The Pontar flowed west without rest, day and night, washing away the heroes of every age.
Years later, when we look back upon that period of history, no one can ignore the Lodge of Sorceresses hidden in the shadows, or the tremendous influence its members exerted.
The Lodge of Sorceresses was secretly established after the Thanedd coup. Its purpose was to replace the collapsed Council of Mages, bring the war between Nilfgaard and the Northern Kingdoms to an end, and preserve the influence of the mage class over the fate of the world.
The organization was founded by Philippa Eilhart, the "Jewel of the Court at Tretogor," together with eleven of the most powerful sorceresses of the age.
They were Triss Merigold of Maribor, the fearless "Fourteenth of the Hill."
Margarita Laux-Antille, rectoress of Aretuza.
Keira Metz of Carreras.
Sabrina Glevissig of Ard Carraigh, the "true daughter of the Kaedweni wilds."
Síle de Tansarville, the "Koviri Loner."
Francesca Findabair, Duchess of Dol Blathanna.
Assire var Anahid of Vicovaro.
Fringilla Vigo of Toussaint.
Ida Emean aep Sivney of the Blue Mountains, an "Aen Saevherne."
Yennefer of Vengerberg.
And Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon of Cintra, the "Lady of Time and Space," who attended only a single meeting.
As a secret transnational organization spanning both North and South, the Lodge used its political influence to considerable effect in maintaining the international balance of power.
Yet their habit of placing their own will above that of everyone else was something ordinary people could never understand, and something the kings would never forgive.
Excerpt from Whores or Saints: A Brief History of the Lodge of Sorceresses
...
After the constellation Pegasus had vanished from the sky, in the darkest hour before dawn, four beautiful women remained awake inside Philippa's residence in Vergen.
The "Jewel of the Court at Tretogor" elegantly cast a spell. A pale golden ring of light shimmered into existence, and with a deep roar, a portal opened.
"Mentor, are you certain I don't need to take part in the fighting? I thought our position was to support Lady Saskia?" Felicia Cori asked earnestly, a travel pack slung across her back.
Philippa Eilhart replied calmly, "Many cruel things happen on a battlefield. Neither of you is ready to face them yet. Besides, over the past few days you've behaved less like a mage's apprentice and more like a barber selling aphrodisiacs."
Felicia's face instantly turned scarlet.
The sorceress raised a hand to stop her.
"No... there's no need to explain. I'm not blaming you. It's simply another way of accomplishing your assignment.
"For your Elixirs and Superstitions Practicum, you're moving in the right direction. I don't want you becoming involved in a war now.
"Once you reach Loc Muinne, set up a small laboratory and begin a research project on erection potions. I'll continue guiding you after I arrive."
Felicia had never expected her mentor to actually be keeping track of what she had been doing. The young brown-haired apprentice was so mortified she could barely show her face, and hurried through the portal.
After Felicia Cori departed, three people remained in the room.
"Lady Eilhart, I'll arrange our accommodations in Loc Muinne first and convey my regards to Master Carduin. Do you have any other instructions?"
Philippa smiled and shook her head.
The blonde, green-eyed apprentice Cynthia kissed her mentor on the cheek in farewell before stepping through the portal as well.
That left Philippa Eilhart alone with one other sorceress.
The woman wore a revealing black-and-white gown, with a painted black ring across her chest and her hair arranged into distinctive horn-like buns.
She had deliberately stayed until last because the two of them were partners in the current scheme, and there were more private matters they needed to discuss.
"Síle, it would also be inconvenient for you to appear in this war. Put more effort into the Council of Mages. Drop a few hints to the others and make certain we have sufficient influence there. As for the trouble Dethmold has caused, I'll find an opportunity to deal with it. Afterward, I'll still need you to keep Henselt under control."
The "Koviri Loner" pursed her lips and embraced the "Jewel of the Court at Tretogor."
"Poppy, be careful. Victor Corion is a very slippery young man.
"I don't believe he'll go down that easily, especially with even Geralt's whereabouts currently unknown."
"I'll keep it in mind. If he returns safely, the talisman's failure will simply have been an unfortunate accident. Witchers can't distinguish one spell matrix from another anyway.
"Even if he asks Keira to analyze it for him, I can simply claim Cynthia altered it unintentionally. It has nothing whatsoever to do with me."
Satisfied that Philippa understood the situation, Síle de Tansarville nodded in farewell, then elegantly walked through the portal and departed for the ancient elven city of Loc Muinne.
...
Some time later, as golden dawn finally pierced the darkness, Angoulême Corion returned to her home in Vergen's upper district.
She shut the door, threw herself onto the sofa, and collapsed into a boneless heap.
