The "ward" fell silent for a moment.
With a wave of her hand, Tissaia de Vries dispelled the soundproof barrier that had enveloped the entire room. The windows and both doors swung open, letting in the noisy bustle of the outpost outside.
"Talia, assign a few reliable people to take care of Faniel and settle things here," Tissaia de Vries said.
"Yes, Arch-mistress." Talia nodded in acknowledgement. As if she had not heard Lysa's words earlier at all, she released several magical messages through the open window, sending them out, then quickly busied herself with arrangements.
After tucking the blankets securely around the unconscious Faniel, Tissaia de Vries said a brief "Come with me" to Lysa, then stood up and left the ward.
Lysa froze for a moment, then rose and followed.
Bang
As they stepped out, the old wooden door groaned as it shut, sealing away the last sliver of daylight from the castle corridor.
This was not the path Lysa had taken when she arrived. She had entered the ward through another door, leading from a room deep within the castle. She had not even known that this abandoned border fortress still contained such a passage.
In the dim, flickering light of wall torches, a full row of grotesque gargoyle statues stood along the center of the corridor.
Murals hung on the stone walls to either side. They were new—clearly not part of this long-abandoned castle's original decor, but brought here by the sorceresses of Aretuza.
One depicted Herbert Stammelford, Aurora Henson, Ivo Richert, Agnes of Glanville, Geoffrey Monck, and Radmir of Tor Carnedd jointly drafting the charter of the Council of Wizards.
Later, the Council of Wizards would also be known as the Brotherhood of Sorcerers—the Chapter of the Gift and the Art—using law to restrain and govern the mages of the Northern Kingdoms, demanding the loyalty of all spellcasters. It was the highest authority in the magical world of that era.
In the painting, Aurora Henson stood at the very center, pen in hand, emerald eyes glinting with wisdom. Agnes of Glanville appeared to be arguing with Herbert Stammelford, Ivo Richert, and Geoffrey Monck, yet her posture remained elegant. Because her arm was raised, the visual center of the painting placed her slightly higher than all the other legendary mages.
Aurora Henson and Agnes of Glanville were among the very few legendary female sorceresses of the Council of Wizards.
Thanks to her aristocratic education, Lysa actually knew another secret.
Right after this meeting to draft the Council's charter, these six legendary sorcerers launched a bloody purge, wiping out—through brutal war—all those who refused to acknowledge the Council or submit to its laws, including Raffard the White, who held power in Temeria at the time.
Although Raffard was nominally only the king's royal advisor, King Abudank of Temeria was mentally deficient. In reality, Raffard controlled the strongest human kingdom in the Northern Continent, and many had even called for the sorcerer to be crowned King of Temeria himself.
Another mural was the famous Discernment of the Chosen, depicting the moment Agnes of Glanville left her parents to join the sorcerers. In order to uncover the origins of magic, Bekker and Giambattista tested the children of immigrants for magical talent. Those selected would leave their parents and follow them to the earliest wizard settlement, Mirthe. All the children were crying in fear—except for the brown-haired Agnes, who reached out her hand to Giambattista with a smile of absolute trust.
After that came five portrait paintings.
Hen Gedymdeith, Tissaia de Vries, Ortolan, Narses de la Roche, and Borhn Drummond—the five legendary mages of today's Chapter of the Gift and the Art.
The portraits of Hen Gedymdeith and Tissaia de Vries hung opposite one another, as though locked in a silent gaze.
Lysa felt that the atmosphere of this corridor was strangely unsettling. She could only sense that these paintings centered heavily on sorceresses, faintly conveying the idea of female sorcerers standing above male mages.
Of course, that was not surprising.
After all, this expedition had been initiated by Tissaia de Vries and Aretuza, to rescue Ban Ard and Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization—two extraordinary organizations dominated by male mages.
Moreover, not only were the fates of Hen Gedymdeith and Ortolan unknown, but although Narses de la Roche had persuaded Novigrad to provide a large quantity of supplies, male mages were still far less invested in the rescue than the sorceresses.
And in truth, Lysa could see it clearly—this was a kind of inferiority complex.
An inferiority complex accumulated over centuries, from a past in which sorceresses had been suppressed and discriminated against by male mages.
From this arose a certain outward illusion.
To outsiders, male mages and sorceresses might seem well-matched, and romantic relationships between them should be common. In reality, however, sorceresses would rather take nobles or commoners with limited lifespans than bind themselves to male mages.
