Chapter 107: News from Continent
POV: Adam
The communication mirror arrived with the last ship before winter storms closed Skellige's ports.
A gift from Triss Merigold, according to the messenger—a small silver-framed glass that could connect to its twin across continental distances. The cost of such an artifact exceeded what most nobles could afford, which made the gift simultaneously generous and suspicious.
"She's Lodge." Lambert's assessment came flat. "Everything Lodge members do has purpose beyond the obvious."
"She's also helped us before." Geralt's counter held less certainty than I'd have liked. "Triss has... complicated loyalties. But she's never acted against Ciri's interests."
"That you know of."
The mirror sat on the table between us, reflecting lamplight in ways that seemed too deliberate for ordinary glass. Outside, winter's first real storm was building—wind howling against Kaer Trolde's ancient walls, promising weeks of isolation once it fully arrived.
"We use it." Ciri's decision cut through the debate. "If Triss has information, we need it. If she's manipulating us, we'll figure that out too. But cutting ourselves off from continental intelligence helps no one."
She touched the mirror's surface, spoke the activation phrase the messenger had provided.
The glass rippled like disturbed water. Then Triss Merigold's face appeared—red-haired, beautiful, carrying exhaustion that suggested the magical connection was draining her significantly.
"Ciri. Thank the gods you're alive." Relief colored her words. "We've heard so little since the Hunt's attack. Rumors, mostly. Some claiming you'd been taken, others saying Skellige had been destroyed entirely."
"We're alive. Skellige stands. What's happening on the continent?"
—Scene Break—
POV: Ciri
Triss's report painted a picture far more complex than simple survival had allowed her to consider.
"Cahir's report about your death is still officially accepted." The sorceress's image flickered as the connection strained. "But Nilfgaardian intelligence has been asking questions. Investigators visited the cremation site, interviewed witnesses, found inconsistencies they can't explain. The deception's holding, but it's not stable."
"How long?"
"Months, maybe. A year at most. Eventually someone will piece together enough evidence to question the official narrative. When that happens..." Triss paused. "Emperor Emhyr will send new hunters."
The reminder of Cahir—the knight who'd become unexpected ally, who'd provided intelligence about the Hunt's true nature—brought back memories of Mahakam and the desperate gamble that had saved his family. The dwarves had sent workers to help fortify Skellige, their gratitude for Adam's services during the mining crisis translating into practical support.
"So many threads connecting to us. So many people affected by our existence."
"What else?" Geralt's voice came tight. He'd moved closer to the mirror, his expression guarded in ways Ciri recognized from years of learning his tells.
"The Hunt's attack on Skellige is being used as propaganda. Emhyr claims the Northern Kingdoms are too weak to handle supernatural threats—that only Nilfgaard's organized power can protect the continent. He's using your survival as proof that isolated kingdoms can't defend themselves."
"That's ridiculous. We beat them back."
"Truth doesn't matter in politics. Perception does. And the perception is that Skellige nearly fell to a threat no mainland kingdom has ever faced." Triss's image steadied briefly. "The Northern Kingdoms are responding with mobilization. Armies gathering, borders fortifying, paranoia spreading. Everyone's preparing for war with Nilfgaard, with the Hunt, with each other."
—Scene Break—
POV: Adam
The news about the Lodge made everything worse.
"Philippa Eilhart has been asking about you specifically." Triss's warning carried weight that made Ciri's face pale. "About the 'Tuirseach girl with dimensional powers.' She's calling you a potential asset, which in Lodge terminology means she's planning something."
"Planning what?"
"I don't know the details. But Philippa sees every magical talent as either tool or threat. Your Elder Blood combined with your dimensional abilities makes you... valuable in ways I can't fully explain." Triss glanced off-mirror, as if checking for observers. "Some Lodge members want to bring you under protection. Others want to control you directly. The debate is ongoing."
"And which faction do you belong to?" Geralt's question cut sharp.
"Neither." Triss's response came quick—too quick, perhaps. "I want Ciri safe and autonomous. That's why I'm warning you now, while you have time to prepare."
"Prepare for what? Lodge sorceresses appearing on our doorstep?"
"For the inevitability that powerful women with political agendas will eventually demand your attention." Triss's image flickered again. "You can't hide on Skellige forever. Eventually, you'll need to engage with continental politics. Better to do so from strength than desperation."
—Scene Break—
POV: Ciri
The strategic discussion that followed the connection's end stretched past midnight.
"The Lodge isn't monolithic." Geralt paced the chamber, his usual stillness abandoned in favor of motion that suggested agitation. "Different sorceresses want different things. Philippa sees everything through political lens—power, influence, control. Others genuinely want to help magical talents develop safely."
"And we trust your assessment because...?" Lambert's skepticism hadn't diminished.
"Because I've known these women for decades. I've loved some of them, fought others, watched them scheme and fail and succeed in turns." Geralt stopped pacing, faced the group directly. "The Lodge is dangerous. But it's also resource-rich and information-connected. Dismissing it entirely would be stupid."
"So we engage carefully." Adam's contribution drew attention. "Accept what's useful, reject what's manipulative, maintain independence regardless of what they offer."
"Easier said than done. Lodge politics are Byzantine—layers of meaning beneath every word, agendas hidden behind favors."
"Then we learn the game. Or we avoid it entirely until we're strong enough that they can't force engagement." Ciri heard her own voice take on steel she'd developed over months of survival. "I won't be anyone's pawn. Not Nilfgaard's, not the Hunt's, not the Lodge's. If they want to negotiate, they negotiate with someone who has options, not a desperate girl seeking protection."
Jarl Crach, who'd been listening from his position near the fire, raised his drinking horn in salute. "Spoken like proper Skellige royalty. Deal with anyone useful, betray anyone who threatens family. Pragmatism without weakness."
"Is that Skellige philosophy?"
"It's survival philosophy. The islands learned it through centuries of being convenient targets for mainland powers." His scarred face held grim amusement. "You're not defenseless refugees anymore, Princess. You've got army, you've got your own power, you've got the Storm-Brother. When Lodge approaches, they'll be negotiating, not demanding."
[ XP Gained: 250 (Intelligence Processing, Strategic Planning) ]
[ Level 43: 35% toward Level 44 ]
[ Political Awareness: Continental complications acknowledged ]
[ Lodge Relations: Cautious neutrality established ]
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