Astartes of the Bear School

Chapter 1822, Section 1794: The Meeting Place for Peace Talks
The archbishop was broad and stout, and he was so old that his face sagged like a fluid.

He applied foundation to cover his age spots, but the scent of the cosmetics mixed with the decaying smell of old age on him, which only made people notice his advanced age more.

He acted like a host, waiting for everyone to be seated before preparing to sit down himself.

Originally, his seat should have been the chair that had once been Queen Calanthe's exclusive seat. The chair's back was carved with ornate patterns and it was wider and heavier than the other chairs. Even when placed around a round table, it would be enough to make it clear who was the head of the table.

Unfortunately, Lan En is currently sitting in that chair.

It wasn't that the Witcher wanted to embarrass the archbishop who was presiding over the meeting before it even started; it was purely due to his size.

However, the archbishop seemed to have failing eyesight. After scanning the seated people around, he kindly waved to his male servants, who then brought over a chair that was more suitable for his size.

Among those present, Dijkstra smiled knowingly.

He recalled that shortly after the coup on Xenide Island, thirteen members of the Church of Eternal Flame in Novigrad had suddenly died.

The positions range from acolytes and missionaries to bishops!
At the time, Archbishop Hermelfat meant: mass food poisoning.

However, a small number of people with sources in Novigrad know that those who die from food poisoning have never seen such a death.

Dixter believed that at least three people around this round table knew this. But no one showed any emotion at this moment.

Once everyone was seated, the initial stage of the negotiations was similar to any meeting, consisting of tedious but necessary small talk and greetings.

Lan En sat calmly and indifferently in his chair. His aloof demeanor caused the people at the table to tacitly avoid him.

He then glanced at Prince Christian at the round table.

If I remember correctly, Ciri fled to the Brocleon Forest, where he, Geralt, and Vesemir found her, in order to escape her arranged engagement to Prince Christian.

Ciri once said that the prince had a runny nose and was in love with a court lady. Time has passed, and now he no longer has a runny nose and is quite handsome.

The prince has overthrown his father and become king.

Lan En nodded slightly to Tisaya, who was sitting among the advisors behind Prince Christine.

Then the Witcher looked up.

The onlookers assumed that the Witcher was admiring the frescoes on the throne room ceiling.

It was a painting of a half-naked angel gifting a sword and shield to a hero, with beautiful nude nymphs surrounding the hero.

As a ceiling mural in the Sintra Throne Room, it certainly has a high artistic value.

But Lann's eyes were not on the nude nymphs in the mural; instead, his gaze was focused on something higher.

His eyes were deep and focused.

Within the [Spiritual Vision], in a room on the upper level of the throne room, ten extremely powerful sources of magic are gathered!

The lowest standard among them is chaotic magic power at the level of a Grand Mage!

Whether out of a sense of ceremony or some other consideration, the ten sources of magic above were arranged in a round table, just like the meeting in the throne room below.

With Lann's [Spiritual Vision] level, he could even see these magical sources activating a simple spell to connect the light and sound in the throne room to their room.

They became bystanders behind the scenes.

Given the current state of the warlock community after the betrayal, the only reason such a large group of archmages could be gathered is that, apart from the two great mentors, Tessaya and Gedimitis, the traitorous warlocks could actually trust each other and start anew...

Therefore, it seems that only Philippa Ehrhardt, who is deeply involved in politics and has outstanding abilities, and her sorceress gathering place are involved.

"What is he looking at?" Kayla Metz looked around in disbelief. "Looking at us?!"

Just as Lann saw, the sorceresses were sitting around a round table with a telescope on it, transmitting the view of the throne room downstairs.

"Haven't you already seen it all?" Triss sneered. "Why ask any more questions?"

"Philippa! Is this your guarantee?"

The speaker was Fringilla Vigo, who had once fought the Northern sorcerers to the death on Mount Solomon, blinding Yennefer, and was later pierced through the shoulder by Lann's Lake Maiden Sword.

The sorceress from southern Nilfgaard adorned herself with two turquoise earrings, but now, her alluring face was pale, and her old, wounded shoulders trembled.

“You said, ‘Right below us, in the first-floor room, the monarchs are deciding the fate of the new world after the war. We, positioned one level above them, will oversee the entire process to ensure they make no mistakes!’”

Fringilla pointed again at the Witcher looking up in the telescope's projection and questioned Philippa again.

"Is this your guarantee?!"

Beside her, Ashiree var Anashin, a fellow sorcerer from southern Nilfgaard, pressed down with one hand to calm the atmosphere.

She wore a long violet silk dress, looking both simple and elegant. "Your fear and distrust of this new, rebellious organization is something I can especially understand, but I think we should hear Ms. Ehrert's explanation."

