The laboratory of the castle was a cramped, a chamber tucked away in the forgotten bowels of the Rivian Palace, used by the court mage of Queen Meve long ago. Ancient cobwebs draped the corners, and the smell of old parchment, dried herbs had accumulated. The sorceresses had arranged themselves around a central table, their hands extended toward the mask that lay at its center. Philippa Eilhart stood at the head of the table, her fingers hovering just above the artifact, her eyes half-closed in concentration. Beside her, Sheala de Tancarville channeled her magic with Margarita Laux-Antille and Sabrina Glevissig stood on either side, their voices low as they murmured incantations that seemed to resonate in the very stones of the chamber.
Triss stood apart, her hands clasped before her, her eyes fixed on the mask with a mixture of hope and anxiety. She could feel the magic building, a pressure in the air that made her skin prickle and her hair stand on end.
Sebastian leaned against the wall near the door, his arms crossed, his yellow eyes scanning the room with vigilance as his hand rested on the hilt of his sword.
Philippa's voice was sharp and dismissive, "I believe we can get this done while the monarchs have their empty discussions that will yield nothing." She paused, her lips curling into a thin smile. "They will argue, posture, and make grand speeches about the future of the North, and in the end, absolutely nothing will change. The Emperor will still crush the north eventually, unless we do something about it."
Sheala nodded slowly. "We will proceed with our initial plan. Our dear witcher here will not intervene with our plans, since we are helping him now." Her eyes flickered toward Sebastian, a reminder of the bargain they had struck.
Sebastian met her gaze without flinching. "Of course. I am a man of my word, this is bigger than everything, kings or queens, it does not matter. The fate of the world is at risk, and I will not let petty politics stand in the way of what needs to be done."
Margarita raised an eyebrow with a smile. "My, you really think this will lead to the end of the world as we know it if you do not save your princess? That seems rather dramatic, I believe you don't really care about the world, you only care about her."
Sebastian's voice was flat. "Yes. It is that serious. The White Frost is not a myth, and it is not a distant threat. It is coming, and if Ciri is not there to stop it, everything you see outside these walls will be frozen and dead within a generation if they manage to withstand it for a bit."
Triss stepped forward. "She is Geralt's daughter, and a little sister to me. This is reason enough for me to try. I would do anything to bring her back, and I will not let anyone stand in my way."
Sebastian's eyes swept the room, "You are mages. You are supposed to believe in this sort of events, if you think the White Frost is a joke, then I cannot convince you that Ciri's power is the only thing that can stop it. But I can tell you that I have seen it with my own eyes, and I would rather face a dozen vampires than face that frost again."
Margarita shrugged. "None of us have seen it. At the end, it is just a prophecy. Words written on old parchment by someone who has long since turned to dust. Forgive me if I do not lose sleep over it."
"I did." Sebastian said.
Triss's head snapped toward him, her eyes widening. "You did?"
Sebastian blinked, his brow furrowing. "I haven't mentioned it to you?"
Triss shook her head slowly. "No. I would have remembered, because this is a big deal. You never said a word about it."
Philippa stopped what she was doing, her hands hovering above the mask, her eyes fixed on Sebastian with an intensity that could cut glass. "You do not seem like a liar, so... where did you see it?"
"You do not need to know where I found it. I just did. It was a different world, a world killed by the White Frost. Everything was frozen, the sky was grey and lifeless, and the cold was so deep that it burned." Seb paused, his voice dropping lower. "The frost alone was enough to kill people in minutes. I felt it and I barely survived, and it was not the cold of winter. It was the cold of death itself."
'Of course this is a lie, I can't tell them that it had no effect on me.' Seb said to himself.
The room fell silent. The sorceresses exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from skepticism to perhaps, the first stirrings of fear.
Philippa was quiet for a long moment, her eyes studying Sebastian's face as if searching for any hint of deception. Then she turned back to the mask. "Concentrate sisters. This mask not only requires a great deal of magic, but it is magically sealed as well. The Aen Elle did not want just anyone using it. They bound it with layers of protection that will take time to unravel, I can already tell that other mages tried to use this but failed."
