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TWL Chapter 432: For the Good of Cintra
🕑 Added 2025-06-01 04:16:18 +0000 UTCAt a small side table nearby, Ciri leaned back in her chair and mimicked Lann’s posture, looking just as drained.
Even back in Brokilon, her royal education had never been neglected. As the first in line to the throne, she had long since begun learning statecraft under the guidance of various advisors.
Now, she was putting that training into practice—helping Lann shoulder a portion of the burden.
But it hadn’t taken long for that burden to crush her too. The princess now looked just as half-dead as Lann.
Their dull, lifeless gazes met across the room.
Then, unexpectedly, they both burst out laughing.
It started as soft chuckles, but quickly grew into loud, unabashed laughter that filled the study and spilled out through the door—so much so that even the guards outside couldn’t help but crack a smile.
Ciri wiped at the corners of her slightly misty eyes, then touched her chair, the desk, and even the floor beneath her.
“We’re finally home, Lann.”
“I promised you we would be,” Lann said softly.
“And you always keep your promises,” Ciri replied, just as softly.
She idly shuffled the papers on the desk, at first not wanting to look at them at all.
But suddenly, inspiration struck, and she picked up her pen again to start drafting her own agenda.
“Lann.”
“Hmm?”
“What we’re doing now—it’s the same kind of work my grandparents used to do, isn’t it?”
“What else would it be?”
“There are two thrones in the palace hall.”
Lann tilted his chin thoughtfully and glanced over at Ciri.
He had a pretty good idea of where this was going.
With a faint chuckle, he said, “That’s true.”
“But once I ascend the throne during the ceremony, I’ll only be sitting in one of those chairs.”
“Obviously.”
“…Then the other one will just sit there empty. That’s such an eyesore!”
“Oh?” Lann’s expression turned playful. “You think it’s… unseemly?”
Ciri’s ears were already turning beet red—and the flush was steadily spreading.
“That’s right! It is unseemly!” she said, cheeks puffed. “So I think someone should sit next to me—just to keep it balanced!”
“Fair point. I wonder who that person might be?”
Lann feigned deep contemplation, as if the question truly troubled him.
[Bang!]
Ciri slammed her fist down on the desk.
Thanks to all her training at Kaer Morhen, her half-witcher physique packed a real punch. Lann could’ve sworn the desk let out a groan of agony—it probably wouldn’t last much longer.
“That desk used to belong to your aunt and uncle, you know,” Lann said helpfully.
Ciri shot him a fierce glare—and let out a huff of breath.
Ciri suddenly leapt onto the desk so she could look down at Lann from above.
She tilted her chin up ever so slightly, adopting a dignified air.
“Duke Lannister, I believe I made a mistake in the past,” Princess Ciri declared solemnly.
“I promoted you from count straight to duke—skipping over the rank of marquess entirely.”
“And now, having restored Cintra to its former glory and being destined to achieve even greater feats in the future, your accomplishments are… well, unmatched.”
Lann played along, placing a hand solemnly over his heart. “There’s no need for concern, Your Highness.”
“No, I must consider the long-term implications,” Princess Ciri replied with national worry etched across her young face. “If someone with your merits can’t receive a reward befitting their deeds, Cintra may once again spiral into turmoil. All our beautiful hopes and dreams would vanish like foam on the tide.”
Lann put on a grave expression. “We cannot allow that to happen, Your Highness.”
“Exactly, Duke Lannister.” The princess nodded, clearly satisfied with the duke’s wise counsel.
“Therefore, Duke Lannister… I plan to ascend the throne and become queen at the upcoming celebration. And at that time, I will… I will make an announcement.” As Ciri reached this part, her voice began to tremble.
“I will… declare before all of Cintra—and the entire North…” Her throat tightened. “That you will become Cintra’s king. That you will stand by my side, leading our people forward… to restore Cintra’s former glory.”
“Will you shoulder this burden—for the future of Cintra?”
Lann put on a look of astonishment. “Your Highness…”
“This is for the stability and progress of the realm,” the princess declared, suddenly abandoning courtly grace. “Duke Lannister, don’t you dare act ungrateful!”
Lann let out a long sigh. “For Cintra… it seems I have no choice.”
The princess nodded in satisfaction.
But the very next moment, her regal composure crumbled completely. Her expression flushed like an overripe apple.
