Vergen, on the Aedirnian Border

The rest of the morning was filled with the sounds and smells of preparation. Steel being sharpened and stone being carved as the men that followed the utterances of a wayward Queen put their faith and dedication into a cause much bigger than themselves. It was not for the present that they swung their swords, but for the future. The lands would fall prey to ruthless men whose only struggle in life was to not let the beast that lay below their breast consume them fully. For truly, what being with humanity at his forefront would even ponder on the ideals that surrounded murder, mayhem and slavery? That which was born of a demon, loved a woman too much or had only a sense of self about him.

Saskia walked through the small village, various members of her garrison looking up to speak to her, ask a quick question or jostle her with their wit or bravery. She smirked with mire in her eyes, quipping to them as quickly as they laid out another line and winning their hearts with each word she uttered and resounding step she took. 

“You should come and see this, my queen.” Garrisk walked up from behind her and reached to touch her shoulder in an effort to pull her from the people and back to the steep cliffs that overlooked the lush valley below. It would be winter before too long and the fading colors that surrounded them showed that fact all too well.

“What is it, my old friend?” She turned and moved to walk with him to her outlook spot, the warmth of the sun making the breeze from the valley much more bearable. Garrisk handed her a small looking glass of sorts and pointed to the horizon. 

“There are various groupings of people approaching us, Saskia. I am unsure whether they are friend or foe simply because of the distance at which they still hold.” He motioned for her to look through the apparatus and see for herself. 

She held it up, squinting with her left eye and trying to focus with the other. Colors moved before her and images began to form, the groups moving toward them not together and yet not terribly far apart. 

“I do not recognize many of these faces and yet I see not the Emperor’s colors. I am assured that the whispers of my spirit feel at ease with whom it is that approaches. Honestly I only wish to see Iorveth. I grow weary in his absence.” She moved back a little, a small growl on her lips.

The older man laughed deep in his chest and shook his head, white hair dancing about him. “I do believe you’re beginning to have feelings for our savior, no?”

Her face hardened as she glared at him with challenge. “I have feelings for no one. Least of all an elf. I simply want the news he brings and pray that his safe return will set in motion our victory… my victory.” She turned to look back over the valley and couldn’t help but notice the quickening of her heart. 

The sound of metal clanking pulled her from her stay along the edge of their lands, Karrenz moved in a most unsavory fashion, but the man could wield a battle ax like no other she’d seen. 

“My Queen… my queen…” 

She held up her hand for him to stop. “Catch your breath and speak to me when you have reacquainted yourself with it.” She gave him a moment as a few other guards joined him, only three of the six that had been sent out earlier returning. “Where are the others?”

“That is what I was trying to tell you,” Karrenz gasped for air and blushed. “There is a witcher that has made his way up the back of the valley and is along the southern edge of our camp. He has a gift to present you, Saskia. Something I think you’ll be most interested in.”

She growled at him and pushed past him. “You do you know that I abhor games and have very little patience for bounty hunters that hide under the title of a once great honor, do you not?” She spoke her words as she walked with intent and a bit of aggression sitting on her shoulders toward the far side of their lands. 

“Diplomacy, my queen…” Garrisk yelled from behind her. 

“Fuck diplomacy,” she growled and picked her walk up to a jog, finding herself standing before the witcher in question, the color of his eyes and scowl on his face marked him quickly as the man that came bearing gifts. She stopped before him and let her own gaze touch his before speaking. 

“I hear you’ve come to offer your talents and loyalty to our cause. A gift should do nicely for the onstart of our relationship. Tell me your name and what you expect in return for this blessed union?” The scars on his ruggedly handsome face told a thousand stories and to say that she wasn’t interested in hearing a few of them would be a bit of a tale. 

She awaited his reply patiently, but felt the essence of magic being used within the walls of her city and turned her head only slightly to witness Garrisk moved toward the epicenter of whatever was in occurrence. 

Garrisk turned from his viewpoint above Saskia, watching closely to ensure that the witcher had nothing but honorable intent. Witchers were a breed unto themselves at seemingly were created and raised to care for nothing but their next victim. The older man moved toward the sorcerer, his brow scrunched in concern. 

“Tell us Tarquin Brantimokem Kleist, the sorcerer, do you come in peace or do you bring war to our doorstep?” Garrisk only turned his gaze from the magic wielder in front of him for a moment to give acknowledgement to Nira’s return and point toward the hill where Saskia was.