Chapter 115: The Lodge Convenes
POV: Ciri
The silence that followed her ultimatum stretched long enough to make the chamber feel smaller.
Five sorceresses—centuries of accumulated power, influence, and scheming—sat frozen by words from a girl they'd dismissed as controllable asset. The dimensional energy Ciri maintained crackled at the room's edges, reality itself acknowledging her capability to reshape it.
Finally, Philippa spoke.
"Perhaps we should revisit our approach." The condescension had vanished, replaced by diplomatic neutrality. "The Lodge's interest in Elder Blood comes from genuine concern, not just political calculation."
"Genuine concern that expressed itself as demands for my reproductive future?"
"Clumsy phrasing. The bloodline's continuation matters for reasons beyond politics—Elder Blood connects to dimensional stability in ways we don't fully understand." Philippa's head turned toward her colleagues, receiving confirmations through their silent communion. "We should explain our actual concerns. Perhaps then you'll understand why we've been so... insistent."
"Explain then."
—Scene Break—
POV: Adam
The information the Lodge shared changed everything.
"The Wild Hunt's homeworld—Tir ná Lia—is dying." Margarita took over the explanation, her scholarly nature making her more effective at conveying complex information. "Not quickly, not dramatically, but inevitably. Magical pollution from their ancestors' experiments has poisoned the dimension's fundamental structure. Within centuries, perhaps sooner, it will collapse entirely."
"So they need Ciri to open an escape route." Geralt's contribution came flat. "We knew that."
"You knew part of it." Margarita's correction carried no condescension. "Elder Blood doesn't just open portals—it can potentially stabilize dimensional boundaries. The Aen Elle want Ciri because her power might save their world entirely, or open permanent gates to invade others if saving proves impossible."
"The stakes aren't just personal." Philippa resumed control of the narrative. "If the Hunt succeeds with Ciri, they'll have tool for dimensional conquest. Every world they can reach—including ours—becomes potential target for desperate refugees who've lost everything and have nothing left to lose."
Through the soulbond, I felt Ciri processing this information—the scope expanding from personal threat to existential crisis.
"Why didn't you lead with this?" Her question carried frustration rather than anger. "Instead of demands about breeding and soulbonds, why not explain that literally everything depends on the Hunt not winning?"
"Because we're politicians." Philippa's admission came surprisingly honest. "We're accustomed to manipulating from positions of strength. Explaining stakes means admitting we need you more than you need us—a position we're not comfortable occupying."
—Scene Break—
POV: Ciri
The negotiation that followed took hours, but the dynamic had shifted fundamentally.
No longer were the sorceresses dictating terms to a child they expected to comply. They were negotiating with a power whose cooperation they needed, whose refusal they couldn't afford, whose capabilities had been demonstrated beyond doubt.
"Training." Ciri listed her demands. "Genuine magical instruction, not Lodge programming. I choose what I learn and when. Yennefer continues as my primary teacher."
"Acceptable." Philippa's agreement came quick. "We'll provide resources, texts, access to specialists. Yennefer coordinates."
"Resources for fighting the Hunt. Artifacts, intelligence, magical support when the confrontation comes. No holding back critical information because you're playing political games."
"Agreed. With the caveat that some information requires security clearances—but yes, full cooperation against the Hunt specifically."
"I attend Lodge meetings as consultant, not member. My voice in discussions about dimensional threats, but no political obligations, no votes that bind me to Lodge positions."
"Consultant status granted. No voting rights, no mandatory attendance beyond threat assessments."
"And—" Ciri's gaze found Adam, still silenced, still watching. "Remove the spell. He's part of every negotiation, whether he can speak or not. Treating him as controllable accessory insults both of us."
Philippa's hesitation was brief. "Margarita."
The scholarly sorceress gestured, and the pressure around Adam's throat dissolved. His first words came rough, unused muscles protesting.
"That was incredibly frustrating."
Despite the tension, Ciri laughed. "That's your contribution after hours of silence?"
"I had longer speeches prepared, but they seemed inappropriate for diplomatic settings." His grin held relief and exhaustion in equal measure. "The terms sound acceptable. Though I'd add that any attempt to circumvent them—using Lodge influence to pressure Ciri through indirect means—ends the alliance immediately."
"Suspicious young man." Philippa's assessment carried something that might have been approval. "Good. Suspicion keeps people alive when dealing with us."
