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TWL Chapter 371: Echoes of Power and Prejudice
🕑 Added 2025-05-01 02:00:41 +0000 UTC"Witchers," the Aedirnian advisor suddenly spoke, breaking the tense silence.
"The Duke of Lannister—he became a witcher, didn’t he?"
Everyone’s attention was immediately diverted.
After exchanging glances, Coën, being from the same school as Lann, took the initiative to answer: "Is there a problem?"
The advisor remained facing the witchers, staring intently at the insignia on Coën’s chest. "I saw the emblem Duke Lannister wears. It appears to be... a griffin?"
"I also heard that Cintra’s Little Lioness—Princess Cirilla—became the famed 'Child of Surprise' of the White Wolf. Ballads of their fate have now spread throughout the lands."
Geralt frowned slightly, silently cursing the bard Dandelion, before replying: "That’s just poetry."
The Aedirnian advisor gave a dismissive laugh.
"True enough. Witchers, oh witchers—you should be satisfied with the Lion of Cintra.
To covet the Little Lioness as well—that would be pure greed."
The hostility in his voice was unmistakable.
Geralt, Coën, and Kolgrim all turned their heads toward the Aedirnian advisor, who made no attempt to hide the disdain in his eyes toward the three alchemically-mutated warriors before him.
The witchers had long grown used to such looks, and they said nothing, their faces simply growing colder.
At the rear of the group, however, House, Milva, and the others frowned slightly, clearly more angered than the witchers themselves.
If reputation could be quantified, the witchers were naturally regarded as 'friendly' within Cintra.
Witchers like Geralt and Coën, who fought alongside the army day and night with unmatched bravery, had risen to the level of 'respected'.
Thus, in the face of the Aedirnian advisor’s open disdain, it was the Cintrans who first felt offense—even before the witchers themselves.
But the advisor quickly lost interest in the witchers and began scanning the surroundings, searching for someone he deemed worthy of speaking to.
His gaze soon landed on a woman with an outstanding bearing and proper attire.
"My lady," he said, smiling smoothly, "after the battle, might I trouble you to arrange a meeting with Duke Lannister?"
Saskia blinked, momentarily stunned.
She was currently wearing Lann’s clothes—having torn through her own several times after transforming into a dragon.
Though the outfit was a size too large, the lion-emblazoned cloak draped over her shoulders lent her an unexpectedly authoritative presence.
"I have long heard from my brothers of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers about Duke Lannister’s power," the Aedirnian advisor continued, his voice rich with hidden meaning. "The power that lies within the royal lineage of Cintra..."
Observing Saskia’s composed and unaffected expression, he inwardly praised her discipline.
"I hope to be granted an audience with Duke Lannister. There are many matters I wish to discuss with him."
Saskia, who had only recently joined Lann’s forces and was not fully briefed on every detail, hesitated.
After exchanging subtle glances with Geralt, House, and the others, she answered ambiguously: "I will relay your request to Duke Lannister... Wait—the Nilfgaardian banner is rising!"
Without the aid of a telescope or any magical means, it was Saskia who first spotted the disturbance within the enemy camp.
Everyone’s attention immediately shifted toward the direction of Lyria.
The soldiers could only see tiny moving specks, but for the witchers and the sorcerer, it was clear:
the Black Sun and Blue Fox banner was being hoisted at the center of the Nilfgaardian formation.
"Good. That’s him."
The Aedirnian advisor’s gaze locked onto the cavalry force charging under the Three Lions’ banner.
With a sweeping motion of both hands, he conjured a vivid, crimson portal, the air swirling violently around it—a gateway linking the charging force directly to the Nilfgaardian central camp.
...
"Enemy—attack!"
A shrill cry rang out just outside the city of Lyria.
The sudden appearance of a portal startled everyone, and the cavalry that surged forth from it almost made the entire camp jump to their feet.
But how could the Nilfgaardians—equipped with their own battlemage units—not be prepared for such a surprise tactic?
