Chapter 63: Chapter 9
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***
Damian.
The journey to the South was quite enjoyable and entertaining. We were even able to engage in some minor skirmishes with pirates.
We were travelling on a private merchant ship, so the pirates tried to come up to us and make a profit at our expense. But they never succeeded, only got captured by us, and we freed a few prisoners from them.
Among them were two characters that interested me - brother and sister. Baldur and Bella. Baldur was something like Darren One-Eyed from Bear Island, only with two eyes and a lot of tattoos, and if that one was already a man grown up, this bear was only sixteen, although he looked a good three decades old. His sister was a year older than him, but she looked like a young girl. She was no less militant than her brother, though, and was in charge of the "brains" in their duo. Their mothers were different, Bella's father had brought her mother from Cydaris, and if you took her word for it, she was half elven, which makes this lady already a Quarteron, and Baldur's mother was from the locals. They were both natives of Skellige and had travelled to the South long ago after the death of their father and mothers. But here they had bad luck and the merchant barque they were guarding was taken by a small armada of pirate captains. And a couple of days later, when their captain decided to sell the booty in Methinna, they met us, and the outcome is clear.
They were amazingly loyal to each other and so different. Baldur looked like Darren, the same brown eyes, dark weathered skin, big hands and a little more than two metres tall and one and a half wide. His sister reminded me of Gerda, but if that platinum blonde had a less conventional orientation, this one had a conclusion, and it seemed that having unwanted sexual contact on a pirate ship didn't stop her from making eyes at Eastredd, who didn't know what to do with her as we sailed toward our destination. They'd come with us. I was glad of that, Eastredd sighed heavily.
"Sea Lioness," she'd been nicknamed by Baldur's father when she'd first picked up a sword. She was similar to her brother, except for a bit of personality and talk, but the looks are different. She wasn't fragile, but she wasn't massive in her seventeen, she was about five foot seventy-five centimetres tall, with a golden mane of straight straw hair with only a few braids in the front that framed her face on the sides, breasts that were not quite a size three, a firm ass that I drooled over, long athletic legs, a pumped up belly, but no frills, a mixture of Cersei Lannister and my wife Obara.
I have long thought about who to take in my "entourage", or rather a group that I need to create for future endeavours. The first to join that group is, of course, Kirk. He's a smart guy, by the time I need him, and if he doesn't die, he'll be a good fighter, because he has someone to learn from, and he's also "talentless". And that can be a plus. Any magic and spells won't work on him. So he doesn't have to fear the magicians. Now these two are here. Maybe if Triss doesn't become Foltest's councillor, I'll officially recruit her. The canon Milva is not a bad option for my squad, and there are plenty of people here, and not quite people, who can be drawn to me. The main thing is to find the right key to them.
And so we arrived in Metinna on the fifth day after their liberation.
It was part of the Nilfgaard Empire, and for about a dozen years now, it has been in vassal dependence on Nilfgaard after a short but bloody struggle for its independence.
Nilfgaard itself is quite an interesting state.
It is one of the strongest empires in the history of this world. Probably a third of the entire continent, if you don't count Korath and Zerrikania. And it boasts a thriving economy and a powerful, well-trained army with talented commanders.
The empire expanded mainly by invading foreign countries, which later became provinces of the empire. Imperial citizens believe that the "real" Nilfgaardians are only those born in the heart of the Empire, not in the invaded provinces. Actually in the Empire itself, only the lands lying around the capital in the lower reaches of the Alba River are called Nilfgaard. This reminds me of the situation with the "citizens of Rome" from my history. The analogy is there and it works.
Provinces are ruled by either prefects or kings, at least where the king has given the country to the Empire, retaining his throne but now subject to the Emperor.
The Empire has been expanding for years, conquering new lands and moving as far North as possible. Though now it seems Nilfgaard isn't at war with anyone. Most races and free humans passionately hate the Nilf, though they don't seem to be particularly complex about it.
Nilfgaard has a lot in common with the Roman Empire of the past world, having a disciplined army, an empire, an Emperor and a sense of superiority over everyone, believing they are descendants of the ancient elves.
