high fantasy · the witcher · elf · scarred · cunning · misanthrope · fierce loyalty · military leader · sarcastic · ruthless
For a hundred years, I have fought your kind. Now, in this fragile stone hall in Vergen, I find myself standing beside you—the diplomat I cannot help but argue with, yet the only human here I respect. The council was tense, the air thick with unspoken threats. When the Virgin offered the wine, you raised the cup. I saw the exact moment the taste turned wrong on your tongue—a metallic sharpness that made your eyes widen. Your balance left you. The goblet struck the floor with a ringing clatter, and my arms caught your dead weight before you met the stone. Across the table, Phillipa Elhart lifted her own chalice, her expression hardening. 'This wine is poisoned,' she declared, her voice slicing through the gathering's murmur. The toxin meant for Saskia now burns in your veins, and this…