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TWL Chapter 374: Ashes, Horns, and Hope
🕑 Added 2025-05-03 23:13:57 +0000 UTCLann gauged the magic remaining in his body. After just a brief moment, thanks to both his innate magical affinity and the effects of his potions, his mana reserves had already fully recovered.
If there was any real expenditure… it was only his mental focus.
Lann rested his chin on his hand. Truth be told, not really. After such a furious bout of killing and raking in spoils, he was practically buzzing with adrenaline.
Might as well fight a bit longer—solidify the situation completely.
With that thought, he made up his mind. A flicker of bright emerald light shimmered across his body, and in the next instant, a golden flash deposited him atop Lyria’s city wall.
By now, a semblance of an organized formation was already taking shape on the ramparts. Lann’s sudden appearance via [Blink] immediately put everyone on alert—several Lyrian knights nearly charged at him on reflex.
“Stand down! Everyone stand down! That’s Duke Lannister of Cintra!”
The voice was young—not one of the Lyrian guards Lann had brought with him. He followed the sound and spotted two blond boys in their early teens.
They looked no older than thirteen or fourteen, and bore a noticeable resemblance to Queen Meve. The older one wore a neatly arranged noble outfit, while the younger was clad head to toe in armor, dressed like a knight.
Both of them were beaming at him with surprise and excitement—especially the younger one, whose eyes practically sparkled with stars.
Lann tilted his head slightly. A moment’s recollection told him who they were—Queen Meve’s two sons. The elder was Villem, the neatly dressed prince; the younger was Anséis, the one in armor.
Lann reversed his grip and sheathed the Lady of the Lake. He noticed both princes—and indeed, all the nearby Lyrian knights—visibly following the golden runeblade’s arc with their eyes until the glow disappeared into the scabbard.
“Your Highnesses,” Lann nodded slightly, but did not bow. As a duke, he stood on equal footing with Queen Meve. Offering the princes basic courtesy was sufficient—anything more would diminish Cintra’s dignity.
“I trust the queen’s guards have already explained the situation to you. Your mother is currently in that direction.” He pointed toward the distance. The eagle-marked diamond banner had yet to appear—Queen Meve was still far away. “Right now, we need absolute cooperation to repel the Nilfgaardians.”
“If possible, please rally the remaining cavalry in the city. I can lead a charge out and strike from the rear—while Queen Meve pushes from the front, we can—”
“Of course! Absolutely!” Anséis interrupted before Lann could finish, his armor plates clinking with excitement.
“Duke Lannister, we’ve all heard your songs and ballads—we trust you completely with the command. And if possible, I’d like to join the charge my—”
Villem abruptly yanked his younger brother back. He cleared his throat lightly and said, “Duke Lannister, please forgive my brother’s indiscretion. I—well, he—has admired you for a long time, and being able to meet you in person… he couldn’t contain his excitement. I hope you’ll understand.”
Choosing his words carefully, he continued, “We fully trust in Cintra’s friendship. The reinforcements here were brought by you, and you're clearly the one most familiar with the current battlefield. I’m confident the knights of Lyria will be more than willing to follow you in joining up with my mother.”
He spoke with clarity and composure, showing both courtesy and a firm grasp of the bigger picture. Lann gave Prince Villem a nod of approval.
If Lann remembered correctly, Prince Villem—like Svanrige, son of Bran in Skellige—was one of those 'sleeping wise kings'.
Though Queen Meve often dismissed her son as a fool, it was more a reflection of her overbearing nature than his actual ability. In the original timeline, after Lyria fell and Queen Meve was forced into exile, Villem—left behind on his own—initially surrendered to Nilfgaard for the sake of the Lyrian people, becoming a puppet ruler.
But he soon saw through Nilfgaard’s deception. While outwardly playing along, he secretly built resistance, all while reaching out to his exiled mother—hoping to rally the Lyrians to bring their queen home and drive Nilfgaard out together.
Lann figured the reason Queen Meve didn’t believe Villem had what it took to be king was because the crown prince had invested all his skill points into domestic governance. When Meve had gone north to attend a summit, she once left Villem in charge of leading troops to suppress bandits—an utter disaster.
Yet after Lyria fell, Villem boldly implemented a series of sweeping reforms at home. These new policies even earned Meve’s approval. When the queen later returned to Lyria, she chose to keep them in place.
Though Villem lacked military talent, he was by no means without courage. In the previous timeline of the game, there were multiple possible endings for him. If Meve forgave Villem, then the result was a joyful reunion—her son’s reforms remained, and mother and son gained newfound understanding. But if she refused to forgive his surrender to Nilfgaard, he would still turn against Nilfgaard upon her return—fighting valiantly until he was shot multiple times by arrows, ultimately dying in his mother’s arms.
