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TWL Chapter 376: Return to Cintra
🕑 Added 2025-05-10 02:11:48 +0000 UTCLann stood atop the walls of Lyria’s capital.
Having returned command of the cavalry to Queen Meve, he watched her thunder off with the army in pursuit, knowing full well this wouldn’t be resolved quickly.
Queen Meve would need to strike without pause—drive the Nilfgaardians completely back across the Yaruga and reclaim all of Lyria.
Otherwise, the Black Army might regroup and dig in, dragging the war out and causing unnecessary losses.
Or worse—fleeing remnants could scatter into surrounding towns, inflicting chaos the Queen could not afford.
After all, this was an army of tens of thousands.
Demavend paused briefly as he passed through the capital—
Especially after seeing Duke aep Dahy, commander of the Eastern Army Group. He even attempted to negotiate with Lann.
Apparently, he wanted the prisoner handed over.
But Lann had no intention of giving Demavend the time of day. He coldly refused, then watched as the impotently enraged king stormed off after Queen Meve, still chasing the retreating Nilfgaardians.
Demavend may have had a temper, but at least he understood the bigger picture.
However furious he might be, he knew the top priority now was crushing Nilfgaard.
[BOOM!]
A fiery-red portal opened beside Lann. The people of Cintra stepped through, their expressions tense—until they saw Lann and visibly relaxed.
They quickly formed up around him in protective formation. Only after they were in place did the royal advisor from Aedirn emerge from the portal.
He gave Lann a respectful nod.
Whatever conflicts there were between the Duke of Cintra and the King of Aedirn, the court mage clearly wasn’t part of them.
“Duke Lannister.”
“Thank you for your efforts, Lord Radcliffe,” Lann said with a slight nod. “Next, I’ll need you to coordinate with Cintra’s side to reopen the teleportation array. I’ll provide the coordinates.”
The matter here was resolved—and this had never truly been Lann’s war to begin with.
If he hadn’t been worried that a collapse of the Northern coalition would destabilize the broader situation for Cintra, he might not have stayed to fight at all.
Maximizing the results of this battle would require days, even weeks, of pursuit, eradication, and consolidation.
That was no longer his concern—nor was it something he had any desire to take part in.
What reactions the North and South would have to this battle’s outcome remained to be seen.
Queen Meve’s two sons had apparently wanted him to stay a little longer, to formally express their thanks—but Lann politely declined.
His heart longed to return to Cintra. On one hand, he was concerned about the state of the war there. On the other… he simply missed home.
Still, he delivered his parting words with poise and dignity: “In the face of a southern invasion, the North has a natural duty to rise and stand together. My assistance is not something Your Highnesses need to thank me for. I only hope that if we ever meet again on the battlefield against the Black Sun, we’ll have the chance to truly fight side by side.”
Lann could feel it—as he spoke those words, the two princes’ eyes almost seemed to shine.
...
Cintra. Town of Brokilon.
The portal flared wide as armed forces stepped out in formation.
Several individuals with unusual eyes immediately pressed their hands to their foreheads, while others nearby offered them steadying arms.
Lann rubbed his temples and opened his eyes—
To see the ever-serene druid Mousesack, and the elderly steward Enns, both standing there with faint smiles.
As expected, a familiar figure with a faint floral scent barreled straight into Lann’s arms.
“It’s been a while, Ciri... Have you grown taller again?”
The sudden jolt made Lann’s head spin even more than it already was.
But as he held the princess in his arms, he was struck by a surreal sensation.
Not long ago, the little girl had only reached his waist—now, she could already reach his chest.
Behind him, Geralt raised an eyebrow at the close embrace between the two.
“Welcome back, young master,” said the elderly steward with a slight bow, signaling to his grandson to bring a basin of water and a towel for the Duke of Cintra.
But Lann had no mind for such formalities.
The moment the last soldier stepped through the portal, he turned directly to Mousesack, who had just finished casting the spell.
“Uncle Mousesack, I’ve just returned from resolving the crisis faced by Queen Meve and Demavend. They were caught off guard by a Nilfgaardian surprise attack—Meve nearly lost all of Lyria... and Rivia was barely held.”
“Nilfgaard must have more than just this one army in motion. Have the other army groups made any moves? What’s the North’s overall reaction?”
That was Lann’s first concern upon returning—and as Mousesack listened, his expression grew slightly more serious, though far from grim. The situation, it seemed, was not yet dire.
After a moment of thought, the old druid responded with a counter-question: “Since you just came from over there, I take it you’ve resolved the issues with Meve and Demavend III?”
By this point, Mousesack’s faith in Lann had become instinctive.
Lann briefly summarized his actions in Lyria. As he spoke, the elder druid nodded and muttered words of admiration under his breath.
Then Mousesack shared his own intelligence: “The North didn’t react too strongly to the Eastern Army Group’s invasion. Only Henselt of Kaedwen, who has long harbored grudges against Demavend III, seemed to consider taking the opportunity to invade northern Aedirn.”
