Ban Ard
Inside a dim and enclosed room of a wizard's tower, a blindfolded figure wielded a metal staff as long as his arm.
In his hands, the staff moved like an extension of his body—swift, fluid, and with such speed that afterimages hung in the air.
Suddenly, several dark shadows shot toward him from the side.
His ears twitched slightly. Holding the staff with both hands, he twisted his right wrist on the tail end of the staff, stepped forward with his left foot, and rotated his hips.
"Whoosh—"
In the blink of an eye, the staff pierced the air with a sharp crackling blast.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
A rapid series of shattering sounds echoed.
The shadows—actually small teacups—exploded midair into clouds of powder.
"Well done, Vilgefortz," someone clapped from the direction the teacups had come, clearly impressed. "I didn't expect someone with innate magical source to not only be so gifted in spellcasting but to master close-combat techniques this quickly."
"There's nothing more I can teach you about staff techniques."
Vilgefortz, slightly breathless, removed the black blindfold to reveal a handsome but weary face.
Taking a deep breath, he naturally handed the metal staff to Lydia van Bredevoort. Smiling at the aged male mage before him, he said, "You flatter me, Lord Vidal."
"There's still much I need to learn from you when it comes to staff techniques."
The elder mage, Vidal, shook his head with a helpless chuckle. "You're far too modest."
"I spent years mastering that style, and you've grasped it in just a month. Are you trying to mock me?"
"Oh, not at all," Vilgefortz replied with a smile, clearly on good terms with Vidal. "Maybe I'm just a tiny bit quicker."
Vidal wasn't offended. Tapping Vilgefortz on the forehead with his finger, he joked,"Though I'm obsessed with the ancient staff techniques of the elves, I still must advise you—staff fighting is just a minor path. It's fine for a bit of exercise now and then."
"But for a sorcerer, the most important thing is still magical power and spells."
"And for someone as exceptionally gifted as you, even magic and spellcasting are merely sufficient. Scholarly achievement is the real ladder to promotion."
"The Acad—cough cough…"
He coughed awkwardly as if he'd nearly said something that should not be mentioned.
"Some areas of research are suited only for those of magical source… and right now is a critical time—"
"I understand," Vilgefortz replied with the same calm smile, not seeming to notice the shift in tone. "Staff fighting is just a personal hobby. Ban Ard isn't exactly stable these days, so I thought I'd round out my weaker areas a bit."
"It truly isn't stable lately," Vidal agreed with a nod. "But your skills have progressed enough. You'd do better now to study protective spells…"
"Ah, never mind."
"When it comes to spellwork, you're better than me—I won't embarrass myself trying to teach you."
"Oh, please…" Vilgefortz waved his hand modestly.
After another round of pleasantries, Vilgefortz gave Lydia a look, threw on a coat, and escorted Vidal out of the wizard tower.
"This is Bonaventura's Steel-body Enchantment. It adds both 'fortification' and 'blunt impact' to a weapon. Very effective when paired with staff techniques."
He handed a golden, etched copper plate to Vidal, who was still standing dazed at the tower's entrance.
"Bonaventura?" Vidal stared in disbelief at the plate in his hand. "The Bonaventura from the ancient elven court?"
"The very same," Vilgefortz nodded.
"Take it, Vidal. I owe you for these past days."
"Then… then I won't be polite." Vidal gulped nervously.
"No need to be," Vilgefortz said, smiling as he watched Vidal carefully tuck the plate away.
But instead of leaving immediately, Vidal lingered for a moment, struggling with something, then glanced at Lydia. He stepped in close and whispered into Vilgefortz's ear: "Vilgefortz… you shouldn't have turned down the mission to cleanse the Free Elves…"
"But now it's too late."
"In the coming days, Ban Ard will launch a war against the Free Elves. If you can take part—do so. If not, find a way to leave Ban Ard…"
"But act quickly!"
With that, Vidal gave him one last, complicated look and left without turning back.
