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TWL Chapter 356: Mahakam’s Hidden Flame
🕑 Added 2025-04-10 00:46:15 +0000 UTCThanks to the benchmark set by the Ice Giant’s attribute panel, the skill set of the Red Dragon, Keltullis, while undeniably powerful, no longer startled Lann into overreaction.
In comparison, Keltullis had lower health than the Ice Giant, which suggested inferior physical resilience. Her mana reserves were higher, true—but Red Dragons, according to lore, were not exactly famed for their magical prowess. After a few questions, Lann confirmed that Keltullis was severely lacking in arcane knowledge. So any hope he had of her functioning as a magical artillery turret was crushed early on.
Her real role was that of a mobile fortress—capable of flight and spewing flames. Her high mana served more as magical resistance, and after death, as raw magical conductivity once her body was harvested for alchemical components. As for actual spellcasting... better not to expect anything.
In pure casting ability, Keltullis lagged behind both Mousesack and even Triss—barely surpassing Lann himself. Lann considered this a tragic waste of talent. So, he assigned Saskia the role of her magic tutor in Cintra, to help Keltullis get in touch with her chaotic energy.
Saskia agreed without hesitation.
Following Keltullis, Lann proceeded to contract the remaining three dragon eggs. Since they hadn’t yet hatched, their panels were completely blank—no skills, no attributes. While no new talents or skills were unlocked, all ability points spent were refunded. A short while later, the eggs hatched into three baby dragons.
In total, Lann now had one combat-ready Red Dragon, four hatchlings, a new [Chaotic Lifeform] talent, and had swapped the Red Dragon’s [Rapid Metabolism] for the Witcher's [Enhanced Metabolism]. He still had three ability points to spare.
Raising a hatchling takes time—a lot of time. Longer, even, than training a fully-fledged mage. Lann figured these younglings wouldn’t be of much use for decades, but they were never part of the plan to begin with. His real interest had always been their mother.
As for the remaining three ability points, Lann held onto them for now. There was no rush to boost his own power. Most available skills wouldn’t make a significant difference anyway. Better to save up for a major upgrade in the [Secondary Mutation] category—or use them to contract more useful followers and rake in experience.
...
“Duke Lannister!”
The Ice Giant returned from the distance, its steps rumbling faintly through the earth. Vavrinek rushed to meet Lann before he could even steady himself.
“We just saw Keltullis flying off. Did you fail to kill her?”
Lann shook his head, disappointed. “She has wings. If she’s dead set on leaving, even the Ice Giant can’t hold her back.”
Keltullis was destined for the battlefield. She was Lann’s ace in the hole, a weapon meant to help even the odds between Cintra and Nilfgaard. However, she lacked Saskia’s ability to take human form, so for now, Lann had to keep her existence a secret—waiting for the right moment to unleash her.
As for keeping Vavrinek in the dark—Lann figured that once the dwarves knew, the rest of the world would know soon after. So much for 'secret weapon'.
“That’s a real shame. I wonder if she’ll come back again...” Vavrinek looked truly disheartened.
Since they hadn’t succeeded in slaying the Red Dragon, Vavrinek used the possibility of her return as justification to back out of his promise to send half the clan’s warriors to aid Cintra.
Lann didn’t blame him. He had indeed promised that the Red Dragon wouldn’t trouble the Ferenc Clan again, but without proof, it was all just talk. And now that he had the dragon under his command, plus the support of most of Zigrin and Fuchs, Ferenc’s assistance wasn’t that crucial anymore.
Still, what was rightfully Cintra’s would remain Cintra’s. Even if they hadn’t 'slain' the dragon, Cintra’s forces had played a real part in eliminating the magical beasts plaguing the Ferenc Clan. Lann used this fact as leverage to reopen negotiations with Vavřinek. With Gabor and Petrit mediating, they eventually agreed on a decent number of reinforcements—a respectable infantry force.
So far, this had been the smoothest support negotiation Lann had gone through across all three clans.
With business settled, Cintra’s forces had no further reason to linger. Next, they’d head back to Mount Carbon to retrieve the Zigrin warriors awaiting judgment, finalize the handoff with the elder in chief, and then return to Cintra with their reinforcements.