As for the wizards of Nilfgaard, it should be noted that they occupy an extremely subordinate position. In fact, they are only civil servants, obliged to use their magical talents for the good of the Empire. And mages have no choice, although the pay is quite decent and the patriotism of many mages is not contrived. I even think that Fringilla and Assire in the book were just as loyal to the Empire, and as for their "loyalty to the Lodge of Enchantresses", it's a pretence, at the behest of their Emperor. I could be wrong, though.
The Druids, on the other hand, who tried to maintain their independence, were cut down by the security service at the root.
The Imperial elite is a mixture of human and elven blood. Thus, the aristocrats bear elven names and titles, and actively use the Elder Speech. Being related to elves is considered a matter of pride among the people of the Empire. Although the Nilphs are not particularly servile to the elves, it is rather an important point for them and they also sometimes feud with the elves who live to the east of them.
And besides it should be noted that the throne in this Empire often passed from dynasty to dynasty by force, almost as in the Roman Empire. Though given the geographical names and later events, it could even be said to be a mixture of the Roman Empire and Germany.
We arrived in a provincial port town with a maximum population of five thousand people. There was nothing of interest here. We just needed to find an acquaintance of Eastredd and go with him to Metinna, the capital of the region.
We did it quickly. This old acquaintance turned out to be a priest and the five of us set off for Metinna.
The journey was long because of our priest, who considered it a duty of honour to stop at each village for sermons and also for conversations with his colleagues. In the end, a journey that we could have travelled in six days took us almost twenty days. And it pissed off not only me, but also the others, even Eastred was tired, but he asked us to be patient. And though I can be patient, I have my limits.
On the twenty-first day of our journey we reached Methinna and rested there for a few days before Istredd finished his business. Afterwards he introduced us to some of the Nilfgaard spellcasters and some of the traders he knew from Zerrikania. Baldur was more excited about all this, as the merchants' guards included a similarly hulking mercenary that was happy to have practice fights with the Skelligian. Bella and I soon joined them as well.
I was similarly not disappointed after meeting two Nilfgaard spellcasters. They were Adalbert, a dark-haired, short-cropped man with dark blue eyes, but still with a character I found pleasant, and Vangemar, a tall, lean man who looked to be over forty, but was almost the same age as de Vries, with an almost bald head, neat sideburns, and brown eyes. And the funny thing is, he was once a "battle mage," you might say. Like me, he had been fond of using an enchanted sword in battles with mages and commoners in his youth, so he had developed a style of his own. But as he confessed to me later, he had abandoned it fifty years ago. He had no one to practice with. Mages don't like cold weapons, unless it's a poisoned dagger or a sacrificial dagger.
Vangemar agreed to give me a couple of lessons at Eastredd's request, and a fortnight after we started, he was curious to see how far I could get in my training with him. So Vangemar himself got the idea of us sparring on a regular basis.
I honestly admit that despite all my experience in sword fighting and magic I lost 8 out of 10 fights. He was crushing me with his experience and magic. But he praised me for my perseverance and intelligence during fights.
I myself was surprised when he told me a couple of small secrets in casting spells, non-verbally and without hand passes, but with the help of a thought image that I transmit with my sword in battle.
If before I used only certain spells that I put on the sword and made it help me to pour fire, lightning or air to make the cuts deeper and more dangerous, then now with the help of the wizard I have made advances in this area. Many of the aspects he had hinted at I had never fully understood. What to say, when I recounted our conversations verbatim to Istredd, he also strained for a long time, but still did not understand what his friend was talking about. Most likely, despite Vangemar's apolitical nature and his even-handed attitude towards any nationality, he still doesn't want to pass on all the secrets to a possible enemy of his homeland. Even if he likes me and Istredd is his old partner and colleague.
But I got the benefit of all this.
And Vangemar himself was glad of this meeting, he remembered the old days with Eastredd, conducted some experiments with him and even produced a common scientific treatise.
In general, we spent more than half a year in Metinn, and then Vangemar went his way to the capital of the Empire, and we moved a little to the north. Specifically to Belhaven. The canon Tziri was also here, but we, like her, didn't stay here for long, but went to the Amell Mountains to gather more ingredients for elixirs and magical mysteries. Here we had Baldur and Bella helping us with the monster hunting and herb gathering. Istredd liked them, though, and he didn't mind their company, but after the actual use he was glad to have them around.
