(Castle Cidaris, County of Cidaris, Duchy of Cidaris, Kingdom of Cidaris, Northern Realms, The Witcher-Verse)
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(King Aethan I Jaenerys of Cidaris POV)
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Aethan stood up from his Throne as he moved to greet Foltest and Adda more directly. Two of his Royal Guards, Bjorn and Sigurd, stood behind him. Bjorn kept a tight hand on his spear and shield, while Sigurd's grip was more relaxed. As he neared the two, Aethan and Foltest clasped forearms.
''Welcome to Cidaris, King Foltest. It has been a very long time since a King of Temeria stepped foot in our marble halls. I am Aethan, son of King Ethain. I grant you and your people the Cidarian Rite of hospitality.'' Says Aethan as Servants bring forth pearls and Oysters. Two Black Pearls, one for Foltest and Adda each, their courtiers and advisors were given a standard pearl befitting their lower stations.
Foltest, a man whose presence commanded attention even amidst the opulence of Castle Cidaris, returned the clasp of forearms with a firm, practiced grip. His gaze, sharp and appraising, swept over Aethan, taking in the youthful but regal bearing of his host. "King Aethan," Foltest responded, his voice a low rumble that carried easily through the chamber, "The honor is ours. Temeria and Cidaris share a long and storied past, a history etched in both alliance and the occasional… spirited disagreement. We are grateful for your generous hospitality. The Cidarian Rite, as you know, is legendary." He inclined his head towards Adda, his daughter, whose own eyes, wide with a mixture of awe and apprehension, met Aethan's briefly before she demurely lowered them, clutching the black pearl to her chest.
As the servants, clad in the deep blue and silver livery of the Cidarian court, offered the shimmering bivalves, Aethan watched Foltest with a calculated calmness. He knew the importance of this meeting, not just for the duchies but for the fragile peace that held the Northern Realms together. Temeria was a formidable kingdom, and Foltest, despite his eccentricities, was a shrewd ruler. The gifts were a gesture, of course, but the true currency of this encounter would be in the words exchanged, the subtle dances of diplomacy played out beneath the veneer of courtly ceremony. Bjorn, ever vigilant, shifted his weight, his eyes scanning the assembled Temerian courtiers, a silent guardian of his King and his Kingdom. Sigurd, meanwhile, offered a near-imperceptible nod to one of the Cidarian servants, a flicker of understanding passing between them.
"Indeed, King Foltest," Aethan replied, a faint smile gracing his lips. "A history that, I trust, will continue to be written with mutual respect and shared prosperity. May this meeting be the dawn of a new chapter, one where the tides of fortune Favor both our peoples." He gestured towards a man in finely dressed clothes. "Castellan Arlian will see you to the pre-prepared rooms, be seated. There are matters of import I wish to discuss with you later, far from the prying ears of those who might seek to sow discord between our realms."
Foltest's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of "matters of import," a subtle gleam of anticipation or perhaps caution reflecting in their depths. He inclined his head, a gesture of acknowledgement. "A wise precaution, King Aethan. For indeed, the whispers of dissent are ever present, like the chill winds that blow from the Dragon Mountains. We accept your offer of chambers and await your summons, eager to delve into the heart of these discussions." He cast another glance at Adda, whose small hand now tightened around her pearl, a silent confirmation that she understood the gravity of the moment. The courtiers, having received their lesser gifts, began to murmur amongst themselves, their eyes darting between the two kings, eager to glean any hint of the future from this significant parley.
Castellan Arlian, a man whose silver hair was meticulously combed and whose posture exuded an air of quiet authority, stepped forward with a low bow. "Your Majesty, Princess," he addressed them, his voice measured and respectful. "If you would be so kind as to follow me. Your apartments have been prepared with the utmost care, ensuring your comfort and privacy." He gestured with an open hand towards a grand corridor, adorned with tapestries depicting the glorious history of Cidaris, its battles won and its rulers lauded. Bjorn and Sigurd remained rooted to their positions, their gazes fixed on the departing Temerian delegation, their watchful eyes missing nothing.
