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TWL Chapter 308: Skellige Rises
🕑 Added 2025-02-22 21:25:39 +0000 UTCEist rose from the throne of the Drakkar, before spreading his arms. Seeing that the king had something to say, the clamorous cheers died down to an expectant murmur. All eyes turned to him.
His face reflected a mixture of emotions, and his voice resonated firmly: "More than ten years ago, I experienced a scene like this. Many of you are witnessing for the second time how I wear the crown. I have no words to express how grateful I am for your continued support."
"There are no secrets in the archipelago. I believe everyone has heard why I am standing here again."
"To avenge the queen!" a voice shouted from the crowd.
"Kill the Nilfgaardians!"
Skellige had always been a people of warriors, and Cintra's politics of strength and steel fit perfectly with their values. Eist had a large following among the islanders, and Queen Calanthe was also very popular. After the fall of Cintra and Calanthe's death, the pirates of Skellige had stepped up their attacks on the Nilfgaardian coast on their own.
Now that Eist had ascended to the throne, his personal vendetta had become a matter for the entire nation.
Along with the cries for Calanthe, other voices were raised.
"Revenge for Torgeir the Red!"
Torgeir did not survive the siege. The Nilfgaardians, using their catapults, buried him under the rubble of the castle. When they managed to unearth his body, not even Lann's system could save him.
The islanders had one more reason to start a war.
Eist clenched his jaw. To him, Torgeir had been more than a mentor.
"There are no secrets in the archipelago. I believe everyone knows what happened in our territory not long ago."
"I could say that Nilfgaard is a threat, that after ravaging the north it will inevitably turn its weapons against us. I could say that the Skelligers and the Nilfgaardians have been enemies since time immemorial and that a battle between us is inevitable."
"These are honorable reasons, but we don't need them today."
"Our reason is only one: a vengeance worthy of honour!"
Torgeir was a respected man. And if there was one thing that was clear to the islanders, it was that they were raiding the southerners, not the other way around. That the Nilfgaardians had managed to infiltrate their territory, murder a former jarl of the seven clans and destroy a fortress was an unprecedented humiliation. An affront to their honour.
"Torgeir was a man of valor, a navigator without equal. When his subjects were in crisis, he shared his wealth with his people. There was no wall, not even those of the southern emperor's palace, that his strength and courage could not tear down."
"But the Nilfgaardians… they have no honor. They came from the south and brought with them their cursed catapults. The walls fell and our brothers were buried under the rubble. The waves of debris swallowed our warriors, and with them, a former jarl and his faithful guardians."
The other six jarls could no longer contain themselves. Despite their usual calm and devotion to their people, the blood in their veins boiled like the sea in the midst of a storm.
"War on Nilfgaard!"
"To arms!"
Lugos and Crach raised their weapons in unison.
Then the earth shook.
A faint but perceptible tremor ran through the cliff. The crowd, which had been roaring with fervour until then, fell silent for a moment. Some warriors tightened their fists on their weapons, prepared for the unexpected. However, their faces soon filled with wonder and anticipation.
The islands have no secrets.
The roar suddenly ceased. And ten paces away from Eist, an emerald glow appeared out of nowhere. It was so bright that the islanders had to raise their arms to shield their eyes.
Still, no one wanted to look away. They knew what was about to happen.
When the light dissipated, a blue-skinned giant appeared before everyone.
Harald and the members of the Tordarroch clan instinctively took a step back.
But then, everyone saw Lann standing on the giant's shoulder.
As the crowd looked on in amazement, the ice giant bowed, lowered his head, and knelt on one knee before the king. Lann then leapt nimbly from the giant's shoulder, which still stood as tall as a two-story building. But his movement was so fluid that it seemed as if he were descending from a single step.
There are no secrets in the Islands. Everyone knew that Eist had led a group of a hundred men on an expedition to the island of Undvik to confront the ice giant, after having eradicated the Svalblod sect. And everyone knew that Lann had played a crucial role in that enterprise with his group of witchers.
Not only did they defeat the ice giant, they subdued him.
What a glorious feat!
Although it was Lann who subdued the giant, this was done after a glorious battle with the help of King Eist and his men.
"King Eist!"
Not even a tsunami could have silenced the euphoria of the islanders at that moment.
Lann bowed slightly to Eist. Then he turned and motioned for the giant to open his palm. From between his fingers emerged the Nilfgaardian officer, clad in black armor.
The man had been cleaned and his armor polished, but his expression was one of pure terror. His spirit was broken; he could not even utter a word.
When the islanders saw the Nilfgaardian, their cheers were mixed with cries of rage. If it weren't for the presence of Eist and Lann, they would have already begun spitting and throwing axes at him.
Lann pushed the prisoner roughly and forced him to kneel in front of Eist, facing the crowd, like a prisoner before his execution. Then he took a step back, giving them space.
"In the name of the King of Skellige, I sentence this criminal to beheading. His head will be thrown into the mountains, his body into the sea, and his soul will never be able to return to the mainland. This sinner will eternally wander the desolation where the Black Sun will never shine... until the end of time comes." Eist raised his sword. "And from this moment, the war between Skellige and Nilfgaard has begun!"
There were no words of mercy. The edge of the steel flashed in the air, blood gushed forth in a scarlet jet.
The head rolled across the ground, severed from the body. The islanders watched the scene with wide eyes and, with uncontrollable fervour, responded with a clamor that echoed throughout the place.
"King Eist!"
Eist held up the severed head for all to see.
"Hang it on the prow of one of our ships. Strip off his armor and tie the pieces to our shields. When we invade Nilfgaard, I want every southerner to see their Black Sun banner torn to shreds."
"king Eist!!!"
...
It was not often that one found a justification powerful enough to mobilize all the warriors of the nation. And now, they had two.
The troops of the other clans, gathered to defend the island of Undvik, no longer needed to be dispersed. They would continue training in the same place, while increasing supplies and logistics to prepare for the great expedition to Cintra.
In this atmosphere of warlike fervor, Lann suspected that, even without the existence of Cintra, the Skelligers would already be sharpening their axes to launch the war against Nilfgaard.
Lann couldn't help but sigh as he looked at the Nilfgaardian officer's tattered armor hanging on Eist's Drakkar.
But before leaving Skellige, Lann still had some business to attend to.
Fritjof opened a portal and stepped through. When he emerged on the other side, he was already in the Druidic Circle of Skellige.
Around him, specks of emerald green light began to glow brightly.
Fritjof watched Lann's figure appear in the glow with a mixture of wonder and admiration. No matter how many times he witnessed this magic, he always found it fascinating. He even considered proposing to Lann a scholarly analysis of this mysterious power.
But he knew that Lann still had more pressing matters to attend to for now.
When Lann had adjusted to his surroundings, Fritjof pointed to a nearby wooden hut. "He's in there. A warrior worthy of respect... though he's sleeping soundly now. Go and wake him, Lann."
"I appreciate it very much." Lann nodded gratefully and pushed open the door of the cabin.
Inside, a massive man lay on a rustic oak bed. His bare torso was covered in overlapping scars, a map of ancient wounds from knives, burns, claws and fangs.
His breathing was slow but powerful. When he heard someone enter, his amber eyes, slanted like a feline's, opened with caution.
"Gerd." Lann called out to him with concern. "How are you feeling?"
