A peaceful silence had settled after breakfast. Leaning casually against the banister of one of Rivendell's broad balconies, Igris watched Vesemir standing across from him. Just a few steps away, Ciri stood with her arms crossed and her back pressed against the wall, silently observing the tension and the conversation between these two leaders.
Skipping the bargaining games, Igris got straight to the point:
"Here is my offer. Let the Witchers join my kingdom. In return, I will provide you with a keep designed entirely by you, a platoon of soldiers under your command, provisions, coin, and whatever else I can do to support you. I can guarantee you that racism is forbidden in my territory, meaning you won't face discrimination. I can make you a lord or a feudal baron with direct say in matters. In my lands, it's not the blood in your veins that matters, but the work you do. I won't use a nobility system; instead, those who do their jobs well will hold office or earn titles. In short, you are a lord, but your child will only become a lord if they are a good leader; if not, they get nothing, and someone competent takes their place. However, I will establish a dynasty system. My own children will continue to rule. I'm going through all this suffering, so my bloodline should stay in charge. But they will never stray from justice, I can assure you of that."
Vesemir listened to this offer without a single flicker of emotion on his face. Igris had played with his cards entirely on the table, feeling no need to hide his intentions. Yet, he wasn't sure if the old Witcher would be convinced. Vesemir weighed the offer in his mind; what he was hearing was on a level he couldn't even dream of in his own world. Still, he was looking for concrete trust. He didn't know the man standing before him yet, but if he was going to bring his boys like Eskel, Geralt, and Lambert here, he needed Igris. After a brief silence, he spoke:
"Our area of expertise is monsters, son. Not being kingdom soldiers."
Faced with Vesemir's defense, Igris stared at him blankly for a moment before shrugging and replying:
"Vampires in the north, ghoul-like undead in the south. Orcs and trolls in Mordor and Gundabad... monsters spawning all over the continent..."
Hearing this, Vesemir furrowed his brow slightly, a strange and bewildered expression settling on his face. Igris, maintaining his casual demeanor, continued his explanation:
"If you ask me, this world is a paradise for Witchers. Because the dark forces fought against in this world are practically no different from monsters anyway."
Vesemir didn't know what to say for a moment. Due to his bitter experiences in his own world, he had made it a principle not to get involved in the political affairs of kingdoms, but the nature of things here truly seemed different. Letting out a deep sigh, he continued:
"I can't give you an answer to this offer right now. But I can give you one at the end of the journey."
Igris nodded in understanding; an immediate acceptance would have made him more suspicious anyway.
"No problem. That's how it should be. It would have been absurd if you accepted right away."
Vesemir brought the topic to the main issue, the mission ahead of them:
"Our mission?"
Igris replied calmly, as if talking about a mundane chore:
"A fire dragon hunt. Smaug."
The name made Vesemir narrow his eyes. His hand instinctively went to the beard on his chin as a highly thoughtful look settled on his face.
"That is a massive contract indeed."
Igris agreed:
"It is, but the reward is good too."
Vesemir nodded slowly, getting to the core of the matter:
"True. The plan?"
Igris calmly began explaining the details of the plan he had formed in his mind. With the hunting instincts brought on by years of experience, Vesemir carefully filtered every single word. After a few minutes of listening, he nodded and offered his analysis:
"Your plan is good, but highly risky. Fighting a fire-breathing dragon in an enclosed space is an extremely dangerous endeavor, but if it takes flight, it'll be an even bigger headache. We have to prevent it from flying."
Igris already had an idea in mind regarding this:
"At first, I thought of acid. I figured we could throw flasks full of acid at its wings and melt them..."
He sighed softly, shooting down his own idea.
"But an acid strong enough to corrode dragon scales doesn't exist yet, or at least I haven't heard of one."
Vesemir consulted his own knowledge of alchemy, thought for a brief moment, and then spoke with certainty:
"No. Something like that exists, but making it will be a bit of a hassle."
Igris flinched slightly and looked at Vesemir with hopeful eyes.
"Ah! Right! You guys are also alchemists."
Vesemir nodded in confirmation but quickly clarified the situation:
"Still, making this acid isn't easy, but fortunately, I know the equivalents of the ingredients from my world in this one. If we can find the ingredients, I can brew it."
His tone suddenly grew serious.
"But this acid is extremely dangerous. Because of that, I can't make it here; I can make it when we get closer to the mountain. If a flask cracks on the road, we're screwed."
