The rest of the evening was filled with reparations and recovery.
Men dragged the bodies of the Kaedwenis to be buried or burned, while soldiers carried their comrades to the healing tents, either to be treated or to be prepared for burial. Others tore down barricades, scrubbed blood from the cobblestones and walls, or tended to the prisoners of war.
But that night, Armet did not rest.
He and Skalen were dealing with Cecil's belongings, preparing for his funeral. As the alderman, Cecil had been respected by merchants, craftsmen, and common folk alike. He was well-liked, and as dwarves preferred it, his farewell would be held at the inn, where Skalen had decided to spend part of his inheritance buying drinks for everyone.
It wasn't just a farewell to Cecil. It was a celebration of victory, of survival, and of all they had lost.
When the dwarves arrived, they each patted Skalen's shoulder, offering condolences and sharing stories of Cecil. The inn was full, fuller than Armet had ever seen it.
Saskia rose from her seat, mug in hand. She still smelled of blood and sweat, but her voice was strong as usual.
"For Cecil Burdon, and for all we've lost today! For our victory, and the victories to come!"
"Aye!"
Mugs clashed. Ale spilled. They drank to the past, the present, and the uncertain future.
Armet mingled for a while, a mug in hand, but soon withdrew to a corner. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and wanted nothing more than silence.
Of course, not everyone could read the mood.
"Armet!"
The voice was unmistakable, cheerful, flamboyant, and entirely too loud.
A bard sat beside him with a grin. "Finding you here, my friend, is the most surprising thing I've seen all year."
Armet sighed. "Of course you're here too. Where the witcher goes, the bard follows."
Sure enough, Geralt followed, along with two others in blue uniforms marked with Temerian lilies. The witcher gave a curt nod, silent as ever.
"Oh, come now, we haven't seen each other in ages!" Dandelion said. "Last time was during that mage-hunting business, wasn't it?"
"Don't remind me of that shit, Dandelion," Armet muttered. "What are you doing here anyway? This isn't exactly your kind of crowd."
"Oh, I go where Geralt goes," the bard smiled. "Speaking of which, Geralt doesn't remember you. Bit of amnesia these days, so do forgive his forgetfulness."
Armet turned to the witcher. "I surmised as much. How long are you planning to stay? Witchers don't usually linger."
Geralt exchanged a glance with Dandelion before answering. "We're headed to Loc Muinne."
"A witcher at a monarch's summit? Interesting times," Armet mused. "Business there?"
"Saving a friend," Geralt said simply. "And clearing my name."
"Ah yes. People are calling you the kingslayer." Armet smirked faintly. "Did you really kill Foltest and Demavend?"
"I didn't."
"Pity. If you had, I'd have thanked you."
"Not much of a monarchist?" Geralt asked dryly.
"What do you think, witcher? I'm here, with Saskia."
Dandelion chuckled. "Last I heard, she wants to be queen of a free Upper Aedirn. But a queen nonetheless."
"Well, nothing's decided yet," Armet replied. "The nation's barely formed. Still, 'saving a friend,' you said? Who's the friend? Dandelion's clearly not in danger."
"Hey!" the bard objected. "I'll have you know I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
Geralt ignored him. "You're in charge of the city's defense, aren't you? Heard anything unusual lately?"
"Like what?" Armet asked. "You'll need to name your friend first."
Geralt hesitated, then relented. "Triss Merigold."
"The Fearless," Armet whistled. "A dwarf saw someone fall from the sky a few weeks ago, a man and a redheaded woman. Could've been her. Never met her myself."
"Do you know who this dwarf is?"
Armet pointed toward a drunken figure at a far table. "Mantas. He's well into his cups, but talk to him and he'll tell you everything."
Geralt nodded, stood, and made his way toward the dwarf. "Thanks."
As he left, Dandelion leaned back and smirked. "Oh, by the way, what ever happened to you and Shani? Last I checked, you two were lovebirds."
