The political landscape of the Northern Kingdoms, already a volatile mess, now resembled a shattered mosaic. King Vizimir's aggressive moves towards Novigrad, fueled by Aizen's phantom intel, had ignited a furious response from Temeria. King Foltest, a tactical genius but famously hot-headed, viewed Redania's actions as a direct challenge to his authority and a brazen disregard for the urgent Nilfgaardian threat. The two largest Northern powers were now dangerously close to open conflict, precisely as Aizen had intended.
Aizen observed these escalating tensions from the Scriptorium, noting the increasing frequency of military couriers passing through Dravograd. Each rider, each coded message, was a data point for his grand design. He'd even begun to subtly influence the content of minor dispatches between local lords, inserting a word here, a phrase there, that subtly intensified existing suspicions or nudged decisions towards more aggressive stances. His Kyōka Suigetsu was now so refined that these alterations went unnoticed, perceived merely as a change of mind or a moment of clarity by the intended recipients.
His research had taken a more focused turn: the nature of magical wards and defensive enchantments. He spent hours dissecting ancient texts detailing the construction and weaknesses of magical barriers, focusing particularly on those designed to protect powerful artifacts or hidden locations. He theorized that if he could understand the fundamental principles of their creation, he could also devise methods for their effortless bypassing, ensuring nothing would stand in his way when the time came to claim a suitable Hōgyoku equivalent.
Beyond the Scriptorium, Aizen continued to cultivate his pawns. Torvin, the merchant prince of Dravograd, now controlled a significant portion of the city's wartime economy, ensuring that whatever resources Aizen might require could be discreetly funneled. Captain Roric, his authority now absolute within the city guard, inadvertently provided Aizen with unfettered movement and access, his patrols always seeming to be elsewhere when Aizen needed privacy.
A new figure arrived in Dravograd, drawing Aizen's immediate attention: Anya, a young, ambitious sorceress of middling talent but sharp political instincts, sent by the Lodge of Sorceresses to gather intelligence on the fractured Northern front. Aizen recognized her type immediately – ambitious, intelligent, and convinced of her own unique importance, making her an ideal, if dangerous, target for manipulation.
He began subtly working on Anya. He would appear in her peripheral vision at opportune moments in the Scriptorium, allowing her to 'discover' obscure passages in texts she might otherwise overlook – passages hinting at ancient Elven prophecies of a coming transformation or the true, hidden power of Elder Blood. He didn't speak to her directly, merely orchestrated her "discoveries." His goal was to foster a particular line of thought in her, to make her believe she was uncovering groundbreaking, secret knowledge that would elevate her standing within the Lodge.
One evening, Anya, her brow furrowed in deep thought, found herself drawn to a section of the Scriptorium she had dismissed as mundane. Her eyes fell upon a particular scroll, seemingly by chance. As she unrolled it, a phrase seemed to shimmer into prominence in her vision: "The Child of Elder Blood shall tear the veil." A subtle, yet profound, conviction settled in her mind. This was it. The key to the Lodge's future. She felt an almost overwhelming urge to report this 'discovery' to her superiors, a feeling that intensified with every passing moment.
Aizen, observing from a shadowy corner, allowed himself a rare, almost imperceptible smile. The Lodge of Sorceresses, with their independent ambitions and thirst for power, would be invaluable. By subtly directing their attention towards Ciri and the Elder Blood, he was ensuring that highly powerful mages would do a significant portion of his eventual work for him, all while believing they acted for their own gain. The Continent was not merely fracturing; it was being meticulously shaped into a vast, intricate prison. The trap was almost fully set, and the most powerful pieces were already moving towards its jaws.