Witcher: The Half Elf

The city of Cintra stood before Wayne with its slightly weathered gates. He couldn't help but feel a wave of nostalgia as he gazed at it.

The last time he had visited was nearly five years ago. In a time when the average lifespan of common folk barely exceeded thirty or forty years, five years felt like an era. Yet the city hadn't changed much—its walls still bore the same marks of age and struggle. The only noticeable difference was the increased flow of people. Among the pedestrians, Wayne spotted tall, rugged Skellige warriors and merchants from various neighboring kingdoms.

It was evident that Cintra's growing strength and its alliance with Skellige had brought prosperity to the kingdom.

"Master, should I arrange accommodations for you?" asked Syanna, her voice tinged with deference.

The young woman had grown into a striking figure in her twenty-one years, her once-girlish features refined into the noble beauty of a highborn lady. Clad in a luxurious black-and-white mink velvet coat and fitted leather pants, her elegance was undeniable. Yet, despite her outward confidence, she remained ever subservient to Wayne, both in public and in private.

"Our chamber of commerce here in Cintra is modest and unbefitting of your stature," she added. "I can rent a luxurious inn near the palace to facilitate your work."

Wayne turned to her with a smile, glancing briefly at the two youths accompanying them—Aragorn, a handsome and sharp-eyed apprentice, and Alex, a more reserved and honest lad.

"There's no need for such trouble," he said lightly. "Instead, purchase a fine noble manor in the city. Cintra is on the rise, and its future will only grow brighter. Consider it an investment."

Syanna nodded obediently, though she couldn't help but marvel at Wayne's nonchalant attitude toward such lavish expenses. "Understood, Master. I will see to it before dinner."

Wayne nodded in approval, then addressed Aragorn and Alex. Ruffling their hair affectionately, he instructed Syanna, "These two will stay with you for now. They'll serve as your guards and gain some worldly experience. They've spent enough time honing their swordsmanship in safety—it's time they learn the realities of human nature."

Syanna's lips curled into a sly smile for just a moment before she smoothed her expression. "Rest assured, Master. I will teach them well."

After parting ways with Syanna, Wayne made his way through Cintra's bustling streets toward the grand palace. It wasn't long before he was greeted by the familiar sight of Haxor, the portly steward he remembered from his last visit.

Though five years older and a little more rotund, Haxor approached with remarkable agility for his size. His face split into a wide grin as he bowed deeply, his tone brimming with respect.

"Welcome back to Cintra, Wayne," Haxor said. "The Queen has been eagerly anticipating your arrival. King Eist is also in the palace—they both look forward to seeing you."

Wayne returned the gesture with a gracious smile. "Thank you, Steward. Apologies for the delay; I was caught up with other commissions. The sorcerers portal allowed me to travel here swiftly after completing my tasks."

Haxor's smile grew even wider at Wayne's polite demeanor. "You are too kind, Wayne. Please, this way."

The steward led Wayne through the palace's opulent corridors, his pace brisk and practiced. As they walked, Wayne inquired casually, "Are Geralt and Lady Yennefer still at court?"

Haxor's expression shifted slightly, his tone cautious as he replied:

"Master Geralt left two days ago to follow some clues," Haxor explained, his tone carefully respectful. "Ms. Yennefer has remained in the palace, collaborating with the court mage to uncover additional information. During her report yesterday, she mentioned to Her Majesty the Queen that Master Geralt is expected to return tonight."

Wayne nodded thoughtfully. He had sent Geralt and Yennefer ahead three days earlier to start the investigation. While he didn't expect immediate results—especially if this truly was part of Vilgefortz's machinations—any unexpected discoveries would still be worthwhile.

If Vilgefortz was involved, his cunning and resources would make leaving traces unlikely. But sometimes, the lack of evidence was itself the strongest clue, narrowing the suspect pool to the most capable and dangerous individuals.

The Cintra palace, as always, exuded opulence. Its vast gardens were teeming with lush greenery, and servants bustled about, tending to their duties. Haxor guided Wayne through the garden, their destination the grand audience hall.

As they approached the hall, a young palace maid's voice rang out from a distance: "Princess! Stop running around, or you'll bump into someone!"

