Witcher: Sovereign of Magic

Early 1264 – Late 1265, Avalon, Velen

The whispers of war still echoed in the wind, though the immediate clashes had subsided into a tense, uneasy peace. Nilfgaard's gains were significant, their grip on the southern kingdoms tightening. The North, fractured and reeling, licked its wounds and prepared for the inevitable next strike. But within the hidden valley of Velen, another kind of war was being waged – a war of growth, of expansion, of preparation. Avalon was no longer just a fledgling community; it was becoming a city, a beacon of magical power hidden from the world's prying eyes, a burgeoning monarchy under my rule.

The influx of residents wasn't a random surge of refugees. Avalon was invite-only. My Iensbern Homunculi, disguised as merchants and travelers, discreetly sought out individuals with magical talent, those ostracized or persecuted for their abilities, and those with skills beneficial to the burgeoning city. They extended invitations, offering sanctuary and opportunity in exchange for loyalty and service to me, their monarch. Those invited were brought to Avalon through secret, magically concealed routes, ensuring the city's continued anonymity. The outside world, including the Witchers of Kaer Morhen, remained blissfully unaware of Avalon's existence. They were not yet a part of my plans.

By late 1265, Avalon, nestled within the hidden valley, had grown substantially. While exact numbers were fluid, due to the constant flow of invitees and the occasional departure of those who chose to return to the outside world, the population hovered near two thousand. The overwhelming majority, nearly eighteen hundred, were mages – a concentration of magical talent unparalleled anywhere else. Seven hundred non-magical residents, carefully selected for their skills and trustworthiness, provided essential services, from blacksmithing and carpentry to tailoring and food production, forming the vital backbone of the city's economy. And overseeing it all, maintaining the intricate infrastructure, ensuring the smooth functioning of this unique society, were five hundred of my Iensbern Homunculi.

The city was a testament to meticulous planning and controlled growth, reflecting my vision for Avalon. Housing was constructed in concentric circles around the central fortress, my royal residence, with mages' residences closer to the source of power and non-magical dwellings forming the outer ring. This arrangement wasn't just practical; it was strategic. It allowed for easy access to magical training and resources for the mages, while also providing a buffer zone, a layer of defense, should any outside force stumble upon Avalon's hidden location.

The homunculi, tireless and efficient, managed every aspect of the city's operations, acting as my administrators and enforcers. They maintained the intricate network of wards that concealed Avalon from the outside world, ensuring the city remained unseen by prying eyes. They oversaw the construction of new buildings, the distribution of resources, and the organization of trade caravans that secretly ventured out into the war-torn world, bringing back vital supplies and, more importantly, information. They were the silent backbone of Avalon, their tireless efforts allowing the city to thrive, unseen and undisturbed, under my watchful gaze.

The magical academy within the central fortress had also expanded, its curriculum designed to instill not just magical prowess, but also unwavering loyalty to my rule. New training grounds had been constructed, equipped with enchanted training dummies and obstacle courses designed to hone both magical and physical skills. The library, already vast, continued to grow, its shelves filling with newly acquired tomes and ancient texts recovered from forgotten libraries and hidden archives.

The curriculum had evolved beyond basic magic and combat training. Students now studied history, strategy, alchemy, and even diplomacy, all through the lens of Avalon's ascendance. They were not just being trained as mages; they were being molded into loyal subjects, future leaders, strategists, and scholars, dedicated to serving my vision for Avalon and the world. And in a secluded section of the library, under my direct supervision, a select few were delving into more… esoteric studies, the secrets of which were known only to me.

"Master," a young alchemist named Elara said one evening, her brow furrowed in concentration as she stirred a bubbling concoction. "This formula… it's close. But it lacks something. Something… vital."

I observed her work, the air thick with the pungent aroma of rare herbs and volatile chemicals. "Patience, Elara," I said. "Creating something… extraordinary… takes time. We are striving for perfection, not mere competence."

"But Master," she persisted, "if we could just isolate the correct compounds, enhance the… the mutagens… we could create something truly remarkable. A warrior… enhanced beyond—"

"The Witchers have ever produced?" I finished for her, a hint of amusement in my voice. "You are thinking along the right lines, Elara. But our focus is different."

Elara looked up, confusion in her eyes. "Different, Master? But the mutations… the enhancements… they are what give the Witchers their strength, their speed."

"Indeed," I conceded. "But their methods are… imprecise. They rely on chance, on unpredictable reactions. Their process is more akin to alchemy than true science. We, however, will approach this with a more… disciplined methodology. We are not looking to replicate the Witcher formula. We are aiming to surpass it."

"And how do we do that, Master?" she asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

"By understanding the true nature of magic," I replied. "By unlocking the potential that lies dormant within every mage, specifically those loyal to me. We will not create Witchers, Elara. We will create something… more. Something… Avalonian."

Elara nodded slowly, her eyes gleaming with understanding. "Something… better," she murmured.

"Precisely," I said. "The Witchers are a tool, a useful one, but a tool nonetheless. Their mutations are… crude. Their control… limited. We will forge something far more refined, far more potent, bound to my will."

Lytta Neyd, along with the other mages rescued from Sodden Hill, had become integral to this evolving structure. While some chose to further their magical training, others, like Lytta, found their talents lay in other areas. Lytta, with her keen intellect and experience in courtly intrigue, had become an advisor, assisting in the development of Avalon's political strategies and its network of informants. She was proving invaluable in deciphering the complex web of alliances and betrayals that defined the political landscape of the North, providing crucial insights into the motivations and weaknesses of the various factions, all for the benefit of my growing power. She also possessed a subtle understanding of alchemical processes, a talent she had kept hidden until now.

One evening, as Elara struggled with the intricacies of the formula, I called Lytta to my side. "Lytta," I said, "your insights into magical theory have always impressed me. I believe you could offer Elara some… assistance."

Lytta, ever observant, had been watching Elara's struggles with quiet interest. "Of course, Master," she replied, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. She had sensed the limitations of Elara's approach, the reliance on rote procedures rather than true understanding.

Together, we reviewed the formula, dissecting its components, analyzing the magical energies involved. Lytta, with her intuitive grasp of arcane principles, pointed out a crucial flaw in Elara's calculations, a misinterpretation of the interaction between two key reagents.

"Elara," Lytta said gently, "you are focusing on the physical properties of the ingredients, but you are overlooking the magical resonances. These two components… they do not simply combine. They… interact. Their magical signatures must be aligned, their energies… synchronized."

With Lytta's guidance, Elara finally understood. She adjusted the formula, incorporating Lytta's insights, and the concoction began to glow with a vibrant, pulsating light. "Master," Elara breathed, her eyes wide with awe. "It… it's working."

I observed the process, a sense of satisfaction filling me. Lytta's contributions were invaluable. Her understanding of magic, combined with her analytical mind, made her an indispensable asset. "Indeed, Elara," I said. "It is working. And it is only the beginning."

The next few years would be crucial. Avalon needed to continue its carefully controlled expansion, its influence spreading like tendrils into the outside world through its network of informants. The flow of information had to be refined, the whispers of dissent within Avalon silenced. And the mage-knights, my elite warriors, had to be honed into an unstoppable force, a scalpel that could precisely excise the cancers plaguing the world. And the experiments in the hidden laboratories, with Lytta's invaluable assistance… they held the key to unlocking even greater power, a power that would ensure Avalon's, and my, dominance.

The pieces were falling into place. The stage was being set. The world was on the brink of collapse. And Avalon… Avalon was ready to inherit it, ready to serve me.