Saskia's sudden appearance startled everyone. The sharp whistle of the wind slicing past her axe alone was enough to reveal the force behind her swing. What kind of battle had she just gone through?
The people of Cintra nearly gasped when they saw Lann catch that blow barehanded.
But the Scoia'tael? They smiled. Saskia's presence—and her fierce stance—meant that Mount Carbon was indeed under attack. Their plan was working!
Lann shook the numbness from his hand, studying Saskia up and down. Despite how fiercely she had swung her axe just now, she looked far from disheveled—not even much blood on her.
"You were fighting? Who was the enemy? What's the situation at Mount Carbon?"
…
Before sending Saskia to guard the Ice Giant, Lann had shared some basic details of his plan involving the Scoia'tael.
Now, seeing the Scoia'tael kneeling on the ground and Brouver Hoog, the Elder in Chief, visibly holding back his fury, the dragoness nearly blurted out a smug 'just as you predicted'.
She swallowed it back, took a breath, and rephrased: "Actually, the fighting's over."
"Those young men from the Ferenc clan who were escorting the Scoia'tael turned out to be their infiltrators. They freed the ones locked in the dungeons and coordinated from both inside and outside the fortress to let in the rest of the Scoia'tael who'd been lying in wait. Clearly, this had been planned for a while."
"They kept shouting some weird slogan like 'Make Dwarves Great Again,' trying to stir up unrest. But the Mount Carbon forces reacted quickly. That Barclay who welcomed you? He knows how to lead. He broke their formation with the first charge and pushed them into a dead end."
"None of the veterans were swayed by their slogans, and neither were the townsfolk. Some of the younger ones looked like they might be tempted at first, but their parents dragged them back indoors. And then those parents came back out, in armor and wielding axes, ready to fight."
Lann nodded. Everything was unfolding just as he'd expected. The Scoia'tael had stirred up some trouble, sure—but they were crushed just as quickly. That outcome suited Cintra's interests perfectly.
He glanced toward the Elder in Chief. The old dwarf showed no sign of relief—he only gave Saskia a small nod of thanks.
"Impossible!" cried the dwarf with the three braids, still kneeling. "You were just swinging your axe! You were in the thick of it! You're only lying to keep morale up! There's no way our kin—those who suffer under Brouver Hoog's rule—would ignore our calls. They wouldn't, they—!"
[Thud!]
For the second time, his nose was reacquainted—by force—with the frozen ground, courtesy of the dwarven guards.
Lann looked at Saskia. The dragoness shrugged.
"Do I look like I've been in a hard fight? I'm not even stained with blood. That said, the battle wasn't exactly pretty… Barclay's soldiers weren't swayed by their slogans, but they were clearly reluctant to kill the Scoia'tael. The whole thing dragged on because of that, so I stepped in to help. The most casualties actually came when Zigrin's clan turned on them at the start…"
"Zigrin turned on them?" the Elder in Chief suddenly cut in.
Saskia nodded, explaining how the Scoia'tael had tried to use Clan Chief Zigrin to drug the Ice Giant. In the end, though, the Giant remained at full strength and never had to intervene. The Scoia'tael insurgents in Mount Carbon had already been almost entirely purged by Barclay's forces.
"Zigrin…" the Elder muttered, repeating the name of the clan. He cast a sidelong glance at Lann, deep in thought.
Then, another name left his lips, this time with fury in his eyes.
"Ferenc…"
The Scoia'tael kneeling on the ground now looked completely broken. Saskia's detailed account had no holes in logic. It didn't sound like a lie.
Which meant…
The Scoia'tael had truly, utterly failed.
Elder-in-Chief Brouver Hoog stepped up to the three-braided Scoia'tael dwarf, reversed the axe in his hand, and rested the butt of the haft beneath the prisoner's chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. The axe was heavy, and Brouver's body was undeniably aged—but in his hands, the massive weapon might as well have been a twig.
"Do you still have plans? How many of you are left?"
The dwarf remained silent.
