The Witcher: Lord of the Empire

The Emperor of Nilfgaard's paranoia in giving orders had its reasons. It meant the internal political struggles of the Empire had reached a dangerously severe level. At a time like this, as a pillar of the Empire, Menno could not afford to cause the Emperor any further trouble.

Just as he was about to call for his adjutant to issue mobilization orders, his gaze drifted back to the emissary, who remained motionless.

"Did His Majesty give you any further instructions regarding your next assignment?"

The emissary lowered his head. "His Majesty ordered me to remain with you, for the time being."

Menno fell silent.

He even forgot to give his adjutant the command to deploy the troops.

"…Understood."

After a long pause, he finally responded, his voice tinged with complexity.

His gaze shifted westward.

De Wett… may fortune be on your side.

...

Joachim de Wett sat before his desk.

Several sheets of parchment lay spread out before him as he personally copied a letter into multiple versions.

This kind of task was typically handled by adjutants or servants. But the contents of this message were far too sensitive—de Wett dared not entrust it to anyone else.

[To my like-minded friends:

I've heard a troubling rumor from the North—something you may not yet be aware of in the South, or something that we all know who may have deliberately concealed.

But I must say this—we may be about to lose an ally we once depended on.

And not just him. Lately, I've been feeling the cold in the North. I can sense a chill climbing through my bones. All signs point to one conclusion: I may soon follow our fallen friend…

I write this letter as a warning. I will continue to resist. But at the same time, we may need to revisit the plan we once abandoned—to elect someone more worthy to lead us… someone who can replace the ungrateful tyrant who has forgotten loyalty...]

The letter was full of vague references and coded language, but every recipient would understand exactly what it meant.

Duke de Wett and his associates were cautious. Even if the letter were intercepted, the Imperial intelligence agencies would struggle to find anything that could be used as legal evidence in a court of law.

What they had all overlooked, however, was one simple fact—

The Emperor didn't always need evidence.

After finishing the transcription of the explosive letter, Duke de Wett sealed each copy personally and stored them close to his body, ready to be dispatched at the agreed-upon time.

He then ascended to the top of the fortress wall. The moment he appeared, the sentries on watch saluted him.

Duke de Wett ignored them, instead stepping to the jagged edge of the battlements to peer downward. He arrived just in time to see the main gates wide open as another unit—bearing the banner of the Black Sun—arrived, settling outside the fortress with the guidance of horn signals. Soon after, their officers entered the gates to register their arrival.

"How many men have gathered at Fort Ortagor now?" de Wett asked with a frown, waving over his ever-attentive adjutant.

This was information the adjutant kept at the ready daily. "Milord, this is the fifth unit to arrive in the past ten days. Including them, there are now 18,000 troops stationed here at Fort Ortagor."

After answering, the adjutant cautiously observed the duke's expression. "The Cintran resistance has been growing more intense lately. Should we perhaps—"

"More intense? In what way?"

De Wett cut him off mid-suggestion, and the adjutant faltered before replying awkwardly, "Their guerrilla forces have been harassing our outlying units. Not long ago, they even launched a raid on Hochebuz..."

"Guerrillas," de Wett scoffed. "You think they can break through and reach this fortress?"

The adjutant fell silent.

Seeing his expression, de Wett gave a cold snort. "The Emperor gave up on conquering Cintra long ago. Our role in the Western Army is simply to build a corridor for Marshal Menno—make sure the Cintrans don't cut off his cavalry's rear."

"Yes, milord," the adjutant murmured, lowering his head further.

If even the commanding officer had defined their entire army as a logistics escort, what more could a mere adjutant say?

"Milord, there's one more matter." Regardless of the commander's cynicism, the adjutant couldn't afford to neglect his duties.

He hesitated, then added, "There are rumors spreading around the fortress. They say Duke aep Dahy of the Eastern Army was ambushed and captured by the Lion of Cintra, and that the Eastern Army has collapsed. The soldiers are becoming restless—should we convene the battalion commanders to discuss how to respond—?"

"It's not a rumor." Duke de Wett interrupted flatly.

"...What?"

Even after hearing so many of the duke's outrageous remarks, this time the adjutant was truly stunned.

Duke de Wett glanced at the adjutant's bewildered face, then said slowly, "I've heard that so-called 'rumor' as well. Ardal definitely miscalculated—the Eastern Army has indeed collapsed."

"But the part describing Lannister as some kind of mythic figure… that clearly came from the Cintrans. They'll say anything to boost morale."