From the direction of her shout emerged a little girl, no more than a meter tall. Her pristine white princess dress was stained with mud and flower petals, and her silver-gray hair was tousled. She darted out of the bushes and collided headlong with Haxor's ample leg.

The steward yelped but quickly steadied himself, gently holding the child to prevent her from falling. Despite the impact, he dared not reprimand her.

Wayne, who had sensed the commotion long before, now looked down at the disheveled girl with interest. He recognized her immediately: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, the future Lion Cub of Cintra.

Her wide green eyes brimmed with innocence, her cheeks flushed from exertion. Though now she was just an endearing child, Wayne knew the extraordinary destiny awaiting her.

Ciri patted down her muddied dress, her expression shifting from panic to curiosity as her gaze settled on Wayne. Tilting her head, she asked in a carefree tone, "Are you the witcher Grandma invited to help find my mother?"

Before Wayne could respond, she added solemnly, "My mother's been gone for so long, and I miss her so much."

Pausing for a moment, Ciri stuck her finger in her mouth, pondering, before making her grand offer. "If you help me find her, I'll give you half my cake... no, all my cake!"

Wayne chuckled at her earnestness. He crouched slightly and tousled her silver hair, speaking gently. "Thank you for the offer, little princess. But when I bring your mother back, I won't need your cake. Instead, I'll give you a cake—a very special one, better than anything you've ever tasted."

Ciri blinked, confused by the notion of receiving a gift for something she thought required payment. After a moment of deep contemplation, she declared, "You're a good person. I can be your friend."

Wayne's smile deepened. Though many might consider him a good man—having saved countless non-humans and orphans—he knew better. He was pragmatic, driven by ambition, and not without his vices. At best, he was a man with principles, not a saint.

Still, he didn't shatter the little girl's illusion. "I'd be honored to have you as a friend," he said warmly, patting her head one last time before following Haxor toward the palace.

He knew his path would cross with Ciri's many more times in the future. As bearers of the Elder Blood, their fates were deeply entwined. However, he resolved to keep his connection to her inconspicuous for now. Drawing too much attention to their link could invite suspicion.

A few minutes later, Wayne and Haxor passed through a heavily guarded corridor and entered the grand audience hall. The room was magnificent, adorned with intricate tapestries, polished marble floors, and gilded pillars.

On the ornate throne at the center of the hall sat a striking woman adorned in regal robes, her posture exuding authority. Beside her was a dark-skinned nobleman, his appearance and demeanor reminiscent of a seasoned sailor.

They were none other than Queen Calanthe of Cintra and her husband, King Eist Tuirseach of Skellige.

As their eyes fell upon Wayne following close behind Haxor, the impatience etched on their faces softened considerably.

The Queen, known for her forthright manner, wasted no time on pleasantries. Her voice carried a note of urgency as she spoke:

"I'll forgo the formalities. Wayne, you know why I summoned you here. Geralt has been searching for two days with no progress. I trust you can deliver results where others have failed."

Wayne offered a polite bow to both Queen Calanthe and King Eist before allowing his sharp gaze to sweep over the hall, as if gauging its occupants and atmosphere. Then, with a calm and confident smile, he addressed the Queen:

"Your Majesty, before arriving in Cintra, I sought counsel from the Dryad Queen, the illustrious Lady Eithné of Brokilon, renowned for her unparalleled gift of prophecy. She is the most revered seer among the magical circles."

Pausing briefly, he let the weight of his words settle before continuing, his tone steady and reassuring:

"According to her prophecy, Princess Pavetta has indeed been abducted. However, I bring you good news—she has not been taken far. Her location is concealed within the borders of the Kingdom of Cintra."

He added with measured precision:

"More importantly, Princess Pavetta is unharmed. Her life is not in immediate danger. The priority now is not to identify her captor but to secure her safe return."

Queen Calanthe's expression softened further, her tense shoulders relaxing slightly as she exhaled a breath she had been holding. She exchanged a glance with King Eist, who nodded gravely. Though skepticism flickered in her eyes—Calanthe was not one to blindly trust prophecies—there was also a glimmer of relief.

After a moment of silence, the Queen spoke again, her voice carrying a mix of gratitude and resolve:

"Thank you for this news, Wayne. It brings a measure of solace. Now, tell me—what is your plan moving forward?"