Armet sighed. "She's not here, obviously."
"So it didn't work out? Pity. The architect of war and the healer would've made quite the ballad."
"Oh no. I've heard your Geralt and Yennefer ballads. I don't need that kind of attention."
"Come now, my services are impeccable," Dandelion teased. "I'd make sure your tales live forever."
"Maybe write about my accomplishments instead, not my love life," Armet said flatly.
Another voice chimed in. It belonged to one of Geralt's companions. "He's right. What he and his men did today was no small feat."
"Ah, I could work with that," Dandelion mused. He turned to Armet. "Oh, introductions. Armet, this is Vernon Roche and Ves. Vernon commands the Blue Stripes."
Armet nodded toward them. "Temerians, then. Heading to Loc Muinne with Geralt? I heard they're dividing Temerian lands there."
Roche's expression darkened. "Constable Natalis will secure the best outcome possible. Still, what you did here, defeating Kaedwen's army with less than a thousand men, is impressive."
"Barely a siege," Armet scoffed. "Henselt was cocky."
"Your experimental weapons certainly made an impression," Roche continued. "At the Kaedweni camp, soldiers were too afraid to cross the river because of them."
"Then they did their job," Armet said.
"If Temeria ever needs such weapons, would you sell them to us?"
Armet shrugged. "Ask next year."
Roche gave a grim nod. "Fair enough. Dandelion already said it, but I'm Vernon Roche, commander of what's left of the Blue Stripes."
"What's left?" Armet asked.
"Henselt was a treacherous host," Roche said bitterly. "It's a pity he's your prisoner. Otherwise, I'd have killed him myself."
"My condolences," Armet replied. "How did you even enter the city? Through the tunnels?"
"Indeed," Roche said. "We snuck through the mines and found a battle raging even there. Dwarves against Detmold's mercenaries, and the mage himself. Geralt subdued the sorcerer and brought him to Saskia as a peace offering. Otherwise, we'd have been slaughtered. Technically, we were Kaedwen's allies."
"Ah. That explains the silence from the tunnels," Armet murmured. "In any case, welcome to Vergen."
"Peculiar city," Roche noted. "You've taken in the so-called murderers of the forest too. Their presence is… noticeable."
"I'm not in the mood to argue politics," Armet said wearily. "It's a night of mourning."
"You're right," Roche admitted. "My apologies." He rose, nodding to Ves. "We'll take our leave. Good night, then."
"Good night, Commander. Ves."
When they left, Armet turned to Dandelion again. The bard was uncharacteristically quiet, staring into his drink.
"What's wrong with you?" Armet asked. "Usually you'd be flirting by now. Dwarven women not to your taste?"
"They're not quite my type," Dandelion said carefully. "Still, it's as you said, tonight's a night of mourning. And I'm inspired, truly. You're fighting tyranny, for freedom. To give people a nation they love, not one they fear."
Armet snorted. "Going to write another poem?"
"A song," Dandelion said. "Songs can move hearts. Inspire armies."
Armet looked down at his mug. "Right, a song."
He wished he could hear the music of his old life again. But that world was gone.
"Say," he said suddenly, "when are you leaving exactly?"
"No idea. Depends on Geralt." Dandelion glanced toward the witcher, still wrestling information out of a drunk Mantas.
"About that song," Armet began slowly, "I have an idea."
"Oh?" Dandelion perked up. "Venturing into the fine arts, are we?"
"Not exactly. I've just had this tune stuck in my head. Think the people here would like it. Maybe you could help spread it, perform it a few times."
"That depends," Dandelion grinned. "If it's any good."
"You can take all the credit you want," Armet said with a faint smile. "It's a song about… angry men."
—
Early in the morning, Armet stood outside the dwarven catacombs just beyond Vergen. The sky was gray, the clouds heavy, and a thin drizzle fell across the mountain path. Rain beaded on his cloak and dripped from the rim of his hood, but he didn't move.
