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TWL Chapter 336: Betrayal in the Shadows
🕑 Added 2025-03-24 15:06:39 +0000 UTCAccording to his memories from his past life, Lann knew that in the original timeline, a battle of shocking proportions would break out between the Fuchs and Zigrin clans.
Even without the Conjunction of the Spheres that Lann had triggered, Davor’s Abyss was always teeming with monsters. The Fuchs had fought off wave after wave, failing repeatedly, until they were nearly wiped out. Their losses were catastrophic, and in the end, they were forced to flee to Boro's Rump in what was essentially a desperate retreat.
That was when the Zigrins struck.
They assembled a massive force and launched a surprise attack on the battered Fuchs, eradicating them completely. Afterward, they lured hordes of subterranean beasts to devour the corpses, creating the illusion that the Fuchs had been killed in a monster ambush. This deception allowed them to evade scrutiny from the Elder in chief.
Though the truth eventually came to light after many twists and turns, it was too late. The Fuchs clan was forever erased from Mahakam’s history.
And now, despite all the changes Lann had set in motion, the Zigrin still seemed to be making the same choice. The monster uprising had given them an opportunity—just like in the original timeline.
"My assessment is this: the Zigrin clan isn't gathering their warriors to eliminate the monsters. They're driving the monsters toward the Fuchs and planning to strike alongside them," Geralt said gravely. His instincts, sharp as ever, were frighteningly close to the truth. "What I can’t figure out is how they expect to control these creatures—or how they plan to destroy the Fuchs without suffering heavy losses themselves."
Lann pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, I don’t think they intend to fight alongside the monsters. I believe they're merely using them to cover up the massacre. As for how they plan to minimize their own casualties… I think I have an idea."
He then explained to Geralt how he had spent the last three days clearing out the monsters in Davor’s Abyss, piecing together his theory.
Geralt took a deep breath. Even his normally stoic expression showed a hint of unease. "If you're right… that's terrifying."
And now, a difficult choice lay before them.
Should they stand by the Fuchs, who had already pledged half of their able-bodied warriors to Cintra? Or should they side with the Zigrin, kin to Yarpen and already tied to Cintra by growing emotional bonds?
"If it were before, I might have hesitated," Lann said, inhaling deeply. "But now… as unfortunate as it is, we have to abandon the Zigrins."
"A betrayal of this scale shows they've abandoned all honor. Bringing dwarves like that back to Cintra would be a disaster waiting to happen," he stated decisively.
It was a bitter choice, but the lesser of two evils. If there had been time, Lann would have sought a way to spare both clans, but the urgency of the situation left no room for ideal solutions.
"Then, next, we should—" Lann began but suddenly cut himself off mid-sentence.
Geralt, sensing something, immediately turned his gaze toward the entrance of the tent.
"Your Grace, Mr. Gabor has arrived." The guard outside announced the visitor.
Moments later, a stocky dwarf with familiar short strides stepped inside.
"Duke Lannister…" Gabor’s lips curled into a polite smile, but it was a strained one, barely concealing the tension beneath. "We heard you had returned. It seems the issue with the Fuchs has been resolved. The Zigrin Clan greatly appreciates your assistance—Geralt has been an immense help. From here on out, we won’t trouble you any further. No, rather, we are deeply grateful for your aid."
As Mahakam’s diplomat, Gabor was far more eloquent than Kuba. Yet even now, his speech was halting, and the guilt on his face was plain to see.
"Is there a problem, Gabor?" Lann asked softly.
Gabor remained silent for a moment, then shook his head firmly. "No need to trouble yourself, Duke Lannister. I’m merely… troubled about my clan’s future."
"If there’s something wrong, I can help."
"No. We don’t want to burden you any further, nor do we wish to drag you into this." Gabor’s voice took on a pleading tone. "Our chieftain has written a letter to the Ferenc Clan, hoping to secure more warriors for you. However, their situation with the red dragon seems dire. They hope you can set out as soon as possible."
