In Mahakam, all the supplies promised to support Cintra had already been packed.
Lann stood in front of the mountain-like piles of steel constructs. He gently raised his left hand and tapped the air above them. Instantly, as if wiped from existence by a giant eraser across space itself, the supplies vanished.
They were all stored directly into Lann's [Inventory].
The dwarven quartermaster watching nearby couldn't help but gape in awe.
Just then, the sound of hooves echoed in the distance. Coën finally arrived with his squad, a bit late.
"Am I too late?" The Griffin School witcher looked a bit sheepish as he saw the others fully packed and ready to head home.
[Mission – Cleanup – Complete]
[Character Level +1]
Lann shook his head lightly to return to the real world and smiled at Coën. "You're the last one—we were waiting on you. How did it go on your end?"
"I brought back every single member of your escort squad, safe and sound. The mission went smoothly—no trouble at all. After handing the blueprints to the leader of Clan Chivay, they agreed to send three hundred dwarves to support us."
Coën spoke in a serious, analytical tone: "If all four of our teams produced results like this, we'd have around a thousand heavy infantry troops. With human soldiers complementing them, that's a force to be reckoned with… Why are you all looking at me like that?"
The Griffin School witcher scratched his head. "Wait, don't tell me… things didn't go as smoothly for the rest of you?"
Before he could say another word, Kolgrim grabbed Coën and dragged him aside to bring him up to speed on everything he'd missed.
Meanwhile, Lann briefly discussed the next steps with Barclay, assigning the dwarven colonel to rally the main force and prepare for deployment to support Cintra.
Based on the Elder in Chief's intel, if the information turned out to be true, Lann would have to lead his cavalry ahead to handle an emergency first.
…
Mid-mountain, Mahakam.
Yarpen sat in front of a tavern, his rear firmly planted on the head of a Shaelmaar—a monster with a rocky carapace—now repurposed as a stool.
After the massive battle in which Lann had participated, the tavern's sharp-eyed owner had quickly turned the event into a drinking song. The monster's corpse had been fully recycled, processed into decorations throughout the establishment. It had since become a favorite hangout for dwarves from nearby mines.
When the sound of galloping hooves reached his ears, Yarpen leapt to his feet in a flash.
He had finally been reunited with those he'd been waiting for. Mahakam's barley beer was delicious, sure—but what he really missed were the days of charging across Cintra with an axe in hand.
"Lann, you're finally back! And Gabor too! And—" Yarpen's face lit up, only to twist as if he'd just seen something filthy. "Petrit Fuchs? What the hell are you doing here?"
Gabor gave a helpless smile.
Lann simply shook his head. As he looked at Gabor, memories of all the dwarves he'd encountered in Mahakam flooded his mind at once.
The Lion of Cintra let out a deep sigh. "Yarpen… I wish all dwarves in the world were as straightforward and bold as you. But then again… maybe that would be far too cruel."
Yarpen tilted his head in confusion—he didn't get it.
"Never mind," Lann chuckled. "You've rested up, haven't you? It's time to fight the Nilfgaardians alongside us."
Yarpen burst out laughing. "Wasn't that why I came in the first place?!"
...
"Have you heard?"
"Heard what?"
"The one we're waiting for… is the Lion of Cintra."
In the camp, soldiers clad in black eagle insignias with red trim were murmuring among themselves. A wind blew in from the distant Mahakam Mountains, carrying with it the cries of birds and crows.
A man who looked like a captain kicked the soldier who was spouting nonsense and scolded loudly, "Who doesn't know that? Are you telling me you put on your armor without knowing why? Huh?!"
The sentinel who had just been kicked adjusted his helmet indignantly. "I thought I was getting armored up for the frontlines. But instead, they stuck me here in the rear."
"You got a problem with the Queen's orders?!"
The captain flared up after hearing that.
The sentinel shrank back slightly but suddenly squared his shoulders and barked back, "It's because of the Queen that we should be on the frontlines! The Nilfgaardians have crossed the Yaruga River! Dammit—they actually did it! We should be mobilizing everyone, gathering every blade!"