A cluster of dwarves gathered near the carved stone archway that marked the entrance to the catacombs. Most stood silent, their heads bowed, beards glistening with rain. Only a handful of Cecil's kin had gone inside for the final rites.
Beside Armet stood Yarpen Zigrin. He let out a deep sigh, the kind that came from the chest rather than the lungs. The dwarf had drunk himself near to collapse the night before, but even he had found the strength to stand straight this morning. For a friend.
"We all die someday," Yarpen said quietly. "You humans just die quicker, that's all."
Armet didn't look at him. "Not unless a bolt goes through you before age gets the chance."
Yarpen gave a low chuckle that sounded more like a groan. "Aye. Maybe that's t' better way of it. Swift. Clean. Before the joints start creaking and the beard turns gray as the stones."
"Maybe," Armet said. "But I've seen enough death like that to know it's never clean."
The dwarf nodded slowly, watching the mist rise from the crypt entrance. "Isn't that the truth? Still, better t' have someone remember ye than t' rot where no one bothers to look. How would ye want to go, Armet? Tomb and statue? One of them fancy human monuments?"
Armet allowed himself a faint smile. "Cremate me. My body shouldn't take up that much space. Let the wind scatter what's left. The world's already crowded enough with ghosts."
"Hah. Poetic." Yarpen spat. "I'd like to rest with my kin, down in the stone. Feels right. But maybe that's a fool's wish. I hold rank in Mahakam, and now here too. Might be they'll split me in two… half a hero there, half here."
"I don't know if that'd be fitting," Armet said quietly.
Yarpen smirked at that, but only for a moment. The rain thickened, pattering against the stone, and neither spoke for a while.
Then the catacomb doors creaked open. Skalen and a few dwarves emerged, faces heavy, eyes red from grief. They nodded once toward the waiting crowd, and that was enough. The deed was done. Cecil Burdon, alderman of Vergen, had been laid to rest.
Armet's breath left him in a long sigh. That was it. He would never see Cecil again. A dwarf who had raised him, guided him, kept him alive. The memories had grown faint over the years, but they still remained. Without Cecil, Armet would have been long dead… A wasted second chance at life.
Yarpen folded his arms and stared at the catacomb's dark mouth. "Ye know, humans talk of heroes and mighty kings. We dwarves just bury the ones who worked the hardest. Cecil was one of those. Never thought he'd go before I did."
"Neither did I," Armet murmured. "He deserved more time. But time doesn't care who deserves what."
Yarpen grunted softly. "Aye. That's the cruel joke of it all. The good ones never see the world they build. Only the rest of us, standing around in the rain, trying t' make sense of what's left."
Armet said nothing for a long moment. Then he turned from the catacombs and started walking back toward the path. "Come on, Yarpen. We've got a meeting to go to."
The dwarf hesitated before following, looking back once more at the sealed entrance. "Aye," he muttered.
—
When Armet and Yarpen reached the council room, they were already talking about after battle reports. The losses, the repairs. Armet and Yarpen quickly sat, looking over everyone.
"Sorry, needed to go to a funeral." Armet simply said.
"It is fine, Armet. I am sure Cecil has been well rested in the catacombs." Saskia nodded.
Armet sighed. "Speaking of Cecil… the position of alderman's empty now."
"I have asked Yarpen about this." Saskia said. "The dwarves aren't willing to replace him."
Armet scoffed. "Figures. Now what? Appoint a human instead?"
Yarpen scratched his beard. "I've sent a letter to Mahakam. To see if anyone's willing. We'll see in a few weeks. For now, let's talk about other things. For example, tell us about what we've missed."
"We lost a hundred men, give or take," Saskia said grimly. "Their names will be remembered, we will carve it upon the walls that they have died to protect, and their families will be cared for. The repairs are underway. A few buildings were ransacked while we fought in the streets. The outer gate of the northern entrance was blasted open, as you know. For now, we will use wood where metal once stood. Other than that, the cleanup proceeds. Now…" She straightened her back. "I wish to speak of what comes next."
