The Divine Hunter
chapter-628

A sea of thoughts swam through Roy's mind. It would be too sudden if he asked her about the Wild Hunt's waypoint. So instead, he wanted to find an answer about a question that had been on his mind for a while now. "I am not interested in your fight, politics, and conspiracy against humanity. All I want to know is the relationship you share with Aen Seidhe. Are you close, estranged, or hostile? I am sure Vilgefortz doesn't know of that secret."

Francesca was smiling, but her gaze remained calm.

"It's my turn to ask now. All you have to do is answer the question," Roy said.

Francesca was silent for a few moments, and she answered, "It's complex. The fact you're asking this question must mean you know of our history. I will not explain that. Ever since I was a child, the tribes' leaders have never stayed in contact because of their differences in ideology. Only the Aen Saevherne, or what you humans call sage, still remain in little contact through long-distance magic."

Roy nodded. If there's contact, there's something to go on. "Ideology differences?"

"Aen Elle does not make anything for themselves. Instead, they prefer pilfering the resources and essences of other civilizations to bolster themselves. Aen Seidhe despises the endless invasions and wars. We are willing to coexist in peace with all races. We prefer changing the world into a perfect home through our wits."

Roy looked at Francesca like he just heard the biggest joke getting cracked. "You prefer peace, so you ask Scoia'tael to kill the innocents?"

"You are that ignorant?" Francesca shook her head in disappointment, her hair brushing her face. "More than five hundred years ago, Aen Seidhe was the true ruler of this land, but after their first landing, the cunning humans pretended to befriend us. Under our aid, they survived, thrived, and learned magic. Through their beastlike ability to reproduce, they bolstered their numbers."

Francesca sneered. "In the end, the humans spat in our faces and forced their saviors into a corner. They forced the dwarves to retreat into the caves of Mahakams. They took over the cities and infrastructures we built and chased us into the barren lands of the Blue Mountains. What we're doing is nothing but payback for humanity's actions. We are just taking back our homeland."

She extended her left hand and clenched it. The elf said, "Aen Seidhe hates wars, but we are no cowards. We are just doing to the humans what they did to us."

***

Hah. You elves weren't kind to the natives of this land when you landed, Roy thought. "So do you still think Aen Elle's ideology to pilfer worlds is wrong?"

"Aen Seidhe are rebels, not invaders." Light flashed on Francesca's face. "All we want is Dol Blathanna, a place for Aen Seidhe to thrive. After that, we will stop our operations. We will never invade any kingdoms. If we do, then how are we different from those disgusting humans?"

Roy stared at the elven queen. She has her own brand of pride. The witcher's opinion on Scoia'tael changed, though only slightly.

“I have answered without reservations. Now it is my turn to ask." Francesca gave Roy a quizzical look. "A few years ago, Eveline escaped to the Blue Mountains and gave me a message. You claimed you could find a piece of land for my kind to thrive, and they would never have to sacrifice themselves again. That was a brazen claim. Not even the emperor of Nilfgaard can make that promise. You are at loggerheads with Scoia'tael, so why are you showing kindness to us? Because of the elven blood in your body, or because of Eveline?"

"That's part of the reason. Eveline is like a sister to me. I have good memories of her, and I do not wish to watch her kill innocent people. Her heart suffers because of that, and I don't want to see her leave." Roy was honest. "And I'm not just doing this for free. I'd like to make a deal with you. I get a piece of land for you, while you—"

"I do not remember witchers having the power to give elves a piece of sovereign land in the North," Francesca interrupted, her gaze icy. "I think I realize what you're doing. You're here on behalf of a Northern king. Is it Vizimir II or Foltest?"

"Don't take this the wrong way. I have no interest in being an errand boy for any king." Roy smiled proudly. "The land I talk about is neither in the North or South."

"It's in another world?" Reminded of something, Francesca's breathing stopped for a moment, her eyes narrowed.

"You guessed it. It's the world Aen Elle is in. All we need now is a waypoint, and I'm sure the sage in the Blue Mountains knows it. Find the waypoint and give it to me. That's one of my terms."

Francesca mused over the option. Roy put his hands behind his back and circled her, enjoying the view of the beautiful elven queen. "Aen Seidhe and Aen Elle descend from Aen Undod. Despite your long separation, you can still merge as one and change your relationship. The world of Aen Elle is massive. The natives have all been killed off, and they have enough land to house ten Aen Elle tribes. There will be no humans there to conspire against you. And Auberon is wizened. The tribe he leads no longer has the Elder Blood required for large-scale invasions. The only one fantasizing about a revival are the Red Riders. On the other hand, you are young, full of life, and descended from the same tribe as Aen Elle. You can travel to their world and take over their tribe. Then there will be no difference in ideology anymore."

The witcher was like a demon, tempting the elven queen to make a choice. No elf of her tribe ever made such a unique point. Despite their distance, the two tribes could merge and live in the same world once more.

