"Alba—!"
A Nilfgaardian major heard one of his soldiers roar in defiance before death. "Advance! Alba Division! For the Emperor!"
He didn't hear anything after that—a standard Lion-head steel sword pierced cleanly through his chest. The strike was swift, precise. The soldier who struck him didn't even look back, continuing his charge forward, ignoring the officer who might have earned him commendations.
Cintrans never killed Nilfgaardians for glory.
They did it because they wanted to—and because they had to.
Not far off, alongside the banners of the Three Lions, silver lilies fluttered in the wind. And marching with them was a legion clad in mismatched gear—but every fighter radiated unshakable resolve.
They had just emerged from a brutal engagement. Now, they were sweeping the battlefield.
Marshal Vissegerd rode to the front, only to be stopped by a group in blue-striped armor.
"Let him through," came the voice of the King of Temeria from behind the Blue Stripes.
"Thank you for your support," Marshal Vissegerd dismounted and bowed respectfully once allowed to approach. "Temeria's aid was an unexpected but welcome surprise."
King Foltest turned, his regal profile elegant enough to be stamped on coin. He looked at Marshal Vissegerd—
—but the moment he saw the lion sigil on the Marshal's breastplate, his expression twisted, as if he'd glimpsed filth. He quickly turned his head away.
He couldn't bear the sight of those symbols right now.
So King Foltest merely gave a restrained nod, acknowledging the thanks without a word.
Marshal Vissegerd frowned slightly but suppressed his displeasure. For the sake of the greater good, he could endure this level of contempt. He had dealt with plenty of arrogant nobles and petty kings in his youth.
"Marshal!"
A horse galloped toward them, bearing a striking female officer in full uniform.
It was Colonel Julia, commander of the Free Company—better known by her nickname, 'Pretty Kitty'.
"And Your Majesty—my respects," Julia said, dismounting before the Blue Stripes could stop her, and offering a formal salute.
"Speak your findings, Colonel," King Foltest said, lifting his chin slightly—cutting in before Vissegerd could speak.
He hadn't called her 'miss' or used any softening address. He addressed her strictly by rank—a sign of respect. Perhaps also because her uniform was clean… and bore no lions.
Julia gave Marshal Vissegerd a quick glance. At his frown and subtle nod, she began her report on the battlefield sweep.
"This was a major victory, but only because the enemy was few," Julia declared confidently. "They were all infantry. Their only standard was the black eagle on white—the unmistakable emblem of the Alba Division, specifically their infantry corps."
"If that's the case, then the situation is grim. Our interrogators"—she glanced at the trembling psionicist Kenna beside her—"extracted some very efficient information."
"We've confirmed that the Venendal Division, Magne Division, Frundsberg Division, the Second Vicovaro Brigade, and the Vrihedd Brigade have all marched north. Add to that the previously identified 7th Daerlan Brigade and the Naussicaa Division… and that's the entire Fourth Cavalry Corps."
"And the Third Army has left behind only a few thousand infantry. All of their cavalry has moved north as well." Julia looked toward Marshal Vissegerd, whose expression had turned grim. "The Duke of Lannister and the coalition over there… their situation is anything but favorable."
Foltest let out a cold snort as the Temerian soldiers behind him began regrouping.
"So you're saying we brought all these forces here… and ended up with nothing more than a handful of enemy infantry?"
He shook his head, then turned with a reserved air to Julia. "You seem quite familiar with Nilfgaard's military structure?"
"I graduated from the Military Academy," Julia replied casually, as though it were a trivial matter. "I'm a professional soldier. This is basic knowledge for any officer from Kovir."
Foltest frowned slightly. "Kovir… Hmph. Another matter for another time."
"If the enemy's main force has already moved north," he continued, "then we shouldn't delay any further. We must reach the front before Meve and Demavend are defeated—there may still be time for a pincer attack."
"Cintrans, Koviri—we march now! Let Nilfgaard learn who truly rules the North—"
"Your Majesty." Marshal Vissegerd interrupted before the King of Temeria could naturally assume command. "We need to leave behind one hundred soldiers to tend to the wounded."
"What?"
"To care for the injured. We have a medical unit. Cintra never abandons a single citizen." Marshal Vissegerd stood firm. "I understand that Temeria doesn't field medics—but if you have wounded, we will treat them as well."
"Once they're stabilized, we'll move north."
Foltest exchanged a long look with the white-haired old marshal, then scoffed again. "That will cost valuable time. Your Duke is still on the front line."
"Let's hope the Nilfgaardians don't beat him too badly."
