“What the fuck!” Exclaimed the nobleman, before an icicle the size of a fist hit him in the chest, throwing him off his feet.

  Cyril gave him a sympathetic look.

  With the addition of five hundred new soldiers, their leader had decided that they should return to their roots, so to speak.

  So they were digging holes again.

  Some of the new knights, led by the Baron himself, had tried protesting at first. Cyril thought their arguments had some merit, as it was true that should it come to battle, they would be on horses.

  Lady Degurechaff had shut that down quickly. The camp would need to be fortified each night, no matter what, while night attacks were not out of the question either. She had given some leniency to the Baron but had also strongly emphasised that a leader should understand the duties of their men.

  Cyril did not recall the sorceresses ever digging holes, but the noble had not been willing to challenge Degurechaff over the matter. The guardsman-turned-commander had to admit he had been quite surprised at that. Nobles weren’t exactly known for their willingness to dig holes in the ground.

  Now, he was putting it together. Perhaps the Baron had seen merit in building a closer rapport with his men, not understanding the true nature of Degurechaff's simple 'hole digging' exercise, and so fell into the trap.

  As the armoured Baron got up to his feet, Cyril yanked him out of the path of another icicle.

  “What the fuck,” Baron Ortagor repeated.

  Cyril nodded.

  “What are you, snails? Do you think you’ll survive an actual battle if you cannot even dig a hole?!” The distinctive voice of the sorceress echoed over the clearing.

  They renewed their efforts. Cyril noted that the Baron was putting his all into it this time.

  “Charge, north-east, NOW!” The witch shouted.

  Ortagor wiped the sweat from his forehead before lowering his visor. He took back everything good he had said about sorcerers in the past.

  He watched calmly as the infantry rapidly untangled a few of the wagons, moving them out of the way.

  In record time, the way was clear.

  “AFTER ME! FORWARD!” He shouted, his commanding voice easily reaching his entire force.

  Spurring his horse into a gallop, Ortagor quickly reached the hole in the wagon fort. His horse jumped straight over the trench before continuing onward. The rest of his men followed after him, charging north-east and then around the camp, slowing down into a trot.

  As he rode, he couldn’t help but wonder what sort of hell this woman crawled out of. Tanya von Degurechaff looked young, but it was clear by her demeanour that this was simply an illusion, as it often was with her kind.

  He could only imagine Tigg laughing in that grating voice of his, safely sitting on his ass in the comfort of the Capital. He must have known, the fop.

  There was nothing he could do, considering the witch was given her authority straight from the Crown. It wasn’t unheard of for sorcerers to accompany soldiers every once in a while, especially when it concerned monster subjugation, but Ortagor had never heard of any mage alive being actually interested in leading the troops. Of course, he’d get the one exception.

  Worse, while her methods were clearly the product of a deranged mind, Ortagor couldn’t find much fault in them. The only real rebuke he could offer was the danger, but somehow, the worst of it had been bruises.

  Clearly, the sorceress was much more in control than she pretended to be when chucking spears of ice at their faces. In his eyes, this only made her more dangerous.

  Once we departed from Tigg, the days descended into peaceful monotony once more. The new troops were quick to adapt after a few days of instruction, and we resumed regular training, this time incorporating the new cavalry force.

  The light cavalry sent by Baron Eylembert took on scouting duties, complementing my use of Saov Llygad well. I was quite confident that no one could ambush us without my knowledge now, even with the use of magic.

  It took a few weeks for us to reach Erlenwald. Naturally, our march slowed significantly in the forest, though not enough to concern me. The witcher grew much happier as his purse grew heavier, his skills put to a much greater use now that we were further from proper civilization.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The amount of monsters proved fortunate for me, as it allowed me to examine many intriguing specimens where magic was blended in with regular biology. An unforeseen boon, one which would speed up my own efforts with Alzur’s Double Cross by quite a bit. The monsters also provided more training opportunities and materials for the troops, though they were too used to dealing with them by now for the experience to be worth much.

  Unfortunately, while there were monsters living in Erlenwald, it wasn’t exactly infested. The forest was part of Cintra, not some unexplored frontier.

  Right now, we were camped in a clearing that the troops were even now working on expanding by felling trees that grew too close. The sound of falling timber reverberated through the camp while I sat in my tent, performing an autopsy while occasionally taking notes.