She stood tall, and turned to the silent figure of Stennis. "Prince," she began, "yesterday we fought side by side. We spilled Kaedweni blood together for a single cause. For that, you have my respect. But my purpose has not changed. I want Upper Aedirn to be free of crowns and kings. I want it to be independent. So out of respect for yesterday, I will now ask instead of taking it by force: will you grant this land its freedom?"
The air thickened. The chamber fell silent.
Stennis sat unmoving, his expression somber, thinking deeply. Then, he spoke. "My late father once faced a question much like this," he said. "The Valley of the Flowers. Dol Blathanna. He declared it a free duchy under Aedirn's banner, ruled in its own way. I will offer the same to you."
"We do not want that, Prince," Saskia replied. "Have you not seen enough to understand? We do not wish to kneel, not under your banner nor anyone else's. We will not be free with a leash still around our necks."
"I will ask you this, then, Saskia." Stennis leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Rumors say you wish to be queen. Is that not hypocrisy? The North will never accept your sovereignty. They will see it as rebellion, a threat to their thrones. I am giving you a path to legitimacy, to peace."
"Those are only rumors, Prince," Saskia replied. "And all the northern kingdoms can come if they wish. We will meet them in the fields of battle."
He raised a brow. "Then you deny them? You do not wish to be queen?"
"That is correct."
A shocked murmur rippled through the chamber.
Phillipa frowned. "Saskia, what are you saying? This rebellion bears your name. You inspired thousands to rise. And now you refuse the throne?"
"If I take a crown," Saskia said, "then everything we have fought for becomes a lie. I would replace one tyrant with another, and that tyrant would be me. I will not build a kingdom on the bones of those who died to end tyranny."
"Then who rules?" Iorveth asked. "No one?"
"Exactly," Saskia answered. "No one rules. The people will govern."
Iorveth looked lost. "I do not understand."
"We will follow a system like that of the dwarves or the Skelligers," Saskia said. "A council of men, dwarves, and elves, each with a voice and differing interests. They will choose a leader among them, one who has earned the right to lead, not inherited it. That leader will guide, not reign. Govern, not command. And if that leader falters, grows corrupt, or becomes too weak, the council will remove them. There will be no crown, no divine right. Only the duty to serve."
The murmurs grew louder.
"There will be no kings in this land," Saskia declared. "No dukes, no lords, no masters born to power. Every man, dwarf, and elf shall stand equal before the law and the council. Power will not pass through blood, but through deeds. Only those who prove themselves through courage, wisdom, and sacrifice will earn the right to guide our people."
She leaned to the table, as if demanding to be heard.
"Some of you may call it idealistic, too unrealistic," she said, meeting Stennis's gaze. "But tell me, what is this rebellion without its ideals? Without the dream that we can be better than what we were? We have bled together, man, elf, and dwarf alike. Our dead lie side by side in the mud. Their blood has mixed in the same soil. If we turn back now, if we rebuild the same tyranny we swore to destroy, then we have betrayed them. We will have failed everything we fought for."
Her voice quickly softened. "We owe them more than that. We owe each other more than that. So I ask you, not as your commander, not as your queen, but as one of you. Will you build this new realm with me? Will you teach your children to uphold it? And your children's children?"
For a moment, silence. Then a single fist struck the table. Another followed. Then another.
The ripple spread through the table, like the beating of a great heart. Dwarves shouted their approval. Elves bowed their heads in solemn respect. Men raised their voices in agreement.
By the time it ended, the hall was roaring with conviction.
Even Stennis, surrounded by the force of their unity, could only stare at Saskia and the impossible dream she had set before them.
"There you have it, Prince." Saskia addressed Stennis again. "What do you say then? Or do we have to take it by force once more?"
