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TWL Chapter 438: The Lion Writes His Destiny
🕑 Added 2025-06-03 04:10:29 +0000 UTCWhile Ciri was delivering her speech up front, Lann’s gaze drifted toward the viewing platform.
He wasn’t looking at Eist. Nor at Radovid, Philippa, or the other envoys who had come to observe the ceremony.
He was looking at Keira Metz, who was speaking with Triss.
His thoughts rewound—to yesterday.
After concluding his meeting with Philippa, who was representing Redania, Lann had gone on to receive Keira Metz, the envoy from Temeria.
During their conversation, Lann brought up the question that had been troubling him:
Why had King Foltest suddenly decided to send troops in support of Cintra—going so far as to personally lead them into battle?
What did Temeria hope to gain from this?
Then, beneath Keira’s teasing gaze, he received a piece of news so explosive it left him stunned.
“Adda is pregnant,” Keira had said.
“Adda is pregnant?!” Lann had echoed in disbelief.
His composure completely shattered in that moment.
He fell silent. And remained silent for a long time.
His first thought was suspicion: Is the child even mine?
Then he cast aside that indecent notion and began questioning something else entirely: Wait… I’m a witcher, aren’t I?
After a brief mental blackout, his thoughts kicked into overdrive. Because so much had happened, he had forgotten what set him apart from the other witchers—he had found the blind spot.
[Somewhere in an outer dimension, a wandering peddler chuckled in silence. Though long gone, his traces could still be seen throughout the world.]
In a way, this was good news. Fertility had always been a problem that needed solving for Lann.
He had even been wondering whether Mousesack could push further in his experiments—or, failing that, whether he should just ask Jerome to help him catch a djinn and wish for it outright.
But now it seemed all of that could be skipped. The 'Master Mirror' had already included after-sales service in the package.
Everyone knew he was a witcher. The sudden development of fertility could be explained easily—just blame it on the magical effects of the fabled Elder Blood.
Still…
Lann looked at Ciri, who was now delivering a speech to her people.
How am I supposed to explain this to Ciri...?
…
Prince Radovid was watching Cirilla standing before the throne, as a druid emerged from a wide-open portal.
Amid the thunderous cheers of the crowd, this trusted advisor of Calanthe—an old hand of Cintra’s former court—placed the queen’s crown upon Cirilla’s head
And just like that, the people’s cheers changed—
From “Her Highness, Princess Ciri!”
To “Her Majesty, Queen Ciri!”
The princess had become a queen.
Radovid clenched his jaw tightly.
Cheering for a druid to this extent—this kind of mage should be beheaded. Cintra is no different from the barbaric Skellige.
A savage brat from a savage land, Radovid thought as he glared at Ciri. Just a girl I cast aside through annulment.
Redania had annulled the engagement to avoid being dragged into Nilfgaard’s quagmire.
Who could’ve predicted that Cintra would emerge as the ultimate victor?
They had placed their bets early—on the side they believed would win—
Only to walk away at the final moment.
Radovid’s eyes hungrily scanned the troops surrounding the throne… and the giant that looked like something torn from myth.
They should have all been mine. The claim to Cintra’s throne, the rights to those forces… the dwarves, the giant—
And the dragons! Two of them!
Radovid glared at Lann with resentment—only to realize that Lann’s dark gold lion-like pupils were looking right back at him.
Startled, Radovid quickly shifted his body, hiding behind the tall frame of King Eist of Skellige.
That move allowed him to dodge Lann’s gaze—
But an instant later, he felt another stare settle coldly on the back of his neck.
He had never felt anything so chilling before—
Cold, unyielding… like someone had pressed a dagger against his spine.
But ever since news had arrived of Lannister’s great victory in the North—
And his father had handed him over to the sorcerers for 'tutelage'—
Radovid had grown familiar with gazes like this.
He turned his head—
And saw Philippa Eilhart’s dark, unfathomable eyes staring directly at him.
'Just wait.'
The prince couldn’t help but shiver. 'All of you… just wait.'
Suddenly, the crowd’s cheers surged once more—
This time even louder than when the duke and princess had first appeared, or when the princess had been crowned queen.
“His Majesty Lann!”
He heard every citizen of Cintra change how they addressed him.
He looked up and saw that no crown had yet been placed upon Lannister’s head.