"Instead of—instead of standing here, staring at a mountain that can't even speak!"
The sentinel's voice grew louder and louder, until it turned into a shout.
"Is that our enemy? How are we supposed to deal with it—by cutting down trees and stones with our swords?"
[Thud!]
The sentinel was kicked down again. The captain was so furious that his neck turned red, and none of the other sentries dared provoke him at a moment like this.
The young man lying on the ground looked barely past adolescence. Instead of a beard, only a faint fuzz clung to his upper lip, and that youthful stubbornness radiated from every word. The captain didn't pursue it further—he just pointed a trembling finger at the boy while breathing heavily, then let out a long sigh.
"Watch your tongue in camp—lest it brings a curse on your head."
The young sentinel lifted his chin. "For Queen Meve!"
"For Queen Meve!" the captain growled. "That's exactly why we have to wait for the Lion of Cintra!"
"We can't hold off Nilfgaard on our own. Not even with Aedirn's help. But Cintra promised us Skellige's support. And now they've gone deep into Mahakam, trying to rally another force. If they show up now, it might be just what we need to avert disaster…"
"Cintrans have been claiming all along that Skellige pirates would come help—but we haven't seen a single ship!" the young soldier shouted. "And the dwarves… the dwarves… We can't place our country's salvation entirely in the hands of others!"
"It's good to have fire, boy," the captain said, still scowling. "But what do you think we're doing here? This is war! Blood and guts aren't enough—we need supplies, numbers, strategy—Damn it, why am I even explaining this to a grunt like you? What would you know?"
His voice dropped to a grim tone. "And Nilfgaard's armored legions… No one expected them to be this powerful. They fight like trained professionals against raw conscripts. Only the Lion of Cintra has ever made them hesitate. If he appears on the battlefield, at the very least, it'll lift morale…"
"We don't need morale!" the young sentinel shouted, apparently determined to get the beating of a lifetime. "To protect our country, we're all willing to bleed! As long as we—"
His words were abruptly cut off—not because the captain had finally lost it and silenced him, but because someone had clamped a hand over his mouth.
Every soldier turned their head slightly. The ground had begun to tremble faintly—the sound of hooves. A rhythm they all knew well.
The young sentinel leapt to his feet. Every soldier drew their weapon and fell into formation, ready to repel a possible midnight assault.
Their eyes scanned the darkness with tension. And then, from far off in the night, came the sound of a horn.
A friendly signal.
"Woooo—"
Even so, they didn't let their guard down—at least not until the galloping hooves slowed nearby and the flicker of firelight illuminated the scene ahead. A banner came into view.
The triple lion banner of Cintra.
...
Even in the dead of night, the soldiers guarding the city hastily opened the gates to welcome the Cintran forces inside.
By the time dawn began to break, Queen Meve had already arrived in a hurry.
Compared to the last time they had met before entering Mahakam, Queen Meve now looked visibly haggard. Her appearance was still somewhat tidy, but her hair was clearly unkempt, and her skin had lost its luster. Her golden armor was coated in dust.
And yet, all of this only added to her battle-hardened aura. For a moment, the Cintran soldiers saw in her the shadow of Queen Calanthe, and a strange sense of disorientation swept through them.
"Your Majesty Meve, have you just returned from the front?"
Meve shook her head, wasting no time on pleasantries. "I'll be brief, Lann. I need help."
"I heard a quick summary of the current situation from Elder in Chief Brouver Hoog while in Mahakam," Lann replied, adopting a more serious tone in response to Meve's urgency. "But I'd like to hear the full account from you. I need to understand exactly what we're facing."
Lann paused. "Just how bad is it?"
One of the guards behind the queen stepped forward, intending to speak on her behalf. But Meve raised her hand slightly to stop him. She took a deep breath and said it herself: "I'm on the verge of losing Lyria, Lann."
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