Stennis stood up from his seat, looking over the council. "Very well. But do know this, my decision will harm my position back at home. I am doing you a large favour. So I will not say anything until I become king."
"Then that is enough."
"I guess this is farewell to this council." he said, already walking away. "I will see you at Loc Muinne, Saskia. Until then, goodbye."
Then, he left, turning the council into silence once more.
"So what now?" Yarpen asked. "Is Saskia still the leader of this rebellion?"
A noble, or rather, now, a man with influence, scoffed. "Do you even need to ask?"
"Let us just vote out of formality. Agreed?" Armet spoke out. Everyone nodded. "All in favour of Saskia to become… What do you want to call it? Head councillor?"
"Worry about names later, we have more important things to discuss after this." Yarpen gruffed.
"Fine." Armet hummed. "All in favour for Saskia to become the leader of this new… realm, say aye."
And in that moment, everyone that seats on the council shouts their answer.
"Aye!"
"There we have it." Armet hummed, turning to Saskia. "Continue, Saskia."
"Thank you." she smiled, then she became serious again. "As you might have known, I will be going to Loc Muinne at once with Phillipa. There, the sovereignty of our nation will stand. It is an important summit, even if some of you don't like it. That leaves this place leaderless, and yet we are in the most dire of times, perhaps more so than before now. The Nilfgaardian spy that hid under us here in this very city tells us that something will happen in the near future. Something that correlates to the empire. Now I am willing to bet that they will try to invade for the third time."
Hearing this, the council grew grim.
"That is why we need someone here to stabilize this place, and to prepare for the upcoming invasion. We need someone to consolidate every city, town, and villages in Upper Aedirn. I am talking about every place that is between the Pontar and the Dyfne. That is Hagge, Tiel, Kalkar, and Berg Aen Dal. I cannot do that if I am to attend the summit at Loc Muinne."
"So you want to choose a right hand to do all that?" stated a noble.
"Correct." She nodded. "Which is why, I propose Armet to be my replacement during my time at Loc Muinne."
The council turned into a murmur.
"What?" Armet raised his brow. "Don't joke, Saskia."
"You have already meddled yourself with the production of your weapons by building a whole new area by the Pontar." she said. "If we are to defend against Nilfgaard, we are going to need a lot more firepower. And yesterday you have proven yourself to be a good leader of your men. I have said to you once, that you are the very epitome of what I want from this new realm. The idea in fact comes from you, and what better way to start than to give you this opportunity?"
Armet frowned, but he didn't say anything.
"Aye, I agree t' that." Yarpen said. "If it's not for yer cannons and thunderers, we would probably have a tougher time defending, even probably losing. Ye've improved this city's defence in just two months, lad. I bet ye can improve an entire realm in that time too."
"I was just doing my job, Yarpen. Why are you agreeing? Shouldn't you be offering yourself instead?"
Yarpen scoffed. "No, thank you. All in favour, say aye."
"Aye!" majority exclaimed. It was the dwarves and some of the ex-nobles. Iorveth was silent.
"There ye have it." Yarpen patted Armet's shoulder.
Armet massaged his temple. "Fucking hell."
"You must work together, even while I'm away." Saskia continued. "These are the most crucial of time. Armet?"
He sighed. "Fine. We must restart our production of powder and the weapons at once. Some of you will follow me to meet the leaders of the cities of Upper Aedirn and make them swear fealty to the land. We must train men in response to a possible Nilgaardian invasion. And we must fortify the Dyfne, in preparation for that."
"What if they refuse?" asked one of the ex-nobles.
"I do not want bloodshed, and from the looks of it, we have no time to wage war against them." Armet said. "We must focus on building battlements at the Dyfne, where we will make our stand against the Nilfgaardians. Say, if they invade in August, then in September at the earliest we will meet them. That leaves us with two and a half months of preparation. We will do the impossible again. Do you trust that we will prevail?"
The question lingered for a while.
