Toussaint (Part 3)

"Vizimir is dead." - said a middle-aged man with a mustache and a clever glint hidden within the eyes.

"Indeed." - followed a deep even voice. The voice that can make numerous people tremble just with one word.

"My Emperor, your spies contacted merchant guild in Aldersberg. It is a city..."

"I know my targets. Give it." - Emhyr cut the long story short, forcing a man in front of him to bow in acceptance and place a written report on his table. - "My order remains. If the settlement closer to our territory than this red line on the map, the softest approach. They will remain a Nilfgaard province after signing a peace treaty. Again. I want to see everything burned to the ground otherwise."

"Yes, my Emperor." - seneschal shuddered from the sheer imagination of upcoming cruelty. That was an order to commit a genocide. Armies of Nilfgaard will show mercy to their own and leave only wasteland on their way otherwise.

It was an obvious declaration of intentions and a way to show people that they won't be harmed on imperial territories.

Emhyr was sitting inside his personal audience hall behind the desk. His eyes went through other reports, while his mind was elsewhere.

"Those two. Cordringher and Fenn. Bring them over to the side hall. Send for Skellen and viscount Eiddon. Also, make them... presentable. My people were a bit heavy-handed. Dismissed."

"Yes, my Emperor." - seneschal performed a ceremonial bow according to ceremony and excused himself from the room.

Vattier de Rideaux, viscount of Eiddon didn't show any surprise by the summon. In this case, he was like Skellen. They both knew that the two idiotic creatures from northern lands brought a substitute. They tried to gain position through the Emperor and paid for that with blood and pain.

They will die. At least, both high-ranking members of Nilfgaard Military Intelligence were sure about their fate. Emperor can forgive honest mistake, but never deliberate betrayal.

So, they will die when their usefulness disappears.

They will die, but not today.

"Bring a chair." - ordered Emhyr with a frown, when Fenn was presented in front of him. He would have been small even with his legs, let alone without them. - "Now, Cordringher, I want to know everything about Ciri. Not the fake one you brought here. Surprised? How can I not recognize whether or not she is the real one? So talk. Considering your line of work, I believe you have something of interest for me."

Now the duo knew the grave mistake they made. An obese man coughed into his handkerchief. Everyone in the room froze, except for the Emperor, who directed a heavy look at the offender.

"Speak." - said Emhyr severely.

Cordringher knew one thing for sure: they need to be useful, or death won't be swift and painless. He trembled in growing fear, trying to calm himself, but his voice was shaking.

"My... my Emperor... the real Ciri is dead."

"Looks like I was too kind to you." - said Emhyr deeply.

"No... no... after Thanedd no one saw her again and you know how much trouble mages caused there... the entire island is in ruins."

"You assume she is dead. I'm not interested, nor I have time to listen to your assumptions. Facts, Cordringher. Only facts can save you both today. Speak." - said Emperor and silence descended. Cordringher and Fenn were so scared that they couldn't answer so fast. - "I'm a patient man." - continued Emhyr. - "But I'm afraid you can't afford my patience."

"Y-Your Majesty... Ciri might be alive... it was a portal, a tower of Tor Lara is known as a place that was built to hide a natural rift in space, ancient portal. She stepped inside it and then it exploded."

"Continue." - Emperor replied only that. His heavy gaze pressured the duo further.

"She... she wasn't alone. She was with a witcher! Yes, a young witcher..."

"Young?" - Emhyr frowned and turned to Skellen.

"Your Majesty, may I speak?" - asked Vattier de Rideaux.

Emhyr merely shifted his eyes at him. That meant silent approval.

"Your Majesty, I have extensive information about him. He was an interest of Vilgerfortz, who reportedly died at the hands of the strange demonic creature."

"Until I see his body, he is not dead. As for demons, they are merely folktales of mages and not our concern." - said Emhyr. - "So let us assume the young witcher is still an interest of the traitorous wizard." - he turned to Skellen. - "Use this too."

The latter nodded. He wasn't a noble like Vattier and never as loyal. Emperor knew it, so did Vattier. Yet, his talents are undeniable. Thus he entered the secret discussion, not the other way around.

On the contrary, Cordringher and Fenn tried to not even hear. The fact that Emperor gave orders in front of them meant one thing. They either become unwaveringly loyal to him or mount the scaffold this very day.

"Continue."

"Y-Yes..." - Cordringher coughed into his handkerchief, glanced at it and suddenly calmed down. Emhyr noticed the change and glanced at it too. His eyes became strict. - "Your Majesty, the witcher was with Ciri for years and they know each other well. Older witchers taught him in Kaer Morhen with Ciri. Later he killed a manticore in Buki."

"Yes. It is the one that we specially commanded as a gift to the king of Temeria, Foltest. Another failed attempt to take his life. A novel one, but ineffective." - Emhyr glanced at Vattier and the latter bowed with fake remorse. It was etiquette. Emhyr approved of it with a nod. - "You need to understand, Cordringher, that I never speak out of turn. I am an Emperor. I can't do that even if I try." - he said with double meaning, glancing at Skellen. - "So you should know what to do and where to belong."

"Yes." - the latter answered. Yet his eyes were already lifeless. He knew well that he will die soon without help. The only hope is for the mage to heal him. - "Your Majesty, I will continue. He latter was a target of Rience and killed him there."

Emhyr glanced at Vattier.

"My Emperor, if I may." - said the latter and continued after a nod. - "My sources told that the young witcher, his name is Alan by the way, participated in this battle, but the final attack wasn't his. It was another sorceress that killed him. It can be Philippa Eilheart or Yennefer of Vengerberg."

"He has some connections out there." - said Emhyr in wonder. He never paid attention to the young witcher. Now he thought the boy can be a missing piece of the puzzle. - "What relationship Cirilla has with him?"

"Should I investigate?" - asked Vattier. He was rather surprised, but this question confirmed one thing, Emperor was personally interested in the heir of Cintrian throne, not only as a head of the country.

"No." - denied Emhyr and turned to Skellen. - "Kill him. He is in the way. He and Geralt are two people of the same mold. Kill them both."

"Yes, Your Majesty." - accepted the task the imperial coroner.

"Where is Ciri?"

"I don't know, Your Majesty. Perhaps no one knows."

"Someone will know. Skellen, send for Xarthisius. I want him here now. Go. Vattier, escort the two guests to their resting chambers."

The shift of status the two posses surprised Vattier, but he didn't show it outwardly.

Emhyr was left alone and summoned Xarthisius, the mage who specialized in astronomy and fortune telling. His peers regarded him with doubt and silent sneers, yet the mage had undeniable results and liked to point out it was all about calculations, yet they always lack precision.

Emperor was a man of resources and deemed state interests as priority. So nothing mattered to him as long as there were results. And several of them Xarthisius could achieve were to the Emperor's liking.

He took out a little box from the shelf and opened it carefully. A rare sigh escaped his lips, and a thought flashed in his eyes. The one he can't afford and forced deep down again. His slightly tired and lost gaze steeled again.

"You Majesty, maitre Xarthisius has arrived."

"Let him in." - Emhyr shifted his severe eyes at the door, while his hand pressed on the lid of the box.

Darkness swallowed the insides of it, covering a strand of pale hair tied with a ribbon in colors of Cintrian flag.