A burst of radiant emerald light flared over Duén Canell. The surrounding dryad sentries immediately gathered around the sun-bright brilliance. As soon as Lann stepped through the shimmer, they bowed in unison.
"Your Majesty, Lann," they addressed him with the formal title of human kings.
"Where's Eithné?"
"She's with the three princesses, currently speaking with the unicorns in the territory you designated for them."
Lann nodded slightly. "Take me to them."
The honey-haired dryad before him called out sharply, and a pair of guides promptly stepped forward.
Lann raised his hand and summoned Black Wind. After gently brushing its mane, he vaulted into the saddle.
Branches blurred past his vision as Black Wind bounded through the woods with feline agility, leaping effortlessly between shadows and shafts of light.
But suddenly, the steed shuddered violently, its muscles locking into a stiff, battle-ready stance.
From deep within the forest came a soft, melodic whinny.
"It's alright, Black Wind," Lann said, patting the warhorse's neck. "They're new friends. You'll like them."
Black Wind snorted, unconvinced.
Their arrival had already been noted. The trees ahead moved aside as if guided by consciousness, parting to reveal a hidden glade.
It was a small stream fed by the Brokilon Spring—unlike the sacred source cherished by the dryads, this tributary carried only faint magical ripples.
Even if Lann drank the entire spring dry, it wouldn't be enough to earn a single ability point.
But the unicorns loved this place. They clustered in small groups along the bank, drinking contentedly. No matter their coat color, sunlight and springwater bathed their hides in a luminous glow. From time to time, one would dip its head, and its spiraled horn would stir gentle currents in the clear water.
With a sudden splash, a young girl—no more than seven years old—burst up from beneath the surface, startling a unicorn mid-incantation and drawing a chorus of sharp whinnies.
But the unicorn quickly calmed down again, revealing a look of resigned helplessness—like someone who'd just been pranked—before returning to its playful interaction with the girl.
Black Wind's gaze shifted left and right, momentarily stunned by the sight.
"Go on, have fun," Lann said with a soft chuckle. He gave the horse a gentle slap on the hindquarters and watched as it bolted off like the wind.
From behind him, the dryad queen appeared.
"Our people are quite fond of the new friends you've brought back, Your Majesty Lann."
Her fingers pointed toward the spring, where two more girls burst up through the water's surface just like the first, joining in the playful frolicking with the unicorns.
The spring seemed almost conscious, circling around the girls as if becoming a toy of its own will. Even the sunlight filtering through the canopy above adjusted its brightness to match the mood.
"The children are especially fond of unicorns," Eithné said softly, "and these games they play help their powers grow." She gestured to the spring, the trees, the light not far off.
"The entire forest is nurturing them."
"That's exactly why I left them here," Lann replied, expressionless. "Otherwise, I would've taken them back to Cintra long ago."
Eithné smiled. "You always manage to make the wisest decisions. Did you come today just to see the children?"
"No," Lann shook his head, shifting his gaze. "I came to see you… and it."
From within the forest's soft, hazy glow emerged the leader of the unicorns, its shoulder standing level with Lann's own, its coat colored like the full moon.
It dipped its head slightly. Lann lifted his hand and gripped the long horn at its brow.
It was a gesture of permission.
The next moment, a stream of consciousness—clear as springwater—poured into his mind.
[Child of the Elder Blood, you have come.]
The unicorn leader's eyes were deep and steady.
[Is it time?]
"Yes. It all begins now," Lann nodded.
"I need you to select a group of your kin to return to the World of Aen Elle, and one more to infiltrate our human Nilfgaardian Empire. Follow the plan to the letter."
[When do you intend to launch the full assault?]
"Not yet. It needs to unfold gradually," Lann reassured him.
"My preparations on the other front need a bit more time before the results explode into motion. And in the World of Aen Elle, you can't be too hasty either—otherwise the elves won't fall for it."
The unicorn hesitated briefly, then nodded in agreement.
[You humans understand these matters better. I'll trust your judgment.]
[Then I shall personally lead the group returning to the World of Aen Elle. But to open the kind of portal you want, I'll need ten kin to go with me.]
"You can assign the numbers yourself. I'll channel the power to help open the passage when the time comes."
The unicorn leader lowered its head.
[If I don't make it back, I ask that you keep your promise and protect the kin I leave behind.]
Lann's face grew solemn.
"You have my word—and my word is worth a fortune."
The unicorn leader closed its eyes, then let out a long, resonant whinny.