Armet chuckled. "I don't trust it either. If we are to follow the pattern of the last war with the Black Ones. Their eastern forces will number around ten to twenty thousand. All professional men. We will need to recruit men from the other cities, therefore we must bring them to our cause. One way or another. Now, like I said, I don't want bloodshed. So we must tell them what we know."
"With that knowledge, they will betray us and side with the black ones for favourable terms instead." an ex-noble said.
Armet smiled thinly. "I know. Which is why we have to make them believe strongly that we will prevail, give benefits to those who join, and if it comes to it, harsh punishment to those who betray us. Make loyalty cheap and beneficial, and betrayal costly. I need men besides each leader of the city, to be a spy and liaison."
He tapped his fingers on the table, thinking.
"We also need allies in our neighbours. Aedirn is probably out of the picture. They will be crushed instantly by the Nilfgaardians. Kaedwen… no, we just humiliated them, still, it's possible."
"I will try to do so in Loc Muinne." Saskia nodded.
"And finally… Dol Blathanna." Armet turned to Iorveth. Everyone did too. "Will the Daisy of the Valley accept an envoy from us?"
"She will, as long as you don't send me or any other Scoia'tael." Iorveth said straightforwardly. "Ennid an Gleanna has distanced herself from us since the Thanned coup, for obvious reasons."
Armet heard scoffs from the men and dwarves alike, but he ignored it. Instead, he turned to Phillipa. "You know her, Phillipa? Is she a member of your Lodge?"
Everyone turned to her. Some even question what 'Lodge' means.
She frowned at the question. "You sure can't keep a secret, boy."
"If you are to sit here, you are to sit here as equals." Armet said. "You might have feelings of supremacy as a mage, but I care not for it, I have no intention of letting you hide dangerous secrets. So I will say my piece now. I do not trust you, Phillipa Eilhart. Not because you are a mage. But because of your association with this Lodge of Sorceress. In which I heard from the spy that we caught, was planning to take over this nation from Saskia, one way or another, to be used for its agendas. Obviously, you here meant that you are the one who is supposed to execute it."
"What?" Yarpen stood up, almost in anger. "And we've only heard of this now?"
The council erupted as well, and threw suspicious glances at the sorceress.
"I have no intention of explaining myself," said Phillipa. "It was discovered, so it has been a foiled plan since then."
"You know very well that that doesn't mean anything." Armet continued. "You are coming with Saskia to the summit. I've no idea what you planned against this realm now, but it will not end well for you if you decide to go through with it."
"Calm down, everyone," Saskia said, raising her hand. "We will not turn this council into a witch hunt. I will speak plainly. He is right, Phillipa. Secrets cannot remain secrets here. Not when the fate of an entire people rests in this chamber. If your Lodge sought to manipulate us, then that truth must stand in the open."
Phillipa's eyes narrowed, but she did not interrupt.
"You have aided us with your power. You helped save this city and its people. For that, you will have my recognition. But hear me well. If you or your Lodge still intend to subvert what we are building here, then I will stop you myself. You know very well that I know much more about you than you would ever wish. This realm will not serve as a puppet to any faction, not even sorceresses."
Phillipa studied her for a long moment. Her lips curled into something that was neither a smile nor a sneer. "How very noble of you, Saskia," she said softly. "A speech worthy of a ruler who claims not to be one."
The murmurs started again, but she raised a hand delicately, silencing them.
"You speak of secrets as though they are luxuries. They are not. Secrets are weapons, Saskia. Armet just used it against me. The Lodge never sought to destroy your dream, only to shape it…to ensure that it survives in a world where ideals alone are never enough."
Her eyes swept across the room, "You may not trust me. In fact, you should not. But know this. I do not serve anyone. I do not serve Kaedwen or Aedirn or any crown. I serve my own designs, yes, and for now, they align with yours. You want to build a realm that stands free of monarchs and chains. I want a world where magic survives and is loved, where it does not endure discrimination. If our paths must cross for that to happen, then so be it."