Marshal Vissegerd smiled—a smile Foltest found deeply irritating.
"You don't understand the people of Cintra, Your Majesty. Just as you don't understand the Lion."
...
Menno must not be killed. In order to prevent the scattered Nilfgaardian cavalry from plunging the Northern Realm into chaos, Lann still needed this man to rally the remnants and retreat from the North—only then could he eliminate them all in one sweeping blow. That was the core strategy of this current battle.
Without even taking down the enemy's supreme commander, Lann had already launched this surprise attack. His true objective was the destruction of the high-powered siege weapons—and more importantly—to capture or eliminate the southern mage units, the elite combat forces of Nilfgaard.
Unlike the other Northern kings, who pathologically purged anyone different from themselves, Lann understood the potential of witchers, sorcerers, and even other non-human races.
Lann himself was one of these elite combat units—one of the best. He knew just how much power could be unleashed if these forces were gathered together. This was the foundation of his past, present, and future ability to act boldly in the Northern Realm.
This was the insight of a transmigrant beyond his time—rather than desperately suppressing these 'others', he brought them together.
The vicious public opinion manufactured by other Northern kingdoms could actually work in Lann's favor.
But aside from Lann, there was another country on the Continent whose native population had already developed a vision ahead of its time.
That country was Nilfgaard.
The Empire had long since reached internal consensus: they did not suppress or persecute those with extraordinary powers, but instead absorbed them into their military system.
Among them were not only sorcerers, but also non-human races including the southern elves.
A former Emperor of Nilfgaard had even attempted to recruit witchers from the School of the Viper.
In the original timeline, Nilfgaard had once used a high-level sorcerer to summon a host of golems and defeat Queen Meve's forces from Lyria.
Of course, for those strange individuals unwilling to submit to the Empire, Nilfgaard maintained a consistent policy of ruthless suppression—the destroyed fortress of Gorthur Gvaed, headquarters of the School of the Viper, stood as proof of this.
Today, leaving aside other combat units, Nilfgaard had already developed a more mature system for training sorcerers than the North. While apprentices in Aretuza and Ban Ard were still buried in books, their southern counterparts were already being deployed to the battlefield.
Even without deploying their central army's heavy cavalry, Lann believed that just those three southern sorcerer units with their golems would be enough to take Lyria.
In other words, Nilfgaard was the only country on the Continent whose high-end combat power could pose a true threat to Cintra.
And that, Lann could not allow.
He had to keep all three southern sorcerer units here—crippling Nilfgaard's magical capabilities in one decisive strike.
If they could be killed, they would be. And if not—then capture and recruit as many as possible. After all, with such oppressive policies in the Empire, there would never be a shortage of defectors.
…
Jerome looked at the two sorceresses before him and muttered to himself, "Fringilla Vigo… Assire var Anahid. That's right, these are the ones Lann asked me to capture."
In the future, these two women would betray the Southern Empire and join the Lodge of Sorceresses founded by Philippa of the North, working alongside Yennefer and Triss. They would also serve as Northern spies, feeding the Lodge a vast amount of southern intelligence—contributions that could not be ignored.
Later on, even during Geralt's search for Ciri, the two would play no small role in assisting him.
Although Lann already had a plan to gather Northern sorcerers, elite mages like these were always welcome.
Capture them if possible. As for persuading them to swear allegiance—that could come later.
While Jerome was murmuring to himself, Fringilla was enraged by his nonchalant attitude. She ignored even Assire's urgent signal to flee through the already-opened portal.
The man before her might not be wearing armor, and he didn't carry twin swords—but the eyes didn't lie. He was a witcher.
"Witcher! Wipe that look off your face! You think you're Lannister?!"
Chaotic energy surged, and a thick wave of elemental force roared toward Jerome.
Despite being shouted at in rage, Jerome responded with a gratified smile—one that even carried a hint of pride.
"Ah… so you're all afraid of Lann? Good…"
"But I'm not Lann," he added calmly, spreading his arms in the face of the incoming magic assault.
In his left hand, he seemed to grasp molten lava; in his right, the chill of deepest winter.
"I'm his teacher."
Fringilla suddenly froze. Behind her, Assire pulled on her arm with increasing urgency.
She sensed something was wrong and tried to leap into the portal behind her—only for a dimeritium bomb to explode out of nowhere.
Lambert grinned wickedly as he turned and ran—lest he get caught in Jerome's spell.
As he sprinted away, he reached behind his waist and pulled out two pairs of dimeritium handcuffs, planning to double back later and collect both their heads.
---
I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> patreon.com/TitoVillar
---