Igris stroked his chin thoughtfully over the transportation issue. Then, with a practical solution coming to mind, he reached his hand into the air and pulled a sword straight out of his system inventory. The sudden appearance of the sword out of thin air startled Vesemir. Igris chuckled at the old man's reaction and explained the situation:
"The ones who sent you here gave me a few little tricks too."
After casually returning the sword to his invisible inventory, he continued.
"We can put the potion in this invisible space of mine. Nothing will happen to it there; it won't even shake."
Once Vesemir grasped the logic of this dimensional storage space, he nodded in approval.
"That could work... We need to find the ingredients."
To speed things up, Igris made an offer:
"Give me the list, and I'll find the ingredients for you."
But Vesemir, with the meticulousness of an alchemist, instantly rejected this:
"No way. The quality of the ingredients is crucial for the potion's reaction and mutation. I need to see the ingredients myself."
Understanding this professional sensitivity, Igris didn't push the issue. While thinking about procuring the ingredients for a moment, one of Rivendell's skilled alchemists suddenly came to mind; Caelthir, who was currently grounded in the kitchen. A mischievous smirk appeared on his face as he spoke:
"Look, I've found just the right person for this. Let me introduce you to him."
Vesemir gave a silent nod. As Igris started walking ahead to lead the way, the two Witchers matched his pace and followed close behind.
Three days later...
As the days in Rivendell quickly slipped by, Igris and his expanding team had started to warm up to each other. Most of their time was spent on preparations for the grueling journey ahead. Over this three-day period, through the draws he made on the system, Igris had added new units to his army, pushing his troop count to over a thousand. But his most profitable gain was a qualified instructor.
[Vaegir cavalry unit instructor] [Tier 2 Sturgian infantry X 400] [Tier 1 Battanian infantry X 19]
Alongside the troops, he had also made purchases from the shop.
-Shop- Day 1 items: [Chicken X 30] - [Price: 30 Silver] [Tier 5 (special unit) Elven Forest cavalry X 7] - [Price: 10,000 Gold] [Flower seeds X 100] - [Price: 3 Silver] [Tier 5 Imperial infantry X 250] - [Price: 350 Gold] [Building stone X 100] - [Price: 30 Copper] [Spices X 20 sacks] - [Price: 60 Silver] [Glass X 60] - [Price: 90 Silver]
Purchased: Chicken (30) - 9 Gold, Flower seeds (100) - 3 Gold, Spices (2) - 1 Gold 20 Silver Current Budget: 332 Gold, 60 Silver, 23 Copper
Day 2 items: [Small crossbow (Historical tier) X 8] - [Price: 500 Gold] [Fish X 100 barrels] - [Price: 50 Silver] [Noble (Random draw) X 1] - [Price: 50,000 Gold] [Tier 2 Rhodok archer X 95] - [Price: 25 Gold] [Tier 3 Nord archer X 200] - [Price: 30 Gold] [Elder Wand (HP world)] - [Price: 1,000,000 Gold] [One-handed Axe (Common) X 55] - [Price: 1 Gold]
Purchased: Fish (100 Barrels) - 50 Gold, One-handed Axe (10) - 10 Gold Current Budget: 272 Gold, 60 Silver, 23 Copper
Day 3 items: [Wheelbarrow X 18] - [Price: 50 Silver] [Flying unit – Tier 1 Wyvern knight X 7] - [Price: 5000 Gold] [Tier 4 Nord (Bannerlord) X 3] - [Price: 50 Gold] [Warband world mercenary - Scout X 55] - [Price: 10 Gold & daily rental fee: 50 Silver] [Instructor – Assassin] - [Price: 5000 Gold] [Tier 2 Nord archer X 15] - [Price: 15 Gold] [Full armor set (Elven) common tier X 95] - [Price: 3000 Gold]
Purchased: Wheelbarrow (10) - 5 Gold Current Budget: 267 Gold, 60 Silver, 23 Copper
Igris had used his budget as sparingly as possible. Despite the astonishing and outrageously priced items the system offered, he had only bought the things he truly needed. He directed most of the purchased supplies to the temporary military camp under Leon's command. However, he kept a portion of the fish barrels for himself, preparing a small feast for his team; he secured the remaining provisions in his inventory for the journey.