"Yes, this is indeed a kind of inferiority complex." Tissaia de Vries tilted her head, glancing at her own portrait—staff in hand, with Thanedd Island as its backdrop—then at Hen Gedymdeith's opposite painting, showing him aged and careworn.
She could even tell that although her portrait hung on the same horizontal line as his, the gaze in the painting did not meet Hen Gedymdeith's eyes at all, but passed over the top of his head.
She ignored him.
"But it is precisely this inferiority complex that makes Aretuza's apprentices forever superior to those of Ban Ard, that makes sorceresses more ambitious than male mages—more willing to devote themselves to maintaining order in this world, and to serve as examples for other women."
"A woman does not have to rely on a man to live, nor must she possess love, marriage, childbirth, or motherhood."
Just as Lysa was about to apologize for her thoughts, she frowned slightly upon hearing this, sensing that Tissaia de Vries was implying something.
"I am a priestess of the goddess Melitele," Lysa countered calmly.
Melitele was the goddess of fertility, love, and harvest. Her doctrine upheld that women should fulfill the roles bestowed by nature: the charming maiden, the nurturing pregnant mother, and the wise, stern grandmother—stages every woman ought to experience.
Sorceresses, who found it difficult to conceive, were in themselves at odds with Melitele's teachings. Thus, most of Melitele's priestesses did not like sorceresses.
This dislike was further fueled by the fact that many sorceresses were promiscuous, jealous, bloody, and cruel; their unnatural physiology easily twisted these extraordinary beings born from humanity.
Of course, sorceresses generally did not like Melitele's priestesses either.
It was a clash and mutual rejection of two worldviews and philosophies of life.
"Apologies," Tissaia de Vries said without anger, instead offering an apology. "Mind-reading is a reflex. I was momentarily distracted."
"I don't mind," Lysa shook her head, meeting Tissaia de Vries's gaze without flinching. "There's nothing in my heart that others can't know."
If she did not mind that, then she naturally minded this.
Tissaia de Vries stopped and fell silent for a few seconds before saying, "I know you mean Allen. But Lysa, Allen is a witcher."
"Witchers are the most dangerous role in an expedition."
"In this expedition, it is impossible to protect any witcher. And I don't even know how I would do it."
"Witchers advance at the very front of the expedition, clearing monsters from the path, or operate on the flanks, warning the force of monster attacks. I am a sorceress, and I am also the commander of the expedition. I cannot always be at the very front or the very edges of the formation."
"Of course, I could agree right now. But Lysa, you are owed by Aretuza and by the Brotherhood of Sorcerers. I also like your character very much, so I don't want to brush you off."
Tissaia de Vries paused, fixing her gaze on Lysa.
"Protecting Allen—this is something I cannot do."
"I can only give you two choices. Either you persuade Allen to leave this expedition. I can turn a blind eye and let him go, and pacify the other factions."
"I can't persuade him," Lysa said, pausing before continuing in a pleading tone. "Allen would never agree to abandon the other witchers of the Wolf School and leave alone—"
She hesitated, then earnestly suggested, "Sorceress Tissaia, you also know that Dol Dhu Lokke has undergone enormous changes. Continuing the expedition now is extremely dangerous. Can't we wait—wait until we investigate what changes have occurred inside, and then—"
"Impossible!" Tissaia de Vries's expression turned cold as she cut Lysa off mercilessly. "The expedition to Dol Dhu Lokke will begin on schedule—"
"But—"
"It is precisely because Dol Dhu Lokke has suddenly undergone such drastic changes that the timing cannot be altered," Tissaia de Vries interrupted.
Not only could it not be changed—if not for the Wolf School, the Griffin School, and the Bear School not yet having arrived, she would have wanted to set out immediately.
Otherwise, once the news spread, the expedition might very well be over before it even began.
Contracts were useful most of the time, but not necessarily in moments like this. After all, they had not signed a contract with Dol Dhu Lokke itself.
"But we still don't even understand what's happening inside Dol Dhu Lokke," Lysa said in confusion. "Charging in according to the original plan—wouldn't that easily lead to heavy losses? And since Dol Dhu Lokke has changed so drastically, maybe Ban Ard has already—"
She paused, then continued, "If that's truly the case, the expedition suffers heavy losses and Ban Ard is devastated as well—wouldn't that be a net loss?"
"This is different," Tissaia de Vries shook her head.
Of course it was different.
Ban Ard, Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization, Aretuza, and even the students of Narses de la Roche's Mystic Academy in Oxenfurt—these extraordinary organizations, managed by members of the Chapter of the Gift and the Art, were the true forces subordinate to the Brotherhood of Sorcerers.
