Chapter 17: The Last Peaceful Days
POV: Adam
The festival bloomed across Cintra like flowers forced into early bloom—bright, beautiful, and doomed to wither before their time. Banners fluttered from every window, their cheerful colors painting the city in defiance of the darkness gathering beyond the horizon. Music drifted through the streets, carried on wind that tasted of roasted meat and spiced wine and the desperate sweetness of people determined to celebrate while celebration was still possible.
The last festival. They don't know it, but this is the last time.
Adam stood on the castle's main balcony, watching the revelry below with the bitter knowledge of someone reading the final chapter of a story everyone else thought was just beginning. Children ran through the streets with ribbons and wooden toys, their laughter echoing off stone walls that would be rubble within the week.
Eight days. Eight days until all of this becomes memory and ash.
"You're not brooding through the whole festival."
Ciri's voice cut through his melancholy like sunlight through storm clouds. She appeared beside him wearing a dress that transformed her from warrior-in-training back into princess, its blue silk catching the afternoon light in ways that made his breath catch.
Beautiful. When did she become so beautiful?
"I don't dance," Adam said, recognizing the determined gleam in her green eyes that meant argument was futile.
"Neither do I. Perfect."
She grabbed his hand before he could protest further, her fingers warm against his palm as she pulled him toward the main courtyard where nobles and commoners mingled in the sort of celebration that only happened when social barriers temporarily dissolved.
This is a mistake. People will talk. People will notice.
But Ciri's smile was radiant with the kind of joy that came from snatching happiness from the jaws of approaching doom, and Adam found himself following her into the crowd of dancers with the helpless momentum of someone who'd already lost an argument he'd never had a chance to win.
The music was some traditional Cintran melody that spoke of harvests and homecomings, its rhythm simple enough that even complete amateurs could follow along. Adam and Ciri stumbled through the steps with the clumsy enthusiasm of people who understood that competence was less important than participation.
We're terrible at this. Spectacularly, embarrassingly terrible.
Ciri stepped on his feet with enough force to make him wince—only half-feigned—and the sound of her laughter in response was pure sunlight given voice. She doubled over with mirth that brought tears to her eyes, her royal composure completely abandoned in favor of genuine, unguarded joy.
This moment. Remember this moment when everything goes dark.
"I think I'm supposed to lead," Adam said, trying to guide her through a turn that ended with them facing the wrong direction while other couples flowed around them like water around stones.
"I think we're supposed to know what we're doing," Ciri replied, still laughing as they attempted to recover their position in the dance.
People are watching. Nobles whispering behind fans and wine cups, noting the princess dancing with the mysterious boy who'd appeared from nowhere and somehow earned royal favor.
But Adam found he didn't care about the attention. The weight of approaching doom, the pressure of foreknowledge, the desperate need to save everyone—all of it faded into background noise against the simple reality of Ciri's hand in his and her laughter painting the air with music sweeter than any instrument.
[Relationship +5]
Current Points: 85/100
Status: Approaching absolute trust
The song ended with them standing closer than the dance required, her green eyes looking up into his with an expression that held questions neither of them was ready to answer. The space between them seemed to shrink until only breath and heartbeat remained.
Too close. People are watching. But I can't make myself step away.
"To Cintra!"
Eist's voice boomed across the courtyard with the authority of someone whose words carried the weight of shared sacrifice. The Skellige warrior stood on the main dais, his weathered face bearing scars that spoke of battles won and comrades lost.
His last toast. He doesn't know it, but this is his last celebration.
"To family! To standing together when darkness comes!"
The crowd roared approval, cups and voices raised in defiance of uncertainty and fear. But Adam saw something in Eist's expression that others missed—the particular sadness of someone who understood that some celebrations were also farewells.
He knows. Maybe not the details, but he knows this might be the end.
Eist's gaze found Adam across the crowd, and the older warrior nodded once—acknowledgment that passed between people who understood that promises were sometimes paid for with blood.
I'll keep her safe. Whatever it costs, I'll keep your promise.
The festival's energy began to ebb as evening painted the sky in shades of gold and red, but the celebration continued with the determined intensity of people who understood that joy was precious precisely because it was temporary. Adam found himself separated from the main crowd, standing near one of the castle's smaller courtyards where the noise was muted and the press of bodies less overwhelming.