But he understood what had happened. Just moments ago, Cirilla had publicly announced her engagement to Lannister before all of Cintra.
The coronation of the queen’s husband would take place alongside the wedding, so for now, Lannister remained a duke in title.
And yet, the people of Cintra had already begun to call him His Majesty of their own accord.
Or perhaps, from the bottom of their hearts, they simply believed this was the most fitting way to address the Lion.
A wave of uncontrollable resentment surged within Radovid again—
Then he broke into a malicious grin.
He saw the expressions shift across every diplomatic envoy present—except the delegation from Skellige.
The representatives from Temeria, Aedirn, Kaedwen, the United Kingdom of Lyria and Rivia, and all other neighboring nations wore faces of shock.
A witcher with no ability to reproduce has become the King of Cintra. He’s going to sit at the gateway to the North for the next hundred years.
To the Northern Kingdoms, that wasn’t stability—it was a brewing storm.
Cintra had now openly rejected the idea of allowing royal blood from any other nation into its next generation of heirs.
A complete reversal of what Lannister had promised back during the Northern Summit.
Cintra is finished!
…
The celebration was meant to go on for a long time. The people needed an extended, grand ceremony—
To vent their joy over the restoration of their kingdom.
To wash away the pain they had endured.
Only then could they begin a new chapter in life, throwing themselves wholeheartedly into rebuilding their nation.
But Lann had no need to linger at the festivities.
After making his public appearance and delivering the opening address alongside Ciri, his part was done.
Outside, the bells rang bright and clear, and the people’s cheers reached the heavens.
But Lann had already slipped back into his study.
Before him lay a black, thread-bound book.
The pages were full and between the leaves were stacked numerous paper notes stuck together.
With a pensive expression, Lann flipped through the early chapters, finding that only a few thin pages remained.
After a brief moment of reflection, he selected three pages and wrote on them respectively:
[Unify the North], [Rebuild the Witcher Order], [Resist Nilfgaard]
Under [Resist Nilfgaard], he jotted down:
[Fringilla Vigo], [Noble Civil Strife],
Then turned the page and left it for later.
Instead, his eyes turned to [Unify the North].
Lann paused, then began writing:
[The United Kingdom of Lyria and Rivia], [Aedirn]—and placed a check mark “√” next to both.
—These were currently known allies who could be counted on.
Next, he wrote [Temeria], and circled it.
—Temeria’s attitude had softened, but he would still need to travel north and speak with King Foltest directly.
What exactly did Foltest want from him?
If the king got greedy and demanded that Adda’s child inherit Cintra, then there would be no deal to strike.
Finally, in the remaining space, Lann wrote:
[Redania] and [Kaedwen], and placed an “×” next to each.
—These were enemies.
Under [Redania], Lann first wrote [Philippa Eilhart], then followed with [Thanedd Coup].
And for [Kaedwen], after some thought, he wrote:
[Scoia’tael]
Then, he linked that word to [Thanedd Coup] as well.
Philippa’s plan did make some sense. This was a good opportunity.
“House!”
At the sound of his voice, the attendant rushed in through the door and bowed to Lann.
“That elf, Iorveth—how is he?” Lann asked.
“Their leader still hasn’t arrived?”
House reported: “According to him, Lady Francesca Findabair is currently in seclusion, far from Cintra. The elves cannot make use of the long-distance teleportation portals installed in major cities. With only personal spellcasting to rely on, it will take several more days before she can arrive.”
Lann nodded in understanding.
The elves—especially Francesca—always possessed a kind of immovable stubbornness.
So he flipped past the [Unify the North] page and turned to the very last one.
[Rebuild the Witcher Order]
“And what about my mentors? And Geralt—are they still at the celebration?” Lann asked his attendant.
House shook his head.
“Sir Lambert and the others partied for a while at the beginning, but they soon headed off to the training grounds and the magical laboratory. Master Vesemir, on the other hand, has been surveying empty lots all over the city and discussing things with Master Jerome and the others.”
“If they’re not interested in the celebration,” Lann decided, “then summon them. What they’re looking forward to… is what comes next.”
Soon, the message was sent out.
One by one, witchers with amber vertical pupils set down their tasks and rushed to the royal castle at top speed.
Their eyes gleamed with anticipation and longing as they looked at Lann.
“Let’s go,” Lann said with a smile.
“Time to welcome our new brothers.”
“The first witcher of the new era!”