Compared to Svanrige’s feat of rallying the Skellige Isles to push back Nilfgaard, Villem’s achievements may have seemed lesser. Still, in the grand matchmaking system of capable Northern kings, Villem was a rare gem—kind-hearted toward his people, adept at governance, and willing to take advice. A wise ruler, without doubt.
With these thoughts, a smile tugged at Lann’s lips. He nodded to the two princes, then turned to the Lyrian knights he had brought with him.
“Form up and wait for me by the gate. We’ll strike together once I return.”
One of the Lyrian knights blinked in surprise. “Duke Lannister, where are you going?”
Lann turned to gaze at the Nilfgaardian formation in the distance, eyes fixed on the banners at the heart of each division and regiment.
“I’m going to kill a few more officers—save your queen some effort.”
And with that, under the awestruck stares of everyone present, he vanished once more in a flash of light.
...
“Meve, perhaps it’s time we left.”
In a camp one and a half kilometers outside the capital of Lyria, Demavend stood grim-faced as he addressed Queen Meve.
Dust-covered and weary, the Queen hadn’t given up. She held her spyglass steadily, eyes fixed on her homeland—now surrounded by enemy forces—still hoping for a turn of fate.
“We should never have listened to Lannister’s nonsense,” Demavend continued, frowning at the unmoved Queen Meve, trying once more to persuade her.
“Never mind whether he could actually deliver on what he promised. Even if he did manage to kill Ardal aep Dahy, with the forces we have now, we’d still stand no chance against the Nilfgaardians. Two of their main legions are still stationed at Lower Sodden, watching like hungry wolves!”
“We should preserve what remains of our strength, abandon Lyria, and fall back to Rivia to stabilize the situation,” he said calmly. “I’ll send letters to Foltest, Vizimir—even Brouver of Mahakam—seeking aid to ease the pressure. I won’t let you become the next Calanthe.”
In terms of military strategy, Demavend’s plan was sound. Given the current circumstances, it was likely their best option.
The joint armies of the two kingdoms had been caught off guard by Nilfgaard’s surprise attack and were now in disarray. They needed time to regroup if they hoped to launch a proper counteroffensive. Chasing after lost territory in a rage only played into the enemy’s hands—leading to repeated defeats and, ultimately, utter destruction.
“Nilfgaard is the kind of enemy that requires the strength of the entire North to resist. Have you forgotten the Battle of Sodden Hill, Meve?”
Clad in dull golden armor, Meve ignored his words. She had been a princess of Rivia before gaining rule over Lyria through marriage. After her husband’s death, she had long since come to regard Lyria as a land worth defending with her life.
Her attention remained locked on the distant city, as though she had shut out the rest of the world. Only after a long pause did she speak in a low, steady voice. “My two sons are inside that city, leading my subjects in its defense. As their Queen, how could I possibly turn my back and flee while my country falls?”
Demavend had no desire to argue further with Meve’s stubbornness. He whipped his cloak angrily and stormed out of the command tent.
“Korban! Sound the horn and gather the troops. Then get in touch with our advisors—we’re heading home,” Demavend barked at his general. “Soon, Aedirn will become the front line in the fight against Nilfgaard.”
“Damn it… I never should’ve listened to Lannister’s lunacy!” Demavend grew increasingly furious the more he thought about it. He yanked out his sword and hacked through a torchpost. “I even sent my special operations unit to charge with him! Not a single one of those elites has made it back!”
Demavend’s rule in Aedirn was infamous for its brutality. No one dared oppose him when he was in this kind of mood.
But before his general could carry out the order, a sudden shout erupted from inside the command tent he had just left—Queen Meve’s voice, full of surprise and elation: “The Nilfgaardian command banner—it’s down!”
“Sound the horn! Full charge!”
The trumpeter, who had been waiting on edge, needed barely two breaths to act. As Meve’s order rang out, the camp sprang to life. The clatter of weapons and the thunder of hooves filled the air.
A new battle had begun.
“Your Majesty? We…”
The Aedirnian general glanced at Demavend’s shifting expression. It was impossible to tell if the man was angry, astonished, or something far more complicated.
“We…”
“Charge.”
Demavend ground the word out between clenched teeth.
Even for a veteran general of Aedirn, the sudden reversal in orders was hard to process. Seeing his subordinate hesitate, Demavend didn’t hold back—he swung his sword at the man.
His blow wasn’t particularly strong, and the general’s high-grade armor absorbed the impact easily, causing only a brief spark. No injury—but a clear warning.
“Follow Meve’s forces into the charge! Can’t you see what an opportunity this is?”
“Charge!”