Lann did not respond immediately. Instead, he studied the dwarf before him—one with whom he had spent considerable time. Then, with unfiltered honesty, he spoke:
"I do plan to leave soon, and the Ferenc Clan is indeed on my itinerary. But that’s not my next destination."
Gabor’s lips trembled. The forced smile faded from his face, and his gaze dropped. He dared not meet Lann’s eyes.
"You have to understand, Gabor. If things keep going this way, even if I leave the Zigrin clan right now, I’ll never be able to wash my hands of this." Lann looked down at Gabor, his voice cold. "You’ve already dragged me into this—or rather, you set me up."
Gabor remained silent as Lann began issuing orders, rallying his soldiers and preparing them for action.
Outside the tent, shadows flickered in the dim light, yet none of the Zigrin dwarves seemed to take notice. Their settlement looked half-abandoned, as if most of them had already set out for whatever mission awaited them that night.
Gabor neither tried to persuade Lann further nor attempted to flee and warn the others. He simply stood there, motionless, as though the tent itself were a prison sealing him off from the outside world.
Reflecting on their time together over the past few days, Lann realized he had actually enjoyed Gabor’s company. The dwarf had seemed troubled from the moment they met, clearly reluctant about his clan’s actions. But dwarven society was far more tightly bound than human families—whether he liked it or not, Gabor was shackled by loyalty to his kin.
Before leaving, Lann stepped forward and said, "I've heard that there are only two kinds of dwarves who leave human society and return to Mahakam. One type is those who were bullied and discriminated against, unable to carve out a place for themselves. The other is those who have seen firsthand the struggles of their people in human lands and return determined to strengthen Mahakam—to build it up, make it greater. You, Gabor, are clearly the latter."
Gabor shifted slightly and let out a long sigh. "Duke Lannister, what’s the point of saying this now?"
"I have my suspicions about what the Zigrin clan is planning, but I need precise information to save time. I believe you can give me that information." Lann's gaze locked onto Gabor's.
The dwarf let out a bitter chuckle. "I am a Zigrin, Your Grace."
Lann shook his head. "You returned to Mahakam to build something better, Gabor. We've gotten along well so far, so let me speak to you honestly—how much damage do you think the Zigrin clan’s actions will do to Mahakam?"
"Even if you prioritize your clan’s interests above Mahakam’s, even if you believe it's worth sacrificing Mahakam’s growth for Zigrins’ gain—do you really believe this will help your clan in the long run?"
In his past life, when Lann first heard about this incident, he thought the Zigrin dwarves were utterly foolish. A massacre like this, wiping out an entire clan, would only serve immediate anger. The consequences would be disastrous.
Especially in a nation like Mahakam, where escaping punishment was nearly impossible. If this scheme had any chance of strengthening the Zigrins, it might be worth considering—but it didn’t. There was no long-term gain, only destruction.
"I once visited Oxenfurt and spoke with scholars who studied sociology, philosophy, and anthropology. They told me about an interesting concept— ‘group polarization'.” Lann spoke slowly, watching Gabor’s reaction. "The theory suggests that when individuals gather into a group, their decisions tend to become more extreme—either recklessly adventurous or overly cautious; either exceptionally benevolent or unspeakably cruel."
"Many decisions that would be condemned by a lone, rational thinker somehow gain approval when made by a collective. Gabor, you seem trapped in this very dilemma."
"Right now, you’re the only dwarf in this tent. So tell me, Gabor—do you really want this? Do you truly believe Mahakam and your kin in the Zigrin clan should suffer the consequences of what’s about to unfold?"
Gabor's expression wavered, his body trembling.
"You’re not a fool, Gabor. You can see the truth as clearly as I do. Maybe you’ve been caught up in your clan’s mindset, weighed down by concepts like ‘honor’ and ‘duty.’ All I ask is that you step back and think clearly, rationally, the way you normally would."
A Cintran guard approached from outside the tent, calling out, "Your Grace, the troops are assembled!"
Lann glanced at Gabor, whose body was still shaking. Whatever goodwill he had felt toward the dwarf was nearly exhausted.