"Still, Ardal's defeat proves Lannister has some tricks up his sleeve. That's why I haven't stopped the fragmented units from regrouping at the fortress. Until we understand what Lannister's truly capable of, this is the safest course of action."

"And logistics aren't a concern. Though we were ambushed at Hochebuz, we still have a steady supply line running in from the south. Our front may have contracted slightly, but it's nothing critical."

The adjutant opened his mouth but didn't speak.

This kind of turtle-shell tactic might be inconsequential to Duke de Wett, but to the other Nilfgaardians—who had been sweeping north in an unstoppable wave—it was hard to accept.

"But if the troops continue to spiral into disarray, it could lead to disaster," de Wett muttered thoughtfully. "Very well—tonight, summon all officers ranked lieutenant colonel and above to—"

De Wett spoke in his usual slow, deliberate tone. But the adjutant's expression suddenly changed.

His attention drifted away from the duke's orders and snapped toward a distant direction.

"Milord!"

For the first time, the adjutant interrupted Duke de Wett mid-sentence—and the duke could tell from his soldier's expression that something was wrong.

Even as they spoke, the troops stationed outside the fortress had already jumped to their feet.

The ground trembled slightly. A few experienced officers and scouts were the first to look in a specific direction.

Above them stretched a thick blanket of clouds. There were no signs of wildlife on the ground, yet that direction held everyone's gaze with a strange, magnetic pull.

"What's happening?" Duke de Wett was still in the dark, but he could sharply sense the shift in atmosphere. "What's going on? Answer me!"

Lacking battlefield experience himself, the duke relied on his seasoned adjutant for tactical insight.

The adjutant's expression had grown grave. "Cavalry, milord. From the north."

The ground now rumbled with thunder. The sound of horse hooves from a large cavalry charge could be heard kilometers away.

The soldiers outside the fortress were the first to feel it. And now that even the men stationed on the battlements were sensing it—the enemy had to be close.

Urgent horns sounded at once, and the resting troops sprang into formation. All eyes turned to Duke de Wett, awaiting his command.

"Marshal Menno's cavalry corps is stationed in Upper Sodden to the east… so the force coming from the north can only be—"

"Cintrans!" Duke de Wett snarled, still baffled. "How dare they attack our fortress? What about the patrols and outer defense units?"

"All outer units have regrouped at the fortress in recent days due to supply issues, milord!" the adjutant replied, drenched in cold sweat. "And our scattered patrols had no chance of returning when ambushed by guerrilla fighters who know the terrain!"

"Milord! Please issue your orders!"

De Wett might have been inclined to avoid battle, but that didn't mean he lacked backbone.

He was, after all, a duke.

Orders were issued in rapid succession. A cascade of horn calls echoed through the entire fortress.

Like a lake swiftly channeled into tributaries, the black tide of Nilfgaardian soldiers flowed into the fortress in well-drilled order, instantly transforming it into a bastion of war.

With so many Nilfgaardians present, the central fortress couldn't hold them all—rows of troops formed square formations around it, turning the already impenetrable stronghold into a veritable iron hedgehog.

Before long, those who had taken up battle stations saw a shimmering silver wave begin to ripple on the horizon—armored cavalry, now visible to the naked eye.

The three-lion banner fluttered in the wind.

"It really is the Cintrans!"

Duke de Wett exclaimed—yet it came with an audible sigh of relief.

Their numbers were small—laughably so. At a glance, they didn't number more than five thousand. His own troops outnumbered them several times over.

Thinking this, de Wett's expression relaxed. This Cintran force might not even be able to break through the outer encampment, let alone reach him inside the fortress.

"And they're all cavalry. We're behind stone walls. Has Lannister gone mad, trying to attack a fortress with horsemen? What—does he think his horses can fly?"

"Sound the horns, prepare for engagement, raise our banners!" Duke de Wett turned and barked, "Since Lannister has sent us a gift—we won't hesitate to…"

"Aaarrr—ROAR—!"

"RAAAAAAHHH!!"

Two thunderous howls erupted like ancient bells of war, tearing through the air and cutting off the duke mid-sentence.

Everyone felt as if they'd been struck in the back of the head. Their eyes went wide in shock, necks craning involuntarily toward the sky.

From above the dense clouds that blanketed the heavens, two massive dark shapes burst through the heavy shroud, trailing wisps of vapor as they descended.

"That's…" the adjutant muttered beside him, his voice hollow, "…a dragon?!"

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