Leaning against the stone doorway, Vilgefortz silently mulled over Vidal's words, his expression dark and unreadable.
"Vigo?" Lydia called softly.
Vilgefortz returned to his senses, glancing around absentmindedly. "Mm, let's head back for now."
Thud—
The heavy stone door sealed off the outside world.
Vilgefortz and Lydia walked back in silence to the study.
Inside, books, etchings, and ancient stone tablets were scattered throughout—not exactly neat, but clearly arranged with some deliberate logic.
Most of the texts were inscribed on ancient mediums, written in long, slender Old Script, giving the entire room an aura of antiquity and solemnity.
Expressionless, Vilgefortz sat back down in the high-backed chair. Lydia, out of habit, poured him a glass of red wine.
"Just warm water is fine," Vilgefortz waved his hand in refusal. "The academy notified us of a meeting this evening, so no wine today."
Lydia nodded and summoned a silver pitcher engraved with the Lady of the Lake, pouring him a glass of water.
"Thank you, Lydia."
Lydia shook her head and asked, "Vigo, do we need to prepare to leave?"
"No rush," Vilgefortz drained the glass. "Sunny and his radicals are too busy right now to bother with a small fry like me."
"You're not a small fry—you're a once-in-a-century Source, a true genius among sorcerers," Lydia said, half-scolding.
"At least in Sunny's eyes, I am," Vilgefortz shrugged. "But that's not a bad thing. The fewer eyes on us, the more room we have to act."
Lydia fell silent for a few seconds, then gently set the pitcher down on the table.
"Vigo, we don't have to serve the Dean. Hen Gedymdeith belongs to Sunny now. That's too dangerous."
"That's the drawback of being independent sorcerers, Lydia," Vilgefortz leaned back in his high-backed chair, a hint of fatigue in his voice. "While we enjoy a level of freedom unknown to most, we also face dangers that ordinary people never encounter."
"Ban Ard or Aretuza—eventually we'll have to pick a side."
"And that's not even a drawback. Having a choice is always better than none at all. At least we won't blindly follow a failed leader into the abyss."
Lydia hesitated for a few seconds at those words, then asked: "Vigo, you don't trust Sunny."
It was a statement, not a question.
A Source held immense value—no faction would ignore the opportunity. Of course, Sunny had extended an olive branch, but Vilgefortz had refused it.
"But why?" Lydia asked, puzzled. "Maybe Ban Ard was just an empty shell a couple of months ago, but now, Ortolan is there, and the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization has moved most of its assets to support and build it up."
"In Novigrad, Archmage Narses de la Roche is only a founding elder of the City-Builders' League without his own faction, and Archmage Born Drummond, reclusive in the wyvern mountains of the Hengfors League, is a hermit. In that context, Ban Ard and the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization basically represent the entire Brotherhood of Sorcerers."
"Aretuza doesn't seem to have the upper hand."
"No one doubts Ban Ard," Vilgefortz agreed. "Sunny's so-called kingdom solely for sorcerers—when the two greatest powers in the Brotherhood unite, they can overturn the entire Northern Continent."
"Then why?"
Vilgefortz didn't answer her question, instead asking: "Do you remember the message from Ellander more than half a month ago?"
Lydia paused, furrowing her brows in thought. "You mean the Arch-mistress expelling the Evil God?"
Vilgefortz shook his head. "It was Allen—the miracle child Allen who banished the Evil God."
Lydia went quiet for a few seconds, not denying it.
She lowered her head in contemplation, then suddenly looked up, her voice tinged with disbelief and uncertainty: "You think Sunny has no chance just because that witcher named Allen sided with the Arch-mistress?"
"Isn't that a bit..."
She didn't finish the sentence, instead rephrasing: "Didn't you say, when you returned from the Passolon Forest, that the witcher's identity was questionable?"
Vilgefortz shook his head, rose from the high-backed chair, and turned to gaze out the window.
His eyes passed beyond the towering magic towers, through the azure spatial barrier of Giambattista, and looked far past Ban Ard.
