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TWL Chapter 443: Fracture of the Elven Dream
🕑 Added 2025-06-07 00:24:31 +0000 UTCFigures painted in vibrant color flickered across the canvas. Even in the coarse texture of oil painting, Francesca was rendered with striki
Figures painted in vibrant color flickered across the canvas.
Even in the coarse texture of oil painting, Francesca was rendered with striking beauty. Golden and teal lines traced the contours around her, highlighting her unique elven aura.
“I’ve seen the Children of the Elder Blood, Eredin,” Francesca said.
“That’s why I’m here,” replied the knight in skeletal armor standing opposite her.
He was tall—taller even than Francesca, who was considered quite tall for a woman, standing at roughly 1.7 meters or more. Yet she barely reached this knight’s chest.
In the painting, this knight was surrounded by weapons glowing in icy blue and black, and his eyes shimmered with a crimson glow.
Then, he removed his helmet, revealing the strikingly handsome face of an elf.
“For those of us who can now only act through the power of the White Frost, coming to this world is no easy feat,” said Eredin, the Wild Hunt knight from another world. “Each time we travel between realms, the White Frost draws closer to our homeland.”
“But you still lead your troops on campaigns across other worlds, plundering resources from them, don’t you?” Francesca retorted.
“If this goes smoothly, I’ll regain the power to traverse space and time. Then, all obstacles will vanish.”
Eredin gave a cold chuckle, tacitly admitting to her accusation. “Tell me what you know—and your plan.”
Francesca lifted her chin slightly.
“I saw the two Children of the Elder Blood with my own eyes, just a few days ago,” she emphasized. “A male and a female.”
She then relayed to the elven knight of the other world everything that had transpired during the meeting on this side.
“The Thanedd Island Conference?” Eredin repeated the term.
“This is a golden opportunity,” Francesca said. “One of the Children of the Elder Blood now commands the power of an entire kingdom, while you can only send a limited force into this world. Under such conditions, even with our Aen Seidhe forces added in, it would be hard to shake his rule over Cintra.”
“But this conference will keep him in an unfamiliar place for a long time, and at most he’ll only bring a personal guard with him,” she stressed. “This is our best chance. Once we capture him, Cintra’s defenses will be greatly weakened. Then I’ll join your forces in raiding their capital and abducting Cirilla.”
“Two Children of the Elder Blood—Cirilla will be yours. I know you’ve long planned to have Auberon’s descendants inherit the Elder Blood.”
“You want that Lann?” Eredin asked, surprised. “I heard he’s already become some kind of… Witcher? Lost his ability to reproduce. What use do you have for him?”
“He possesses extraordinary political influence. I can use him as the first bargaining chip in our counterattack against the humans.”
“You Aen Seidhe aim to regain the power of dimensional travel, yet you still concern yourselves with petty conflicts of this world?” Eredin shook his head, then offered a more pragmatic suggestion. “Perhaps you could draw his blood to forge a new Dimensional Gate. With Avallac’h and Ida Emean both among your sages, and the power of the Elder Blood flowing within him, it’s not outside the realm of possibility.”
Francesca responded coldly, “The blood of our Aen Seidhe kin spilled across the mountain lands must be avenged. If your Aen Elle refuse to help, then we will achieve our goal in our own way.”
“Very well. He’s your prize—what you do with him is your right,” Eredin said with a faint laugh. “Then the most crucial question—how do you ensure our operation goes smoothly?”
“I’ve already earned Lann’s trust. Just as I proposed before, I’ll dispatch the Scoia’tael to attack Kaedwen to distract him. Then I’ll bring our elite forces stationed at the Blue Mountains headquarters to Thanedd Island to assist you in taking him down.”
“But doing that will leave your Scoia’tael completely isolated,” the Wild Hunt knight said, brushing a hand across his skull helmet. Even through the glove, he could feel its chilling cold. “You already don’t have many left—are you really going to abandon your own kind again?”
For the first time in her conversation with the elf of the other world, Francesca fell silent.
