Chapter 78: Nilfgaardian Scouts
POV: Adam
The alarm reached us during morning practice.
Dwarven patrol returning through the eastern gates, six warriors escorting three prisoners in black and gold. Nilfgaardian colors. Enemy uniforms in supposedly safe territory.
I dropped my training stones and ran.
—Scene Break—
The prisoners knelt in the entrance hall, wrists bound with iron chains, faces bloodied from what had clearly been an eventful capture. Two young men and one older veteran, all wearing the practical leather of scouts rather than formal military attire.
Yarpen stood over them, axe still wet with someone else's blood.
"Found these three mapping tunnel entrances." His voice carried the controlled fury of someone protecting home and hearth. "Had detailed charts of our holds. Routes that shouldn't exist on any human maps."
"How did they get that information?" Geralt's question cut to the heart of the matter.
"Good question." Yarpen kicked the older scout. "Answer it."
"Intelligence sources." The man spat blood but held Yarpen's gaze. "Empire has eyes everywhere. Trade routes, merchant contacts, information that flows for the right price."
"And what were you seeking?"
"You know what we seek." His eyes found Ciri—still in her Fiona disguise, but standing close enough to the action that his attention landed naturally. "Ash-blonde girl. Princess of Cintra. Cahir aep Ceallach wants her found and reported."
The name hit like a physical blow. Cahir. The knight who'd chased us since Cintra's fall. The hunter who never stopped, never tired, never gave up the pursuit.
"Cahir's here?" My voice came out harder than intended. "In the mountains?"
"Three days south. Fifty soldiers, two mages, full field command." The scout's smile held bitter satisfaction. "You can kill us. Won't change anything. He knows you're in this region. Just needs confirmation of exact location."
"Which you haven't provided yet."
"Message goes out at sunset if we don't return. Dead man's switch, you might say."
—Scene Break—
POV: Geralt
Emergency council convened within the hour.
Five elders sat their stone thrones, faces carved with expressions that ranged from concerned to actively hostile. Yarpen stood at attention before them, presenting the captured scouts and their implications.
"Nilfgaardian presence in our mountains." Brouver Hoog's voice rumbled like distant thunder. "Mapping our entrances. Seeking humans we granted sanctuary."
"The situation has become untenable." Elder Morvran spoke for the conservative faction. "We accepted guests understanding certain risks. Foreign military forces conducting espionage operations—this exceeds acceptable parameters."
"We expel them now, Nilfgaard wins." Yarpen's counter came sharp and immediate. "Shows we can be pressured. Next time they want something, they'll pressure harder."
"Next time they want something, they might not ask." Another elder—Korgan, the engineer who'd overseen tunnel construction for two centuries. "Empire has armies. We have mountains. Mountains last longer than armies, but only if we don't invite conflict."
The debate spiraled. Geralt listened with half attention, calculating options with witcher pragmatism.
"Scout's information puts Cahir three days out. Fifty soldiers—not enough for siege but enough for sustained pressure. Two mages mean they can track, communicate, possibly breach defensive wards. Deadline creates urgency that benefits no one except those who want us expelled."
Adam's hand brushed his sleeve. A glance showed the young man had reached similar conclusions.
"Let me speak."
Geralt nodded. Better Adam than himself—dwarves might listen to someone they'd watched save their miners.
The chamber fell silent as Adam stepped forward.
"Council members." His voice carried without shouting, a trick he'd learned from watching Geralt address hostile audiences. "I understand your concerns. Nilfgaardian presence threatens everyone here, not just us. But consider: we didn't bring Cahir to your mountains. His scouts have been mapping your holds for their own purposes—conquest preparation that has nothing to do with one girl."
"Evidence?" Brouver's question came neutrally, neither accepting nor rejecting the claim.
"Their maps show positions throughout the range, not just near your hold. Routes to other dwarven settlements, mineral deposits, water sources. That's not a search grid—it's an invasion plan. They're using us as excuse to gather intelligence they wanted anyway."
Murmurs spread through the gathered dwarves. Adam's argument hit a nerve that personal sympathy couldn't touch—self-interest.
"Surrendering us won't stop their mapping. Won't stop their pressure. Won't stop anything except our ability to fight back." Adam's hands clenched at his sides. "But helping us defeat Cahir's force? That sends different message. Shows Mahakam isn't to be bullied. Creates precedent that protects you long after we're gone."
The vote took twenty minutes of deliberation.
Three to two in favor of extended sanctuary—one more month, conditional on resolving the Nilfgaardian situation permanently.
—Scene Break—
POV: Adam
The interrogation room sat deep in Mahakam's secure sections, stone walls thick enough to muffle screaming.
We didn't need to make them scream. Geralt had techniques for extracting information that left no marks—pressure points, leverage, the simple mathematics of pain applied precisely rather than generously.
"Cahir's family." The veteran scout spoke through gritted teeth. "Hostages held in Nilfgaard proper. He succeeds, they live. He fails..." A shrug that cost him obvious effort. "Emperor doesn't tolerate failure."
"So he's not chasing us by choice." I processed this information against existing assumptions. "He's forced into it."
"Does it matter? Forced or willing, he'll still drag your princess to Emperor's court. Dead or alive, though alive's preferred. Emhyr has... uses for Elder Blood."
The words chilled deeper than Mahakam's stone.
"What uses?"
"Above my rank." But his eyes flickered—he knew more than he was saying. "Breeding program, maybe. Bloodline cultivation. Way I heard it, Emhyr wants heirs with power. Girl's the last of Cintra's line. Only source of Elder Blood still walking free."
[ Intelligence Gathered: Cahir's Motivation ]
[ Family held hostage ]
[ Serves under duress, not conviction ]
[ Possible negotiation leverage ]
"One more question." Geralt leaned close, voice dropping to a murmur that somehow carried more threat than shouting. "You mentioned ice riders. Frost portals. What does Nilfgaard know about the Wild Hunt?"
The scout's face went pale beneath its bruises.
"Hunt's real. Empire tracked their manifestations for years. They want the girl too—something about her blood opening doors between worlds." He swallowed hard. "Cahir's orders include keeping her away from Hunt if possible. Emperor wants her alive and useful. Hunt would use her up and throw away the husk."
"The enemy of my enemy."
"Isn't your friend. Just your enemy's enemy." The scout laughed without humor. "But Cahir might listen to that logic. Man's not stupid. If he thought cooperation kept his family safer than capture..."
I exchanged looks with Geralt. The same calculation formed in both our minds.
Cahir wasn't a monster. He was a man trapped between impossible choices, doing terrible things for understandable reasons. That didn't excuse him—but it created opportunities that pure villainy wouldn't offer.
"We're going to let you go." The words surprised even me as they emerged. "One of you. Carry message to Cahir. Tell him we want to talk. Neutral ground, his choice, but no ambush. He agrees, we negotiate. He refuses..." I shrugged with casualness I didn't feel. "We handle it differently."
"You'd negotiate with the man hunting you?"
"I'd rather make a deal with a desperate father than kill him." I met the scout's eyes. "Wouldn't you?"
[ QUEST UPDATE: Resolve Cahir Situation ]
[ New Option: Negotiation ]
[ Deadline: 30 days ]
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