"You'll protect her. When I cannot."
Queen Calanthe's voice carried the weight of royal command mixed with maternal desperation. She approached him with the measured pace of someone who'd made a decision that couldn't be unmade.
Direct. No ceremony, no evasion. Just truth delivered without decoration.
"Your Majesty?" Adam said, startled by the Queen's sudden appearance and the intensity in her pale blue eyes.
"I've seen how you look at Cirilla. How she looks at you." Calanthe's voice carried the particular authority of someone stating objective truth. "When the battle comes—and it will come—you get her out. Understood?"
She knows. She knows I care about Ciri more than my own life.
"I swear it," Adam replied, meaning every syllable with the desperate intensity of someone making promises that might require his soul to keep.
Calanthe placed her hand on his shoulder, the gesture carrying approval and blessing and the weight of royal trust that few people ever earned.
"You have my blessing, boy. For whatever that's worth."
[Relationship +30]
Current Points: 75/100
Status: Trusted - Royal Approval Granted
[BOND ABILITY UNLOCKED: "Lioness's Favor"]
+25 reputation with all Cintran survivors
+10% combat effectiveness when protecting royalty
Her blessing. The Queen of Cintra gives me her blessing for whatever comes next.
"It's worth everything, Your Majesty. Everything."
The castle battlements offered sanctuary from the festival's intensity, their stone walls providing perspective on a kingdom that blazed with light and laughter while darkness gathered beyond the horizon. Adam and Ciri climbed the narrow stairs in comfortable silence, seeking space to process emotions too complex for easy naming.
The last peaceful night. After this, everything changes.
They settled onto the wall's broad top, legs dangling over empty air while the celebration continued below. The sounds of music and voices drifted up to them, but felt distant and dreamlike against the vast quiet of the night sky.
"Everyone's pretending it'll be okay," Ciri said, her voice carrying the particular sadness of someone who'd learned to see past comfortable lies.
They need to pretend. Hope is sometimes the only thing standing between civilization and chaos.
"Maybe they need to pretend," Adam replied, understanding the cruel necessity of optimism in the face of approaching catastrophe.
"Do you think we'll win?"
The question hung between them like a blade waiting to fall. Adam felt the weight of foreknowledge pressing against his chest, demanding honesty that he couldn't give without destroying everything he'd built.
We'll lose. Everyone will die except you. The kingdom will burn and you'll spend months running from everything that wants to use your power.
"I think... we'll survive," he said finally, offering as much truth as he dared. "That's what matters."
Ciri leaned against him, her warmth solid and real against his shoulder. The contact sent electricity racing through his nervous system, but he didn't move away. Couldn't move away.
This might be the last peaceful moment we ever have.
"Promise me something," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Anything."
"Don't die. I couldn't... just don't die."
I promise to try. But if it comes down to choosing between my life and yours, there's no choice at all.
"I promise. You don't die either."
Ciri's laugh was soft and sad and tinged with knowledge that some promises were easier to make than keep. "Deal."
They sat in silence, watching stars emerge in the darkening sky while their hands rested inches apart on the cold stone. Neither moved to close the distance, but the space between them felt charged with possibilities that eight days might not be enough time to explore.
[Relationship +5]
Current Points: 90/100
Status: Deep emotional bond, approaching maximum trust
A familiar blue shimmer materialized in Adam's peripheral vision, invisible to everyone except him.
[WARNING: Story Mission Will Auto-Trigger in 7 Days]
[MISSION: "The Fall of Cintra" - Cannot be avoided]
[Recommended Level: 12+]
[Current Level: 8]
[Time remaining to prepare: 7 days]
[System Advisory: Preparation time critical for survival probability]
Seven days. One hundred sixty-eight hours. Ten thousand and eighty minutes.
He could count it down to the second, but it wouldn't change the outcome. Nilfgaard would come. Cintra would fall. And he'd keep his promise—she'd survive.
Even if it killed him.
The night stretched around them, peaceful and perfect and numbered in hours that felt like heartbeats counting down toward apocalypse. But for now, they could sit together and watch the stars and pretend that tomorrow wouldn't bring the end of everything they'd ever known.
Seven days to get strong enough to save her. Seven days to change an ending that felt written in stone.
Seven days to prove that some promises were worth dying to keep.