  “Deeper tissue is a strange mix of wood and flesh, while the skin is not merely bark-like, it is bark. I did not find anything resembling internal organs,” I murmured, writing my words down, before abandoning the creature’s torso and moving on to the deer skull that served as the monster’s head.

  To my great consternation, its head was apparently exactly that. A deer skull, but one with solid bone throughout, leaving no space for a brain.

  Baffling, but the more I examined its skull, the more impressed I became. The bone was not simple bone. It was more akin to an extremely complex enchantment, one done in three dimensions, interspersed throughout the entire structure.

  “Conjunctions of the spheres indeed,” I muttered. I couldn’t see how a monster like this could evolve naturally in this world, but perhaps in one with an overflow of magic…

  Coen had told me most of what he knew of the creature, this leshen. Unfortunately, his knowledge was decidedly practical. That the creature was weak to fire was nice to know, if somewhat obvious. That it could control both plants and animals was, however, fascinating.

  ‘Some innate form of mind magic, perhaps,’ I thought, writing down more notes. The disturbing field of magic was, unfortunately, fairly common, with even witchers dabbling. The so-called Axii sign might have been fairly weak, but it was also very easy to cast.

  If a human could learn to do so, why couldn’t a creature of magic like a leshen? That being said, the monster neither spoke nor performed hand signs, so any such magic likely followed an entirely different logic compared to regular sorcery. Or, perhaps, simple excessive familiarity with the spell, allowing for purely mind-based casting. Examining its strange brain-skull, I could see it.

  This wasn’t terribly surprising, nor groundbreaking. It was well known that certain monsters utilised magic in a manner mostly alien to mankind, though the way in which this was done was a matter of much debate. In my opinion, it likely differed from species to species.

  I was brought out of my musings by Roderic’s voice, “Lady Degurechaff, the outriders have returned with a… guest, who wishes to speak to you.”

  Frowning, I exited the tent, “Where?” I asked Roderic.

  “They are keeping him near the northern entry point,” The Captain responded.

  I nodded, my legs already moving. The royal guards quickly fell into a protective formation around me.

  Soon, we reached the edge of our camp, where a dozen or so of my men surrounded a tranquil-looking elf.

  I raised my voice as I approached, “I did not know Erlenwald had an elven population.”

  The elf turned towards me, which let me see his disfigured face, “It does not.”

  I raised an eyebrow, “What brings you here, then, Aen Seidhe?”

  “My name is Isengrim Faoiltiarna, daerienn. Ida Emean aep Sivney sends her regards,” he responded.

  Daerienn, or sorceress in the common tongue. Well, that answered some things.

  “You are a messenger, then?”

  “Not quite. Our mutual acquaintance merely thought we would benefit from meeting,” The elf replied.

  I wasn’t about to spit on Ida’s goodwill, not when I already owed her, but I didn’t see how I’d benefit from the presence of one elf. Unless I was not supposed to, and she wished for me to help this man as repayment for her assistance?

  “Do you have proof that it was Ida who sent you?” I asked.

  “She said that the words, ‘Little Argent’, would convince you,” the elf replied, interest colouring his voice.

  My face twitched, something that did not escape his attention.

  “I see. Then, what benefit do you seek?” I replied, ignoring my lapse of control.

  The elf did not hesitate, “A place amongst your retinue for me and mine, for this venture, at least. We will both see whether Ida’s words have merit then, yes?”

  “Yours?” I asked.

  “There are a hundred of us,” the elf admitted.

  I blinked. Well. While not a game changer, adding another hundred fighters to my meagre force was a big boon. It would seem that my debt to Ida grew larger.

  “Granted,” I said, not having to think about this too much. There was no reason for Ida to wish me harm, nor could I see the elves siding with Nazair should it come to blows. Cintra was the stronger kingdom, and Ida was clearly trying to cultivate a working relationship between us, something I was more than amenable to.

  Ultimately, most of my contacts were mine by proxy, only through Tissaia or Calanthé. Ida was the first sorceress I had a real personal connection with, made even more valuable by her elven heritage.

  “Are your people far? It would be better if we integrated them into our fighting style sooner rather then later,” I continued.

  “Some are nearby, though most are watching the other army camped in the forest. I thought you would be interested.”

  ‘Curse you, Being X.’