It was time for the trip to Vizima and the morning sun cast long shadows across the cobblestones of Novigrad's Glory Gate. The gate itself was a monument to the city's independence, tall and imposing, its towers flying the banners of the Eternal Fire. Beyond it, the road stretched south toward the Pontar, toward Temeria, toward whatever waited for them in the days ahead.
Sebastian sat astride the grey mare, his gear secured, his expression was calm. Beside him, Dandelion had finally retrieved his own horse, a chestnut gelding with a white blaze and a temperament that seemed to match his own. Zoltan, mounted on a horse that Sebastian had purchased for him, was checking his axe and grumbling about the quality of the animal's gait.
They were ready. The city was behind them and the road was ahead.
Then a voice called out for Sebastian.
"Master Witcher! A word, please!"
Sebastian turned, a man was approaching, thin, nondescript, dressed in the simple clothes, his eyes met Sebastian's.
Sebastian recognized the type, Dijkstra's man.
He dismounted, and walked toward the messenger. "Go on," Sebastian said.
The messenger inclined his head respectfully. "Master Sigi Reuven sends his regards. He says that he did look for information about that dwarf you asked about." He paused, his expression apologetic. "He found nothing unusual... except for the fact that the dwarf appeared out of nowhere here in the city about three years ago. He's been working here ever since, and his work is surprisingly good. But people appearing here out of nowhere is not exactly uncommon in Novigrad. Master Sigi apologizes for not finding out more."
Sebastian was silent for a moment. His thoughts churned, turning over the possibilities. A dwarf who appeared out of nowhere. Who knew about the mask. Who knew about Ciri. Who knew his birth name.
'I have a few theories about him,' Sebastian thought. 'And none of them are simple... he could be that being... one that I don't exactly want to mess with..'
He met the messenger's eyes. "Thank Dijkstra..I mean, Sigi, for his help. And don't worry about it."
The messenger gave a small bow. "Just doing my job, sir."
Sebastian nodded, then turned and mounted his mare. Dandelion and Zoltan were watching him, their expressions curious.
"So," Dandelion said, "we leaving?"
Sebastian gathered the reins. "Yeah."
He looked back at Novigrad one last time. The city sprawled behind him, its spires and towers catching the morning light, its bells beginning to toll the hour. He knew how much this city would probably change in the coming months, or years, the Temple Guard's growing power, the persecution of mages, the whispers of war. But he wasn't sure if it would change for the good or for the worse.
"Let's go," Sebastian said.
They rode through the Glory Gate, leaving Novigrad behind.
.
.
.
The road to the Pontar was familiar and well-traveled, winding through rolling hills and patchwork fields that had been farmed for generations. The weather was mild, the sky a pale blue dotted with wispy clouds. It should have been a pleasant journey.
But something was wrong.
They noticed it first when they crested a hill and saw the river stretching before them, wide and brown, its surface glinting in the afternoon sun. The Pontar was a natural border between Redania and Temeria, a river that had seen more battles than any living person could count.
And it was lined with soldiers.
Redanian banners flew from the northern bank, crimson and gold, the eagle of the Northern Kingdom stark against the sky. Soldiers in red and white patrolled the shore, their pikes and halberds gleaming, their campfires sending thin spirals of smoke toward the heavens.
On the southern bank, Sebastian could see the blue and gold of Temeria. The lilies of the Temerian crest fluttered in the breeze, and soldiers in blue surcoats moved with equal vigilance. They were not fighting, but there the tension was palpable, a wire stretched taut between the two sides.
Sebastian reined in his mare, his yellow eyes scanning the scene.
Dandelion's voice was low, almost a whisper. "Well, this is strange..."
Zoltan nodded slowly, his thick fingers stroking his beard. "Aye. Something isn't right."
Sebastian's gaze swept the river, counting the soldiers on both sides. There were more Redanian soldiers than there should have been, far more. And the Temerians as well, their numbers swollen beyond what would be normal for a border garrison.
"I assume," Sebastian said slowly, "that something has happened on the other side, and that's why the Redanians are on alert?"
Zoltan considered this. "That's possible. Because the Pontar isn't supposed to be this stacked with soldiers." He paused, his voice dropping. "This looks like preparation for something."