"No good. I wandered around all night and didn't find a damn thing."
Reclining at the other end of the soft sofa and listening to her report was Saskia the Dragonslayer, the Virgin of Aedirn.
"Finding nothing is good news. Wraiths don't devour people down to the last trace. It looks like Vic simply ran into some urgent business. Get some proper rest, Angoulême!"
Dawn was approaching, and now that she had something resembling definite news, Saskia finished speaking and started to leave.
But the moment she stood, dizziness suddenly struck her. The room spun around her, and she dropped back onto the sofa.
Angoulême brightened at the sight.
She sprang off the sofa, pulled a vial of potion from a nearby cabinet, and offered it to the Virgin of Aedirn.
"Here, here! Nothing beats this for anemia. Vic's special potion, 'Aunt Flo.' Every woman has days like this every month, so there's nothing to be embarrassed about. Don't be shy!"
"Uh... no, you've misunderstood. I don't... Never mind. Thank you."
Saskia accepted the potion.
"You've still got two hours to sleep. I'll have Zoltan wake you later."
Angoulême agreed with a cheerful grin.
...
Two hours passed quickly.
As the sun climbed higher, the atmosphere of war grew steadily thicker. Following the decisions made at the prewar council, Vergen's rebel army, composed of soldiers from several different factions, assembled in Rhundurin Square.
A rough dwarven squad leader could be heard shouting, "You stupid arseholes, get your hides over to the main gate!"
Elsewhere, a bold dwarf waved his hand axe while boasting, "Now things are getting interesting! Just watch me! Bet I can cut down ten of them!"
Standing before the soldiers, all of them brimming with fighting spirit, was Saskia the Dragonslayer.
Blue-gray full plate enclosed her perfectly curved figure, giving her a dignified and commanding appearance.
With an army on the verge of battle, nothing could inspire morale more effectively than the right leader, especially a beautiful young woman like the Virgin of Aedirn, whose miraculous feats of arms had become legendary.
"Zoltan, Henselt will be here any moment. Go wake Angoulême and have her join me in defending the walls!"
Zoltan Chivay accepted the order and hurried away.
"Yarpen, prepare the defenses at the main gate. Don't disappoint me. You're supposed to be our future marshal!"
The dwarf swung his fist.
"Fear nothing! They'll soon learn how dwarves lance boils on an arse!"
"Iorveth, proceed according to our earlier plan. You and your companions are crucial."
"You can rely on us! The Kaedwenis will never stand in your way."
The Scoia'tael commander nodded in acknowledgment.
After assigning their tasks and dismissing her subordinates, the Virgin of Aedirn stood atop the wall with sword in hand, staring toward the Kaedweni army forming ranks in the distance.
Henselt's much-vaunted regular army certainly lived up to its reputation.
Beneath brown and ocher surcoats stood five thousand hardened, courageous soldiers, weapons gleaming in their hands.
When all of them advanced as one, it seemed there could be nothing in the world they were incapable of conquering.
It was a clear day, with blue skies, white clouds, and a gentle breeze.
"For the king!"
"Lormark belongs to Kaedwen!"
"Long live Henselt!"
Amid their thunderous cries, they surged forward, their ferocious momentum making it seem as though they intended to trample Vergen flat beneath their feet.
But naturally, matters were nowhere near that simple.
Vergen's towering walls had been carved from obsidian and were practically impossible to destroy through human strength alone. Even with several times the defenders' numbers, the attackers had little choice but to scale the walls with ladders or attempt to force their way through the gates.
And to launch a frontal assault on the main gate, they first had to pass through a narrow corridor of obsidian.
Following Victor's suggestion, Saskia had prepared a lavish welcome for their uninvited guest Henselt there, royal treatment fit for a king.
So when a dwarf nearby shouted, "The Kaedwenis are coming!"
Saskia confidently swept her hand forward.
"Give them a taste of the hot oil!"
On either side of the narrow obsidian passage, cauldrons of boiling oil had already been prepared.
At her command, they were tipped over.
"Hot! It's burning me!"
"Ah! I'm on fire!"
"Someone help me!"
"No!"
Screams and wails rose one after another.
By then Angoulême had awakened and arrived beside the Dragonslayer.
"Well, well! Boiling oil really was a good idea. They should be feeling the warmth of our hospitality by now."
"At least they certainly won't be cold!"
Saskia drew her steel sword and advanced toward the Kaedweni soldiers climbing ladders onto the wall.
"Throw them back down!"
The melee began.
...
The fierce battle continued for some time.
Eventually Henselt's patience ran out, and he decided to deploy his trump card.