While the dwarves enjoyed the pleasure of eating fresh fish after a long time, Halt, Will, and Gilan hadn't sat idle; they had procured sheep, goats, chickens, and ducks from the neighboring villages and brought them to Igris. Igris skillfully butchered and processed these meats as well, storing them in his inventory for the journey. The three Rangers were happy to be reunited after a long time. A similar satisfaction existed between Vesemir and Ciri... At least, Ciri was quite overjoyed about this situation at first. That is, until the training began.
"I told you to watch your footwork! You're still standing weak! You need to plant your feet more firmly!"
THWACK!
"Ugh!"
With an agile move, Vesemir had delivered a hard kick to Ciri's legs, sending her sprawling to the ground. Lying on her side, Ciri slammed a fierce punch into the dirt in pain and anger, trying to get up while panting heavily. The clothes on her back were drenched in sweat, and her body was trembling from exhaustion. She hadn't seen such extreme training in years. Vesemir, on the other hand, carried a deep concern due to the girl temporarily losing her Elder Blood abilities; because of this, he was preparing her in the harshest way possible. Still, deep down, the old wolf gave her credit where it was due; despite some minor stance errors, Ciri was a far, far better warrior compared to how he had last left her. She was very close to becoming a fully-fledged swordmaster.
On the other hand, the dwarves had also snapped out of their lazy vacation mode and finally begun their drills. Heeding Igris's advice, Thorin had ordered his crew into strict training. This way, not only would the non-combatant dwarves in the Oakenshield company improve themselves, but they would also bond by working shoulder to shoulder with the 45 newly joined Witcher dwarves. Vesemir's return hadn't just benefited Ciri; Kargan and Zoltan were also extremely pleased by his arrival. Zoltan, in particular, looked as if a massive burden had been lifted from his shoulders, practically on the verge of dancing with joy. Without a single second of hesitation, he handed Ciri's responsibility over to Vesemir and spoke with glee:
"I'm leaving this brat to you, Vesemir! She's an absolute pain in the ass! She got herself into trouble the very first day we arrived! I can't deal with her! Hahahahahaha!"
Ciri's face darkened with anger upon hearing those words. Furious at still being treated like a defenseless little girl, she raised her voice and complained; however, neither Zoltan nor Vesemir paid any mind to her protests.
On the other side, Kargan was experiencing the nostalgia of standing side by side with his old friend Vesemir after all these years. The duo found the opportunity to sit and chat at length. When Vesemir learned of the tragedies Kargan had endured in his absence, that his wife and daughter had been executed by the priests of the Eternal Fire, he let out a deep sigh and shared his old friend's pain. In the later hours, having had too much to drink, Kargan, fueled by drunken courage, began blurting out Vesemir's youthful womanizing adventures out in the open. Wanting to salvage the situation, Vesemir was forced to quickly use the Axii sign to put the blabbermouth dwarf to sleep. But he was a little too late; Ciri and Matheld had already heard some of what the dwarf had been talking about. While Ciri looked at her master with mocking and highly curious eyes, Matheld turned her head away with a look full of disgust. Vesemir just rubbed his temples in distress, bracing himself to face the incoming new headaches.
On the alchemy front, Igris's initiative had borne fruit. Caelthir and Vesemir got together and began sharing knowledge. While the Witcher potions Vesemir described—concoctions that strained the human metabolism—opened the doors to a brand-new and dangerous world for Caelthir, the elves' centuries-old, nature-harmonious potion recipes provided Vesemir with a different vision. Igris took a deep breath, relieved in the certainty that the acid which would rot Smaug's wings would be flawlessly produced in the hands of these two masters.
While things were going well, Igris went to visit the Red Archer Brigade under Vaelor's command. Just as he had guessed, the elves of Rivendell hadn't turned their backs on their wounded kin; they had offered them the best of facilities. Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel personally attended to these soldiers whenever they found the time, while Celebrian and Arwen had dedicated almost their entire days to their treatment and comfort. Although how the souls of these elves had grown so dark was a matter of great curiosity, with Galadriel's intervention, no one pestered the soldiers by interrogating them about their pasts. While Vaelor once again offered his deepest gratitude to Igris for saving him and his unit from a hopeless situation, Igris maintained his same modest demeanor, stating he hadn't really done anything, and left the soldiers to the healing hands of the elves to return to his own drills.
Never dropping his training tempo for three days, Igris was pushing his limits more and more. Sometimes he tested his stamina by fighting against seven soldiers at once; sometimes he trained with sword and shield, sometimes just a sword, and sometimes dual-wielding swords in both hands. He felt he was approaching the peak of his current potential in swordsmanship. Being able to use both his right and left hands with equal lethality nudged him toward the idea of using a greatsword, but for now, he had put that plan on hold.