Albrich, the head sorcerer of the Eastern Army Group, swung his arms violently. With a burst of force, the portal that had spat out just a few dozen people exploded with a deafening blast and vanished into thin air.
The knights who had emerged from it immediately scattered in all directions, trying their best to sow chaos in the central command camp and draw attention.
But they were far too few. Within mere seconds, most had already fallen—killed or gravely wounded.
Duke aep Dahy, watching this unfold, was not alarmed but delighted. He hurriedly urged Albrich, "Quick! Can you pinpoint the enemy sorcerer's location? Immediately—form ranks!"
Then he turned to the mage unit and barked an order: "Take fifty soldiers, arm them with dimeritium, and get ready to kill Aedirn's sorcerer!"
Traditional sorcerer portals leave residual traces in space, making it possible to track them back to their origin.
Completely focused, Albrich carefully sensed the fading magical fluctuations—just as a hint of joy began to appear on his face.
At that very moment, right where the portal had just been shattered, a figure stood up—someone who had been crouched down, hands over his head, as if drunk.
The few dozen allied elite soldiers had bought him precious time to recover.
As the dust and smoke stirred up by the portal slowly settled, the Nilfgaardians were shocked to realize that someone had stayed behind.
They hadn't noticed until now that a man had been teleported over and remained motionless at the landing site.
And now, seeing his appearance and attire clearly, someone shouted out in alarm:
"The Lion of Cintra!"
“Catch him, catch him! Forget the mages—just catch the Lion!”
The moment Duke aep Dahy spotted Lann, he couldn’t hold back and shouted urgently at the Nilfgaardian mage commander, Albrich, immediately pulling the man out of his portal-sensing trance.
Everyone understood priorities—strategically speaking, to Nilfgaard, Lann was more important than Queen Meve and Demavend III combined.
In the very next moment, chaotic energy surged, and several bolts of lightning shot toward Lann’s location.
“Don’t kill him, you idiot! I want the Lion alive!” Duke aep Dahy panicked at the sight of the magical assault. Then, turning back, he saw his personal guards drawing their bows at Lann and roared furiously, “No arrows!”
The mages, naturally, knew what they were doing. They had deliberately held back their power—the electric shocks were strong enough to knock someone out or cripple them but not kill.
And yet, even this level of force didn’t achieve anything.
Before everyone’s eyes, a bright yellow circular shield unfolded around Lann, expanding outward from his body and completely blocking every incoming attack.
“Magical defense!” one of the mage troops shouted in shock. “So the Lion really can use magic? But just a year ago, he was still a proper knight…”
That voice carried not only surprise, but also deep jealousy. Most of the mages who ended up on the frontlines were academy dropouts with insufficient talent. They knew well how long it took to master magic—many studied for years and could barely make an apple float.
To cast a protective barrier capable of withstanding multiple mages’ attacks like this… it was something that only appeared in their dreams.
But what Lann had conjured wasn’t just a simple magical shield. It was something far more advanced:
[Active Shield]: Allows the Quen Sign to transform into a shield form, consuming mana both to block attacks and to maintain itself. The absorbed damage is converted into vitality for the witcher. (2/5)
Many of the skills Lann had chosen early on to survive or improve armor efficiency—like [Undying], which could negate lethal damage—hadn’t appeared for a long time.
Lann always preferred offense over defense, dodging and repositioning rather than tanking hits head-on.
But now, the effect of Active Shield was proving to be just right.
As lightning rippled across the surface of the yellow shield, Lann’s face—previously pale from potion toxicity—began to regain its color. His mind cleared, and the dizziness caused by the portal jump instantly vanished.
Meanwhile, though each attack slightly chipped away at his mana bar, it was barely a dent in Lann’s vast magical reserves. And thanks to the potions boosting his regeneration, any mana lost was quickly restored.
In fact, Lann now felt even better than when he had first set out with his unit.
He glanced around, locking eyes on the allied elites who had earlier helped buy him time to recover. His mind spun, rapidly formulating a plan.