Silence lingered for a long moment.
Her gaze moved around the council chamber once more, then with a smile, she spoke out. "Now, if your righteous outrage has spent itself, may we return to the matters of state, gentlemen? Oh, to answer your previous answer, Armet. Yes. I do know her. And she's in the Lodge. But as I have previously said weeks ago, The Lodge is fractured. You get no help from me if you want to pursue diplomacy with her."
Armet sighed. The sorceress is indeed good with her words. "Very well. We shall pursue it independently. One more thing that needs your attention before you leave, Saskia. We need a banner, and a name for these lands. Names of positions are one thing, but a banner and a name of the land is an identity. We need to decide on it."
"What do you propose then?" she asked.
"I don't know, to be honest." Armet muttered. "We cannot call ourselves Upper Aedirn, nor use your name as the name of the land. But…"
An ex-noble raised his brow. "But?"
"Lormark. This land's name when it was under Kaedwen." Armet said. "It suits it, I think."
"We fought a siege to prevent that, lad." Yarpen scoffed. "Now you want to name it that again?"
"It's been years since it's been used. Much better name than 'Upper Aedirn', which makes us sound like we are owned by them. Lormark is its own thing. I think it's a fine name."
"Still, the implication of it cannot be denied." one man said. "It makes it sound like we are back under Kaedwen's banner."
"Then we'll make sure that everyone knows that we aren't under them." Saskia stated. "I agree, the implication of the name Lormark is similar to that of Upper Aedirn, but it is only implicit. Unlike the name of Upper Aedirn, we can take it as our own soon enough. The name already has history here, whether we like it or not. Might as well use it. Everyone in agreement, say aye."
A pause for a moment. Armet it first. Then some of the ex-nobles, then everyone, relenting.
"Good." Saskia nodded.
"What of the banner?" an ex-noble asked. "We will use Lormark's old banner as well?"
"No, I don't want that." Armet shook his head. "The insignia of the boar is tied to a Kaedweni family, so we can't use that."
"How about we take the red and white colour and paint something else instead of the head of a boar?" Yarpen suggested.
"Like what?" Armet asked.
"A dragon." the dwarf suggested. "We are founded by a dragonslayer. It's only fitting that a dragon will be in our banner."
An ex-noble hummed. "I agree to that. Everyone?"
"Aye."
"Then it is decided. Our banner shall be a red dragon on a white field." Saskia nodded solemnly. "Anything else that needs my attention before I proceed to Loc Muinne?"
The council became silent.
"Then as of today, The Free State of Lormark is declared." she said. "Tell everyone in this city. Tell everyone of what we have talked about here, and let them know that they serve no king or queen no longer. Long Live Lormark."
"Long Live Lormark!"
Saskia nodded. "Then this council is dismissed. As you were before. Armet, may I have a word alone?"
Armet only smiled wryly and stayed as everyone else left the council room, leaving the two alone.
"Last time you wanted to talk to me alone, it did not go well for me." Armet sighed. "What is it this time?"
"I have trust in you, Armet." she simply said. "Loc Muinne… I don't know what awaits me there, but in case anything happens, you know what to do. Nilfgaard is to be our toughest challenge yet, a challenge that I am sure you will prevail."
Armet looked at her. "You're scared."
"Of course I am scared. The entire nation's sovereignty is on the line. And I can't trust the only companion that I will have there." she muttered. "I will secure it, whether it will be war reparations and whatnot. But Nilfgaard will also be there as so-called mediators. I don't know what they are planning, but it's clear to see that they are planning something. And not knowing that… It makes me anxious."
Armet hummed. "Good. It means you care."
Armet then pulled his dimeritium necklace from his neck, and threw it at her. She caught it, and examined it. "Wear it. At least no mage can touch you easily with that. I have three more."
Saskia nodded, wearing it instantly around her neck. "Thank you."
Armet then stood up, and slowly walked away. "Good luck."