Witcher: The Half Elf

After Geralt left, Wayne remained seated, lost in thought.

The power of the Elder Blood was something he understood well, even in its most limited forms. At its core, this bloodline represented unparalleled potential.

For instance, if a skilled archer or another combatant with long-range capabilities were to harness the teleportation abilities associated with Elder Blood, they could effortlessly dominate the battlefield. They could strike from unreachable heights, exploit terrain to their advantage, and engage in strategies no ordinary foe could counter.

Such an individual would be nearly untouchable. They couldn't be chased or cornered, as long as their stamina held out. Even without inherent magical talent, the abilities conferred by Elder Blood could elevate an ordinary person into an exceptional warrior.

For sorcerers, however, the Elder Blood was far more coveted. It was synonymous with the prodigious talent of an Original sorcerers—a gift few could ignore. The allure of wielding such power meant that no mage could resist the temptation of acquiring an individual imbued with this rare bloodline.

However, not all Elder Blood bearers could unlock its most potent capabilities, such as world-hopping. Without guidance—perhaps from elven sages or systematic teachings—most were oblivious to their full potential. The rarity of recorded knowledge further compounded this. Many bearers lived and died unaware of the latent force within them.

Given its elusive nature, most mages considered the Elder Blood more legend than reality, with few willing to invest time pursuing what seemed like a myth. This narrowed the pool of suspects considerably in Pavetta's case.

Based on the events of the original timeline, Wayne identified a likely culprit: Vilgefortz.

The infamous mage, often mocked as "Lord Vilge," was notorious for his strength and ruthlessness. He had bested Geralt in a duel, breaking the Witcher's legs with ease, and incapacitated the higher vampire Regis without breaking a sweat. His obsession with the Elder Blood in the original plotline had driven him to conspire with Duny (Urcheon of Erlenwald) to help him ascend to the Nilfgaardian throne.

While Wayne's interventions had derailed much of the original story, he reasoned that Vilgefortz's ambitions likely persisted. If not Duny, perhaps another puppet ruler would have taken his place. Vilgefortz, with his knowledge and cunning, would never let the Elder Blood slip through his fingers. The delay in action, however, was a mystery—one only Vilgefortz himself could answer.

Deciding on this prime suspect, Wayne resolved to consult Francesca. As a member of the Supreme Council and an influential figure in mage circles, Francesca was bound to know more about Vilgefortz and his possible schemes. Her insights would be invaluable.

Even though Wayne's physical strength had transcended mortal limitations, his inability to use chaotic magic without risking his seal meant caution was paramount. Vilgefortz, after all, was not a foe to underestimate.

As Wayne considered his next steps, the council chamber door creaked open.

Francesca entered gracefully, adorned in a white lace dress and a gemstone necklace that highlighted her fair, radiant skin. Her gentle eyes scanned the room, noting the absence of Wayne's usual subordinates.

"Wayne," she began with a soft smile, tilting her head slightly in curiosity. "I heard there was a meeting here. I thought I'd stop by to discuss something. But where are the others? Why are you alone?"

Wayne spread his hands with a helpless expression. "We were just wrapping up a discussion. Geralt had some matters to discuss with me, so I sent the others off to handle their duties."

"Enid," he addressed her using her nickname—a privilege reserved for those closest to the elven sorceress—"what brings you here? Is there something you wish to discuss?"

Wayne preferred simpler, more straightforward women—those who were dedicated and persistent, like Triss. Francesca, with her sharp intellect and unique status, was the kind of shrewd woman he approached with caution. Despite their close cooperation over the years, he had never dared to break the ambiguous barrier between them.

Francesca's bright smile lit up as she met Wayne's gaze. 

"Wayne, haven't you always wanted to contact the Cat School Witchers in the south?" she began. 

"I've used my southern channels to establish a connection with them. They've agreed to send several of their Witchers to meet us, including their only remaining Grandmaster."

Her expression turned thoughtful. "I had planned to bring them here directly through a portal, but they declined. They prefer to observe the environment in the north for themselves before committing to any collaboration with the Witcher Order."

Wayne's face lit up with genuine delight. 

"Thank you, Enid. That's excellent news," he said, clearly pleased.

The Witcher Order had grown significantly in the past few years, with three established schools: Wolf, Viper, and Griffin. If the elusive Cat School, which had long remained in the south, agreed to join, the Order would take another step toward uniting the major Witcher factions. With the Bear School from Skellige and the Flying Lion School in Zerrikania, they could one day bring together all six major Witcher schools—a feat unheard of in the Continent's history.

Francesca mirrored his happiness. The partnership between Kaer Morhen and the elves had deepened over time. 

Many elven craftsmen from Dol Blathanna, the Valley of Flowers, had moved to Kaer Morhen, establishing workshops to create weapons, armor, and other goods. Some elven children had even joined the Witcher schools and the sorcerers Academy, becoming part of this burgeoning Order.

However, the Valley of Flowers remained under constant threat. King Demavend of Aedirn, ever ambitious and greedy, sought to undermine the elves' foothold in their ancestral land. He strategically encouraged human settlements along the valley's outskirts, eroding elven territory by cutting forests and constructing new villages. His provocations included economic blockades, arson, and even capturing elves for slave labor.

Francesca's tone grew bitter as she spoke. "Many of my people have been killed in these skirmishes, Wayne. These small conflicts have drained our resources and diminished our strength. We have no time to build infrastructure or cultivate fields. My people now live like outlaws, relying on hunting and berries for survival."

Then, shifting the subject, she added, "Have you heard, Wayne? Demavend's army has crossed into Kaedwen's borders. Ada and I both believe he intends to seize Count Karn's territory and put an end to the centuries-old dispute over Upper Aedirn."

"If Kaedwen ever regains its strength, Demavend likely won't relinquish that land," she concluded grimly.

Wayne nodded, maintaining a veneer of interest. "I've heard that he has raised an army of tens of thousands, supplemented by farmers and laborers. It's quite the mobilization."

He tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the table. "From what the Chamber of Commerce tells me, Count Karn has fewer than three thousand soldiers. With Demavend's swift advance, the young count has had no time to gather reinforcements."