During this time, Estel had also mingled thoroughly with the guests. The boy spent all his spare time away from his elven studies with the Oakenshield company, especially sitting next to Balin to listen to tales of the ancient and glorious dwarven kingdoms. The contrast between the practical, rugged nature of the dwarves and the elegant, melancholic world of the elves fascinated Estel every single time. An unofficial older brother-younger brother bond had also sprouted between Igris and Estel. Though Igris gave the boy a few small pieces of advice regarding the cruelties of the outside world, knowing that Estel was already destined to be a magnificent warrior and leader in the future, he didn't push the matter too hard.
In the background, Gandalf didn't even have time to scratch his head. Thanks to the intel Igris had provided, he had to reconstruct many plans from scratch and make preparations. With Galadriel reading his mind and getting involved in the process, this rush had grown even larger. When the possibility of Sauron nesting in Dol Guldur was relayed to Elrond as well, the burden on the elven lord's shoulders increased by at least four or five times. Elrond was constantly developing new tactics, re-evaluating Rivendell's defenses and soldiers. The true reason behind the ambush set for his sons and the Heart-Eater driving a legion of orcs to the borders of Rivendell as a distraction had now taken on a much different meaning in Elrond's mind. Deep down, he prayed that Sauron wasn't in Dol Guldur and that this dark name would remain buried in the pages of history. Due to Elrond's intense diplomatic and military preoccupations, Igris simply couldn't find the right opportunity to explain his past connection with Durin the 4th.
Surviving the dark elves' ambush with injuries, the twins, Elladan and Elrohir, were still forced to rest in their beds in a paralyzed state. For this duo, who had spent the last four hundred years in constant action and warfare, just lying there staring at the ceiling was pure torture, despite being elves. Whenever he had the chance, Igris would drop by their room, joking with them and pushing their buttons to try and alleviate their boredom. Despite Lord Elrond's utmost expertise, their healing process was quite slow, and this situation was making Lady Celebrian incredibly tense. Still, she never held back from repeatedly expressing her gratitude to Igris and Zerina for preventing her sons from falling into the hands of the Dark Elves. Both of them accepted these thanks with humility once again.
As for Bamsi, Dogan, and the other Khuzait, they were continuing their training at full speed in the mounted archery practice field they had set up. Many of them felt they had reached a level where they would soon be promoted, but they couldn't do that for now since there was no established kingdom yet; Igris didn't yet possess the station to grant them ranks.
Ciri, who spent most of her days in Rivendell with the women and trained with females who shared her warrior spirit, would drop by Igris whenever she had the chance, pestering him with questions to try and get to know him. The betrayals and bitter experiences she had suffered in the past had instilled in Ciri an instinct to be cautious about trusting someone new. Because Igris was aware of the young woman's defense mechanism, he didn't push too hard, simply answering her questions without intruding on her personal space. They both knew that, over time, these little chats they had would solidify the trust between them.
Another issue giving Igris a headache was the cultural tension between the Vaegir soldiers and the Nord group. He had tried to mediate between the Nord noble Matheld and his Vaegir men, but he had never expected to find such an arrogant, proud, and uncompromisingly spoiled woman standing before him. He was barely restraining himself from dragging the woman into a sparring match right then and there to physically put her in her place. Ultimately, during the meeting where he brought the two groups together, the final straw broke when Matheld uttered some line-crossing words that infuriated Igris. The intense aura of bloodlust within Igris suddenly erupted, descending upon the room. Having never faced such a tangible and suffocating killing intent in her life before, Matheld's arrogance evaporated in seconds. Turning into a meek kitten in an instant, the woman bowed her head and submitted. In that moment, Igris clearly remembered that the Nords and the Viking culture were a society that bowed to absolute power and authority rather than sweet words. From that day on, neither did the Vaegirs dare to snarl at Matheld, nor could Matheld look down on them.
Arwen and Igris also started talking and chatting during this passing time. Because of the little promise Igris had made to Arwen, he was telling her about the outside world and his adventures in all their bare truth, while Arwen listened to Igris with mixed feelings, realizing that the outside world was far darker than she had imagined.
As time flowed by like water, Lady Galadriel had finally carved out the free time she was looking for, and in order to unravel the nature of the hybrid blood coursing through Igris's veins, she summoned him privately to her presence...