The entire herd near the spring stirred at once.
Waves of energy began to ripple off the leader as it initiated mental communication with its kin.
This would take some time, so Lann turned back toward the dryad queen.
"Our business is done for now," Lann said calmly. "Next comes what I need from you."
Eithné smiled knowingly and turned to lead the way.
They departed from the area reserved for the unicorns and made their way back to the heart of the forest.
To the true Brokilon Spring.
It wasn't Lann's first visit. He had come here once before—when Mousesack was injured—and had received the Sword of the Lady of the Lake.
The Lady of the Lake, ever since leaving Toussaint, had remained here. The moment she sensed Lann's arrival, the "goddess" who haunted the dreams of knights across the Continent rose slowly from the lake's surface and gave him a graceful bow.
Her appearance was even more "natural" than the dryads'—dripping wet hair, dewdrops clinging to her glistening skin, and curves that shimmered like flowing silver under the sunlight. It was a vision so dazzling it could make one dizzy.
Fortunately, Lann had long since grown accustomed to wonders like this. His resolve held firm, and he remained completely composed before the scene that looked like it had been lifted from an oil painting.
"You already know why we've come," Lann said, skipping any pleasantries and getting straight to the point.
"Of course. Your will is always fulfilled, Child of the Elder Blood."
The Lady of the Lake opened her arms wide. The forest light seemed to draw toward her, every drop of water on her body flaring like miniature suns. In that instant, she appeared as radiant and flawless as an angel.
At her feet, the springwater began to rise, lifting above their heads and forming a floating curtain of water like a shimmering mirror.
As the source was drawn upward, the original Brokilon Spring began to dry, revealing what lay beneath—
—another spring.
This was the Spring within the Spring, the true essence of Brokilon. The moment it appeared, the motes of light clinging to the Lady's body seemed almost drawn toward it.
Ever since the dryads had pledged themselves entirely to Lann, the resources of Brokilon Forest had come under his full control—including its sacred spring.
Lann had summoned sorcerers, druids, and physicians, working alongside the dryads' unique healing magic to develop entirely new methods of treatment using the Brokilon Spring.
But beyond all that, this spring held one purpose for Lann above all:
—absorbing ability points.
With the Lady of the Lake here to control the flow, Lann had tasked her with gathering the tributary waters scattered throughout the forest over the years, extracting their essence. Once future sustainability was secured—and healing rations for wartime casualties were set aside—the remaining springwater could be condensed into the purest magical medium possible.
At that moment, under the control of the Lady of the Lake, the Spring within the Spring flowed toward Lann like a crystalline ribbon. He extended his fingertip and lightly touched it—a gentle, cool sensation instantly surged through his chest.
The system chimed repeatedly, blinking as though caught in a strobe.
[Source of Magic Discovered]
[Source of Magic Discovered]
[Source of Magic Discovered]
[Source of Magic Discovered]
[…]
Lann drew a deep breath and released his internal restraint completely.
The system's alerts grew even more frenzied, but this time the message had changed—now it repeated endlessly:
[Ability Point +1]
Lann let out a long exhale.
With these skill points, no matter how many apprentices the Witcher Order trained, none would be left wanting.
His plan could now unfold in full.
...
May 10th, 1269 – King Lann Lannister of Cintra, in his capacity as Grandmaster of the Witcher Order, officially announced to the entire Northern Realms that the first cohort of witcher apprentices had completed their training. All kingdoms and cities with established witcher outposts would now receive Witcher Support, with stationed witchers providing protection. Private individuals were also welcome to submit contracts to the Order's headquarters in Cintra.
May 13th, 1269 – In Nilfgaard, all dwarven populations simultaneously erupted into revolt. Dwarves began dumping assets and shares at rock-bottom prices, sowing chaos across the markets. When Nilfgaardian authorities responded, they discovered that every dwarf in every industry had already organized and evacuated the empire.
May 15th, 1269 – Nilfgaard attempted to stabilize its markets—only to fail. It became clear that this was part of a larger conspiracy.
June 1st, 1269 – A full-blown economic crisis broke out in Nilfgaard. Even frontline military operations began to suffer.
June 3rd, 1269 – Lann Lannister, Supreme Commander of the Northern Alliance, arrived at the frontlines and announced the end of the five-month strategic stalemate. He personally assumed command and launched a full-scale offensive against the South.
June 10th, 1269 – Nilfgaard collapsed. The Northern Alliance launched a counteroffensive on Toussaint.
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