As Foltest and Adda, accompanied by their retinue and the ever-present Castellan Arlian, began their procession through the castle's resplendent halls, Aethan turned back towards his throne. The weight of his crown, though invisible, settled more firmly upon his brow. This meeting was more than a mere exchange of pleasantries; it was a strategic maneuver, a delicate balancing act upon the precipice of regional power. The Northern Realms were a fractured mosaic, and Cidaris, nestled between the sea and Temeria and the always volatile borders of Brokkilon Forest and Kerack, occupied a precarious but vital position. The coming conversations would determine whether that position remained secure, or if the tides of conflict would once again threaten to engulf them all.
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(POV Shift: King Foltest I Dezmoiden of Temeria)
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After being escorted to their chambers, Foltest called upon Vernon Roche, Jan Natalis, and Bronibor to his chambers for a discussion.
''Well, we came for a funeral, and it seems we have matters of Import to discuss with the boy King.'' Vernon remarks.
''And yet, he didn't show nervousness, didn't shrink, cower, or show any hint of weakness.'' Natalis said.
''It's clear, what he wants.'' Bronibor said. ''He wants the Princess.''
''The question is whether I should give Adda to him. Natalis? What do you think?'' Asks Foltest.
''The Cidarian Fleet is massive. Their merchant fleet travels up and down the coasts constantly. Bringing goods to and from. In total they number roughly five hundred strong. Built up over the generations. Their War Fleets, however, are another matter. In total we suspect the Cidarian Navy totals approximately three hundred or so military vessels. In the last three years, before King Ethain's death, the King gave the then-Crown Prince control over the naval forces. You saw the behemoth being built in the harbour yes? That is supposed to be the Flagship of the Royal Fleet. What's more, Intelligence reports indicate that there are numerous ships being built at the growing newly constructed harbour of Four Maples.'' Says Natalis.
''What the Shells lack in large numbers of soldiers they more than make up for in skilled Sailors. King Ethain married into Skellige's Royal house, Queen Mother Astrid is the sister of King Bran an Tuirseach. When she married King Ethain, a large number of Clan Tuirseach's master shipwrights and their families immigrated to Cidaris. Following that many Skellige's immigrated to Cidaris over the last seventeen years, increasing their numbers of Sailors.'' Says Vernon Roche.
Foltest leaned back against the plush cushions of his temporary chambers, his brow furrowed in thought. The grandeur of Castle Cidaris was undeniable, but its opulence did little to soothe the growing unease in his gut. He'd come to mourn a fellow king, a somber duty, yet found himself at the precipice of a far more intricate political dance. Adda, his daughter, was the key, a pawn in a game he was still trying to understand. The power of Cidaris, as Natalis had so meticulously detailed, was not to be underestimated. Their fleet, a leviathan of the seas, was a formidable force, capable of projecting power across the Northern Realms and beyond. And the whispers of new constructions at Four Maples? That spoke of ambition, of a king with his eyes fixed firmly on expansion.
"Skelliger sailors," Foltest mused, tapping a finger against his chin. "A formidable addition indeed. Aethan's father understood the importance of a strong navy, and it seems his son has inherited that wisdom, and perhaps even surpassed it. He has not just maintained the fleet; he has invested in its future. This 'Flagship' being built… that is a statement, not a mere vessel. It signals a willingness to engage, to project strength. And if he seeks an alliance sealed with marriage, it will be on terms that heavily favor Cidaris." He cast a stern look at Natalis. "You are certain of his intentions regarding Adda?"
Natalis met his gaze unflinchingly. "My King, the evidence, while not a confession, points overwhelmingly in that direction. The timing of his overtures, the focus on naval strength, and the implicit link between our kingdoms' futures. He sees the Princess as a means to consolidate power, to secure an alliance with Temeria that will bolster his own position and, in turn, secure our own access to the vital sea lanes that Cidaris commands. It is a shrewd play, one that we cannot afford to dismiss lightly." Bronibor, who had been silently observing, finally spoke, his voice gravelly. "He's a young wolf, Foltest. And he smells opportunity. He sees Temeria's might on land, but he also sees the vulnerability of our coastlines. A marriage to Adda would give him a secure eastern flank and a powerful ally should any of the southern kingdoms decide to test the Northern Realms."
''A kraken might be more appropriate, considering the boys personal heraldry during the last three Grand Tourney's of Toussaint.'' Bronibor muttered.