"She's not so useless that all she thinks about is sleeping with women. Fringilla, stop clinging to the teleportation spell. He can't just rush up and kill you, can he? This is after the war."

“Yes,” Philippa said as if she hadn’t heard the sarcasm about her sexual orientation, “Aishley is right, it’s time to establish a postwar order.”

Philippa's two braids lay casually on her wide-open chest, making it hard to imagine that such a beautiful and charming woman would also be attracted to other women.

"We don't know what kind of miracle those old witchers of the Bear School performed on him, but he can see magic, which many of us confirmed when we were at Mount Sodden, didn't we?"

Philippa spoke eloquently and remained confident and calm when faced with questions, even appearing more assertive – qualities of a leader.

“The people of Sintra have never liked sorcerers, and there are no magical facilities in the palace, so it’s only natural that he would see us gathered together. And our insurance in front of him has never been ‘not being discovered’.”

As she spoke, Philippa's eyes turned to Margarita, who was sitting opposite her.

"Right, Rita?"

Margarita's attire today was unusual, dignified and serious.

Hearing Philippa's statement, she didn't refute it, but just frowned: "Don't call me that, Philippa. We're not that close."

The other sorceresses all focused their attention, including two pure-blood elves, Francesca Fandabe, and the elven sage Ada Amin whom she had brought in.

"Ha, that's great!" Kayla Metz said sourly, looking at the man's face in the binoculars. "The lives and fortunes of our sorceresses are insured by the woman he slept with?"

“Two,” Triss said, ignoring the sour tone, and tapped the table to emphasize, “Kayla, there are two here.”

"...Should I also wish you a happy life?"

"Then I'll say thank you in advance, if you really want to offer your blessings."

"Alright, everyone! Cheer up!" Philippa said sternly. "Do I have to remind you? Even the civilians who are celebrating right now should know that negotiation is part of the war!"

"It's just like doing business, even the method is exactly the same: if you want something, you have to sell something first. Give something up, and you get something in return."

"And what you lose in negotiations can be more devastating than the losses in war!"

“Indeed,” Francesca agreed softly. “Even the simplest-minded person should understand this principle.”
-
"No! I won't say it a thousand times!" Henselt roared like a wild boar throughout the throne room. "I don't want to discuss this anymore! There's no room for negotiation! Stop!"

By the time Lan En came to his senses, the negotiation seemed to have moved beyond the polite greetings in the blink of an eye and entered the deeper waters.

In other words, as the official language often says: both sides exchanged views frankly.

Henselt refused to return the Upper Aden lands he had taken during the war, and Demavis and Henselt had a fierce argument on this issue before dealing with the Nilfgaardians.

The special envoy sent by Nilfgaard for this negotiation, Hilard Fizz Oyestralan, remained on the sidelines, seemingly relieved that he wouldn't be entangled so early and could save his energy.

“Upper Aden,” Dixter interjected amidst the chaos, “Your Majesty Henset, your insistence on ‘since ancient times’ is simply unfounded. Cordwin’s rule over Upper Aden only began last year, to be precise, on July 24th.”

“I demand that this sentence be added to the meeting memorandum,” Oyestalan said, raising his hand, “so that future generations will know that Nilfgaard had nothing to do with this annexation.”

Demavie sarcastically remarked, "That's because you were looting Wengerburg back then!"

The Nilfgaardian ambassador remained calm: "These are two completely unrelated matters and should be discussed separately."

Henset slammed his fists on the table, knocking over the wine glasses in front of him: "I said it's impossible, and that's final! I will not cede an inch of my land! I hate such vulgar and unreasonable remarks, especially when they come from the mouth of a despicable spy! Damn it, I am the real king!"

The atmosphere at the meeting grew increasingly intense, making one wonder if the attendees would start throwing things at each other across the large round table at any moment.

The Archbishop of Eternal Flame, his obese and aged body trembling, struggled to control the pace of the meeting.

But his voice and his fleeting prestige were quickly drowned out by the arguments, and no one really cared.

The argument only quieted down when someone who hadn't spoken at the meeting spoke up.

"Anyone who loudly proclaims himself king is unworthy to be a true king."

Lan En's voice quickly silenced the scene.

Even though Henselt's face turned as red as a tomato after being slapped, he tried his best to control his temper and prevent it from exploding on the spot.

Lan En was not wearing armor or carrying any weapons.

But when he lowered his head from the dome and looked around, everyone felt that with that movement, a stiff and cold sound, like the movement of armor, resounded in their hearts.

“I have no interest in the conflicts of Aden,” the Witcher said, seemingly impatiently. “We should cut to the chase and talk about what really matters.”

(End of this chapter)