Once they returned with their dwarven heavy infantry, it would be time to go to war with Nilfgaard and reclaim their homeland. That thought alone set every Cintran heart ablaze—even as they stood amid snow and freezing winds.
...
“Duke Lannister, we have one more request.”
Just as they were preparing to leave, Vavřinek approached Lann once again.
The Lion of Cintra turned curious. Behind Vavřinek stood a line of Scoia'tael prisoners and the young Ferenc warriors guarding them.
Vavřinek explained, “We’re escorting these traitors to Mount Carbon to face judgment from the elder in chief. These young guards are all novices—barely any real experience. We were hoping they could travel with you, under your protection.”
Lann scanned the group and noticed that many of the young dwarf guards were the same ones he had rescued from the mountainside not too long ago.
“You’re heading to Mount Carbon?”
One of the young dwarves stepped forward and bowed. Lann recognized him as the one who had begged him to pursue the Red Dragon and save the clan. He had been the cleverest of the bunch, a natural leader among the youths.
"Yes, my lord Duke. We’ve just returned home and want to quickly regain our footing in Mahakam—sort out our future roles and duties. Guarding these... Scoia'tael is the beginning of our new work. Later, representatives from each clan's returning youths will be sent to meet the Elder in Chief for questioning and assignments."
In that instant, Lann understood. A knowing smile crept across his face as his gaze flicked between the Ferencian youths and the Scoia’tael prisoners. Behind him, Kolgrim’s expression darkened. Looking at the young dwarves, he realized with regret that many of them were the dwarves he had recently brought back home.
“What’s your name?”
The young Ferencian gave another respectful bow. “You may call me Bitruik, my lord Duke.”
“Alright then, Bitruik.” Lann nodded. “Do your job well. Follow my unit.”
...
Back at Mount Carbon, even though it wasn’t their first visit, the people of Cintra still couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer scale of the city carved into the mountain.
The guards of Mount Carbon, however, were clearly alarmed at the sight of the ice giant. The last time Cintra’s group came, they certainly hadn’t brought along this monster. But Lann had no intention of hiding the towering creature this time. Instead, he let the giant march proudly with the rest of his retinue, all the way to the gates of Mount Carbon.
The ice giant was no longer a secret. Lann had stopped trying to conceal its existence. In fact, one of the reasons for his return to Mount Carbon was to have a proper suit of iron armor forged for the giant—so showing it off openly would actually make future negotiations easier.
Still, the visual impact of this ancient beast was... intense. So intense, in fact, that now Lann and his group found it difficult to even enter the city.
While Lann waited outside, looking up at the towering city and wondering if two dragons and one giant would be enough to bring the place down, a familiar figure came running out from within the gates.
It was Barclay Els, a colonel of Mahakam who had previously helped deliver the Elder in Chief’s orders and thereby prevented a war between the Zigrin and Fuchs clans. Back in the lands of Davor, he and Lann had shared a brief but pleasant exchange. Now, it was Barclay who had come to receive him.
“Duke Lannister, you never said you were bringing something this astonishing,” Barclay said, craning his neck up to stare warily—yet with awe—at the ice giant. “I heard about what happened in Ferenc. So it was this fellow who drove off Keltullis, wasn’t it? If you'd summoned him back then, the Zigrin and Fuchs wouldn't have dared to fight!”
Lann didn't respond to this sentence, just smiled and said, “The time wasn’t right back then. Now, I’ve brought him here to see if we can forge a proper suit of armor for him.”
Barclay chuckled, lifting his head again. “Armor for that? I can’t even imagine the look on the Nilfgaardians’ faces when they see it... Alright, come on in.”
The gates of Mount Carbon were massive, and even so, the ice giant had to hunch over to squeeze through. The dwarves didn’t try to stop him from entering. After all, a capital like Mount Carbon had strength of a different league than any remote outland clan. Even Keltullis wouldn't dare attack Mount Carbon recklessly—let alone this ice giant.
The giant could go head-to-head with a red dragon in open combat, but for civilizations like humans and dwarves, he was actually more manageable than a dragon. While the dwarves stayed cautious, they didn’t embarrass themselves with exaggerated panic.
“You got back too fast,” Barclay explained in a hushed voice as he led Lann to his quarters. “The Elder in Chief hasn’t returned to Mount Carbon yet. Your meeting will have to wait until tomorrow.”