Under the blue magic veil, the winding snow-capped mountains looked as if they had been submerged by a world-ending flood, immersed in the deep sea.
"A child of only fourteen, having just passed the Mountain Trial, becomes a witcher master—and right after descending the mountain, he encounters a Conjunction of the Spheres, something not seen in centuries."
"That Conjunction killed the greatest enemy of the School of the Wolf, and even turned enemies against each other."
"During the Beltane festival in Ellander, the Wild Hunt slaughtered so many people, yet he, having received a divine revelation from Melitele, became a hero of Ellander and was knighted."
"In July, just after we left, he immediately subdued the royal griffin wreaking havoc in Vengerberg. Aedirn's war machine was finally freed of its constraints. And then, due to Ban Ard's 'Doomsday,' they recalled their front-line mages and swept forward unopposed, completely conquering Kaedwen."
"Not long ago, he even banished an evil god on his own…"
Vilgefortz turned to Lydia and asked meaningfully: "Lydia, what does it mean to be a Child of Miracles?"
As she pondered Vilgefortz's words, Lydia trembled uncontrollably.
In a daze—
She seemed to see the entire world enveloped by a pair of youthful hands, calloused from sword practice.
Conspiracies, wars, politics, and human hearts—all were mere playthings in his grasp.
A chilling cold pierced her spine, creeping from her tailbone up to her scalp.
"And it's not just because of him…"
Vilgefortz turned back to look out the window. "The founding of a Sorcerer Kingdom is no trivial matter. This isn't just internal affairs of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers—the whole Northern Continent is watching. On this matter, Sunny is far from qualified."
"What if we include Ortolan and Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization?"
"It's because we include them that it's even worse."
"Ortolan is nothing more than a spoiled dreamer. Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization is full of merchants—shortsighted and blissfully unaware of it." Vilgefortz sneered, as though speaking not of the most powerful figures in the world, but of village fools who believed the king plowed fields with a golden hoe.
"They mistake reflections on the water's surface for stars in the night sky."
"If Ban Ard and Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization weren't allied, the Northern Kingdoms, wary of Aedirn's growing power, might still turn a blind eye."
"But once they are allied, their combined strength is enough to provoke alarm among all powers—yet still far from enough to subdue the Northern Kingdoms entirely."
"Without Lady Tissaia de Vries, their downfall is only a matter of time."
Lydia gazed blankly at Vilgefortz.
He didn't notice—or perhaps he did, and simply didn't care.
Almost muttering to himself, brow furrowed deeply, he continued: "The miracles performed by the Child of Miracles are not the divine feats of legend—raising the dead or reviving withered trees."
"He simply always finds the fulcrum to move fate itself, letting everything flow naturally according to his will…"
"I don't know how he became a witcher master, how he triggered the Conjunction, how he subdued the royal griffin, or banished an evil god…"
"But even in the seemingly impossible, there are still patterns—patterns we can use."
As he spoke, Vilgefortz fell into a thoughtful silence, lowering his gaze.
After a long pause—
"Forget it. There's still too little literature on the Child of Miracles."
He shook his head, temporarily setting his thoughts aside, and looked at Lydia: "If Aretuza makes any requests, agree to them."
"As for Hen Gedymdeith's whereabouts, I already have some clues. Tell them not to rush."
Lydia nodded slightly, then tilted her head, as if something had just come to mind.
"By the way—"
"This morning, while you were sparring with Vidal, the Headmistress not only inquired about Hen Gedymdeith's location, she also mentioned something else."
"What was it?" Vilgefortz asked, curious.
Lydia said, "She wants us to provide a map of Ban Ard, preferably marked with key personnel. She said once Hen Gedymdeith's location is confirmed, she'll send someone to rescue him."
Vilgefortz raised a slender eyebrow at her words, his gaze landing on the etched Old Script prophecy of the Child of Miracles spread across the desk.
"Send someone to rescue…" he muttered thoughtfully.
.....
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