"This is a pipe dream." Francesca smirked in disdain. "Auberon will never agree to this. The difference is almost impossible to bridge. And our worlds are separated by a distance bigger than the difference between our tribes. How can I even send my kind there?"

Roy calmly but adamantly said, "Auberon, the Wild Hunt diehards, and the logistics are all on me. If you accept my terms, then after the conflict tonight is resolved, we can start making plans."

"What makes you think you can settle this?"

"The Elder Blood. Why do you think I know about the elven tribes' secrets?"

Francesca felt like she was stabbed. She stared at the witcher in disbelief, the look on her face changing. The Elder Blood. Blood of space-time. The blood of prophecy, but how did a bloodline of that statute get entangled with a mere witcher? She held down her questions and shook her head stubbornly. "No, there's no need to do that. Why should I go through so many hoops to travel to another world? I have a better choice. Once the second war begins, Emhyr will give us Dol Blathanna as promised, and my kind will have our own land."

"I agree," Roy said. "Emhyr is a man of his word. After all your kind did, you deserve a reward, but what about the time before the war? How many of your kind will die before you reclaim your land? Nilfgaard does not have the element of surprise this time, and your attempt on the Northern kings' lives has failed. The army of Nilfgaard will face resistance they’ve never seen before. This will be a long war, and you know what kind of army Scoia'tael is?" Roy questioned.

The elven queen's shoulders shivered.

"Call it a vanguard troop if you want. That's a euphemism. They're nothing but cannon fodder. No doubt Emhyr will ask Scoia'tael to do battle in the deadliest, most intense battlefields. Places like that are gigantic meat grinders. The only thing Scoia'tael can do is have their last hurrah and die. When the war closes its curtains, how many of them will be left? Five out of ten? Three out of ten? One out of ten?"

The witcher's words pierced Francesca's hearts like a rain of knives.

"But that's not the end. The remaining Scoia'tael members will have misfortune rain on them as well. Emhyr will ask them to disrupt the North's defense line until every single one of them is dead. They will be nothing more than candles that burn themselves into wax and ash. When the wind blows, not a trace of them will be left. After Emhyr takes over the North, he will, for his reputation, ask the elven queen he appointed, to cut ties with Scoia'tael. And to gather the people's confidence in him, he will ask you to hand over the last of Scoia'tael. The ones who killed the children, the women, and the elderly. The ones the people of the North hate more than the Nilfgaardian army. They will be scapegoats and sacrificed for the people's fury. The last sacrifice of royalty."

Everything Roy said came from his memory. The more Francesca thought about it, the more she couldn't argue. She blanched.

Roy looked at the elven queen quietly. There was pity in his eyes. "Enid an Gleanna, queen of Aen Seidhe. Once your deal with Emhyr is done and you take back Dol Blathanna, the lucky elven children will be breathing the air of freedom. They will have fertile lands and woods to enjoy and thrive in. But what about the tattered bodies of Scoia'tael members who died in the war? Who will give them a proper burial and clear their name?"

Francesca couldn't answer that.

"And where will their souls rest? In a stranger's land that's not even their home?"

The question echoed in the air. Francesca looked at the dark night outside, tears streaming down her cheeks. I am sorry, she said in her heart, but the dead couldn't hear her.

"Choose Emhyr, and all the surviving Scoia'tael members will die horrible deaths," Roy said. "Choose me, and you can prevent more deaths from happening. Including today's."

"Today?" Francesca's voice trembled.

"You think your operation is that covert?" Roy stomped the ground beneath him. "The consultants of the Northern kings have set up a trap for you. You and the Scoia'tael members hiding in the cellar are like mice in mouse traps."

***

A long while later, Francesca let out a sigh, her eyes filled with worry and dilemma. "Roy, which side are you on? The South or the North?"

"I lean to the North, but I have no interest to interfere any more than necessary. I just want to strike a deal with you. If you take it, come into the hall with me in five minutes. Confess to everyone that you're Nilfgaard's spy and renounce Emhyr. And then Aen Seidhe will be released from the storm of politics."

That was Triss and Coen's request. They wanted to pull Scoia'tael out of the South's side and get Aen Seidhe on the anti-Wild Hunt team. Francesca inhaled sharply and put on an exaggerated look.

"I am impressed by your insight of war, but now you're acting like an arrogant fool. What makes you think I would give up years of planning, end my operation, and betray Emhyr? He is my only way out. Just because you're the bearer of the Elder Blood? Just because of a plan that hasn't even started yet? Or is there something more?"

"I prefer to speak through actions. Just wait. You'll understand in due time." Roy's eyes flashed like the sun, shining on the night sky beyond the corridor's windows.

In a place far, far away, a sea of bats was quietly flying across the bridge over the seas, heading toward Aretuza, the building within the gigantic defense circle.

***

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