Sebastian's head snapped toward the door. His hand tightened on his sword. "Someone is coming. Towards this room."
"I do not hear a thing." Sabrina said.
Sheala's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure this is not your bard friend? He has a habit of stumbling into places he should not be."
Sebastian shook his head, already moving toward the door. "I will check."
Philippa's voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a whip. "If you want this done discreetly, then make sure no one comes here. We cannot afford to be discovered doing this in secret while our dear kings and queens are having their little summit. The consequences would be... unfortunate and not really in our favor, you said this already Radovid doesn't even trust me much."
Sebastian slipped out of the laboratory, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The corridor was dimly lit, the torches casting long shadows across the stone. He pressed himself against the wall, his hand resting on his sword, his eyes fixed on the approaching figure.
A Redanian guard rounded the corner, his face carrying the flat, professional expression of a man who was doing his duty and nothing more. His eyes fell on Sebastian, and he paused, his brow furrowing with curiosity.
"Witcher," the guard said. "Have you seen Lady Eilhart? I have been looking for her. The king wishes to speak with her."
'Radovid wants to see her? Isn't he supposed to be with the other kings?' Sebastian thought to himself.
Sebastian's voice was calm. "Yes, actually. She passed through this corridor sometime ago. Probably about ten minutes ago, she seemed to be looking for someone."
The guard's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Where did this sorceress go? I need to find her quickly..."
Sebastian remained still, his expression carefully neutral. "I did not ask. I am not in the habit of questioning the movements of court mages, it is not my place."
The guard studied him for a moment, his eyes flickering to the sword at Sebastian's hip. "Are you not one of Foltest's men? I saw you standing next to the king yesterday during the feast. You were the one with the bard, yes?"
Sebastian's jaw tightened. 'Just fucking leave.' But he kept his voice steady, friendly even. "Yes, I am. And I am making sure the castle is safe. The king's security is my responsibility."
The guard smiled, a thin, condescending expression that did not reach his eyes. "The castle of Rivia today is the safest place in the North. Probably the safest on the Continent. We have mages and soldiers enough to withstand a siege for ten years. You have nothing to worry about, Master Witcher."
He paused, his eyes fixed on Sebastian's sword with undisguised interest. "Is that an elven sword? May I see it? I have never seen craftsmanship like that up close."
Sebastian's patience was wearing thin. "You could still catch up with Lady Eilhart if you hurry. You should make haste before the king gets mad."
The guard blinked, his expression shifting to one of sudden recollection. "Fuck! I forgot myself. So long, Master Witcher."
He turned and hurried down the corridor, his footsteps echoing against the stone.
Sebastian watched him go, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He let out a long, slow breath, running a hand through his hair. "Redanians..." He paused, his brow furrowing. "Why is he looking for her? Are the mages not allowed to move freely during the summit? Only the monarchs have the privilege to order them around, so yes, Radovid is the one looking for her... But if he is looking for her.. he suspects something."
He leaned against the wall, his mind racing through the implications. "I am surprised she is still alive. The mad cunt could go mad anytime soon, especially if he finds out about the Lodge and their motives. I bet he already suspects her and wants her to be close. Radovid has always been paranoid, and paranoia makes men like him very unpredictable and dangerous."
A cold realization crept over him. "The crown heads of the North are all gathered here. If she wants to kill one of them, or all of them, this is the best opportunity to do so. They are all in one place, surrounded by their guards, but also surrounded by chaos."
He turned back toward the laboratory door, his hand resting on the handle. "So far, I do not think she has any plans to do something like that here. She is focused on the mask. For now."
He pushed open the door and stepped back inside, his eyes finding the sorceresses still at work. The mask glowed brighter now, its runes pulsing with a steady light.
Philippa glanced up, her voice carrying a note of sharp inquiry. "What was it?"
Sebastian's voice was flat. "A Kaedweni guard. I sent him away, he was probably drunk."
Philippa's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. She turned back to the mask, her fingers resuming their work.
/-\
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