“That’s alright,” Lann replied with an easy tone. “I understand how these things go. In fact, the downtime gives me a chance to handle a few other matters.”
As he spoke, his gaze drifted off toward a figure in the distance.
Waiting not far away stood House, the man Lann had left behind in Mount Carbon to handle negotiations. The moment he spotted Lann, he strode forward quickly.
“My lord Duke,” he greeted.
After reminding Lann of a few local protocols out of courtesy, Barclay quietly excused himself—leaving space for the sworn lord and his attendant to speak privately.
After delegating the guards and the dwarves who had followed him, Lann sat down at the table. A servant promptly brought him a goblet and poured a drink in preparation.
“Let’s hear it, House,” Lann said, taking in the fragrant aroma of Mahakam ale. He gestured for House to pour himself a cup as well. “How did the talks with the dwarves go while you were at Mount Carbon? What kind of equipment did you secure for us?”
“And besides the equipment—what kind of intel did you manage to gather?”
A confident smile spread across House’s face.
...
Nightfall, Mahakam Dungeons
The guards were still chatting about the arrival of the Cintran delegation earlier that day, marveling at the intimidating presence of the ice giant.
But such awe for outsiders quickly faded. The dwarven sentries soon turned their attention back to the prisoners inside—fellow dwarves, recently brought in, each wearing a squirrel tail as an accessory.
“When the Zigrins stirred up trouble before, I thought I’d seen Colonel Barclay at his angriest,” the guard captain said with a long sigh. “But when he escorted you lot in… the look on his face nearly convinced me we were about to go to war with a whole kingdom.”
“Kid, why did you have to go and imitate the elves?” one of the dwarven guards said, his tone heavy with disappointment as he addressed the Scoia'tael members in the cell. “Everyone knows the Scoia'tael is just something the elves cooked up to fight for their own settlements. It’s no secret. But we have Mahakam, don’t we?”
“You have any idea the kind of mess you've made for the Elder when he’s trying to deal with the humans?”
Though confined, the Scoia'tael members looked relatively clean and well-treated. They weren’t being mistreated, at least not visibly.
A dwarf whose beard was braided into three whips suddenly raised his voice. “We don’t want benefits handed to us through compromise with humans—that’s a disgrace! We’re dwarves! If we need something, we should take it with hammer and axe!”
“The days of dwarven dominion over the continent are long gone,” the guard replied, shaking his head. “What we should do now is wait patiently for the right moment—not act out recklessly like this… But never mind, it’s too late for talk.”
Footsteps echoed from the far end of the corridor.
“Bitruik! Come to visit your kinfolk?” one of the guards called out. The prisoners were young dwarves from the Ferenc clan—ones who had left years ago and never returned. The guards pitied them, but also understood how the Ferenc clan must feel right now.
“I’m truly sorry,” Bitruik said with a pained expression, apologizing as if on behalf of his detained brothers.
“What kind of nonsense is that? You don’t need to apolo—mmph!”
The guards had let their guard down around the young Ferenc dwarves, and it cost them. In an instant, they were knocked unconscious. Though these dwarves had returned from human lands with their tails between their legs, they had clearly learned well the tricks of stealth and ambush.
Bitruik was panting heavily, his hands shaking as he rifled through a guard’s pockets for the keys. But even after several attempts, he couldn’t get the key into the lock, the clinking metal making a pitiful 'clack, clack' sound each time he missed.
Then, two hands reached through the bars and gently took hold of his wrists. Bitruik looked up—it was the dwarf with the three-braided beard.
“When we’ve won rights for our people—when we’ve avenged them against the humans—they’ll understand. They’ll see that we’re fighting for justice,” the three-braided dwarf said reassuringly.
Bitruik took a few deep breaths, his hands finally steadying.
The prisoners soon poured out of the cell in a silent stream. With practiced ease, they began stripping the unconscious guards of their armor, preparing to disguise themselves. But before they could put anything on, the three-braided dwarf barked sharply: “Stop! We keep our gear as it is. Our people need to see who we are and what we’re doing—that’s how we’ll gain their support. This is Mahakam. In Mahakam, we don’t hide who we are.”
Then, turning back to Bitruik, he asked, “Are the preparations I gave you ready?”
