilon Water. He had just never made a move—always saying the time wasn’t right.
Levin wanted to help the Duke seize that 'perfect moment'—and if nothing else, he was determined to maintain a strong relationship with the dryads until then, ensuring the Duke could act freely when the time came.
[Knock, knock.]
A soft rapping sounded at the door as the mayor’s secretary stepped in.
“Has anything unusual happened around the forest lately? Any poachers or illegal logging?”
It was a routine question. Around Tree Planting Day, someone always tried to take advantage of the festivities to stir up trouble near the woods.
The secretary shook his head. “The patrols have been reinforced more than once. Even members of the Order of the Lion have been volunteering to help. Outsiders don’t even get the chance to encounter the Ladies of the Forest—they’re caught and thrown in our dungeons before that. They’re currently awaiting your presence for a joint sentencing.”
He handed Levin a stack of papers—names of the culprits and the results of their interrogations.
Levin looked down and read through them in silence.
“…However,” the secretary suddenly hesitated.
“Speak. No matter how small the matter, if it concerns Brokilon, I need to know!”
The secretary immediately lowered his head. “I wasn’t sure if this counted as significant. I wasn’t going to trouble you with it at first…”
“Normally, outside Tree Planting Day, our people never get to see the Green Ladies. They still keep their distance from us… But recently, some of the herbalists who’ve entered the forest have been spreading strange rumors: they say they’ve been seeing the Three Young Ladies near the forest's edge more and more often.”
“They aren’t avoiding our citizens. In fact, on several occasions, those herbalists even saw the Three Young Ladies accompanied by what seemed to be a trained escort. And among them was someone said to be the Silver-Eyed Queen’s younger sister—Ellie.”
“The herbalists found this suspicious. What kind of young dryads would require protection from the Queen’s own sister? Are they the Queen’s children? But wasn’t it said the Queen lost her ability to bear children long ago?”
Levin listened to the report in silence, lost in thought.
