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TWL Chapter 442: The Lion and the Daisy
🕑 Added 2025-06-06 01:39:39 +0000 UTC“The palace beneath our feet… was once an elven palace.” These were Francesca’s first words upon seeing Lann. “And Duke Lannister,” she glan
“The palace beneath our feet… was once an elven palace.”
These were Francesca’s first words upon seeing Lann.
“And Duke Lannister,” she glanced at him briefly, then shifted her gaze to Ciri, “as well as Her Majesty Cirilla—both carry elven blood in their veins.”
The pride in her eyes withdrew slightly, replaced by a glimmer of hope.
“Children of the Elder Blood.”
Well, damn, Lann thought, is this how all elves speak?
He said nothing. Instead, he turned his attention to a painting mounted on the wall.
Suddenly, a bright emerald flame ignited across the surface of the painting, startling Iorveth so much that he instinctively stepped in front of Francesca to shield her.
From within the artwork emerged a spectral figure—dressed in a black Gothic gown, exuding a cold and eerie aura.
At the sight of her appearance, Ciri subconsciously straightened her back.
On the other side, even the worldly and experienced ancient elf couldn't help but show a flash of wonder upon seeing Iris. For the first time, the aloof composure on Francesca’s face cracked ever so slightly.
Lann chuckled softly and stepped forward, accepting a painting that Iris was holding out. The image depicted a graceful, elegant castle—its colors bright and dreamlike, drawing the viewer in as if they could peer through time and glimpse the majesty it once held.
“This is Loe Aed, one of the most beautiful palaces of the Elder Elves. Today, we can only catch faint glimpses of it through old texts and ballads. But we’ve done our best—combining imagination with a few… additional aids—to restore it. We hope it aligns with your memories.”
Loe Aed was one of the few elven palaces not destroyed or occupied by humans—it had instead been swallowed by natural disasters.
As such, it made for a fitting gift from humans to the elves.
Francesca remained silent for a moment before sighing deeply.
“It is our eternal regret. I was nearly starting to forget what it looked like.”
“I apologize for my earlier rudeness in speech. You truly are unlike the other kings and nobles, Duke Lannister.”
What people often disliked most about elves was their centuries-old arrogance.
They saw themselves as a superior race—as the continent’s rightful rulers of old.
They looked at humans the way humans might look at monkeys. Meaningful communication with elves was almost impossible.
In ancient times, humans recognized this… and chose steel and flame instead.
From that point on, communication became much more efficient.
Now, the elven race was forced to eke out a fragile existence in the borderlands between the North and South. They didn’t even have a single settlement officially recognized by any government.
This was exactly the leverage Nilfgaard used to win the elves over.
And Lann’s goal was no different.
He established the tone of the meeting: “I hope the Scoia’tael—and the elven race behind them—can break away from Nilfgaard. Whatever the Empire can offer you, Cintra can offer as well. And what the Empire cannot offer… Cintra still can.”
Francesca concealed the contempt in her eyes with remarkable grace.
“Children of the Elder Blood… I appreciate your kind intentions. But Cintra has only just been restored. This ‘racial equality’ slogan you’ve introduced is quite interesting—and I have indeed seen halflings and dwarves living alongside humans in your capital.”
“However, we Aen Seidhe shall not join any nation. We will establish a nation of our own.”
There was one more thing the 'Daisy of the Valley' didn’t say out loud:
The elven race had never needed 'equality' with humans—because they never believed they needed to be 'equal' in the first place.
To live 'equally' among humans was, for the proud elves… already a form of inequality.
Francesca hadn’t spoken the words aloud—but Lann understood her meaning perfectly.
Internally, he gave a cold chuckle. Outwardly, his expression remained warm.
No matter. This was merely an initial probe. If he could sway a portion of them, great. If not, there was always Plan B.
If they wouldn’t become his allies, then they would become Cintra’s spear.
Lann smiled and asked, “What did Nilfgaard promise you? A vassal kingdom after conquering the North? Or perhaps they’ll label you an ‘Elven Province’?”
“I’ve said it before—whatever the Empire offers, I can offer too. And what the Empire cannot offer… I still can. So I have a better proposal.”
He snapped his fingers.
Iris spread her arms wide, and instantly, a layer of bright emerald flame rose upon the surface of the conference table.
As the flames flickered, the previously bare table shimmered with color, revealing a map of the Northern Kingdoms.
Lann reached forward and pointed to a spot on the map.
“What would you say to making this the new homeland of the elves?”
Everyone leaned in.