Shielded by wave after wave of Kaedweni warriors, a hawk-nosed mage in a red skullcap approached within a short distance of the first gate.
After a prolonged incantation, he successfully conjured an enormous fireball.
Seeing it, Yarpen sucked in a sharp breath.
"No good! We can't stop that! Fall back behind the second gate!"
After loudly announcing their apparent defeat, he immediately led his men away and abandoned the first gate.
One second later, Dethmold shouted, "Ahn'kadarad!"
The blazing fireball smashed forward with overwhelming force and blew Vergen's sturdy gate apart.
Unfortunately for the attackers, they soon discovered they had celebrated too early.
They were still a long way from breaking into the city.
The first gate had only been an additional fortification constructed in preparation for the war.
The second gate, behind which Yarpen and his men had retreated, was the one that had once left even Victor astonished.
A five-ton iron gate, built with dwarven craftsmanship.
Faced with something so absurdly sturdy, even a fireball twice as large would have been useless.
Dethmold therefore withdrew behind the lines and cast another spell.
Dark clouds gathered overhead, followed by sheets of pouring rain that reduced the effectiveness of the defenders' boiling oil.
The war had now entered its second phase.
After successfully lowering the iron portcullis and receiving the retreating defenders, Zoltan shouted down from above.
"Yarpen, have they crushed your balls yet? If not, stop talking shit and get up here to reinforce the wall!"
Yarpen looked up and shook his fist.
"Move it, lads! Can't you hear? Our heroic farting expert is getting angry!"
Close-quarters fighting continued across the walls.
Saskia's commanding voice rang above the chaos, inspiring everyone around her.
"Hold the line! Don't be afraid! Show them what Aedirnian soldiers can do!"
As the very model of a commander who fought from the front, the Dragonslayer carried a shield in her left hand and sword in her right.
Her shield smashed aside a Kaedweni soldier's weapon, while her steel blade struck like a viper and stole his life.
The flower of the battlefield bloomed brilliantly, and no one could stand against her strength.
"Long live Saskia!"
"Fight for the Virgin!"
Not to be outshone by the Virgin, and responding to the surging excitement of everyone holding a sword, Angoulême, the "Golden Eagle," threw herself into battle with equal ferocity.
The Golden Eagle of the Phantom Troupe struck wherever armor was weakest, her sword carving through the enemy without resistance.
Among the entire host, few could rival her courage.
At last, another wave of attackers was driven back.
Zoltan stood there panting heavily.
"Whew... that wasn't easy. Still, seeing those bastards go down makes it all worthwhile."
Angoulême flicked the blood from her blade.
"They're only retreating for now. They'll be back soon. Stubborn as dwarven farmers."
"Dwarves have more guts than that lot!"
Yarpen spat a glob of bloody phlegm over the wall.
At that moment, Saskia approached.
"My dear Angoulême, I need your help. I've just received some bad news. Do you know about the tunnel beneath the city that connects to the fortress in the dwarven mining district?"
"Of course. There's a small path that comes around the rear slopes and leads inside."
"Exactly. It's a secret only the locals should know. To make certain it was secure, I sent a scouting party there earlier, but they haven't returned. I now suspect someone leaked the existence of that route."
"Let me guess. You need me to go on a little hike and check that path?"
"Now is the perfect time," Zoltan said gruffly. "We just repelled Kaedwen's frontal assault. Henselt's men are all licking their wounds."
Saskia nodded.
"They'll need roughly another hour to reorganize before they can launch another attack. I need reliable intelligence before I can judge the situation. We shouldn't waste time. I'll go with you."
"I don't think you should, Lady Saskia," Angoulême said. "You're Vergen's hope."
The Dragonslayer's resolve did not waver.
"Trust me. I'm not afraid of any danger. Our defenses have been prepared properly, and everyone knows their duties. Besides, we'll only be gone briefly..."
"Then how about bringing some elite soldiers?"
As the faithful heir to Victor's cautious philosophy, Angoulême greatly preferred fights where the odds were stacked overwhelmingly in her favor.
"I don't want to alter our formation right now. It's working. Unless we confirm that they're organizing a surprise attack through the mines, we should maintain the defensive arrangement we already have.
"And of course you know that we still can't reveal our true trump card."
Angoulême knew exactly what she meant.
Since the battle began, Iorveth and his Scoia'tael had barely appeared on the main front. Only a tiny handful under Lansi had shown themselves, loosing the occasional token volley.
According to the prewar plan, the success or failure of the ambush in the gatehouse kill zone would decide the outcome of the entire war.
Angoulême swept her rain-soaked hair straight back and spread her hands.
"Fine! You're the boss today. I'll follow your lead."
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