Lann raised an eyebrow, forming the hand sign for the Axii Sign with his left hand.
"If you need help extracting information, I could lend a hand."
"No, Duke Lannister," Brouver shook his head. "You've already done more than enough today. From here on out, this is our matter to handle."
With a wave of his hand, several dwarven guards stepped forward and lifted the three-braided dwarf off the ground. They were clearly prepared to take him back for interrogation once things here were settled.
But Brouver's words seemed to strike a nerve.
The captured Scoia'tael suddenly began struggling violently, shouting at the top of his lungs: "You only beat us because of the humans, Brouver! You begged for their help! You've abandoned the pride of the dwarves!"
Brouver said nothing.
But the flush on his face slowly faded, his expression turning to stone, like the rocks of the mountains he called home.
"You've been holed up in Mahakam too long. You can't even hear the voices from the outside world!" the dwarf shouted even louder. "Dwarves can't stay neutral anymore! We can't keep hiding in the mountains, pretending to sleep! We need to fight back against humanity! We need to awaken Mahakam! We need—"
"Give him an axe," Brouver said suddenly.
The onlooking Cintran soldiers almost thought they'd misheard him. But the dwarven guards didn't. They followed the Elder-in-Chief's command with absolute loyalty.
Though they hesitated for a moment, they obeyed. Releasing the prisoner, they stepped back, leaving the Scoia'tael dwarf momentarily stunned.
With a clatter, an axe was thrown at his feet.
He quickly darted his eyes around, then scrambled forward to snatch up the weapon. Whipping around erratically, he raised the axe and spun in place like an archer looking for a target—wildly aiming its edge at everyone nearby.
That's when he noticed: the dwarven guards had all taken two steps back.
The one closest to him now… was Brouver Hoog himself.
Brouver Hoog—unarmed—facing him alone.
Lann raised an eyebrow again. So… the Elder-in-Chief wanted a ritual duel? A symbolic one-on-one to shatter the prisoner's will?
In a place like Mahakam, where tradition and honor were sacred, such a thing wasn't entirely out of the question.
Still, considering what the Scoia'tael had shown so far in terms of integrity… that 'not out of the question' might be a stretch.
The three-braided dwarf, after the initial shock, composed himself quickly. His voice trembled slightly as he let out a forced scoff.
"Brouver Hoog, you've made a grave mistake. You're too old—you can't possibly—"
"Go on."
The Elder-in-Chief suddenly cut him off.
The dwarf froze.
"Continue. Tell me more about Mahakam. About our people's future. What else do you have to say?"
The three-braided dwarf stared at him, stunned.
And then—strangely—he began speaking again.
"I... we... can't stay neutral anymore." But now his voice lacked the fire it had moments ago. "We either become enemies of humanity... or we become their slaves..."
[Whoosh!]
The air cracked. A cold flash of steel shot across the clearing like a shadow.
Startled, the dwarf panicked, wildly swinging his axe to defend against what he assumed was a sneak attack.
[Clang!]
Brouver had tossed his own battle axe aside. Not toward the prisoner—but in the opposite direction entirely.
Now, empty-handed, he continued walking forward—slowly, steadily, and with an overwhelming sense of pressure.
"Go on," he said again.
"Keep talking."
The three-braided dwarf swallowed hard and raised the blade of his axe.
"Damn it! You think you can scare me? You cowardly old man—our plan, our plan was, was…"
For a moment, his mind went completely blank. Then, suddenly, he felt a force push back against his axe. As his scattered thoughts came back together, he snapped to attention—
The Elder, whose hands were completely empty, had stepped forward and slammed his chest directly into the axe blade.
And he kept pressing forward.
Thump, thump, thump—the dwarf with the axe stumbled backward, step after step, while the unarmed Elder steadily advanced, unwavering.
"We… we were going to make the dwarves great again, we were…"
The three-braided dwarf was panting heavily, yet the words refused to come out clearly.
Geralt and Kolgrim exchanged glances and instinctively stepped forward to stand beside Lann. But Lann raised a hand to stop them.
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