The Lion’s fingertip, like a sword, stabbed toward the northeastern corner of the Northern map.
It was Kaedwen—the largest of the Northern Kingdoms by territory, yet also the most sparsely populated. The region was covered in vast stretches of ancient forests, and its eastern border lay adjacent to the Blue Mountains, now home to many elven enclaves.
A sharp gleam flashed in Iorveth’s eyes. Kaedwen was the most brutal of all Northern realms toward non-humans. It was the birthplace of the Scoia’tael.
Francesca’s expression shifted for the first time—an astonished glint in her gaze.
“Child of the Elder Blood… what exactly are you suggesting?”
You’re one of the North’s rulers—and now you’re offering to help the elves overthrow another king?
The two elves exchanged wary glances, caught between suspicion and intrigue. But the shared flicker of hatred—and temptation—in their eyes made Lann feel satisfied.
“Kaedwen is vast and underdeveloped, with outdated industry and even nomadic settlements. Compared to the other major Northern realms, it’s the most vulnerable target for your people.”
“Kaedwen is no friend of mine. During the last Nilfgaardian invasion, they violated the Northern Compact by invading Aedirn, creating more obstacles for our defense.”
“Nilfgaard will surely strike the North again. I need to stabilize the region before that happens. But Henselt refuses all diplomacy, and his kingdom is too far from Cintra to control directly. So I thought of you—the elves of the Blue Mountains.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never longed for this day,” Lann said, turning toward the Scoia’tael commander.
Francesca frowned, ready to interject, but Lann raised a hand to silence her.
“Let me also tell you this—very soon, the Northern delegates will gather again on Thanedd Island for another summit. I’ll be there.
At that meeting, I will propose sanctions against Kaedwen. That will plunge the kingdom into unprecedented chaos—and that will be your opportunity.”
“You’ll attend the summit yourself?” Francesca’s eyes flared with sudden light… only to quickly dim again.
She explained nonchalantly, “I am also a member of the Brotherhood. I know of the meeting. But most countries will only send envoys—no kings are expected to attend, are they?”
Lann acted as if he hadn’t noticed her momentary reaction. He simply returned to his seat beside Ciri.
“As of now, I’m merely a duke. But for Cintra to send a representative of sufficient weight, it must be me. Only my personal appearance will carry the necessary authority—wouldn’t you agree?”
Francesca was silent for a moment before raising her head.
“You want a stable North? Henselt isn’t your ally? But we are elves. How can you be sure we’ll bring stability?”
Lann gave a quiet laugh. He pointed to himself, then to Ciri.
“Because we are Children of the Elder Blood. The Northern kings see only short-term gain—the glory of a century, at most.
But we both know where the true enemy lies—beyond this world.”
“I want to stabilize Cintra quickly, secure the rear, and free up time to continue researching my abilities—”
Lann looked directly at Francesca, and spoke each word with gravity: “—so I can face the coming White Frost, and save this world.”
This reason immediately elevated the entire premise of the meeting to a higher level.
And it was the elves—who best understood the deeper meaning behind it—who fell silent.
Lann looked at the elven sorceress, then at the male leader of the Scoia’tael.
“You still have doubts in your hearts. You're worried I’m just using you as a blade, aren’t you? Then let me offer you one more reassurance—”
“Cintra will send in its elite to assassinate King Henselt of Kaedwen. Would that put your minds at ease—and move you to act?”
Francesca abruptly looked up.
The Daisy of the Valley and the Lion of Cintra clasped right hands—symbolizing an official alliance between the Elder Elves and the Children of the Elder Blood.
And in that moment, the future of one of the four great Northern Kingdoms—its most chaotic and unhinged one—was sealed.
At Lann’s suggestion, Iorveth remained in Cintra.
As one of the main leaders of the Scoia’tael—and now a trusted figure to both Lann and Francesca—he would become one of the central commanders in the planned assault on Henselt.
He still needed to discuss additional tactical details of the Kaedwen campaign with Cintra.
…
A few days later.
Lann’s study.
Iris stood before Lann, while a scroll lay unfurled on his desk.
The image upon it—landscape and figures alike—moved fluidly, as if alive.
It reminded Lann of the films from his previous life—or more precisely, surveillance monitors.
Only this one had a distinctly artistic style.
This particular viewpoint came from one of the many oil paintings Iris had sent out.
Lann gazed at the 'Daisy of the Valley', Francesca, rendered in the painting—alongside another figure clad in skeletal armor—his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
“House, fetch Iorveth for me. That elf from the Scoia’tael.”
“I have something he’ll want to see.”