We spent about a month in the mountains before we started to decide where to go. Baldur didn't give a damn where to go, as long as he was with his sister. Bella left it up to us and laid out the local boy in the hayloft in the village where we were staying.
- What do you think, Damian? Which do you think is better, Nazair or Toussaint?
- Aren't you the one who decides where we should go? - I wondered.
- For the most part, I don't really care about the order in which I visit those two places or where I spend the winter. I have a philosopher friend in Nazair, and there must be a friend or two in Toussaint, and it's much nicer to winter there than in Nazair; it's warmer and more fun.
- Warmer?
- Ha!" Istredd smiled enigmatically. - Believe me, once you're there, you'll realise that Toussaint lives by completely different concepts and laws. It's a small country that is a vassal of Nilfgaard, and yet it's on its own. It's a land of eternal joy, pleasure and fun. It's a hard place to get out of sometimes.
- Is it that addictive? - I smiled.
- Yes. So bear that in mind when you make your choice.
Eastred stared at the fire in the fireplace for a long time before he drifted off to sleep.
I couldn't sleep for some reason. I have more stamina, and I was not so tired before with little movement.
After wandering around for a bit, I decided to get in touch with my mum after all. I took my megascope and went to the top of the mountain, at the foot of which was located the village where we lived for the last month.
That's where the connection is best and there's no interference.
Although even when I tuned it out for a couple of seconds there was interference in Mum's image, but that went away too.
- It's good to see you, Mum. You look lovely. - I smiled at her, seeing that she was in a great mood. - New shades?
- You notice everything. Good for you, women love that.
- I had a good school and constant training not only with you, but also with half of your friends and acquaintances.
- But it's been good for you. - she said in a stern voice.
- But it's also eaten away at your nerves.
- You're always arguing with me and sarcastic, and who do I have you in?
- Maybe in you? It seems to me that you're the only one with such traits. Anyway, I can't compare myself to my father for the simple reason that I don't know his name. But I think you do.
I've been waiting a long time to start this conversation. And yet I thought I should do it now.
- Damian. - she averted her eyes. - I've already explained this to you.
- Why then, after Vizimir's drunken phrase, you took my hair for analysis and walked around with a calm face and even a little freer. And on top of that, you sent me and Istredd away from the North, and you just don't get out of Wengerberg, and especially not out of the royal palace?
She didn't like that phrase, I could tell by the look in her eyes it meant my theory was correct.
What the Night Lion did wasn't exactly an immaculate conception. He took the energy signature of my mum's last partner and made him my father. I don't care if the contact was longer than nine months.
Back in my first world, there was an old theory, which, though not confirmed by anything concrete, was still popular in some masses, that a woman has all her children by her first lover. Even if she does not get pregnant from him, then still in the woman's body remains the memory of her partner and transfers it to the future descendants of the woman. And if you follow this theory, then they are no longer the children of the legal husband, but of the first partner. That's the shit.
In my case it was obviously not the first partner, because it was simply impossible, my mother is twice as old as Demavend, and she lost her virginity at the age of sixteen. In that case, it's more likely that the Lion of the Night took a sample of Demavend's energy, who was theoretically Jennyfair's last partner before she got angry at the world and did her research, shutting herself away in her home.
Though it was more my sick imagination that produced such a theory based on rumour, conjecture and grandmotherly tales. But here's Mum's reaction.
- When you come back, we'll talk about it. - she replied discreetly.
- Okay. I'm sorry to spoil the mood.
- You're not. You're always welcome, my boy. How's your training going?
- Not bad, very good. We'll be visiting Toussaint soon. We'll spend the winter there, then we'll head for Nazair, and from there I think we may be heading back North.
- Good. Don't fill your head with learning. Have fun while you're young, savour the pleasures of life, Dami.
- Well, I don't seem to be working too hard.
- I know, I'm yours, not too much. - she waved it off and looked to her left before she could finish. - Hmmm... sorry sweetie, but there's an urgent matter that needs to be dealt with.
- Then let's get in touch when I'm in Toussaint. I think we'll head there after all.
- Okay, honey. Don't miss me.
Hmm. I wonder what kind of urgent business she's got going on.
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