Across the dying landscapes of the Northern Realms, the five monarchs finally took action. From the scorched fields of Aedirn to the plague-ridden ports of Temeria, the kings sent their best trackers, scouts, and surviving knights to investigate the mass disappearance of the non-humans.
The investigation was a grim journey through silence. In the empty dwarven settlements of the mountains and the abandoned Scoia'tael camps deep in the forests, the scouts found the same undeniable trail of footprints, cart-tracks, and discarded belongings. Every clue pointed in one singular, impossible direction: the Far North.
When the reports returned to the royal courts, the reaction was one of superstitious dread. In four out of the five nations, the monarchs and their advisors whispered of dark omens.
"The Far North is a graveyard," King Henselt of Kaedwen grunted, pacing his cold hall. "Nothing lives there but ice and teeth. If they marched into those wastes, they weren't seeking a home—they were allured by a monster. A beast so massive it must have swallowed the entire population whole."
This sentiment was echoed in Temeria, Aedirn, and the joint kingdom of Lyria and Rivia. The kings believed the elder races had been led to their slaughter by some ancient, supernatural horror. They saw the exodus as a final, tragic "curse" that had removed their workforce and left them to rot.
Only in the court of Redania did the discussion take a different turn. King Radovid V sat in his darkened solar, his eyes wide and bloodshot from lack of sleep. His madness was well-known, and his paranoia usually led to bloodbath, but for once, that very paranoia allowed him to see what the "sane" kings could not.
"You are fools," Radovid hissed to his cowering advisors. "Monsters do not lure thousands of people with such order. Look at the tracks! They were moving with purpose, not in a trance."
He slammed a dagger into a map of the Far North, right where the maps usually ended in white void.
"The forest isn't a dead end," Radovid whispered, a manic grin touching his lips. "It's a buffer zone. There is something deeper in the ice—a nation. A kingdom hidden behind the snow and the claws."
His advisors exchanged nervous glances, but Radovid leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, intense growl. "They didn't just walk into the mouths of beasts. This nation... they must have a way to safely escort them. A way to move thousands through the monsters without a single scream being heard in our lands. They have a power we don't understand, and they have stolen our blood and our gold to fuel it."
While the other monarchs trembled at the thought of monsters, Radovid V sat in the dark, obsessed with the idea of a rival empire hiding in the white—one that had outsmarted the North without firing a single arrow.
******
In the war rooms of Tretogor, King Radovid V stood over a sea chart of the Great Sea, his finger tracing the jagged, ice-choked coastline that led into the unknown reaches of the far north. While the other four monarchs were paralyzed by the fear of land-bound monsters, Radovid's paranoia had birthed a tactical masterpiece.
"If they moved thousands of people," Radovid whispered, his eyes darting across the parchment, "they did not all walk through the teeth of the forest. The sea is a highway for those who know how to pave it."
He turned to his admirals, his voice cold and precise. "Prepare the fleet. We will not march our army into the frost to be eaten by ghouls. Instead, you will sail into the waters of the far north. Your mission is simple: find a dock. Find a port that does not appear on our charts. And if you see any vessel—any ship that does not bear the banners of the Northern Realms, Nilfgaard, or Skellige—you are to observe and return immediately. Do not engage. Just bring me proof of this hidden empire."
The news of the Redanian fleet's departure spread through the other courts like a fever. In Temeria and Kaedwen, the rulers laughed openly at the report. To them, sending a fleet into the ice-floes of the far north was the ultimate proof of Radovid's total descent into madness. They believed the ships would be crushed by ice-giants or sunk by the colossal sea-beasts that haunted the northern depths.
However, for once, the mad king was right.
The Redanian fleet, consisting of their swiftest caravels and most seasoned sailors, pushed past the known fishing grounds and into the chilling mist of the northern shelf. They navigated through labyrinths of ice that should have claimed their hulls, driven by Radovid's iron will.
"Captain, look!" a lookout shouted from the crow's nest of the lead ship.
Emerging from the fog was not a jagged cliff of ice, but a structure of impossible engineering. A massive, iron-reinforced sea-gate stood anchored to the basalt cliffs, illuminated by a steady, violet glow that pulsated with the rhythm of the Empire.
But what froze the blood of the Redanian sailors was the vessel anchored nearby. It was a ship of sleek, dark metal, devoid of sails or oars. It sat low in the water, humming with a deep, mechanical vibration that shook the very air. It bore a brown flag, and upon it, a golden dragon snapped in the freezing wind.
"By the gods," the Captain whispered, clutching his telescope. "Radovid wasn't mad. He was the only one who saw the truth."
The Redanian ships turned tail, their sailors rowing with a desperate, panicked speed to bring the news back to their king. They had found the dock, and they had found the dragon.
******
High in the frozen waters of the far north, an elven sailor aboard an Imperial metal ship stood at the railing. This vessel, a massive platform that served as both a defensive naval force against sea monsters and a stable fishing platform, hummed with the deep vibration of its engines. For a brief second, the elf squinted through the mist, certain he saw the white sails of a primitive wooden ship on the horizon. He paused, then dismissed it; logic dictated it was likely just another Imperial vessel or a trick of the ice. He turned back to his work, unaware that the eyes of the south had finally found the gate.
Meanwhile, the Redanian fleet made its desperate return to Tretogor. The Admiral was ushered immediately into the presence of King Radovid V. Shivering and still smelling of brine, he delivered the news that would change the course of history.
"You were right, Your Majesty," the Admiral reported, his voice hushed with awe and terror. "The forest is not the end. It is a buffer zone, designed to keep us out. Beyond the ice, we found a dock made entirely of a strange, polished metal. And the light, Sire... it was not from fire or magic. It was a steady, cold glow that clung to the iron like a captured sun. There is a nation in the far north that has mastered these things."
Radovid V leaned back in his throne, a slow, terrifying grin spreading across his face. For months, the other monarchs had called him a madman for chasing ghosts in the snow. Now, he was the only ruler in the Northern Realms with the truth. He knew exactly where the non-humans had gone. He knew that while his kingdom rotted, a rival power was thriving on the labor they had stolen.
The discussion in the Redanian court quickly shifted to how they might reach this distant land. They spoke of the strange metal of the ships and the artificial light—wonders that Radovid's mind began to calculate as a new kind of power.
"We cannot march an army through that forest," Radovid noted, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the arm of his throne. "And we cannot sail a fleet against ships of metal. We must be subtle. We need to reach the far north not to conquer—not yet—but to gather information. I want to know the strength of their walls, the source of their light, and the weakness of their king."
While the other four monarchs continued to pray to silent gods, Radovid V began to weave a web of espionage. He had found his enemy, and his madness was now focused on a single, cold objective: discovering everything about the empire of the golden dragon.