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(POV Shift: King Aethan I Jaenerys of Cidaris)
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Shortly after the arrival of King Foltest, King Vizimir had arrived with Radovid, followed by King Tarrand and King Ervyll of Kerack and Verden respectively. He had plans for King Tarrand, the boy wasn't weak of will, but he was a little indecisive. Aethan planned to convince him to submit to him. Arguing that Kerack was too small to defend itself from the Kingdom of Verden whose monarch would likely bow to the Nilfgaardians to expand his territory in the next war.
Kerack needed the stability and financial aid Cidaris could provide, and the inclusion of Kerack's army would bolster the forces of Cidaris enough that he could conquer Verden easily.
Aethan's dream was to reunite Cintra with the North, a Kingdom he had a blood claim on through his grandmother, Queen Klarissa of Cintra, sister of Queen Calanthe. His claim was weaker than Ciri's, but subjugating Kerack and Verden, put him in a perfect position to pressure King Venslav of Brugge to submit to his suzerainty, and give him the power and influence he needed to declare a new empire. By that point, with any luck his sisters would have married into the Royal Dynasty's of Aedirn, Lyria and Rivia, and either Kovir and Poviss or Hengfors. With the possibility of his own marriage to Adda, he had a strong alliance with Temeria, and he was in a perfect position. His sons and daughters would have claims on the Thrones of Temeria and Sodden which would be placed above those of Boussy and Anais La Valette on account of Adda being their mother.
But this was all contingent on something he didn't enjoy...
Diplomacy.
A few poorly chosen words at the wrong time taken in the wrong context could utterly fuck long-term plans. Aethan detested engaging in diplomatic games, having once been overheard saying Diplomacy was a bitch. What he had actually said was engaging in diplomatic games was a bitch. He studied War and Higher Learning at Oxenfurt, and he knew six languages other than common. He could write and speak fluently in Ofieri, Elder Speech, Zerrikanian, Skellige Jargon, Dwarvish, and Nilfgaardian. His Nilfgaardian wasn't the greatest though.
Aethan's sisters had also studied at Oxenfurt, with Aldis studying the arts of Diplomacy and Intrigue, while Elianna focused on Higher Learning and Stewardship, Maergaery had focused on War and Intrigue subjects.
Each of them had a doctorate to prove it.
Aethan smoothed the front of his regal blue tunic, the intricate silver embroidery catching the dim light filtering through the stained-glass windows of Castle Cidaris. His gaze, though directed at the grand hall, was already projecting further, visualizing the meticulously crafted strategies that would unfold in the coming days. He despised the need for such tedious maneuvering, for the careful calibration of words that could so easily be misinterpreted, a stark contrast to the visceral clarity of a well-executed battlefield gambit. Yet, he understood its necessity, the invisible strings that bound kingdoms together or tore them asunder. The presence of Vizimir and Radovid, their Temerian counterparts, and the monarchs from Kerack and Verden, were all pieces on a vast chessboard, and Aethan intended to be the one to dictate the moves.
His attention drifted to the banners hanging from the high ceilings, each one representing a piece of his grand vision. The Lion of Cidaris, proud and unyielding, was merely a starting point. He pictured the twin rivers of Brugge, the stoic coastlands of Kerack, and the sprawling plains of Verden, all eventually falling under the Cidarian sun. The blood claim to Cintra, a phantom limb of a kingdom, a constant ache that fueled his ambition, whispered of a greater destiny. If his sisters' strategically placed marriages to the kingdoms of Aedirn, Lyria, Rivia, and potentially Kovir or Hengfors, bore fruit, and if his own union with Princess Adda cemented an alliance with Temeria, then the foundation for his empire would be laid. His heirs, by virtue of Adda's lineage, would possess a claim to the throne of Sodden, a crucial buffer against Nilfgaard, and a superior claim to that of Boussy and Anais La Valette, effectively sidelining any future claims from their distant cousins.
But all these grand designs, these intricate webs of political maneuvering and familial alliances, hinged upon his ability to navigate the treacherous currents of diplomacy. It wasn't a skill he possessed in abundance, but he was a survivor, the Medallion around his neck and the scars he had proved that. He had trained under and killed a Witcher.
He had been trained by the Cat of Poviss.
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