—Scene Break—
POV: Adam
The magical contract bound both parties to specific terms.
I watched Ciri sign—blood from a pricked finger activating runes that glowed before fading into the parchment. The Lodge members signed similarly, each drop of blood adding another layer to the binding.
[ ALLIANCE FORMED: Lodge of Sorceresses ]
[ Terms: Magical training provided (conditional) ]
[ Terms: Resources for Hunt confrontation (unconditional) ]
[ Terms: Consultant status granted (non-binding politically) ]
[ Contract Duration: Until mutual dissolution ]
[ Contract Protection: Betrayal triggers magical consequences ]
[ XP Gained: 400 (Major Political Achievement) ]
[ LEVEL UP! 45 → 46 ]
[ Stats: STR 58, STA 100, AGI 99, HP 580, MP 1000 ]
[ Lodge Relations: +35 (Now 60/100 - Uneasy Alliance) ]
"That was exhausting and I couldn't even talk." My complaint came as we exited the house, Skellige warriors forming up around us immediately.
"You did talk eventually." Ciri's relief radiated through our bond. "And your suggestion about indirect pressure was smart. Philippa definitely had contingencies planned."
"She still has contingencies. The contract prevents direct betrayal, not indirect scheming." Geralt's caution dampened the celebratory mood. "Lodge sorceresses have spent centuries finding loopholes in magical agreements."
"Then we watch for loopholes." Yennefer joined us, her expression satisfied in ways that suggested personal victory beyond the obvious negotiation. "The contract means they can't simply take Ciri. Everything else requires political maneuvering, and political maneuvering we can counter."
—Scene Break—
POV: Lambert
The witcher met the returning group with flask raised in salute.
"Nobody's bleeding, nobody's casting spells at each other, building's still standing. I assume negotiations went well?"
"Better than expected." Geralt accepted the flask, drank deep. "Ciri held her ground. Lodge backed down. Alliance formed with protections built in."
"An alliance with the Lodge." Lambert's skepticism didn't require expression—his tone carried it clearly. "Remind me how many Lodge 'allies' are still alive and unpurged?"
"This is different."
"This is always different until it isn't." But Lambert's objection carried less heat than usual. "Still, getting resources without giving control is better than I expected. The kid did good."
"The kid did excellent." Geralt's pride was audible. "She stood in front of Philippa Eilhart and told her to go hang. Her grandmother would have approved."
"Her grandmother would have drawn a sword."
"Her grandmother didn't have dimensional powers. Sometimes words cut deeper than steel."
—Scene Break—
POV: Ciri
The return journey to Skellige felt lighter than the outward trip.
Not just victory's relief—though that contributed—but something deeper. She'd faced the Lodge on their terms, in their territory, and walked away with autonomy intact. The breeding demands, the control mechanisms, the political positioning—all rejected without violence, without fleeing, without sacrificing what mattered.
"You're smiling." Adam rode beside her, their bond humming with shared satisfaction.
"I'm processing. We just negotiated as equals with the most powerful magical organization on the continent. They wanted to control me, and I said no, and they... accepted it."
"They accepted because you showed them the alternative was worse." His assessment carried pride. "Philippa's a pragmatist. Hostile Ciri with dimensional powers is more dangerous than allied Ciri with terms that don't give Lodge total control."
"So they're not actually respecting me. Just managing a threat."
"Does the distinction matter? They'll provide resources, training, intelligence. They won't try to capture you or force reproduction. Whether that comes from respect or fear of consequences, the outcome's the same."
She considered his logic, found it sound despite the cynicism underlying it. Politics rarely operated on genuine respect—more often on calculated advantage. Getting what she needed while giving the Lodge nothing they could use against her was victory regardless of motivation.
"We should celebrate." Her suggestion came impulsive. "When we return. Properly. Not just relief at surviving, but actual acknowledgment that we accomplished something difficult."
"Skellige will celebrate regardless. Any excuse for drinking, really."
"Then let's give them a good excuse."
The road stretched ahead toward home—toward Skellige's mountains and Kaer Trolde's walls and a community that had become family. Behind, the Lodge's house faded into memory, a battle won through words rather than weapons.
The Hunt still waited across dimensions. Fire still called from volcanic depths. The future still held challenges she couldn't predict.
But today, she'd proven something important: she wasn't prey anymore.
She was predator who chose when to hunt.
MORE POWER STONES == MORE CHAPTERS
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