“But his intentions were quickly uncovered by Foltest and Vizimir. The two issued a joint warning, which put a stop to that idiot’s scheme. And now that you’ve helped stabilize the front lines in Lyria, things should remain calm for the time being.”
While one Northern king was getting beaten on the front lines, another was contemplating a betrayal from the rear.
Kings like Henselt were exactly what dragged down the North’s ability to act as a unified front.
Fortunately, the previous Northern summit had at least forged a loose consensus among the major powers.
Without it, Kaedwen might have ended up doing Nilfgaard a favor.
“Classic Henselt,” Lann muttered with genuine disdain.
Then he asked the question weighing heaviest on his mind: “And what about our front lines? Has Nilfgaard made any moves?”
The old druid stroked his beard and, unsurprisingly, nodded.
“They hit us with a surprise attack about a week ago. The assault was so fierce that we briefly thought they meant to end the war in one stroke. Marshal Vissegerd and I had to personally take the field just to repel the first wave.”
“But after that, our reinforcements arrived.”
Here, a smile appeared on Mousesack’s face.
“Eist came—with the Skelligers.”
Lann’s eyes lit up with surprise, and as Mousesack and Enns explained, his expression gradually turned to excitement.
…
In theory, no matter how fast the Skelligers’ ships were, they shouldn’t have been able to reach Cintra in such a short time.
But this time, Skellige had committed its entire strength to supporting the Continent. Eist had mobilized not just the seven major clans of the isles—
He had even managed to bring along a number of druids from the Circle of Oak.
The druids, who traditionally followed the path of nature and avoided taking sides in worldly conflicts, were initially reluctant to get involved in a war with such clear-cut factions.
But Eist, as king, offered considerable incentives. Mousesack, as a highly respected mentor-level druid, also lent his weight to the cause. And Lann’s actions in Skellige—eliminating a traitorous druid and rescuing druid apprentices—had won him the favor of many within the Circle.
As a result, the druids ultimately dispatched a small contingent. They gathered several spellcasters skilled in weather magic, and under the leadership of the gifted Fritjof, summoned favorable winds.
With the currents behind them, Skellige’s fleet sailed at speeds many times faster than planned.
Not only did they arrive in Cintra ahead of schedule, they even had time to dispatch a detachment en route to raid several Nilfgaardian supply lines—cutting off minor logistics routes.
Now, Nilfgaard's supply forces no longer dared operate near the coast and were even avoiding inland waterways whenever possible.
“As expected of Skellige,” Lann said with sincere admiration.
“In addition to that,” Enns added cheerfully, “Lady Triss and Lady Yennefer have also lent their magic to support the front. Mr. Letho and the other members of the Viper School organized guerrilla teams, using their experience in woodland warfare and alchemical toxins to repeatedly disrupt enemy camps and supply lines.”
“And Geralt’s companions from the Wolf School are here too. They’ve been coordinating operations with Master Letho.”
The old steward chuckled softly.
“Marshal Vissegerd wouldn’t be too happy to hear this, but I must say—the witcher masters have been just as effective as the regular army.”
“As expected of them,” Lann said again, visibly relieved.
Coen shrugged helplessly at Lann, while Geralt and Kolgrim both allowed themselves subtle smiles.
“I’ve already informed the frontline commanders of your return,” said Mousesack. “They’re preparing to regroup. We’ll need a proper war council soon to map out our next steps.”
“It’s time to reclaim Cintra.”
“Of course,” Lann replied, narrowing his eyes as the words settled over him.
Seeing that Lann and the druid had entered full planning mode, Enns pulled out a small notebook from inside his robe and began organizing the matters that needed to be reported.
“The war council is scheduled for tomorrow evening,” the steward informed him.
“The frontline officers will need some time to make it back. A few will require Mousesack’s portals to return in time.”
The druid nodded in agreement—it had already been arranged.
“Until then, young master, you should wash up, tend to your armor, and take a short tour through town to formally announce your return. Aside from the Skelligers brought by His Majesty Eist and the witchers led by Mr. Geralt, there are several other allies who await your audience.”
Despite returning from Mahakam utterly worn down, Lann didn’t allow himself a moment of rest.
But this was wartime—and Lann had never been one to dwell on comfort.
He even considered skipping the wash altogether and diving straight back into work, but such indecorous behavior was something Enns would never permit.
“Other allies? Don’t tell me the mercenaries from Kovir are here already?” Lann asked with curiosity.
“Not quite—the Free Company is still en route,” Enns nodded, affirming Lann’s guess with a minor correction.
“After the Skellige fleet arrived, their druid masters didn’t stop. They used portals to head north and meet Kovir’s fleet, then aided them with weather magic to speed their passage.”
“They should reach Cintra in about two days—just in time for our counteroffensive.”
Lann nodded in satisfaction. Then, a bit puzzled, he asked, “So they’re not the ones you meant. Who are these allies, then?”
Enns smiled gently.
“The gentlemen from Oxenfurt.”