“For the sake of the public good,” Francesca said slowly. “Everything comes at a price. War demands sacrifice—and so does peace.”
“Even if the Children of the Elder Blood hadn’t appeared, the Scoia’tael were always meant to be sacrificed as part of the original plan. Their uprisings would attract attention from the North or the South. Then humanity would be forced to compromise with us, and grant the Aen Seidhe of the Blue Mountains a nation—while the Scoia’tael would be cut off and left behind…”
Perhaps to soothe her guilt, Francesca spoke more than usual this time.
“But now that the Elder Blood has reemerged, their sacrifice can achieve even more.”
“It’s all for the Aen Seidhe.”
The painted figures on the canvas continued to move, their voices reproduced by chaotic energy vibrations.
Lann found himself admiring that final hint of contradiction in Francesca’s expression—caught between mercy and resolve. It carried the weight of a true ruler.
He wondered how others might feel about it.
So he turned and asked Iorveth, “What do you think?”
The Scoia’tael leader’s shifting emotions were nothing short of theatrical.
From the moment Francesca began her conversation with the Wild Hunt, his expressions had cycled through confusion, shock, a martyr’s resolve, disbelief, utter astonishment, and finally, the heartbreak of betrayal.
Now, he stood with fists clenched, eyes bloodshot, and his teeth grinding audibly.
Lann shook his head.
“Perhaps my methods leave you puzzled… or maybe you just need time to process it all. In that case—”
Iorveth was not like Francesca.
Francesca’s mindset had long since become indistinguishable from the human politicians of this continent. Though still proud as an elf, her thinking revolved around grand strategic gains.
But Iorveth was a commander on the front lines.
He had personally led units into battle, far more acquainted than Francesca with the suffering of soldiers in the trenches.
He had loosed arrows into enemy flesh with his own hands—and had also driven a sword into the chest of a dying comrade when there was no other choice. He knew what truly kept warriors fighting—and he knew their hopes weren’t lofty ideals.
After assuming command of the Scoia’tael, Iorveth’s companions grew more diverse—not only elves, but also dwarves, halflings, gnomes, and other non-humans.
When the order came to collaborate with Nilfgaard, Iorveth’s first instinct was rejection. But by then, they had already strayed too far from the Scoia’tael’s original ideals. There was no turning back.
They had gone from 'securing the welfare of our kin', to 'taking vengeance on humankind', and then to 'meeting Nilfgaard’s demands'.
What exactly had they experienced in between?
What were the Scoia’tael even fighting for now?
[Captain?]
In Iorveth’s mind, he saw the questioning faces of his comrades in the Pontar Valley, right after Lann had exposed his hidden truths.
[Captain!]
Another memory—during a desperate battle, a halfling rear guard had shouted at him.
That cry still rang in his ears.
Then—thud.
With a cold sound, Iorveth dropped to his knees before Lann.
He prostrated himself.
This sharp-eared elf humbled himself fully, pressing his forehead to the marble floor.
“No further thought is needed, Duke Lannister,” he said. “I am willing to lead all Scoia’tael under my command to join Cintra. From this moment on, your will is the direction we point our arrows.”
Even though this was exactly what Lann had hoped for, he was still caught off guard.
He had expected Iorveth to need time.
But the speed of his allegiance shocked him.
“Are you certain?” Lann asked. “You’re choosing to abandon Francesca and the elven cause—to serve a human kingdom like Cintra?”
Iorveth answered with unwavering clarity: “You and Her Majesty Cirilla are both of the Elder Blood. True Sage blood flows in your veins. You and Her Majesty are the rightful heirs of elven legacy.”
“Besides—” he lifted his head, “The Scoia’tael aren’t only elves anymore. We have halflings, gnomes, and dwarves among us too!”
Lann’s gaze grew deep.
“So you’re doing this for them?”
Iorveth nodded without hesitation—then shook his head.
“Not only for them.”
Lann stared at him for a moment.
And then… he smiled.