Dandelion shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. "Preparation for what?"
Sebastian did not answer. His mind was already connecting dots, forming possibilities. The whispers of war. The Empire's silence and the growing tension between the Northern Kingdoms.
"Let's move," Sebastian said. "Carefully. We need to cross the pontar, and I don't want to draw attention."
They rode down the hill, their horses' hooves crunching against the gravel. The Redanian soldiers took notice of them as they approached, their hands moving to their weapons, their eyes sharp with suspicion.
Sebastian kept his hands visible, his posture relaxed. "We're travelers," he called out. "Heading to Vizima."
The soldier who approached was a sergeant, his face weathered, his eyes hard. He looked at Sebastian's swords, at his medallion, at the scars on his face.
"A witcher," the sergeant said. "And your companions?"
Sebastian nodded. "Friends. We mean no trouble."
The sergeant studied them for a long moment. Then he stepped aside.
"Keep moving," he said.
They crossed the bridge, their horses' hooves echoing against the stone. The soldiers on both sides watched them pass, their eyes never leaving the travelers.
Sebastian felt their gaze on his back, heavy and expectant.
Something was coming. He could feel it in the air, in the tension of the soldiers.
The bridge over the Pontar groaned beneath the weight of their horses' hooves, Sebastian rode at the front, his yellow eyes scanning the Temerian side of the river. The soldiers there were watching them with the same suspicion as their Redanian counterparts, but there was something different in their posture.
Dandelion let out a long breath as they passed the last of the Temerian soldiers.
"We are officially in Temeria now," Dandelion said, his voice carrying a note of relief. "Thank the gods. I was starting to think we'd never make it across seeing all of them like that... and that they would ask us for passes or worse."
Zoltan, however, was not content to simply move on. The dwarf pulled his horse to a halt and dismounted with a grunt, his boots hitting the packed earth with a solid thump. He handed his reins to Dandelion, who took them with a look of dawning horror and strode toward a group of Temerian soldiers who were gathered near a small campfire.
"Sorry, but..." Zoltan began. "What the hell is going on with the Redanians back there? They were rude to us just because we wanted to cross to Temeria."
Dandelion's face went pale. He leaned toward Sebastian, his voice a frantic whisper. "What are you doing, Zoltan?! Zoltan! Oh, gods, he's going to get us in prison again..."
Sebastian, however, smiled. He watched Zoltan with a mixture of amusement and admiration. The dwarf's approach was bold, yes, but it was also clever. Gaslighting the soldiers into revealing information by feigning ignorance.
He settled back in his saddle, content to watch and wait.
The Temerian soldier who had been addressed was a young man, barely more than a boy, his face still carrying the softness of youth beneath the stubble that was trying to become a beard.
"Oh, of course they would," the soldier said, his voice carrying a note of bitter satisfaction. "Those cunts tried to assassinate our king, after all."
Zoltan's eyebrows shot up. "They did what?"
The soldier's chest puffed out with importance. "Haven't heard? Of course you haven't... you were on the other side of the Pontar. Our beloved King Foltest was almost assassinated two days ago... though we didn't confirm it was them for real.." He paused. "But we suspect those red cunts for it. The Kaedwenis, too. And Nilfgaard of course." He shook his head slowly. "We have too many enemies already... and too many backstabbing friends like the Redanians." He spat to the side, a gesture of contempt. "Never liked 'em, anyway."
Zoltan laughed, an awkward, forced laugh. "I see..."
He turned around, his eyes meeting Sebastian's and Dandelion's. Both of them already understood what's going on, hearing what just the soldier mentioned.
If the King of Temeria had been targeted, it meant that the delicate balance of power in the Northern Kingdoms was about to shatter, and that meant war was coming and Nilfgaard was on the move.
He gathered his reins and urged the mare forward, falling into step beside Zoltan as the dwarf mounted his pony.
"We need to get to Vizima," Sebastian said, his voice low. "Now."
Dandelion nodded, his earlier bravado completely gone. "Right. Yes. Moving. Good plan... if Vizima still exists... I already have a bad feeling..Can we turn back?"
/-\
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