On ordinary days, the rivalry between Ban Ard and Aretuza, or the deep frictions between Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization and Ban Ard, were nothing more than normal internal conflicts within the Brotherhood.
Yet the very power by which the Brotherhood of Sorcerers governed the extraordinary organizations of the Northern Continent, and intimidated the secular kings, was precisely these three.
Could the Crowned Silver Eagle—publicly affiliated with the Brotherhood, yet privately flirting with Redania—really be trusted?
As for the Rogrides family, driven purely by selfish desire, they would only gnaw away at the very foundations of the Brotherhood.
And there were countless sorcerous organizations like these.
Relying on such forces, how were they supposed to confront the Wild Hunt? How were they to face the prophesied Time of Sword and Axe, the Age of the White Frost and the Howling Wolf?
Or to put it another way: it was precisely because Ban Ard and Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization had already suffered heavy losses that organizing this expeditionary council had been so difficult, mired in mutual buck-passing.
If Ban Ard and Rissberg had been intact, would the Rogrides family and the Crowned Silver Eagle have dared to provoke her on Thanedd Island with even a single word?!!
They wouldn't have dared, even if given ten times the courage!
Therefore—
To Tissaia de Vries, even if all the other extraordinary factions in Dol Dhu Lokke were wiped out entirely, that would still be preferable to a crippled Ban Ard and Rissberg Civil Cooperative—especially considering that Ortolan of the Chapter of the Gift and the Art was still trapped inside.
Naturally, she could not possibly say any of this to Lysa.
She only shook her head. "The expedition plan will not be altered for anyone. Change your request instead—"
"I can tell that you are different from the other priestesses of the Temple of Melitele, Lysa. There is a stubborn flame burning in your eyes. You have ambition. You are more like a sorceress than a priestess of Melitele."
"Aretuza and the Brotherhood of Sorcerers can support your development within the Temple of Melitele."
"For example, the Crone Knights. I know the Temple of Melitele is preparing its own knightly order. The Brotherhood has the finest alchemical masters—they can forge equipment and brew enhancement potions for the Crone Knights."
"All of this could become your achievement."
Lysa shook her head.
"Or what about you yourself?" Tissaia de Vries felt a headache coming on. "Even if you have no interest in power, divine magic does not rely solely on tedious prayer. Aretuza also has certain collections suited to the circulation of divine power—"
Lysa shook her head again. Before Tissaia de Vries could propose another temptation, she bit her lip and said, "Then at least don't let him be wounded by his own people. I know there are many in the expedition targeting the Wolf School, targeting Allen."
Tissaia de Vries fell silent for a few seconds, then shook her head. "That isn't much of a request. This is the Brotherhood of Sorcerers—this is something I should have done in the first place."
"That alone is enough for me," Lysa said firmly.
"Very well," Tissaia de Vries nodded. "I guarantee that Allen will not be harmed by his own side during the expedition. The Brotherhood of Sorcerers and Aretuza will remember you—remember this favor done for Aretuza."
"Thank you, Lady Tissaia," Lysa said sincerely.
Tissaia de Vries waved her hand. Understanding the cue, Lysa turned back and retraced her steps, leaving the corridor.
Bang
The old wooden door closed softly.
After watching Lysa's figure disappear at the end of the corridor, Tissaia de Vries glanced at the portrait beside her—her own image, its gaze tinged with arrogance—shook her head, and walked in the opposite direction.
When she reached the end of the corridor, she gave a light flick of her hand.
The stone wall, where there should have been nothing at all, silently opened, revealing a small room that looked like a storage chamber.
Inside the small room stood a bed.
On the bed lay an old man—an old man wrapped in a thin, transparent gelatinous membrane, so faint that without the reflection of candlelight, it would have been almost impossible to detect.
"Hen Gedymdeith…" Tissaia de Vries let out a soft sigh. "You need to be faster. Faster…"
At that moment—
Knock, knock, knock
Urgent knocking suddenly echoed from the other side of the corridor.
Without changing her expression, Tissaia de Vries flicked her hand, and the opened wall silently closed once more.
"Enter!"
A sorceress pushed the door open in a panic and immediately shouted, "Arch-mistress! The Crowned Silver Eagle and Redanian knights have started fighting with the Wolf School's witchers!"
They've started fighting?!!
The ruler of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers—who had just given her promise to a certain young girl—Tissaia de Vries's face darkened instantly.
......