Snarling playfully, she leapt from the desk straight at Lann, waving her quill with surprising flair—it almost resembled a witcher’s sword dance.
“You didn’t sound very willing just now, did you? Huh?!”
A gust of chaos swept through the conference room, sending papers flying in every direction.
Outside the doors, the guards could barely suppress their smiles. Fortunately, their helmets and visors hid most of their amusement.
But their shoulders were starting to shake uncontrollably.
…
“Young Master, Your Highness, I’ve arrived.”
The firm, well-projected voice came from beyond the door.
There was no need to guess—it was the old butler. In all of Cintra, he was now the only one who still referred to Lann as 'Young Master'.
“…Enter.”
The door swung open, and the old butler was greeted by a mess of documents scattered across the floor—and the sight of a solemn-looking duke and princess kneeling amid the chaos, trying to pick everything up.
He let out a long sigh.
“Young Master, Your Highness—Cintra’s restoration is just beginning. I know these endless affairs are exhausting, but please, do hang in there a little longer.”
Both of them nodded, receiving the old man’s encouragement and guidance with humility.
But Lann’s expression soon turned to despair again—because he spotted another stack of documents in the butler’s hands.
That mountain of paperwork on the table had been built up slowly, bit by bit, by none other than this very man.
“I know why you had the guard call for me, Young Master—and as it happens, I was just on my way to deliver these.”
Enns cleared his throat, fist to his lips. “Apologies, but I can’t help share the workload for now. Every post in the kingdom is operating at full capacity…”
Lann opened his mouth, only to sigh again in resignation.
So much for reinforcements.
He could see it clearly now—the old butler still spoke with vigor, but it was nothing more than the momentum of post-restoration adrenaline keeping him upright. The man was burning with nervous energy but running on empty at the same time.
If it were possible, Lann might’ve considered asking the sorcerers for a sleeping draught—just to slip a little into Enns’s food. Otherwise, he truly feared the old man’s body might not hold out much longer.
Even House had been reassigned to assist the old butler.
“I understand,” Lann said, massaging his temples. “Please keep a closer eye on the reconstruction of the palace order and the arrangements for foreign guests. I’ll take care of all these documents.”
Enns smiled as he added yet another layer to the summit of the paper mountain.
Lann slapped his cheeks lightly, trying to shake off the fatigue. “Remind me of the key upcoming events. Anything I should be especially aware of?”
The old butler pulled a notebook from his coat with precision and care. “The delegations from Temeria and Redania have both arrived in Cintra. As major powers—and key allies during the war of restoration—they must be given appropriate attention.”
Lann exhaled. “Right, I remember that. They arrived in the capital this morning, correct?”
“Yes.”
“They came together?” That would be… rather suggestive, politically speaking.
The old butler shook his head. “Pure coincidence. Temeria’s delegation departed from the port of Vizima, while Redania’s came from Novigrad—both along the main trade routes. Although Redania is farther, they set out earlier and happened to cross paths with the Temerian convoy.”
“Since their arrival, they’ve been resting but have both requested an audience with you and Her Highness as soon as possible.”
Lann nodded in understanding and asked, “Who are their representatives?”
“Temeria’s delegation is led by royal advisor Keira Metz. She’s currently with Lady Merigold—they seem to be getting along well,” Enns replied. “Redania’s delegation is headed by royal advisor Philippa Eilhart. Prince Radovid is also among their party.”
Lann chuckled. “So sorcerers are back to leading diplomatic missions? I thought they had completely lost the northern kings’ trust.”
The old butler shook his head lightly. “The political landscape has clearly shifted.”
Lann tapped a finger against the desk as he looked toward Ciri. The girl didn’t seem particularly concerned about either delegation.
As for the relationship between Cintra, Temeria, and Redania—Cintra had historically been closer to Redania. After all, during the Northern Conference, Vizimir II had openly voiced his support for Lann.
Granted, Vizimir II had his own motives, but at least he was far more agreeable than Temeria, who always seemed to oppose Lann at every turn.
Still, during the Battle of Lyria, it had been Temeria who sent real troops and real steel. King Foltest himself had even personally taken to the battlefield.
No one quite understood what had prompted Foltest’s change of heart, but his support had been far more rare and valuable than Redania’s.
The question now was: what price would Cintra have to pay for Temeria’s assistance?
